Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The men are tall.

One of them is taller than the other, but they are both huge. Dean has to tip his head way back, almost fall over backwards, to see all the way up to their faces.

Maybe Daddy is taller than the shorter one, but he's definitely shorter than the taller one.

The shorter man is frowning, and he looks stern. Dean feels his chest fill and his eyes smart with tears because the man does not look happy and he's sure he's going to be in trouble.

The other man is smiling at him though, and there are dimples in his cheeks. He glances at his friend, shoots him an unhappy look like the one Dean's mother gives him when Dean has made a mess on the kitchen floor -- and then the smiling man is kneeling down in front of him, so Dean doesn't have to look up so far.

He's still twice as tall as Dean, though, and Dean still has to crane his neck to look up at him.

"Hey, Dean," the smiling man says. "I'm Sam."

Dean feels his face break into a smile.

"That's my brother's name!" he says excitedly, and the tall man's eyes crinkle and his smile widens.

"I know," he says softly.

Just then the baby makes a little fussing noise. Dean turns to the basket where his brother lies. He bends down and smiles at the baby, who looks up at him, starts to smile back, then fusses again, flailing his little arms and kicking his little legs.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean says to the baby -- his baby, he thinks. Sammy is his baby brother.

Dean looks up at the tall man with the dimples.

"He's hungry," Dean says. "I need to feed him."

"Okay," Tall Sam looks around, glances up at Frowning Man.

"Baby needs to eat," he says to his friend, who frowns deeper.

"What do I look like, Mary Poppins?" Tall Sam's friend growls.

Baby Sam is starting to fuss louder now. Dean knows what to do, but he's afraid to leave his baby brother alone in the room with these strange men, even if the one kneeling in front of him seems nice. His dad tells him all the time, "Dean, don't trust anyone. You hear me?" so he's afraid, wants to go wake up Dad but he's afraid to leave --

"Hey, Dean," Tall Sam says to get his attention. He seems to understand Dean's distress.

"Where's the baby's food? Is it in the kitchen?"

Dean nods, relieved. "There's bottles in the refrigerator," he says.

Tall Sam nods at his friend and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Frowning Man sighs, rolls his eyes, then stalks off toward the kitchen.

Baby Sam has worked himself into a serious fit by the time Frowning Man comes back with the bottle, and it's still cold.

"You have to warm it up," Dean says as Frowning Man hands him the bottle.

Frowning Man grabs the bottle back, glares at Tall Sam.

"Bossy," he mutters, and Tall Sam raises his eyebrows, shrugs.

Tall Sam is sitting back on his heels now, so he's not quite so tall, and Dean feels comfortable enough to reach into the basket and pull Baby Sam out. Tall Sam starts to help him, but Dean yanks the baby away instinctively. Baby Sam's gotten big in the the last month, since Mommy burned up in the fire, and now he's wiggly and able to sit up and roll around and it's getting harder for Dean to just pick him up like this.

But he does it. He will always be able to hold his baby brother. He's got determination, that's what Daddy says.

Frowning Man comes back with the warm bottle -- "Not too hot!" Dean thinks, and he's surprised when he tests the bottle and it's just right -- how does Frowning Man know how to do that when Dean didn't tell him? Dean has Baby Sam on his lap -- he's criss-cross-apple-sauce on the floor with the baby in his arms just the right way and Baby Sam grabs the bottle with both hands as Dean puts it into his mouth, takes long, hungry pulls as his eyes glaze over in contentment and his whole body relaxes in Dean's arms.

Dean looks up proudly and Tall Sam is smiling at him, but his eyes are sad.

"Where's your dad, Dean?" Tall Sam asks, and Dean feels defensive. Daddy's sleeping again -- he sleeps a lot since Mommy burned up. But he's afraid to tell Tall Sam that, because it might make Tall Sam take him away.

"Daddy says I can't answer questions about us," Dean says. "He says it's not safe."

Tall Sam frowns a little, and Frowning Man nods.

"Damn straight," Frowning Man says, and his voice sounds angry. "It's not. You shouldn't even be talking to us. You know better."

"Dean," Tall Sam rolls his eyes and looks annoyed. "He's four years old."

"So?" Frowning Man challenges. "He's got to learn. Fast. I had to learn everything right out of the gate -- how to lie and be secretive and never to talk to strangers or answer questions. How do you think we survived, Sam? How do you think we stayed out of foster care in those early years?"

"I'm starting to think we survived because we were there," Tall Sam suggests. "Us. Big us, I mean."

Frowning Man stops pacing, stares down at Dean and Baby Sam silently for a moment.

Dean stares back at him, trying to be brave. He doesn't like Frowning Man. Wants Frowning Man to go away and leave them alone.

"Is your name Dean too?" Dean asks, knowing he needs to show Frowning Man he's a big boy and he can be tough like Daddy taught him to be.

"Uh, yeah, as a matter of fact," Frowning Man says. "You got a problem with that?"

"Dean!" Tall Sam scolds. "This is a four-year-old you're talking to. Turn off the bad cop thing or take a walk! Now!"

Big Dean shakes his head. "Yeah, well the last time I talked to myself in another timeline the guy was a major douche."

"Yeah, but this one is a little boy," Tall Sam insists. "So tone it down."

Baby Sam has finished his bottle, and Dean knows what to do. He hauls the baby up to sitting and starts patting his back.

"Now he has to burp," he tells Tall Sam, who raises his eyebrows skeptically.

"Here, let me do that," Big Dean says, and Dean looks up as Big Dean squats down in front of him, reaching for Dean's baby brother.

Dean pulls away instinctively, clutching Baby Sam. Big Dean has a clean diaper cloth over his shoulder and he's not frowning anymore, just encouraging Dean with his deep voice and his big green eyes and his expression that's not mean after all, it's more like he's just used to being obeyed, he's used to being the boss, and he's being gentle all of a sudden, and Dean suddenly feels like he can trust him, like he wouldn't hurt Baby Sam no matter what.

"It's okay," Tall Sam smiles reassuringly at Dean. "He knows what he's doing."

"Well, it's been a few years," Big Dean mutters, "But yeah, I think I remember how to burp a baby."

Big Dean's big hands slip around Baby Sam, under his armpits, and lift him away from Dean, who feels suddenly cold and lonely and helpless. He watches with tears slipping down his cheeks as Big Dean settles the baby against his shoulder, stands, patting Baby Sam on the back, murmuring "That's it, Sammy, I gotcha. That's it, big guy."

"He needs his diaper changed too," Dean says helpfully.

Big Dean looks shocked for a moment, and Tall Sam chokes on a laugh. Baby Sam takes that moment to let forth with the contents of his last few mouthfuls, regurgitating all over Big Dean's cloth-covered shoulder.

"He's got a sensitive tummy," Dean explains. He lisps on the word "sensitive" and it makes him blush, ashamed he can't yet speak like a big boy.

Big Dean lifts his eyebrows, glances at Tall Sam.

"You don't say," Big Dean says, then reaches up and wipes the baby's mouth with a corner of the cloth, murmuring, "You got a problem tummy there, bud? Don't worry, you're doomed to a lifetime of salads and veggie burgers and being a real pain in the ass for your big brother, so you better start getting used to it."

Big Dean looks down at Dean.

"Where's his diapers?"

Dean scrambles up, fetches the diaper bag, spreads a pad on the couch. "I change him in here when Daddy's sleeping," Dean says.

Tall Sam and Big Dean exchange looks.

"So your dad's sleeping?" Tall Sam clarifies. "At 4:00 in the afternoon?"

Dean nods. He's starting to trust these tall men, probably more than he should, but there's something about them that feels familiar, and watching Big Dean take care of Baby Sam with so much care and gentleness is starting to win him over in a big way. Anybody who looks at his baby brother that way can't be all bad.

Tall Sam and Big Dean exchange looks again.

"Is there anyone else who looks after you?" Tall Sam asks. "A nanny, or a babysitter?"

Dean shakes his head.

"You know there wasn't, Sam," Big Dean says as he lays the baby on his back on the couch, holds him down as he unfastens his diaper, making a colossal face as he does it. But he soldiers on, doing a really good job of it in the end, and Dean is impressed, even a little relieved because yeah, he can do it all by himself, but Baby Sam is big and wiggly and sometimes Dean ends up making a mess and having to clean it up before Dad sees and gets mad.

Big Dean has Baby Sammy neatly diapered and dressed in a clean onesie and back safely in Dean’s arms before Dean can say “boo,” like Mommy used to say. Big Dean goes off to wash his hands, which is when the bedroom door opens and Daddy comes out. He’s got his gun trained on Tall Sam, and his face is mad, madder than Dean’s ever seen it.

Dean holds Sammy tight as Tall Sam raises his hands slowly, stays crouched on the floor. His eyebrows go up and his eyes get wet, like he’s gonna cry.

“Who are you?” Daddy demands in his gruffest voice. “What do you want?”

“Hey,” Tall Sam says. “It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt anybody. We’re here to help.”

“We?” Daddy takes a step closer, raising the gun and holding it tight, and Dean can tell he means business, so Tall Sam better watch out.

Tall Sam is looking over Daddy’s shoulder, behind Daddy, ‘cause there’s Big Dean, standing in the bathroom doorway.

“Hey, John,” Big Dean says quietly.

Daddy whirls around, starts to crouch, then lowers his gun.

“Dean?” Daddy’s lowering the gun all the way now, recognizing Big Dean, and Dean feels relieved because it means he was right to trust these men after all, and Daddy won’t get mad because he let Big Dean help him with Sammy.

"Wait -- you remember me?" Big Dean looks surprised.

"Course I do," Daddy says. "You helped me buy my car. How could I forget that? And last year, when you come to town looking for a job -- "

"Wait, what?"

Now Big Dean looks thoroughly confused.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that," Daddy says. "Are you still looking for work? Is that what you're doing here? How did you get in?”

He’s putting the safety back on the gun, locking it away in the box on the table.

Big Dean glances past Daddy, looks straight at him, and Dean feels like he’s gonna cry because Big Dean is gonna tell on him.

But instead he says, “The door was unlocked. We let ourselves in.”

And Daddy believes him, just looks upset, swiping his hand over his face.

“God, I really had too much to drink,” he mutters.

“Yeah, we heard about – about your wife,” Dean murmurs sympathetically. “We’re so sorry, man.”

Daddy looks at him, then over at Tall Sam, who is still kneeling on the floor next to Dean. Tall Sam looks like he's gonna cry, and Dean feels sorry for him.

“We?” Daddy says. “Who’s this?”

“I’m Sam,” Tall Sam says, rising awkwardly to his feet so he can stride forward, puts his hand out. He still looks really sad, but excited at the same time, like he'd really rather give Daddy a big hug, but he settles for grabbing his hand firmly and holding it for a minute. "It's so good to see you."

Daddy lets Tall Sam hold his hand for a minute, looking up at him a little dazedly, then he looks back at Dean.

“You’re – wait, you guys are – “

“We’re hunters, yeah,” Tall Sam nods. “We’re here to help.”

“Hunters,” Daddy repeats, looking confused.

“We think you know that what happened last month wasn’t natural,” Big Dean says. “We think you’ve probably already talked to Missouri Mosely, and you’re getting some sense for how crazy it is. How not normal. Am I right?”

Daddy swipes his hand over his face again.

“Yeah, I get that,” he agrees. “What I saw that night – what happened to Mary – “ Daddy’s eyes fill with tears and they start running down his cheeks.

"We hunt things that do that," Tall Sam says softly. "It's our job."

"So -- " Daddy hesitates, looks from one to the other man, frowning. "So you're saying that the thing that did that to Mary -- "

"It was a demon, yeah," Big Dean says. "An extra-special evil kind of demon. It made a deal with Mom -- with Mary -- ten years ago. Your life for hers."

"It did what?" Daddy looks shocked, and Dean wishes he could give him a hug, but Baby Sam has fallen asleep in his lap and he's heavy and Dean can't move now. "Don't wake the baby," Mommy always said when Dean got too rowdy in the house. Now he bends close and kisses the baby on his forehead, and Baby Sam's hand clutches reflexively around his index finger, holding Dean's hand tight against his little chest.

"Look, we can tell you the whole story, but right now you need to come with us," Tall Sam is saying, and Dean can see he's trying to stop Big Dean from saying something else that might hurt Daddy's feelings worse.

"What?" Daddy frowns. "Why?"

"You're in danger," Tall Sam says, his voice calm and reasonable, but Dean can see the serious look in his face, and it makes him feel scared and brave at the same time.

Maybe Tall Sam is a superhero, he thinks suddenly. Maybe he's here to save us. Maybe he can bring Mommy back.

Big Dean is nodding. "The thing that killed Mom -- Mary -- it'll come back," he says gruffly. "It'll come for you and -- your boys. It's already killed your neighbors, your friends, Mary's family, everyone you know or who might take you in after this."

Daddy's eyes grow wide, and he stares from one to the other of the men but doesn't speak. Dean thinks he looks like a little boy suddenly, like somebody Dean knows in his preschool class who's just found out he he's being left alone for the first time.

"Dean," Daddy says, and Dean looks up, thinking Daddy means him, but he's looking at Big Dean, looking at him like he's just now seeing him for the first time.

