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The baby is bigger than Sam expected. He’s willing to admit that he’s no expert on the subject, but baby Jack (Lucifer’s son, his mind supplies, still reeling) does not look tiny enough to be a newborn.
“I thought they were smaller than this,” Dean muses, clearly on the same page.
“I think they are.” Sam holds the baby out at arm’s length, peering at him as if he will have all the answers. Oddly enough, he doesn’t. He just coos at Sam.
For the actual spawn of the devil, Sam has to admit that the baby is cute. And Sam absolutely has to stop thinking of him at ‘the baby’ - Kelly had been adamant that his name would be Jack, and that’s what they’re sticking with. Sam firmly believes in nurture over nature - but Jack’s human side doesn’t stand a chance if the Winchester’s dehumanise him from day one.
“What are we going to do with him?” he asks Dean. This is one of those rare times when he really hopes his big brother is going to have all the answers, even if it means he’ll brag about it for months.
“Thought about taking him to Jody.” Dean’s sat on the couch, watching Sam and Jack while pretending to clean his guns. “But it feels too cruel. If he turns out to be evil…”
Jody would have to kill another of her children. The thought goes unsaid, but it’s potent and entirely convincing.
“Not Jody,” he agrees.
“Or Donna, they’re too close.”
“Yeah.”
“There’s quiet again as both Winchesters cycle through their roster of surviving friends.
“Garth?” Sam suggests, but he’s immediately shot down. No one wants Lucifer’s son to be able to mobilise a society of werewolves.
Max is deemed too young, and too hurt by Alicia’s death. They debate for a moment about Jesse and Cesar; but eventually agree that the two hunters had wanted out, and handing them Jack would be dragging them back in kicking and screaming. Standard adoption is out - inflicting the son of the devil on unsuspecting parents is a recipe for disaster.
The conversation drags on far longer than it should. Eventually, Jack shows signs of becoming fussy, so Sam bites the bullet.
“Guess its gotta be us.”
Dean thumps his head back on the couch.
“Of fucking course we have to raise Lucifer’s child. Of fucking course.”
***
Once the decision has been made, it’s like a dam breaks. Sam orders about a bajillion (in Dean’s words) parenting books from amazon. They set up a diaper order and bulk buy wet wipes and talcum powder and all the other things babies need. They find themselves arguing one night about the right cot for the baby (Jack is currently sleeping in a carefully padded drawer - the internet says it’s fine) before they realise that Jack is probably going to grow out of a cot more quickly than the average baby, and just buy a cheap version.
Sam starts reading, and soon, new credit cards are procured and maxed out. Sam’s reading everything he can find on the nature vs nurture debate, and he’s determined that baby Jack will have every possible opportunity to overcome his unfortunate parentage. If that means spending all of Ed Adcock’s money on top end educational toys, then so be it.
Within a few days, they can barely move in the bunker without tripping over something baby-related. They’re so caught up in their frantic attempt to catch up with preparations that should have taken place months ago that it takes them a little time to realise.
They’ve fallen in love with baby Jack.
Sam first realises one morning when he wakes up to find the bed empty beside him. He stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes, to find Dean sat next to Jack’s highchair, making airplane noises as he feeds the baby. It brings back a warm almost-memory for Sam, a hint of sick days when he was very little, Dean babying him until he ate.
But Jack, at five weeks old, appears to be at exactly the right point in his accelerated development for the game, and he’s gurgling happily, clapping his hands. Dean looks almost as pleased, his face showing immense pride as he convinces Jack to eat the green baby goo in from the jar. (That had been another fierce debate: did the child of Lucifer, who was growing faster than any normal child, have the same dietary requirements as the average baby? How would they ever know?)
Dean looks so content that Sam’s heart contracts. He knows that deep down, his brother has always longed for a normal life; but had written it off. Raising Jack is about as far from normal as they could get; but at the same time, what could be more normal than creating their own family together?
Sam smiles, and walks up behind his brother. Wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck, he presses a kiss to Dean’s temple.
“Morning,” he says quietly. “How are my boys today?”
“Good, Sammy,” Dean responds. “We’re really good. We’re learning how delicious this broccoli and cabbage mix is.” Dean makes a disgusted face at Jack, who’s utterly delighted and bangs his spoon down.
“Good. As long as you’re both happy.”
“We are.”
“Me too.” Sam’s family are happy, and so is he. Jack might have been sired by the devil, but he’s growing up a Winchester