"You -- " then Daddy looks at Tall Sam, his eyes widening. "You two -- How do you know all this?"

His tone is demanding, and Dean wishes he could answer, wishes he could obey, but he knows it's up to Tall Sam and Big Dean to answer, and he's amazed to watch grown-up men act like little boys because he can see the way they blush and look away and act like they did something wrong, as if they're little kids and they're feeling caught and guilty, just like he felt last month when he was in the garage looking in Daddy's tool-chest when he knew he shouldn't be there, when Daddy said, "Dean, you stay out of the garage unless I'm with you, you hear me?"

Big Dean and Tall Sam are exchanging nervous glances, silently debating something. Dean can see the minute they agree, the second their faces go serious and their jaws set and they give each other a slight nod, then turn back to Daddy.

"We're from your future," Big Dean says. "From 2014."

He takes a big breath, then blurts out, "We're your sons."

Daddy doesn't look as surprised as Dean thinks he should. He raises his eyebrows, looks back and forth between Big Dean and Tall Sam, then looks down at Dean and Baby Sam.

Dean wants to blurt out, "No you're not!" because he and Baby Sam are Daddy's sons, not these grown up men.

But he doesn't want to wake Baby Sam, and besides, he's sure Daddy will say it anyway, so he's even more surprised when Daddy shakes his head a little, like he's clearing it, like he's letting go of a lot of his earlier conceptions of normal and ordinary.

And Dean can see it the minute Daddy decides to go with the weird and unnatural, the minute Daddy decides to accept what he's just heard.

Then he's looking down at Dean, smiling a little.

"It's okay, Dean," he says gently. "These men are family. We're gonna be okay."

Big Dean and Tall Sam seem surprised and grateful at the same time, and now Tall Sam really does hug Daddy, and Dean can see tears on his dimpled cheeks, hears Daddy say "It's all right, son," to Big Dean when he hugs him too.

"I've kinda lost my skepticism of all things crazy," Daddy says as he releases Big Dean, squeezes his shoulder. There are tears on Big Dean's face too. "Seems like after what's happened in the past month, anything's possible. So time travel, huh?"

Big Dean nods.

"And not for the first time," Daddy says, and Big Dean nods again.

"This is actually our third trip. Well, my third trip anyway," Big Dean says. "Sam and I came back a few years ago to try to stop an angel from killing Mom. Another angel wiped your memories, so you don't even remember that time. And I guess I'm gonna come back again, based on what you just said about me being here last year. 'Cause I don't remember that."

"Angels too?" Daddy raises his eyebrows. "But that's a good thing, isn't it?"

Big Dean and Tall Sam exchange glances again, and Big Dean shifts his feet awkwardly.

"Not so much," he says.

"Most angels are dicks, actually," Tall Sam says.

"Look," Big Dean looks serious and frowny again. "You raised us to be hunters, and we recently found out something that made us think we're supposed to be here now, to help you get out of harm's way and survive this thing that's happened. You've got friends in this timeline -- hunters -- who can help you stay under the radar, and that's what you need to do. That, and raise these kids. Us."

Big Dean looks over, meets Dean's eye, stares for a solid minute while Dean does his best to stare bravely back.

Then Big Dean winks at him. Dean hugs Baby Sam, leans down to kiss him again, then rocks back and forth, feeling better suddenly.

Daddy's looking back and forth between Tall Sam and Big Dean, trying to decide something, then he nods.

"Okay," he agrees. "We'll come with you. Can we swing by the house first? I want to pick up a few things."

"We wouldn't advise it," Tall Sam says. "We know for a fact there are spirits and other things there, drawn by the demon's presence there last month. It's not safe for you there."

Daddy nods. "That's what Missouri said," he agrees. "Okay, then. I'll just pack together the stuff we have here."

Which was when the bad thing happened.

* *
Dean thought about it later, when they were safely in the car and driving away fast, because at the time it makes no sense.

Three men burst into the apartment, and two of them try to grab Daddy while one heads straight for Dean and Baby Sam. Dean feels a scream rise in his throat but he's suddenly grabbed up by Tall Sam, who presses him and Baby Sam against his huge chest and carries them out the door, down the stairs to the car.

But not before he sees Big Dean grab those two men, twist a knife -- or maybe it's a small sword -- first into one and then the other one of the men who have Daddy.

Then Tall Sam's putting him into the backseat of the car, kneeling down to meet his eyes.

"Stay here," he tells Dean, face serious and firm, and Dean nods.

"Daddy!" he squeaks out pitifully, and Tall Sam nods.

"I'm gonna go get your Daddy," he says. "You just stay here, okay, Dean?"

Dean nods, feeling tears smarting in his eyes as Tall Sam closes the door on him and runs back into the apartment building.

It's only a few minutes, but it feels like forever to Dean before Tall Sam comes back.

He and Big Dean have Daddy between them, and they're carrying him a little because he's hurt. There's blood on his shirt, and Dean remembers that one of the bad men was stabbed in the back right in front of Daddy; maybe it's the bad man's blood.

Big Dean opens the back door of the car, and he and Tall Sam hustle Daddy inside, gently laying him against the backseat, next to Dean and Baby Sam.

"You're gonna be okay," Big Dean is saying. "It's just a scratch. We'll get you to the bunker, get you fixed up."

Daddy nods, and now Dean can see he's clutching his chest, and there's a lot of blood there, all over his hand. Tall Sam is taking his over-shirt off, wadding it up and pushing it against the wound, puts Daddy's hand on top of it, scoots in next to him so that Dean is pressed up against the door, holding Baby Sam, and Daddy's pressed up against him on the other side. Tall Sam has his hand over Daddy's, holding it there.

Big Dean is in the driver's seat, starting the car.

"He needs a hospital, Dean," Tall Sam says, and his face looks worried. "He's gonna bleed out."

"No hospitals," Big Dean growls. "Gotta stay under the radar."

"Dean -- "

"You saw those demons, Sam," Big Dean growls louder. "They were hell-bent on killing. There'll be more. They'll be waiting for us at the hospital. The bunker is our only chance."

Tall Sam doesn't answer, just bites his bottom lip and frowns. Daddy's eyes are fluttering, like he's about to fall asleep, and he's breathing funny. Tall Sam catches Dean's eye, smiles a little at him.

"Everything's gonna be okay, Dean," he says. "We're gonna fix your dad."

Dean nods, trying to show Tall Sam how brave he is. He watches the back of Big Dean's head as Big Dean drives, watches his jaw tense when he turns his head.

"Dean," Daddy's voice is soft, and when Dean looks at him he's smiling a little, but he looks sleepy.

"Take care of your brother."

Dean hugs Baby Sam and nods.

"I will, Daddy," he says because he knows that's what Daddy wants him to say.

Daddy nods, takes a breath but starts to cough. Tall Sam has his arm around him.

"Dad?" Tall Sam's voice sounds worried.

Daddy doesn't open his eyes again, but the coughing stops and his whole body relaxes, his head falls over onto Tall Sam's shoulder and he goes still, like he's fallen asleep.

"Dad?" Tall Sam calls again, louder and panicked now. He presses his fingers into the side of Daddy's neck, under his ear.

"Dean!" Tall Sam barks at Big Dean. "Hospital! Now!"

Big Dean is glaring at them in the rearview mirror, half turns in his seat to check out the situation for himself, then he's stepping on the gas and turning the car around, speeding up and making Daddy press hard against Dean, so it almost hurts because he's being squished. Dean holds tight to Baby Sam, who is still sleeping and Dean is so glad of that because if he was awake he would be wiggling and Dean thinks he probably couldn't hold onto him with the car going so fast and rocking back and forth as they go around corners.

Then the hospital looms in front of them. Flashing lights remind Dean of the night at their house a month ago, and he feels chilly and scared. The car screeches to a stop and Big Dean jumps out, leaves the car door open as he yanks open the back door, helps Tall Sam pull Daddy out. Tall Sam is trying to pick Daddy up, Big Dean is calling Daddy "Dad!" and "John!" and trying to get him to wake up, and finally they're both carrying Daddy toward the emergency entrance. Big Dean calls back to Dean to "Stay there! Don't move!" and then they're all gone, through the sliding doors into the hospital.

Dean huddles in the back seat of the car with Baby Sam, trying not to cry. He wonders if Daddy will wake up, come out to get him, or if he'll have to sleep here.

His tummy rumbles and he has to go to the bathroom. He's trying to be good, stay where Big Dean told him to, but he's starting to think he has to go so bad he might pee in his pants, and that would get on the car and Daddy would be really mad, so he puts Baby Sam down carefully on the seat beside him and starts pulling on the door handle.

That's when Big Dean comes back. He's frowning and he looks tired, but he leans in the back door and raises his eyebrows at Dean, and Dean can see he's trying not to yell at him.

"You okay?" he asks, and Dean nods. "Good. You hungry? Need a bathroom?"

Dean nods again, vigorously this time, and Big Dean nods.

"Okay, here's the thing," he says. "I'm gonna park the car, then I'm taking you in with me, you and the baby. We'll get some chow, we'll hang out for awhile, make sure Dad's okay. Then we'll see what we're gonna do next. Sound good?"

Dean nods and Big Dean slaps the roof of the car, straightens and slams the car door shut, crosses around to the driver's seat.

Later, when Dean's gone to the bathroom and had a hamburger in the hospital cafeteria, Big Dean sits him down in a chair in the waiting room and he falls asleep with Big Dean's arm around him, holding Baby Sam and leaning against Big Dean's big, warm body that feels almost like Daddy's and smells like him too.

In his sleep he hears voices, hears somebody talking to Big Dean.

"So you're John's brothers," a strange man says. "Funny John never mentioned he had brothers. We tried to help him find some family to help him out last month when his wife died. He said he didn't have any family."

"We're his dad's second family," Big Dean says. "Half-brothers. Different mothers. We didn't grow up together. We just found out about what happened a little while ago. Got here as soon as we could."

"And you say these men attacked you -- right in front of John's apartment building?"

"Probably looking for drugs, money," Tall Sam says. "We surprised them, I think. They seemed pretty strung out."

"Okay, you two stay put," the stranger said. "We've got some guys going over to check the apartment out, then we'll need to ask you some more questions."

"Not goin' anywhere, officer," Big Dean says. "We just got here."

Dean can hear footsteps as the policeman walks away, then Big Dean and Tall Sam move closer, so they're standing right next to the chair where he's sleeping.

"Dean, we gotta get outta here," Tall Sam says, speaking in an urgent whispery voice. "When they check out that apartment and find those bodies -- "

"We can't just leave Dad here," Big Dean hisses back.

"We're gonna have to," Tall Sam insists. "He needs a blood transfusion and surgery. Doctor said the knife nicked his lung. He's gonna be in intensive care for at least a few days. We can't stay here."

"You go," Big Dean says. "Take the kids. Get to the bunker. I'll stay with Dad. I can stay out of the way, nobody will know I'm here. Then when Dad's well enough I'll bring him to the bunker."

"Dean, if they catch you -- " Tall Sam sighs.

"They won't," Big Dean snaps. "Here."

Even though Dean's eyes are closed he can tell that Big Dean is handing Baby Sam to Tall Sam, who scoops him up and holds him in one arm. Somehow Dean can tell Big Dean doesn't want to hand the baby over, does it reluctantly.

Dean can't really say he likes Big Dean, but he sure understands him.

"Now go," Big Dean says. "Before the cops come back. Get out of here."

Then Tall Sam is leaning down, murmuring,"Dean?" in his ear, and Dean rolls over, opens his eyes a little. He's so sleepy.

"Come on, big guy," Tall Sam says. "We're going home."

Dean lets Tall Sam pick him up, settle him against his shoulder while he's carrying Baby Sam in his other arm. Tall Sam's shoulder is big and strong and smells good, and Dean rests his cheek there, hooks his arm around Tall Sam's neck, fingers of one hand tangled in Tall Sam's long hair. It feels safe, pressed warm and snug against Tall Sam's massive chest, and Dean slips back into sleep on deep breaths of Tall Sam's spicy scent, barely even noticing when he's laid down in the back seat of the car with Baby Sam in his arms, the baby's familiar smell merely a slight mutation of Tall Sam's, so that Dean feels engulfed in Sam, Sam, Sam.

Chapter Text

Dean barely wakes when the car stops and Tall Sam scoops him up and settles him on his shoulder again, carries him into a room where there's a bed. It smells dusty, and when Tall Sam tucks him in, the blanket and pillow smell dusty too.

"Sleep tight, Dean," Tall Sam murmurs as he presses his lips to Dean's forehead. "You're safe here."

Dean reaches out and there's the baby, just as it should be. Tall Sam's laid the baby right there next to him, and Dean scoots in, presses his face into Sam's hair, breathes deep.

The next thing he knows, he's waking up in a strange dark room. He's been crying in his sleep; the pillow is damp under his cheek. Baby Sam is sucking on his fingers; Dean feels the baby's chest rise and fall under his hand as he breathes. The only sounds are Sam's soft sucking noises. He climbs off the bed carefully, finding the floor with his bare feet, shuffles toward the door where there's a light on underneath, hoping it's the bathroom.

Outside is a long, dimly-lit hallway, full of doors just like the one he's coming out of. The doors are all closed. He can hear a voice now, speaking low and intense, from somewhere down the hall, so he follows it, turns a corner and finds the bathroom. When he's done he comes out into the hall again, panics. He can't remember where his door is, the room with the bed and baby Sam. On instinct he pads down the hallway toward the voice, rounds another corner into a big room with tall ceilings. Tall Sam is sitting at a big table, a pile of papers and books in front of him on the table, and he's talking on a telephone. It's an old, antique kind with a big handle and a long thick cord attaching the handle to the cradle where the dial sits.

"No, Dean, I had to page you," Tall Sam is saying into the phone. He pauses a moment as the person -- Big Dean, probably -- answers, then Tall Sam shakes his head, looks irritated. "Cells don't work. No cell service in 1983, duh. No internet either. I'm looking at a pile of books and files, trying to find the spell. Manually. I gotta tell ya, Dean, we could be stuck here for awhile."

He looks up then, notices Dean standing in the entryway, fighting the urge to put his thumb in his mouth.

Tall Sam's eyes soften, and he smiles a little.

"Hey, I gotta go," he says into the phone. "I gotta take the kids shopping. They need stuff."

He pauses again, listening, then frowns into the phone.

"I don't know, Dean," Tall Sam's voice is annoyed again. "Food, clothes, diapers, for godssake. Stuff. Okay? We'll go to Walmart or something. No big deal. Just keep an eye on Dad, okay? Get him home for Christmas. And call me."

Tall Sam hangs up the phone, smiles at Dean.

"Hey, buddy," he says. "You sleep okay?"

Dean shakes his head, feels the tears well in his eyes.

Tall Sam frowns a little, gets up and crosses the room, kneels down in front of Dean so they're almost eye-to-eye.

"What's wrong?" Tall Sam asks. "Bad dream?"

Dean nods, feels tears slide down his cheeks, reaches up instinctively for a hug.

Tall Sam puts his arms around him, patting his back a little awkwardly, seeming to find it hard to know what to do with his long, long arms, since they could wrap around Dean twice and still have room for more.

It works, though, feels good, comforting, as Dean knew it would after being carried in Tall Sam's arms already. It's a place he feels safe, like he does with Daddy, only different.

"Okay," Tall Sam murmurs softly. "You're okay now, Dean. Nothing can hurt you here."

He holds Dean for another minute, then gently pulls back, wipes his own eyes, smiles and shakes his head.

"You're so little and helpless this way," Tall Sam, as if he's talking to someone else. "I just never realized how really little you were when all of this happened."

"I'm four years old," Dean holds up his fingers to show Tall Sam, because it's not like he's three or something.

Tall Sam nods, smiles softly.

"I know," he nods. "You're a big boy. I know."

Dean blinks, watches Tall Sam's almond-shaped eyes and soft lips as he speaks, not understanding but feeling a familiar warmth in his chest like he gets when Daddy or Mommy are hugging him. It makes him remember what Big Dean told the policeman in the hospital, and suddenly he thinks he understands.

Tall Sam loves him, just like Daddy and Mommy do, because he's family. That explains why Tall Sam feels so familiar.

"Are you my daddy's brother?" Dean asks. "Are you and Big Dean in my family?"

He feels a sudden surge of hope, wishes it were true more than anything. Needs it to be true. Dean's never had an uncle, or a grandmother, or anyone besides Daddy and Mommy and Baby Sam. Other kids at his preschool have those things, they talked about visiting grandparents, having holiday dinners with cousins and aunts and uncles. It always sounded so warm and wonderful to have so many people loving you, not just the two or three people who live with you. The most important people, of course, are your mommy and daddy and sisters and brothers, but Dean's got so few, and on Christmas there's just them --

Which leads him to follow up his earlier questions -- and Tall Sam is staring at him with his eyebrows lifted, obviously struggling to come up with something to say -- so Dean bursts out with it.

"Are you gonna be here for Christmas? Are you here to have Christmas with us?"

It fills him with such hope -- the idea that he could have a big Christmas like his preschool friends do, with cookies and pie and kids laughing and running around and he could climb on anyone's lap and he would be welcome -- Dean is too excited suddenly.

Tall Sam's mouth falls open and he gives a funny little frown, like he's trying to decide whether he should say something but then decides to say something else.

Then he makes up his mind and nods.

"Yeah, Dean," he says softly. "We'll have a big Christmas. Would you like that?"

Dean nods, and he can tell his eyes are shining with tears because Tall Sam smiles broadly, and his face crinkles and dimples and shines like the sun, so that Dean almost has to look away because Tall Sam is so beautiful suddenly, too bright to look at directly.

Then Dean hears Baby Sam crying, and he turns toward the sound, grabbing Tall Sam's hand.

"Sam's crying," he says, and Tall Sam looks confused for a minute, then he hears it too and stands up to follow along.

"Wow," he mutters. "You could hear that."

Like it's such a surprise that Dean knows in his bones when Baby Sam needs him.

But for Dean it's obvious. Who else can take care of Baby Sam, now that Mommy's gone? And Daddy's sick and sleeping all the time, and now he's in the hospital -- of course it's up to Dean.

Luckily there was a diaper bag in the car with unmixed formula, because Baby Sam needs his diaper changed and he's hungry. When the essentials are taken care of, Dean eats his own breakfast and Tall Sam bundles them into the car for the drive to the store, which turns out to be a K-mart, as Tall Sam mutters out loud to Dean, because "there weren't Walmarts yet in 1983," which is just another funny nonsensical thing like a lot of things Tall Sam says, so Dean ignores it.

It's cold out -- mid-December in Kansas is always cold -- but there are blankets and extra clothes in the trunk of the Impala, so it's all good. Dean left his coat in the apartment, though, and the only clothes for Baby Sam are a couple of spare onesies in the diaper bag, so he gets the blanket and wraps it around his brother before they drive to town.

At K-mart, Tall Sam straps the baby into his car-seat, then puts the car-seat in the shopping cart the way Dean shows him. Tall Sam seems to need Dean to tell him what to do a lot, and Dean is fine with that because Tall Sam might be grown up, but he obviously doesn't know anything about babies. They find the baby aisle and load up on diapers, baby clothes and baby food.

"Sam eats real baby food now," Dean explains to Tall Sam. "He needs a high chair so he can sit up when he eats."

So they find a big box with a high-chair inside, then they find the bottles and formula and put those in the cart too.

A grandmotherly-looking woman offers to help them and Tall Sam gets defensive and nervous, bundling Dean and the baby into the cart quickly and moving away across the store at top speed, barely looking back at the woman.

"Can't trust people," he mutters. "This happened before. Never talk to strangers, especially when buying baby stuff."

Dean nods solemnly.

"That's what Daddy says," he agrees, and Tall Sam stops dead, stares at him for a minute, shakes his head.

"Oh my god," he says softly. "This is how it started, isn't it? All the paranoia. Dad was preaching it at you from the very beginning."

Dean looks at Tall Sam, waiting for his words to make sense.

Tall Sam shakes his head.

"Never mind," he says dismissively. "Let's get this stuff and get home."

Dean feels instantly sad because Tall Sam forgot. He forgot Christmas.

"What? What's wrong?" Tall Sam is right there, tuned in to Dean like he's the other half of his soul, like he understands Dean better than he understands himself.

Dean feels his lip quiver, but he refuses to cry, manages to mutter, "You said we could have a big Christmas."

Tall Sam's face clears immediately.

"Right," he says. "Absolutely. Come on, let's go get a Christmas tree."

Dean feels his face relax into a big grin. He knew Tall Sam wouldn't lie to him. He knew it!

The store is full of Christmas items. It's a little overwhelming how much glitter and lights and red-and-green bows there are everywhere. Tall Sam grabs stuff off the shelves without looking very closely, and by the time they reach the check-out line they're tired and Baby Sam is fussy and they have to wait and wait and wait because it's Christmas season at K-mart and that's the way it is.

Then Tall Sam's credit cards don't work, so he has to pay cash, and they end up leaving the high chair because Tall Sam doesn't have enough money, and they get a lot of irritated looks from the people in line behind them because Baby Sam is wailing by this time and Dean wants to climb up on his seat so he can just hold and rock that baby but Tall Sam's afraid he'll fall so he won't let him but he does it anyway while Tall Sam is dealing with the harried check-out guy and sure enough, Baby Sam settles down right away with Dean up there practically on top of him.

The entire store bursts into applause, and a chorus of "awwww"s rise around them, but when Tall Sam turns to see what all the commotion is about and Dean's perched awkwardly on the baby's seat, murmuring comforting words and sounds and kissing Baby Sam's plump little cheeks and fingers, Tall Sam looks shocked, just stares blankly for a minute like he can't quite believe what he's seeing.

"You've got a special little boy there, mister," the store manager says.

"And that baby sure loves his big brother," comments the lady behind them in line.

"I never saw a baby stop crying so fast," another woman agrees.

"It's like he's flipped a switch or something," the check-out guy says. "Like magic."

Tall Sam frowns at the check-out guy, reaches up and pulls Dean off the top of the cart, holding him in one arm as he pushes the cart out of the store at top speed.

"Way to be inconspicuous, Sam," he mutters to himself as he finds the car, dumps Dean and Baby Sam in the back seat, then starts loading the trunk with all the baby and Christmas stuff. It's freezing in the car so Dean pulls the blanket around the baby, starts to climb up onto his seat to keep him warm.

Tall Sam is in the driver's seat, glancing at Dean in the rearview mirror, when he remembers.

"Oh shit," he says. "I was gonna buy you a coat."

He finds the other blanket, tucks it around Dean and the baby, starts to leave them huddled in the backseat while he goes back into the store to buy the coat.

But he's ambushed by a plump, middle-aged lady who wants him to join her "mom's club" because "Dads are welcome too!" and she watched him with "those two adorable little boys" in the store and she's sure he could use some support.

Tall Sam looks horrified at her, backs away muttering "no thanks, no thanks," and gets into the driver's seat as fast as he can, pulling out of there in such a hurry the tires screech.

"We'll get you a coat later," he says to Dean in the rearview mirror, and Dean just nods.

* *
When they get back to the bunker, Dean shows Tall Sam how to feed the baby with the tiny spoon and some Cheerios. They forgot to buy a bib, so Tall Sam tucks a towel around Baby Sam's front. The baby pulls it off, of course, and gets himself covered with baby food and drool, so with Tall Sam's help Dean changes the baby's clothes after he eats, then gets him ready for a nap. They don't have a crib, and Baby Sam is rolling around and sitting up pretty well now, so they cobble together a makeshift pen in a corner of the room where Dean can sit and rock with the baby until he falls asleep, then puts him down gently on the blanket on a rug with pillows and books all around to keep him from hurting himself.

Tall Sam watches as Dean takes care of the baby, then pads over to Tall Sam and climbs into his lap, tucking his head under Tall Sam's chin and resting his head against his chest, where he can feel his heart beating.

It takes Tall Sam a minute, but then he's got his arms around Dean, presses his face into his hair and breathes. They sit like that for a few minutes, silently, until they're sure the baby is asleep. Then Dean's stomach rumbles.

"Come on," Tall Sam whispers. "Let's get you some lunch."

While Dean eats his peanut butter and jelly sandwich Tall Sam makes another phone call. Dean listens as Tall Sam's voice rises and falls, and he knows he's talking to Big Dean because he's used to the way Tall Sam talks to his partner now. Tall Sam sounds irritated at first, then pleading and whiny. Finally his voice gets soft and quiet, and he answers in monosyllables with a lot of pauses as he listens to Big Dean being reassuring and confident and in control.

They spend the afternoon decorating. Tall Sam brings in the funny-looking little Christmas tree they bought, and Dean helps him put on tinsel and lights and sparkly ornaments. When it's done they stand back, stare at the wobbly, lopsided little tree hesitantly.

"It's probably not exactly what you're used to," Tall Sam suggests. "I'm sure your mom's trees were pretty awesome."

Dean slips his hand into Tall Sam's and smiles up at him, speechless with happiness. Feeling a little sad too, but he's starting to get used to that.

Tall Sam smiles down.

"Kinda more like A Charlie Brown Christmas than It's a Wonderful Life," he says with a shrug. "Sorry."

"Do you think Santa can find us here?" Dean asks, looking around for a chimney and not seeing one. That makes him frown, and he looks up at Tall Sam expectantly.

Tall Sam's face changes expression a few times, like he's trying to decide how to answer and changes his mind a lot before he does.

Finally he squats down in front of Dean and looks him in the eye, all serious and thoughtful.

"I'm sure he will, Dean," Tall Sam says. "Don't worry. When you get up Christmas morning, there'll be presents. Just like always. Okay?"

Dean nods, then puts his arms around Tall Sam's neck and hugs him because he looks like he needs it.

Tall Sam hugs him back, and his hugs are getting better, like he's starting to get used to hugging a four-year-old and it's not so awkward.

Baby Sam is fussing so Dean spends some time playing with him, brings him over to the tree so he can look at the lights and the sparkly decorations. Baby Sam reaches for the tree and seems so delighted by it that it makes even Tall Sam laugh. Tall Sam finds some old phonograph records with Christmas music on them, and he makes hot chocolate and grilled cheese sandwiches for supper.

Nobody wants to leave the room with the Christmas tree, but finally it's time for bed. Tall Sam makes a secure area on the bed in the same room where they slept last night -- "It's your room, Dean," Tall Sam assures him -- and Baby Sam goes to sleep in Dean's arms just like he always does now. Then Tall Sam makes him brush his teeth, wash up and put on the pajamas they bought at K-mart. He lets Dean stay up a little while since he's a big boy, and Tall Sam reads him a story from the shelf in the library, curled up in a big chair with Dean on his lap where he can see the pictures. Dean's belly is full, the Christmas tree is pretty, and Tall Sam's lap is warm and secure, and Dean falls asleep before they're even done with one chapter of the strange story about the little girl who leaves her Kansas home for a strange new world called Oz.

Chapter Text

The next day is spent much like the first, and the day after that. Dean explores the bunker a little bit, opening doors and peering into strange, dark, dusty rooms. Tall Sam shows him the garage full of old cars, and he plays in one for awhile, imagining he's driving, imagining he's fixing it like his dad can do. Tall Sam teaches him to play cards, takes him to the recreation room, which has a pool table. Tall Sam stands him on a chair so he can reach the table, shows him how to hold the cue, laughs at him because it's so awkward and his hands are so small he keeps dropping it.

"You can't even imagine what a great pool player you're gonna be someday, Dean," Tall Sam laughs as he reaches around from behind and helps Dean position the cue again, lines it up with the ball, helps him shoot. With Tall Sam's help, he plays pretty well, and it makes Dean's chest glow with pride because Tall Sam looks so pleased.

"Only seems fair I get to teach you, since you taught me," he says with a grin, and Dean smiles back, uncomprehending as ever but needing to keep Tall Sam smiling. Needing to keep his eyes soft and his cheeks dimpling like that because it's definitely the best thing in the world.

Besides Baby Sam and Daddy, of course.

When Dean wakes up crying on the third night in the bunker, Tall Sam is right there, soothing Dean's brow and wiping away the tears as the memories of fire and screaming and heat and running away with Baby Sam heavy in his arms slowly fade. He knows he was crying for his mom because Tall Sam is saying, "It's okay, Dean. I know you miss Mom, I know it's tough, buddy. But you're gonna be okay. You just gotta trust me on that. You're gonna be okay."

Tall Sam rocks and soothes him until Dean falls asleep again, his face buried against Tall Sam's warm, solid chest.

* *

They fall into a routine by the fifth day, Tall Sam doing his research in the library on the big table while Dean plays with Baby Sam on the floor, dangling measuring spoons and other shiny objects in front of the baby to make him reach and laugh. Dean loves to make the baby laugh. It's the best thing ever.

Tall Sam talks to Big Dean on the phone every day. His calls always start out worried and anxious, and by the end his voice lowers and Dean can't hear every word but he gets by the tone of Tall Sam's voice that he's resigned to waiting yet another day.

"Dad's gonna be fine," he tells Dean. "He pulled through the surgery and he's on the mend. They just need to keep him under observation for another twenty-four hours, make sure there's no infection. And no smoking again, ever. But I don't remember Dad smoking, do you?"

Dean shakes his head. He's learned to accept Tall Sam's way of referring to Daddy as "Dad." Doesn't question it. Dean's become so used to Tall Sam he pretty much accepts everything about him. He's already forgotten a time before he arrived in Dean's life, even though it's only been a few days. Life with Baby Sam and Tall Sam has become Dean's new normal.

Tall Sam makes grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for Dean for supper, leaving Baby Sam in the corner on the floor of the kitchen with his pots and pans and spoons. The baby happily bangs away while Tall Sam goes into the library to call Big Dean. Baby Sam bangs and bangs, then looks up and catches Dean watching him, laughs. Baby Sam's eyes are the same color as Tall Sam's -- kinda green, kinda brown, kinda gold, even a little blue. And when he laughs Dean can see the tiny indents in his cheeks that will someday grow into big dimples.

After supper Dean puts the baby down for the night, rocking him on the bed like he always does until Baby Sam falls asleep, then sliding down off the bed and stacking pillows around him so he doesn't fall off.

When he comes out into the hall Tall Sam is still talking on the phone to Big Dean, his voice rising and falling, and when Dean shuffles into the library Tall Sam looks up, smiles at Dean.

"Yeah, I gotta go," he says into the phone. "Just get here when you get here."

After he hangs up Tall Sam crosses the rom, puts his hand on Dean's head, smoothing back his hair and smiling down at him.

"You need a haircut," he says fondly, slipping his fingers through Dean's long mop. "Come on, while the baby's sleeping. Let's get you fixed up."

Dean finds himself in the bathroom, sitting on a chair on top of a table in front of the mirror, while Sam spreads a tablecloth over him, then goes to work on the back of his head. He's good at it, knows just how to cut the long strawberry blond strands of Dean's hair, so pretty soon the floor is littered with soft, curling baby hair.

Mommy will be so mad, Dean thinks. Mommy always liked his long hair, didn't want Daddy to get it cut. But Daddy would grumble, "You're gonna give him a complex, Mary. The kids at school are gonna think he's a girl."

Daddy will be happy now.

When he's done Tall Sam turns the chair back and forth, getting a good look at the sides of Dean's head, making sure everything is even. It's short, up off Dean's ears and forehead now, and it makes him look older, he thinks. Makes his green eyes and freckles stand out in his pale face.

"There," Tall Sam says finally, satisfied. "Now you look like yourself. Still little, but you. Definitely you."

Tall Sam reaches into his pocket, pulls out something that looks like a thick piece of black glass, fiddles with it before reaching it out in front of him and Dean. He leans down, so he's pressing his cheek against Dean's, his arm with the piece of glass extended straight out in front of them.

The glass flashes and Dean jumps, rubs his cheek on Tall Sam's scruff, and it's like sandpaper and hurts a little, but he doesn't complain. Tall Sam pulls away immediately, though, and looks apologetic.

"Sorry," Tall Sam says. "I needed a record of this moment. It's sorta historical. I hope you'll forgive me someday, Dean."

Dean blinks up at him, then smiles.

"It's okay," he assures Tall Sam, although he has no idea what he's agreeing to. "Don't worry."

Tall Sam goes still, stares at him silently for a moment, then reaches down and slides his thumb across Dean's cheek, cupping his chin so he can tilt his face up.

"Missouri was wrong," he says softly. "You're not funny-looking at all."

Dean feels an embarrassed blush rise in his cheeks, but Tall Sam is smiling again so Dean decides to let it go.

That's the moment when he hears voices, out in the hall, coming from the library.

Tall Sam hears them too, reaches out to pull the cloth off and pick Dean up, holding him as they move out into the hall, following the sound.

Big Dean is coming down the stairs into the library, yelling "Sam! Sammy!"

And with him, leaning heavily on him and limping and looking tired and sick -- it's Daddy.

Dean wiggles out of Tall Sam's arms, drops to the floor, runs across the room, flings himself against his father like there's nothing else, ever. He's got his arms tight around Daddy's legs and he's holding on for dear life, shaking with grief and shock because he had begun to think he'd never see Daddy again. That he was gone forever, like Mommy.

John Winchester holds still for a moment, letting his grown son support him as his little son hugs him, tries not to let on how weak and sick he still feels. He's got one arm slung across Big Dean's shoulders, and now he puts his other hand on Little Dean's head, mutters, "Hey, Dean," softly as he caresses the boy's tawny head.

Dean holds tight for another minute, then turns his face up. Daddy smiles reassuringly.

"It's okay, Dean," Daddy says. "I'm gonna be okay."

He lifts his head, looks across the room at Tall Sam, who's got tears in his eyes again.

"We're all gonna be okay," Daddy says, glancing at Big Dean, who nods once, looks down at Little Dean, then up at Tall Sam.

"Nice haircut," he comments, raising his eyebrows at Tall Sam, who's staring at Big Dean with something like the way Daddy used to look at Mommy, like he's looking at the sun and the moon and his whole world right there in one person.

Daddy's tired, but he wants an update, so Big Dean helps him sit down at the table in the library. Dean stays close, stands right next to Daddy's chair.

Big Dean takes one look at the Christmas tree, then turns to Tall Sam.

"Really? You got a Christmas tree?" he says to Tall Sam. "What the hell, Sam?"

Tall Sam is still looking stunned and tearful, staring at Big Dean like he's a parched traveler in a desert and Big Dean is a big cool class of water. He's got a similar look for Daddy, even if it's not quite so hungry.

But he recovers quickly, swiping his sleeve across his eyes and inhaling a big sniffly breath.

"Yeah," Tall Sam nods. "The kids need a little Christmas cheer, after what they've been through. You got a problem with that?"

Big Dean snorts derisively. "We never had Christmas, Sam. Not after Mom died. Never. It's just some pansy-assed made-up excuse to spend money and make people feel like crap because they can't afford shit. You know that. What're you trying to do, make it worse?"

Big Dean glares at Tall Sam, then at Dean, who's crawled into Daddy's lap and huddles in, safe and warm and sure of his father's love.

"No, Christmas is good," Daddy says, hugging Dean close with one arm. "Normal is good. It's crazy enough, finding out what you boys take for granted. Hell, I'm still taking it all in, trying to get it straight in my mind."

He looks up at Tall Sam, smiles a little, and that's when Dean realizes that Daddy looks like Tall Sam. They have the same dimples.

"You did good, son," Daddy says to Tall Sam. "Thank you."

Tall Sam turns red, tears up again, looks like he's gonna start crying in earnest.

Then Daddy gets serious, puts Dean down with a quick kiss and a soft word, but it's firm, it's an order, so Dean knows he has to obey.

"Go play now. Grown-ups got some talking to do."

Dean retreats into his corner of the room, exchanging a glance with Tall Sam, who smiles kindly and nods at him, so Dean knows he's okay with this. He's as happy to see Daddy as Dean is, and Dean has the feeling he wishes he could give Daddy a big hug but he doesn't. Maybe it's because he's grown up and grown men don't hug each other much, Dean considers.

But later, after the men have talked and Big Dean helps Daddy get to bed, since they checked out of the hospital early and Daddy really needs another week to recover so it's agreed they'll all stay here together till Daddy gets better -- until after Christmas -- and Tall Sam tucks Dean into bed with a kiss -- then Dean hears voices in the hall and he creeps out of bed, meaning to go to the bathroom and get a drink of water.

But instead he stops in the shadow of the doorway because he sees them -- Big Dean and Tall Sam -- in the hall, talking in low voices, heads bent together, leaning into each other like they're two halves of one person.

"We have to protect them, Dean," Tall Sam is saying. "We're clearly meant to be here. I can't see how they -- how we -- even survived this first year. Azazel was on a rampage, killed everyone Dad knew -- no wonder he got out of Lawrence so fast."

"I called Pastor Jim," Big Dean says. "As soon as Dad's up to it, we need to take them to Minnesota, to Jim Murphy's place. He's expecting us."

Big Dean hesitates for a moment, then looks up, and Dean can see his eyes shining.

"He remembers us, Sam," Big Dean is saying. "Like we were here before. Another time. We made another trip to this time, I guess. Maybe we were laying the groundwork for this or something."

"Wait -- he remembers us? As in us us?" Tall Sam clarifies.

"No! God, no," Big Dean says. "Pastor Jim just thinks we're hunters who are looking for a place to hide a family for a few years, till the kids get old enough to be a little less helpless. He's definitely on board with it. Got a house all set up for them to live -- for us to live -- I sorta remember this, Sam. I think we stayed there till I was about seven or eight."

Tall Sam nods, looks grim. "So Dad's okay with it? You told him?"

Big Dean nods. "'Course I did," he mutters. "He's Dad. Can't keep something like this from him. He needs to know what he's up against."

Tall Sam nods again. "How'd he take it?"

"How'd'ya think he took it?" Big Dean grouses. "Like I said, he's Dad. He may have just lost his wife in a terrible, tragic supernatural event, but he's tough. He's a marine. He's gonna survive."

"He just survived a demon attack on his life," Tall Sam says. "I don't think that happened the first time. Makes me wonder if there's other things we've altered just by being here."

"How do you know that didn't happen the first time?" Big Dean asks. "I mean, I don't remember it, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen. My memories of that time are pretty hazy. It's possible that Azazel sent his demons to kill Dad as a way to orphan us, make us more vulnerable and isolated. That's what happened to some of those other psychic kids, remember? A lot of them ended up orphans, adopted, stuff like that. So what if that's what Azazel was planning with us?"

Tall Sam stares silently for a minute, then shakes his head.

"So you're saying if we hadn't been there to save Dad from that attack, we'd have been orphans right off the bat. Adopted by strangers. Raised like that psycho kid from Saginaw -- "

"Max," Big Dean fills in.

"Max, right," Tall Sam nods.

They're both silent for a minute, and Dean holds his breath, willing them not to notice him.

They don't. They're far too wrapped up in their own memories. And in each other.

"Wow," Tall Sam says eventually.

Big Dean nods.

"Yeah," he agrees.

"You know, we could tell Dad," Tall Sam says finally. Big Dean looks up, raises his eyebrows. "About the demon blood, I mean. We know he finds out somehow. Maybe we told him."

Big Dean is shaking his head.

"No," he mutters, then "No, no, no," a little louder, firm.

"I just think he has a right to know if his own son is a -- "

"No!" Big Dean barks, grabs Tall Sam's shirts in his fists and shakes him, shoves him against the wall and glares up at him fiercely. "No, Sam, he does not need to know that. Not now."

Tall Sam swallows, his lips part and his face flushes. He holds Big Dean's gaze for a minute, then lowers his eyes to his mouth.

Dean feels embarrassed suddenly, like he's watching something he's not supposed to, something secret and private. He backs up slowly, being as quiet as he can, and pads back to bed, leaving the door slightly ajar.

There's no more sound from the hallway, and Dean curls his body around his sleeping brother, snuggles close so he can take deep breaths of his warm baby smell, lets it lull him to sleep, hoping this time the nightmares will stay away.

* *

When he wakes up Baby Sam is already awake, flailing his arms and making raspberries.

Dean gives his brother a kiss, then climbs off the bed and heads down the hall to the bathroom, then the kitchen.

Big Dean is there, making something in a frying pan that smells like onions.

"Hey, Mini Me," he growls in greeting.

Dean ignores him, takes a bottle out of the refrigerator, pads over to the sink, pulls a chair up so he can climb up and turn on the hot water, lets it run a minute, pulls a pan off the sideboard and sticks the bottle in a pan of hot water to warm.

Big Dean watches him, eyebrow raised.

"Need any help?" he barks, and Dean shakes his head.

"Okay then," Big Dean nods, turns back to his pan of onions and eggs, all scrambled up and smelling pretty good.

Dean stands on the chair, waiting for the bottle to warm, trying not to look at Big Dean's broad back.

Big Dean finishes cooking, scoops the food onto a couple of plates, turns back to Dean, holding out the steaming food.

"You hungry?" he asks.

Dean hesitates. The food smells so good, like Mommy's cooking. But he doesn't like Big Dean, senses that Big Dean doesn't like him either, and he's reluctant to eat before he feeds the baby anyway.

"Come on," Big Dean coaxes, gesturing toward the table. "While the bottle warms. Just a couple of bites. It's damn good, you can count on that."

Big Dean puts the plates on the table, finds a couple of forks, pours Dean a glass of juice, sits down at the other place and starts pouring salt on the scrambled eggs.

Dean's stomach gets the better of him and he climbs down, pulls the chair over to the table, climbs back up on his knees at the table, reaches for the salt.

Big Dean has mixed onions and bacon bits with the eggs, and they taste incredible. Big Dean grins at him as he takes a bite, takes another bite, then shovels the whole plate into his mouth hungrily, despite how hot the eggs are and how they burn the roof of his mouth.

"That's it," Big Dean nods. "Good, huh?"

Dean just nods because his mouth is full and he can't speak. He drinks his juice, climbs off the chair, pulls it over to the sink again so he can reach the bottle, climbs down with it and heads toward the door. He's almost out when he remembers his manners.

He turns back to see Big Dean watching him, an amused frown creasing his brow.

"Thank you," he says solemnly. "It was good."

"You're welcome, little man," Big Dean says with a satisfied nod. "Come back tomorrow morning and I'll show you how to make it for yourself."

Dean nods, then hurries back to his room with the bottle. He's afraid he's been gone too long, but Baby Sam is still playing with his toes, practicing turning over on the bed, and luckily he hasn't managed to scoot off the edge yet. He grins at Dean and grabs at the bottle as Dean hands it to him, sucking it into his mouth in one big slurp.

"Big Dean can be nice," he tells Sam. "Tall Sam likes him, so maybe he's okay."

Baby Sam's eyes are at half-mast and he's pretty focused on his bottle, so he doesn't answer.

Chapter Text

The next week passes pretty uneventfully, which is just fine with Dean. Daddy needs to get well, so he does a lot of resting and sleeping at first. Dean takes care of Baby Sam while Big Dean and Tall Sam go into town for more supplies. Tall Sam spends a lot of time reading and looking through files in the library, so he doesn't have as much time to spend with Dean. Also, he spends a lot of time with Big Dean, now that Big Dean's here.

It makes Dean a little jealous. Tall Sam watches Big Dean's every move when he's in the room, doesn't even notice Dean much anymore. For his part, Big Dean's always putting his hand on Tall Sam's shoulder when he leans over the table to look at something Tall Sam's reading. He stands close when he talks to Tall Sam, lowering his head and brushing his hand against Tall Sam's almost unconsciously as he speaks, his voice low and soft. Once in awhile he reaches up and pushes Tall Sam's hair out of his eyes, smiling a little.

Watching how affectionate they are with each other, Dean decides he got their relationship wrong. They must be married, he decides, like Mommy and Daddy, not work partners.

But that doesn't seem quite right either, and not just because they're boys and everybody knows boys can't marry other boys.

"Is Big Dean your boyfriend?" he asks Tall Sam one day when Tall Sam is tucking him in, which at least he still does even though Daddy's back.

Tall Sam frowns.

"He's my brother," Tall Sam says, looking slightly annoyed, like it's something he's heard before.

Then Dean understands.

"Like me and Sammy," Dean suggests, and Tall Sam smiles broadly.

"Exactly," he agrees. "That's exactly right, Dean."

He leans down and presses his lips to Dean's forehead.

"Now get some sleep," Tall Sam says. "Sweet dreams."

* *

Daddy's well enough to start exercising by the end of the week, so Dean and Big Dean take him down to the shooting range for some target practice. Daddy fits some headphones over Dean's ears to protect them, tells him to stand back and watch, but to stay well out of the way of any kick-backs or accidental ricochets.

"You're gonna need to know how to handle a gun, Dean," Daddy tells him. "But your hands are still too small, and with your body weight the kick will just knock you flat. We gotta wait a couple of years."

"So watch and learn, little man," Big Dean adds, winking at him.

Big Dean and Daddy get off several shots, Big Dean hitting the bulls-eye every time, Daddy's shots a little wide, before Daddy puts the safety back on the gun and turns to look at Dean.

Dean's got his hands over the headphones on his ears, tears streaming down his face because the sound is so deafening it makes his head feel like it's gonna explode.

Big Dean looks over at him, frowns.

"Ya gotta get used to the noise, kid," he says. "You're gonna be hearing a lot of it."

Daddy shakes his head.

"Maybe that's enough for today," he suggests. "I think we can both see I'm out of practice."

Big Dean grins broadly.

"Well, I gotta say I never saw you not hit a target until today," he agrees. "It's a little weird for me, too."

"Don't get used to it," Daddy growls menacingly. "I was the best marksman in my unit."

Big Dean nods, serious again.

"Yes, sir," he agrees. "That's what you always said. That's what I've always seen, and I don't doubt it for a second."

"All right, then," Daddy nods. "Just so we're clear. This -- " he waves his hand at the target. "This is just a result of the injury, and it's why I have to keep coming down here every day while it heals. But for now I think maybe we should do something that requires a little less accuracy."

They hit the gym for a little basketball, and this time Daddy's got the upper hand. He's taller than Big Dean, and manages to grab the rebound every time. It makes Dean proud, watching Daddy handle the ball so confidently, and Big Dean finally puts his hands up in surrender.

"Baseball was more my thing," he admits.

Daddy's breathing pretty hard, wipes his face with a towel, nods at Big Dean.

"You play in high school?" he asks.

Big Dean looks at him silently for a minute, then shakes his head, glancing over at Dean.

"Just t-ball when I was little, then some Little League," he says. "We never stayed put long enough -- "

He breaks off, stares at the floor, then shakes his head.

"Never mind," he mutters. "Doesn't matter."

Daddy looks stunned, stares at him, then at Dean, shuffles his feet and scrubs the towel over his sweaty face again.

"Jesus, Dean," he says. "I don't know what to say. I'm sorry. I can see it wasn't easy for you, growing up."

Big Dean shakes his head vehemently.

"You did your best, Dad," he says fiercely. "I never doubted that for a second. You were right to keep us moving. Staying in one spot for any length of time, we wouldn't have made it. You did what you had to do."

Daddy shakes his head a little. "It's all still so new," he admits. "Looking ahead, all I can think about is keeping my kids safe, learning everything I can about this fucked up world full of monsters and demons. Figure out how to hunt down and kill that thing that killed Mary."

"I know, Dad," Big Dean agrees. "And you will."

"You know that for a fact, Dean?"

Daddy looks him in the eye, and Big Dean looks away, which is how Dean knows he's gonna lie.

"Yeah, Dad," Big Dean mutters. "I know it for a fact."

Daddy nods, satisfied. It's what he wants to hear, and Daddy is good at that -- getting people to say what he wants them to say.

Even if it isn't true.

* *

While Daddy and Big Dean head off to the showers, Dean goes up to the library to help Tall Sam, who's been babysitting so Dean can have a little time with his dad.

Tall Sam is so relieved to see him it makes Dean want to hug him. So he does, holding on for a long time because now that Big Dean is back he feels like he doesn't get to spend much time with Tall Sam anymore and he's missing that.

"He's really fussy," Tall Sam complains, handing the baby to Dean. "Every time I tried to put him down so I could get back to work, he started to cry. No matter what I did. I tried feeding him, he wasn't hungry. I tried changing him, he peed on me."

Baby Sam looks up at Dean and smiles his big, mostly-toothless grin. Dean smiles back proudly, looks up at Tall Sam, who's scowling a little.

"Oh, now he's happy," Tall Sam grouses.

Dean can't help feeling proud that he's the only one his baby brother loves. It's a big responsibility, but it's a good thing too.

"Okay," Tall Sam is watching him smiling at the baby, watches the baby reach up and grab Dean's nose. "Okay, I get it. I remember. You and Dad are his whole world, Dean. And it's like he knows that, even when he's too young to form a coherent thought yet."

Tall Sam shakes his head. "You know, seeing it from the outside like this, it's no wonder Dad kept us moving around all the time. We were creepy kids, right from the start."

Dean blinks up at Tall Sam, not understanding, but feeling vaguely insulted anyway.

"Mommy says we're special," he insists, and Tall Sam's eyes widen for a moment, then he shakes his head.

"Okay," Tall Sam nods. "Not creepy. Just special. I get it, Dean."

He puts his hand on Dean's head, ruffles his now-short hair.

"I get it," he says again, softly.

* *
The next week is spent helping Dad recover, letting him get back in shape and slowly learn to use his muscles again. Big Dean decides to train him as a hunter, the way his dad trained him, so they spend hours in the gym and the shooting range, sparring and practicing their skills. Big Dean is older and more experienced than Daddy, but Daddy's a quick learner and he's very competitive, so he makes good progress. He's got the advantage in terms of height and weight, so by the end of the week he starts winning their wrestling matches, despite the fact that Big Dean is clearly giving it all he's got.

Dean watches sometimes, then mock-wrestles with Baby Sam, who laughs and laughs until they both collapse in giggles on the floor.

Tall Sam spends every spare moment researching, pouring through files, obsessed with finding the spell that will send him and Big Dean home again.

Although Dean can't understand why he wants to leave so badly. Dean's starting to get used to this strange new life with this strange new family he didn't even know he had before. And Daddy's happier too, not drinking so much and smiling at him again, tossing him up in the air and catching him and making him laugh out loud like he used to before Mommy got burned up. Daddy likes to win, and whenever he beats Big Dean at something he slaps him on the back and smiles so broadly his face dimples and cracks open and it makes Big Dean smile back.

And Big Dean doesn't seem to mind. He seems content to lose, like it's more normal for him that way. He's got this haunted look on his face sometimes when he looks at Daddy that makes Dean look away because it's scary and sad and makes him think about Mommy.

When Big Dean catches him looking he frowns at Dean, like it's Dean's fault they're all here in the first place.

On the day before Christmas Tall Sam takes him and Baby Sam into town again so he can buy a present for his dad. He picks out a sterling silver jackknife in the hardware store, and Tall Sam picks up a compass for Big Dean, "so he can always find his way in a storm."

They forget to buy wrapping paper and bows, so they just wrap the gifts in the bags they came in, ripped inside out and with the gift's recipient written on the paper in black magic marker. Back at the bunker, they put the presents under the Christmas tree, then stand back to view their handiwork. The two little brown-paper-wrapped packages under the scrappy little tree look pretty pathetic, but Dean thinks it's the best thing he's ever seen.

Tall Sam hugs him when he says that, kisses his cheek and rubs his scruff on his tender skin, but Dean doesn't mind.

They bought a package of Toll House cookies and a Sara Lee frozen apple pie in town, because Dean says Mommy always baked cookies and pie for Christmas. They bake the cookies first, so they can eat them while the pie's baking, and Tall Sam puts some Christmas music on the old gramophone. Then Tall Sam starts reading "A Christmas Carol" out loud while Dean and Baby Sam play on the floor in front of the tree. He's just finished the first chapter when Daddy and Big Dean come in with Chinese take-out and a bottle of whiskey.

"A Christmas Carol?" Big Dean scoffs. "Really?"

"It's about ghosts, Dean," Tall Sam protests. "I figured you'd approve."

Big Dean rolls his eyes as he puts the bags on the table, then catches a whiff of the smell of baking and his eyes go wide.

"Pie?" he almost stutters in his excitement. "You're baking a pie?"

Tall Sam looks smug, exchanges a surreptitious wink and thumbs-up with Dean, who's climbing into Daddy's lap so he can reach the table better.

"Okay, but the music has got to go," Big Dean insists. "Stuff sounds like old toothpaste commercials."

Dean thinks it's kinda nice, actually, so he's glad when Tall Sam ignores his brother and leaves the music on.

And Big Dean doesn't mention it again, so he mustn't really mind it that much either.

After they eat the take-out, the cookies, and the pie, and the men share the whiskey and start singing along with the music, Dean picks up Baby Sam and dances with him around the room, which makes everybody smile and Baby Sam laughs and laughs.

When it starts to get late Daddy bathes Dean and Baby Sam in the big claw-foot bathtub -- Baby Sam sitting in a porcelain serving bowl they found in the kitchen. Mommy always bathed them together like that, every day since Baby Sam started to be able to sit up, since it took less effort to clean them both at the same time. Daddy finds a big soft towel to gather Dean into afterwards so he can carry him to his room while Tall Sam carries the baby. Then Dean rocks Baby Sam to sleep like always. Daddy lets Dean stay up late tonight, since it's Christmas Eve, and he sits in front of the tree in Daddy's lap while Tall Sam and Big Dean read "A Christmas Carol," Big Dean doing the voices of the ghosts with remarkable expression. Dean watches the brothers huddle together over the book, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip, and it's comforting for some reason he can't explain. He's getting drowsy, leaning back against Daddy's broad chest, feeling warm and safe and only a little homesick.

* *
Dean wakes up screaming.

He feels the heat of the flames, hears the roar of the fire, smells the smoke. He's sobbing, his chest rising and falling in huge heaves, and his throat is sore from screaming. He knows he's been calling "Mommy! Mommy!" because he can hear his own voice echoing in his ears and it hurts because it's so loud.

This time he's managed to wake Baby Sam, who's wailing next to him, and he's shaking so bad it takes a minute or two before he can get his bearings in the dark, reach out to touch the baby. Sam's cries soften a little when Dean touches him, but he's pretty freaked out, and Dean can't stop sobbing loudly himself, which doesn't help.

Then the door flies open and Tall Sam bursts in, scoops Dean into his arms.

"Hey, Dean, it's okay. You're safe. It's okay."

Dean's torn between letting himself be comforted and comforting Baby Sam, who's wailing louder now that Dean's not touching him anymore.

Then another shadow moves into the room, bends over the bed, and suddenly Big Dean is there, gathering up Baby Sam and murmuring softly to him. Baby Sam quiets almost immediately, and Dean feels himself relax in response, lets himself cling to Tall Sam and cry into his shirt as Tall Sam strokes his hair and back.

"I knew we shouldn't have read that stupid ghost story before he went to sleep," Tall Sam shakes his head. "I'm such an ass."

"Shut up," Big Dean says. "It was a good story. Kid needs to learn to deal with scary."

"I'm not afraid of ghosts," Dean chokes out, feeling defiant whenever Big Dean is in the room. He pushes away from Tall Sam and wipes his eyes with his sleeve.

"There, see?" Big Dean says to Tall Sam. "This was just another nightmare. I had 'em all the time at first. For years. Not a big deal."

Tall Sam shakes his head.

"You'd just lost your mother, Dean," he says darkly. "In a really awful way. I still can't see how you ever got over something like that."

"I had you, didn't I?" Big Dean shrugs. "You and Dad."

Big Dean rocks Baby Sam in his arms, looking down at the baby and smiling a little.

"Ain't that so, Sammy?" Big Dean murmurs to the baby. "I had you, didn't I?"

Baby Sam grins up at him, his little body wiggling with joy, arms flailing a little until one tiny fist connects with Big Dean's jaw.

Big Dean pretends to be hurt, makes a face and jerks his jaw to the side as if the baby had really managed to land a good one.

Baby Sam giggles delightedly, does it again, gets the same response from Big Dean, and the game is on.

Tall Sam pulls Dean into his lap again, wipes his eyes with a tissue.

"And I guess you had us too," he mutters to Dean, smiling a little as he watches Dean watching Baby Sam and Big Dean.

Chapter Text

Turns out Daddy had a little more whiskey than he should have, and he's still asleep when Tall Sam and Big Dean carry the children into the library to show them what's there for them.

The room is dark -- it's still early morning and the bunker is underground so it's always dark anyway -- but the tree is lit, and Dean can see several bulky packages shoved haphazardly under and around the scraggly little bush.

He wriggles excitedly out of Tall Sam's arms, runs to the tree, sliding to his knees and grabbing the first package.

"He came! Santa came!" Dean exclaims, his chest so full of hope and joy he can hardly contain it.

"Well, the truth is, -- " Big Dean starts to say something but Tall Sam stamps on his foot, so that all that comes out is "Ow!"

"Merry Christmas, Dean," Tall Sam says.

There's a firetruck that makes real siren noises, and a train-set that he'll need help putting together, and a couple of baby toys for Sam that Dean gets to open too, since Sam's too little to know better and would rather play with the wrapping paper anyway.

The last thing he opens is a baseball and a mitt, and they're old, the mitt worn and soft.

"Belonged to my dad," Big Dean says. "He gave them to me when I was about your age. Figured they probably belong to you now."

Tall Sam is staring at Big Dean like he's seeing him for the first time.

"I'm not even gonna ask how you found those," he says, and Big Dean shrugs.

"Swung by the old house," he mutters. "While Dad was in the hospital. Knew there'd be a few things he needed."

Big Dean and Tall Sam exchange gifts, but Dean doesn't pay much attention as they grouse and complain and bump shoulders and pretend they're not pleased when they so obviously are.

Dean's too busy playing with his new firetruck, deep in his fantasy of becoming a fireman so he can save people from burning up in fires.

He's still playing with the firetruck an hour later when Daddy finally gets up, comes into the room, looking bleary-eyed and sad from his own night of bad dreams.

Dean jumps up, grabbing his package from under the tree.

"This one's for you, Daddy," he says. "From me."

Dad takes the badly-wrapped little gift, turns it over a few times, looks up at Dean with tears in his eyes.

"I can open it for you," Dean offers. "Can I?"

Daddy nods, so Dean tears opens the package, hands him the knife.

"See? It's one you can keep in your pocket, like the one you had at home."

Daddy nods again, watches Dean pull open the knife, demonstrate all its parts, close it up again and hand it back so Daddy can put it in his pocket.

"Thanks, son," Daddy smiles a little, wipes tears off his cheeks.

It makes Dean sad to see Daddy cry, so he hugs Daddy quickly and runs back to his firetruck.

That's when Big Dean hands his package to Daddy. Dad looks up at his grown son with a questioning look as he takes the bulky gift, and Big Dean doesn't quite look him in the eye.

"Figured you might need this," he says.

Dad opens the package, frowning. Big Dean stands back, shifting his feet nervously, and Tall Sam is frowning too, clearly not knowing what to expect.

It's a leather coat. The leather is a little worn and soft, and it clearly isn't brand new, but it's not old either. It's in good condition and obviously good quality.

Daddy holds it up, nodding his admiration, as Tall Sam sucks in a breath.

"Dean -- is that -- I thought you lost that years ago," he says, staring.

Big Dean nods.

"I did," he agrees. "I found this in the Salvation Army store in Lawrence."

Daddy stands up, slips the coat on. It's a good fit, looks right on him somehow.

"You wore this all the time while I was growing up," Big Dean tells him with a shrug. "Something tells me you'll be needing it now."

Daddy looks up at him, his face serious and a little mystified.

"Thanks, Dean," he says softly.

Tall Sam is still staring; now he shakes his head.

"The chances of this are just too great to be mere coincidence," he notes. "That jacket is a one-of-a-kind."

"Like you said, Sam," Dean shrugs. "We're supposed to be here."

* * *

The weeks between Christmas and Dean's fifth birthday are spent routinely. Daddy and Big Dean and sometimes Tall Sam train together in the gym or the shooting range, and when Big Dean figures he's ready he takes Daddy out on his first hunt. Tall Sam balks at being left behind, but in the end he stays because he can't argue with the fact that somebody needs to stay with Dean and Baby Sam, and he doesn't exactly trust Big Dean with his four-year-old self.

Dean's fine with that. Tall Sam is teaching him how to read, and he's learning fast and getting good and it makes Tall Sam happy and proud and that's just better than anything.

Baby Sam is growing too. He gets up on his hands and knees and rocks now, and Dean encourages him to crawl, but mostly he just scoots on his tummy or rolls when he wants to get somewhere. Tall Sam watches him sometimes with a bemused look on his face, like he can't quite understand how the baby can be so little and helpless, like he expected him to have horns and a tail.

Daddy and Big Dean come back from the hunt all sweaty and dirty and flush with victory. Dean only half-listens as they describe their adventures to Tall Sam; something about a poltergeist in an old airplane hanger which was terrorizing pilots and flight-school students.

Tall Sam seems vaguely jealous and frowns a lot as he watches Daddy and Big Dean together. Later Dean hears Big Dean and Tall Sam talking together quietly in the hall outside his room as he's falling asleep, and he can hear the complaining tone in Tall Sam's voice, the soothing tone in Big Dean's.

"He's learning a lot, and fast," Big Dean insists. "I introduced him to Caleb yesterday. Can you believe that? And Caleb wants us to meet Bobby."

"Dean, you can't take Dad to South Dakota," Tall Sam says. "There's no way you introduce him to Bobby."

"Yes, there is, Sam," Big Dean says. "I don't know what to tell you, but this is clearly how it's supposed to happen. I'm supposed to introduce Dad to the whole hunters' network, get him acclimated. Train him. You gotta admit, there's a certain poetic justice to it."

"Dean, we can't stay here," Tall Sam reminds him. "Dad can't stay here. Do you remember this place? Do you?"

Big Dean sighs.

"I don't know what I remember, Sam," he says finally. "It's pretty fuzzy for awhile after Mom died. I know we left Lawrence in a hurry. Maybe now I can see why. But after that -- I think I just took everything pretty much for granted. Trusted Dad to keep us safe. I know we stayed somewhere for awhile with these hunters -- "

He pauses, like he's thinking hard, trying to remember.

"Was it us, Dean? Do you remember us?" Tall Sam almost whispers, like he's half afraid of the answer.

Big Dean's silent another minute, and Dean imagines him scrubbing his hand over his face, frowning.

"I remember getting a firetruck for Christmas. And a bike for my birthday. But those guys we stayed with for awhile -- one of them was a real asshole. I remember thinking he didn't like me. He thought Dad would be better off without kids holding him back. He took Dad away on hunting trips and I can remember being scared they might not come back, that Dad would just take off with the guy and leave us. I remember feeling like a burden."

Tall Sam lets out a breath, and they're both silent for another minute.

"Do you remember me?" Tall Sam asks finally.

Dean imagines Big Dean shaking his head.

"But memory's a funny thing, Sam. Just because I don't remember you doesn't mean you weren't there. It just means you didn't do anything memorable, which is probably a good thing. And obviously you were there. I mean, Dad wouldn't have just left us alone while he went on a hunting trip. Not when we were so little."

Tall Sam sighs.

"So, any idea how long before we went to stay with Pastor Jim?"

"I remember kindergarten," Big Dean says. "I didn't like it 'cause everybody kept asking where my mom was. Then we must've moved because in first grade I got in trouble for lying because I told everybody my mom was at home sick."

"So sometime between now and next fall -- " Tall Sam suggests, then he's interrupted by Big Dean, who snaps his fingers suddenly.

"I remember your first birthday, Sam," he says. "You got cake all over yourself. And Tall Man was there -- no, not Tall Man, I just called him that. Tall Man and Big Mean."

Big Dean sucks in a breath, lets it out slow.

"Tall Sam and Big Dean," he whispers. "See, you were there. I remember you after all."

* *
The next day is Dean's fifth birthday.

The bike is waiting for him in the library when he gets up, a big blue bow taped to the handlebars.

Daddy and Tall Sam take him down to the gym and let him ride the bike, help him balance and ride in circles a few times until he gets the hang of balancing on it without Daddy's hand on the back of the seat. Big Dean comes in to get Daddy and they take off together, leaving Tall Sam with Dean and the baby again. Daddy's not there when Dean finally starts riding without help; it's Tall Sam who claps and shares his excitement when he's balancing on two wheels and steering the bike around the room by himself.

And it's Tall Sam who picks him up when he crashes, skinning his knee on the rough concrete floor. Tall Sam's hands are warm and gentle; Tall Sam knows a lot about cleaning and bandaging wounds, and Dean only winces a little when Tall Sam fixes him up and wipes the tears from his cheeks.

When it snows the following week, Tall Sam takes Dean and the baby outside to build a snowman. Then he brings them inside again and serves them hot chocolate with marshmallows. Big Dean comes into the kitchen while they're sitting at the table, sipping the sweet brew from steaming mugs.

"Cocoa and marshmallows, huh?" Big Dean smirks. "Just like mom used to make."

"That's what you always said," Tall Sam answers. "Nothin' goes with snow like cocoa and marshmallows."

Big Dean stops, stares at him with a funny look on his face.

"You know, I don't remember mom actually giving me cocoa," he says.

Tall Sam shrugs. "So maybe she never did," he suggests. "Maybe you're remembering this."

Big Dean thinks about that for a minute, then shakes his head.

"Whatever," he grunts.

* *

Tall Sam helps Dean put together his train set, and Dean plays for hours on the floor in the library while Tall Sam works at the table. Baby Sam sleeps in the portable playpen they found on another trip to Kmart, this one at night when virtually nobody's around to comment on the tall "dad" and his two small children.

Daddy and Big Dean are gone a lot, sometimes for several days at a time. Their absences make Tall Sam grumpy. He worries about them, mutters "Pick up the phone, goddamn it," if more than a day goes by without a call. When they finally get home Tall Sam acts mad and sulky, slams doors. Big Dean teases him, bumps shoulders, and at first Tall Sam resists and sulks harder, but then Dean catches them in the hall outside his room again, and Big Dean has Tall Sam pressed up against the wall, bracing himself with one hand, leaning into Tall Sam as he murmurs softly. Tall Sam's head is bent, listening, and when Big Dean's other hand comes up to touch Tall Sam's face, Tall Sam leans into it, slumps forward into Big Dean's arms and presses his face into Big Dean's neck. They stay still like that for a moment, and Dean tries to slip by into his room as quietly as he can, but Big Dean hears him, starts a little and turns his head, catches Dean's eye, frowns.

"You got someplace you gotta be, shorty?" he growls.

Tall Sam lifts his head, looks at Dean over Big Dean's shoulder. His eyes are red-rimmed and his cheeks look wet, like he's been crying.

"Hey little buddy," Tall Sam sniffs, clearing his throat. "You have a bad dream again?"

Dean shakes his head.

"Need a glass of water?" Tall Sam asks.

Again, Dean shakes his head.

Tall Sam disentangles himself from Big Dean's embrace, pushing him gently away so he can cross the hall, squats down to Dean's height.

"You want me to put you back to bed?" Tall Sam asks, and this time Dean nods, slips his hand into Tall Sam's. Tall Sam smiles, rises smoothly to his feet again, turns to lead Dean back into his room.

Big Dean is watching with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face, and when he catches Dean's eye again he winks.

"You're gonna give that kid a complex, Sam," he notes. "He's gonna grow up looking for you in every woman he meets."

"Shut up," Tall Sam grouses, but he says it fondly, not like he really minds.

Big Dean grins broadly, winks again at Dean.

After Tall Sam tucks him in and gives him another kiss, Dean turns over to snuggle into his baby brother, kisses his soft cheek.

"I love you, Sam," he whispers.

He knows the baby's sleeping, but he hopes he can hear him anyway.

Chapter Text

Baby Sam is growing too fast.

He starts crawling in the middle of February, and by March 1st he's pulling himself up on chairs, table legs, bookcases. He cruises around the library by holding onto the edges of things and moving sideways, planting his wobbly legs firmly before leaning his weight into his next step. By the middle of March he's standing without holding onto anything, just out of reach of both the last solid surface and the next one, hovering there in limbo while he reaches and tries lifting his foot tentatively.

Most of the time when he tries to take a step he loses his balance and falls down plop on his well-padded bottom. He sits there for a moment before turning onto all fours and crawling to his next destination, then pulling himself up and starting all over again.

The day he manages to pull down an entire pile of books and papers from the library table is when they all realize how endangered he is.

He's not badly hurt, just a little stunned, but he sits and cries with such indignation and accusation -- as if it's Dean's fault those stupid books fell on him.

And Dean feels terrible because he was playing with his firetruck when it happened and didn't catch him in time. Baby Sam won't let him hug or console him at first, just cries louder, and Dean feels even worse until Big Dean picks him up, scolding gently.

"Okay, you little terror," he says to the baby. "You're okay. No need to make everybody feel guilty."

The night he falls off the bed and wakes everybody up with his screaming is the night they realize he has to sleep in a crib from then on.

"So now we know what really happened to you," Big Dean says as they tuck the baby in.

"Very funny," Tall Sam mutters.

Dean finds it impossible to get back to sleep without his brother next to him, so he climbs into the tiny crib, and that's where Daddy finds him in the morning.

"I don't know how I coulda done it without you boys," Daddy says at the breakfast table that morning. They finally got a high-chair for baby Sam -- just to have something to keep him still for a few minutes so he's not tearing all over the bunker getting himself hurt is such a relief!

Dean's eating his bowl of Cheerios and Daddy's spooning applesauce into Baby Sam's mouth.

Tall Sam shakes his head.

"I don't know, Dad," he says. "I really don't."

"I guess we'll never know," Big Dean adds, taking a sip of his coffee and bumping his knee against his brother's under the table.

Then Baby Sam starts walking.

Dean's right there when he takes his first step, sits down -- plop! with a surprised look on his face. Then he tries it again. And again.

By the end of the day he's got the hang of it. He's at the end of a line of bookcases and he's reaching for the chair but it's a little too far so he takes one step, two, three steps in a row and he's at the chair, slapping the seat and bouncing up and down on his short little legs, grinning at Dean.

"He's walking!" Dean shouts excitedly. "Sammy's walking!"

Daddy's on dish duty that day so he's in the kitchen and comes running, Big Dean on his heels.

"Now we're in trouble," Big Dean comments dryly.

And so they are. Up until now the most dangerous thing in the bunker was the stairs out of the library. Now the baby's mobility makes it virtually impossible to keep tabs on him every second. He moves too fast. And his new height and ability to reach things on counters and desktops and tables means they all have to be doubly aware of leaving knives or other sharp metal objects lying around. Never mind actual weapons.

None of the drawers or cabinets are baby-proof, and all the baby wants to do is open things, reach inside, pull out whatever his little fingers can grab hold of, and put it in his mouth.

Dean takes to following the baby around all day, watching out for him. Tall Sam helps, taking dangerous objects out of the baby's hands and mouth and putting them away high over his head, which frustrates Baby Sam to no end. He stops being a happy, contented baby and starts being a demanding, easily-annoyed toddler. His temper tantrums bring the household to its knees, send Daddy and Big Dean out the door and leave Tall Sam and Dean to deal with the emotional turmoil of living with a walking baby.

Tall Sam stops researching, stops trying to get anything done. Dean stops playing with his toys. They live for Baby Sam's nap times, when they can both decompress a little.

"It would be easier if the bunker had some actual baby-proofing," Tall Sam complains to Big Dean one night in the hall outside Dean's room, which is where they seem to carry on most of their private conversations. Sometimes Dean wonders what they do in their room, because it sure isn't talking. They seem to need to do all the talking in the hall.

"You know, like those plastic gates and those little plastic door-handle covers and latches for the cabinets," Tall Sam continues. "I caught him sitting on the floor of the bathroom getting ready to drink a bottle of bleach yesterday."

"What the hell, Sam?" Big Dean sounds shocked. "How the hell did he get ahold of a bottle of bleach?"

"Believe me, this baby finds things I never thought to go looking for in the first place," Tall Sam says. "And I spend all my time following him around, keeping him out of trouble. I have no time to look for that spell anymore. I'm starting to think we're stuck here, at least until the baby starts school. Maybe by that time I can find a little time for research again."

"Or maybe you can just wait for him to find it," Dean growls. "Looks like he's finding everything else."

Big Dean turns his glare on Little Dean, who's trying to slip back into the shadows of his room.

"And what about you?" Big Dean demands. "Where were you while your baby brother was almost killing himself?"

"Dean -- " Tall Sam puts his hand on Big Dean's chest, trying to get him to back off. "It's not his fault. Kid follows his brother around like he's on a leash or something."

"Yeah?" Big Dean looks skeptical, throws another glare at Dean. "You better learn to watch out for that little brother of yours, kid, if you want to keep him safe. I did my job in that department; now let's see if you can do yours."

"Dean, I'm serious," Tall Sam frowns. "I don't see how we can ever leave. Dad's a mess, and Dean's still too little to manage by himself."

Big Dean shakes his head.

"I was shopping, cooking, washing clothes, and carrying you everywhere on my bike by the time I was eight years old," he insists gruffly.

"Exactly," Tall Sam nods. "You were eight. Not five. You were taking care of a four-year-old, not a baby or a toddler. There's a difference."

"What are you saying, Sam?" Big Dean growls. "You think I didn't do a good enough job? Because I didn't do everything for you when you were a baby? Because I had some help?"

"No, Dean, that's not what I'm saying," Tall Sam insists. "I'm saying these kids are not going to make it unless they have a lot of backup. For at least the next three years."

"Three years -- Sam, we can't stay here for three years, we've got responsibilities!"

"Exactly," Tall Sam agrees. "We need to get them settled with Pastor Jim. Soon. So I can get back to finding that spell and we can go home."

"After this hunt tomorrow," Big Dean promises. "We'll see how it goes."

*
How it goes is not good.

Daddy and Big Dean come home from the hunt early, after only a day in the field. They're both bruised and bleeding, and they both look pretty freaked out.

"Things were waiting for us," Big Dean explains to Tall Sam, right in front of the kids this time, not even waiting to talk in the hall. "They ambushed us. Knew Dad by name."

Dean brings bandages, needles, dental floss, a big bowl of warm water. Daddy and Big Dean take their shirts off, wash the blood off at the kitchen sink, then sit in chairs at the table while Tall Sam stitches up their wounds, assisted by Dean and a bottle of Jack.

"So it's what we said? Azazel's trying to kill off the families? That's why he's after Dad?" Tall Sam suggests.

"I'm not so sure it's just that anymore, Sam," Big Dean says, shaking his head.

"What then?" Tall Sam demands as he finishes his stitching, reaches for the bandage Dean hands him. "What else could it be?"

Big Dean and Daddy exchange glances, then Daddy looks down at Dean, his eyes sad.

"It's just a theory," Daddy says.

Tall Sam glances at Dean, frowns.

"What? What's the theory?"

"It's me, Sam," Big Dean says. "It's after me. I'm the primary target."

Tall Sam shakes his head, confused.

"What are you talking about, Dean?" he demands. "Azazel doesn't even know you're here. How can he?"

Big Dean takes a swig from the bottle of Jack, flexes his shoulder and winces as he gets up.

"I'm already here, Sam, in this timeline. I'm fuckin' five years old. Easy pickings."

Three sets of eyes turn and gaze down at Dean. He wants to put his thumb in his mouth so bad he can taste it, but he doesn't. He wants Daddy to see how brave he is.

Daddy puts his hand on the top of Dean's head, gives him a reassuring smile.

"You know that thing about messing with the timeline?" Big Dean is going on. "Well, I already did."

"What?" Tall Sam's confused. "How?"

"Listen to me," Big Dean takes a deep breath. "When I met Azazel in 1973, I told him I was gonna be the one who kills him. He knows it was gonna be me. He knows who I am. You get me?"

Tall Sam stares, his face changing as he understands what Big Dean is saying.

"No," he shakes his head, but Dean can see he isn't really disagreeing. "No way."

"So I already fucked it up, Sam, you get me? Which explains why those demons attacked us in Lawrence. It explains why we got ambushed today. They're after this helpless little twerp here." He glances at Dean, who's doing his best to pretend he's not listening.

"You don't know that," Tall Sam sounds shaken.

Big Dean nods.

"Our whole lives growing up -- on the run because that demon was sending evil after us -- after me -- it's all my fault. Because I couldn't keep my fuckin' mouth shut."

"You were face to face with him, Dean," Tall Sam looks sucker-punched, his voice sounds desperate. "He was gonna kill you. He was gonna end you right there, in the past, and I wasn't there. I would never have even known what happened to you."

"Well, that didn't happen," Big Dean says. "But here's the thing. The damage is done. Azazel knows. What did happen in 1973 is Azazel made that deal with Mom because of me, and now he's gunning for me -- his future killer -- right now, in the past."

"Dean, that's just insane," Tall Sam protests. "Azazel is a monomaniacal demon general. He's King of Hell. He's not gonna care about one small boy who might grow up to kill him. His ego's so big -- he's so sure of himself -- he probably didn't even believe you when you told him you were gonna kill him someday. He probably figured you were making that up."

"Maybe," Big Dean mutters, clearly unconvinced. "But I think we need to find out. Dad and I are going out again tomorrow."

"What? No! No way!" Tall Sam looks shocked, and Big Dean puts his hands up, gestures for him to stop.

"Listen to me," he demands. "We need to find us a demon. Ask it some questions. See if our theory holds water."

"Dean, no," Tall Sam insists. "After what happened today -- "

"We'll be ready," Big Dean says. "I've been explaining about devil's traps and demon mojo to Dad. He's been up against them twice now. We can do this."

"Dean -- "

"We need answers, damn it," Big Dean growls. "And I hope to god I'm wrong, I really do."

That gets Tall Sam, finally convinces him, and he stands down, shifts his feet and puts his hands on his hips, looks down at Dean, glances up at Daddy.

He huffs out a breath. "Yeah, 'cuz the odds are ever in our favor," he quips sarcastically.

Big Dean nods grimly, exchanges a look with Daddy, who still has his hand on Dean's head, gently stroking his hair.

"We head out in the morning."

Tall Sam puts the kids to bed so Daddy and Big Dean can talk strategy and plan for tomorrow's hunt.

"Do you love Big Dean?" Dean asks when he's tucked in and Tall Sam has pressed his lips to Dean's forehead, like he always does.

Tall Sam hesitates, and Dean can see his eyes shine in the dark as he considers Dean's question.

Then he nods.

"Yeah, Dean," he says softly. "Yeah, I do. A lot. Too much, probably."

Dean nods.

"Like I love Sammy," he says.

Tall Sam ruffles his hair, lays his hand on his cheek for a moment, just looks at him before he finally nods, pulls his hand away.

"Yeah, Dean," he breathes. "Just like that."

After Tall Sam leaves the room Dean climbs out of bed and pads to the crib, climbs into it and curls himself around his brother.

He's out before he can count to ten.

Chapter Text

The next day, Daddy and Big Dean leave early. They're gone for almost a week this time, and when they return Daddy looks shell-shocked and devastated.

"We had to zero-dark-thirty his ass," Big Dean explains to Tall Sam after Daddy goes off to take a shower. "It was pretty brutal. Got the intel we needed and exorcised the demon, but the human host died. Dad was pretty spooked."

He takes a big breath, looking up at his brother with big green eyes.

"First time's a bitch, Sammy."

Tall Sam shifts uncomfortably.

"I guess he had to learn somehow," he says softly. "At least you were there."

Dean's lying in the crib with the baby, supposed to be sleeping, but the door is open because otherwise Dean wakes up in the dark and sometimes that causes him to freak out, so Tall Sam insists they leave it open.

Big Dean has his back against the wall, and Tall Sam stands almost pressed against him, head bent and body slightly hunched over so they're breathing each other's air. Big Dean lowers his chin, and now the space between them is almost heart-shaped.

"I found Daniel Elkins," he says quietly.

Tall Sam shifts uncomfortably, pulls back so he can look at his brother's face a moment, shrugs.

"So?"

"So, I've got the colt. You remember? The gun that kills -- "

"Yeah, so?" Tall Sam interrupts querulously.

"So I'm saying we kill Azazel now. In this timeline. We hunt him down while we can. Now."

Tall Sam shakes his head.

"Dean, that's insane," he says irritably.

"It's not insane, it's smart," Big Dean insists. "We know what he was doing this past year. We know which kids he was feeding his special ovaltine to."

"Dean -- " Tall Sam shifts his feet uncomfortably again.

"We follow his trail," Big Dean's on a roll, not gonna be interrupted. "We set a trap for him. We know he wants me dead. Little me. But he doesn't know we're here. Isn't expecting us to come looking for him -- "

"Dean!" Tall Sam barks, puts a hand on Big Dean's shoulder, and Big Dean stops, looks up at him.

"What?"

"We can't kill Azazel in this timeline," he says, lowering his voice. "If we do, it changes everything. Dad's entire life while we were growing up. Our lives growing up."

Big Dean nods.

"Yeah, what's your point, Sam?"

"My point is -- if we don't grow up the way we did, we don't become who we are. Dad doesn't spend his life on the road chasing down leads, with us in tow. Everything turns out differently."

Big Dean nods again.

"Yeah, I still don't see your point, Sam," he says. "Seems to me if we kill Azazel now, things could be a helluva lot better. These little kids grow up a little more normally. Dad doesn't spend the next twenty-two years drinking and hunting and ending up dead. You wanna tell me the downside of that? Huh? 'Cuz I gotta say, I just don't see it."

Tall Sam sighs, shakes his head, moves away and paces a little so that Big Dean has to turn to keep facing him.

"You can't save him," Tall Sam says softly.

"I can try," Big Dean argues. "Maybe I can stop that bastard from making that deal right here, right now. Maybe I can't, but I gotta try, Sam. Hell, he isn't even expecting it to happen for another twenty years. We go after him now, we've got the element of surprise, plus years of knowledge and experience he won't expect us to have. We'd be fools not to take advantage of that."

Tall Sam is silent for a moment, and Dean watches his face, fascinated by the play of emotions that move across it as he's thinking about what Big Dean's saying. He can't see Big Dean's now, but he can imagine the stubborn set of his jaw, the determined, half-crazed look in his big green eyes.

"Sam, listen to me," Big Dean tries another tack, speaks with a low intensity that makes Dean's spine tingle. "If we do this now, we save all those kids and their families. Put a stop to all of it. You hear me, Sam? We kill that son-of-a-bitch now, nobody else has to suffer like we did. It'll be over. For good."

Tall Sam is still turned toward Dean, and Dean can see the minute he surrenders, drops his eyes, squares his jaw and shifts his feet.

"You do realize Dad won't let us go without him," he says slowly, carefully.

Big Dean starts to shake his head in protest but Tall Sam interrupts before he can say anything.

"No, Dean, you know Dad. He's not gonna wanna be left out of this," he says.

Big Dean's still shaking his head.

"He's not ready," he says. "He almost got himself killed this time. He doesn't have the chops yet for this kind of hunt."

"Doesn't matter," Tall Sam insists. "We need to take him. He needs to be a part of this. He's gonna wanna look that bastard in the eye when you pull the trigger. You know that. It's the only way it'll ever be over for him."

Big Dean is silent again for a minute

"And you know, what? He's right. We do this, we do it together."

"Sam -- "

"No, Dean, I mean it," Tall Sam presses. "Here's the plan. We get out there, track that thing down and kill it, then we all drive up to Minnesota, to Pastor Jim's. Leave Dad and the kids there. Then we come back here, find the spell to get us home. That's all. That's how it's gotta be, Dean."

Big Dean doesn't move, and Dean imagines him trying to stare his brother down. But Tall Sam doesn't flinch, his jaw stays set, his eyes hold Big Dean's without blinking. He doesn't back down, and finally it's Big Dean who nods, lowers his eyes, scrubs a hand over his face.

"Okay," he agrees with a small shrug of his broad shoulders. "Okay, Sam. We'll do it your way. We'll leave in the morning."

"Fine," Tall Sam nods.

"But we're not taking the kids," Big Dean says.

Tall Sam considers, then nods. "Right. Obviously. So what do we do with them?"

Big Dean turns, looks into the dark room where Dean and Sam are sleeping, then back at Tall Sam. There's a twinkle in his eye and he's smiling a little.

"I think I have an idea," he says. "Come to bed and I'll tell you."

*

In the morning Sam wakes up first, pats Dean's head and pulls on his ear to get him to wake up, chanting "Dee Dee Dee" and blowing raspberries against his cheek.

Dean climbs out of the crib, then pulls Sam over the side so they fall in a heap together on the floor, Sam on top, still chanting happily.

"Dee Dee Dee."

It's his first word, and it makes Dean proud, even if it's a little annoying sometimes. He says "Da Da Da" too, whenever Daddy's in the room. In fact, at first he called Dean "Da Da," which was funny, because he said it even when Daddy wasn't around, so Dean knew he meant him. But now he can say "Dee" and it's clear.

He takes a clean diaper out of the bag, tackles his wiggling brother, and manages to change him. He has to sit on him to do it, but Sam tolerates it, doesn't really seem to mind. He wraps the used diaper in a plastic bag and heads out the door to the bathroom. Sam toddles after him, pulls a washcloth off the sink and sits down plop on the floor with the washcloth in his mouth while Dean does his business.

Usually Tall Sam greets him in the hall by this time, but he's half-way to the library before he remembers.

Tall Sam and Big Dean are leaving this morning. Daddy too.

That's when he hears shouting.

"Goddamn it, boys, I said no!" Daddy's yelling at Tall Sam and Big Dean. Dean stops in the entry to the library, stoops to try to stop Sam from toddling ahead of him. "We do this, we do it together, you hear me?"

Tall Sam raises his eyebrows, gives his brother a look that says, "See? I told you so."

Big Dean ignores him.

"Dad, this is a powerful demon we're talking about here," he argues. "It's not something that's easy to kill."

"It's the son-of-a-bitch who killed my wife, damn it," Daddy growls. "I have a right to be the one that kills it."

"Dad -- "

Tall Sam sees Dean and Baby Sam in the doorway, tips his head and raises his eyebrows in warning.

Daddy glances over, sees Dean and Baby Sam, frowns.

"Dean, take your brother into the kitchen and get him something to eat," Daddy orders, and Dean scurries to obey. But he can still hear them.

"Dad, we can't all go," Tall Sam is saying. "The kids -- "

"So we take the kids to that friend of yours in Minnesota. Jim, is it? We leave them there, we do the hunt. Together."

They're silent, considering. Dean wants to cry suddenly. They're talking about leaving him and Sam with a stranger so they can do something that might get them killed, and Dean is just not okay with that. Wants to scream, "No!"

But he doesn't. He helps Sam get into his high chair, gives him some Cheerios, makes himself a bowl with milk and sugar, climbs into his chair to eat.

"There isn't time, Dad," Big Dean's saying. "The trail goes cold after a year, and the year's almost up."

"Why a year? What's it doing?" Daddy asks.

There's another pause, then Dean hears Tall Sam take a deep breath.

"It's going after babies born in 1983," he says. "In twenty-three years, one of them opens the Gates of Hell, lets a shitload of demons out."

"Sam!" Big Dean barks. "Shut the fuck up!"

"What, Dean?" Sam challenges. "You think we can keep that secret? Now that you've decided we're going after Azazel now? You just want Dad to go in blind? Like he did to us all those years ago? Well I'm sorry, but I don't think that was the right way to do it. Not then, not now. If we're all going after Azazel, we all deserve to know everything about him, just like with any other case. No secrets. No misguided attempts to protect each other by withholding information."

"Sam -- "

"No, Dean, let him talk," Daddy interrupts. "He's right. I need to know the whole story. Even if you think it might affect the timeline or whatever. I need to understand what we're up against. I need to know why a demon is going after my infant son, goddamn it. Why it killed my wife."

"Dad -- " Big Dean protests, huffs out a frustrated breath. "Damn it!"

He pauses, gets his bearings, shakes his head.

"Dad," Tall Sam interrupts. "What you need to understand is that Azazel bled his demon blood into me when I was a baby. He -- "

"Sam!" Dean barks. "Enough!"

The silence is palpable, and Dean imagines the three of them, standing in a triangle in the middle of the library, staring at each other with varying expressions of shock and anger and, in Tall Sam's case, stubborn suffering.

"He did what?" Daddy breathes.

"He did it to all the babies," Tall Sam says. "He needs us to open the Gates of Hell for him in twenty-three years. Those of us who survive. One of us will do it."

"Sam, are you saying you -- " Daddy's voice sounds strangled, choked. "Are you the one who does this thing?"

"Not technically, no," Tall Sam sighs. "But I'm there. So's Dean. So are you, actually."

"But we can stop it, Dad," Big Dean chimes in. "It doesn't have to go down that way. If we kill Azazel now, none of it will happen. We stop it, all of it, right here, right now. And I've got the thing that does it."

Dean can hear him pat his jacket pocket.

Daddy sucks in a breath. There's a long pause, and Dean imagines Daddy's face, grim and set, glancing from one to the other of the men, wincing only slightly when he looks at Tall Sam.

"Okay," he says finally. "How do we find the bastard?"

"We need a public library," Tall Sam says.

"And I need to make a phone call to an old friend in South Dakota," Dean adds. "We don't have time to drive all the way to Minnesota, but Sioux Falls is only five hours away. And I know somebody there who can keep these kids safe."

*
They pack up after breakfast, hit the road with Daddy driving, Tall Sam folded into the back seat with Dean in the middle and Baby Sam in his car seat. It's a bit of a tight squeeze, but Daddy insists that they all stay together, not go in separate cars, so they leave the stolen Toyota Corolla by the side of the road.

When they get to Lincoln, Big Dean takes Daddy to a tattoo parlor so he can get an anti-possession tattoo. He wants to take Dean too, but Daddy nixes that idea. Meanwhile, Tall Sam takes Dean and Sam to the public library, lets them play in the Children's Room while he does his research. When they all meet up again Daddy looks a little pale, and his shoulder has a bandage on it. They've still got some traveling to do, but luckily Baby Sam falls asleep as soon as they hit the road again, so the drive to Omaha and then on to Sioux Falls is fairly quiet.

Bobby Singer's house is messy and full of books and smells funny. He stares at them blankly as they wait on his porch -- three tall hunters with a toddler and a little boy -- and listens to Big Dean explain who they are and where they came from. Then he explains why they're there.

"So let me get this straight," Singer looks from one to the other of them, then down at Dean, winces a little. "You say you're from the future and we're old friends there."

"The oldest," Big Dean nods. "I can barely remember a time before I knew you."

"Mister, you don't look very old -- "

"I'm thirty-five," Big Dean says. "And I can promise you, we go way back."

"Well seein' as how I'm younger than that, I don't see how that's possible," Singer says skeptically.

"Time travel's a bitch," Big Dean shrugs. "I'm older than my own father right now. Figure that one out."

"Yeah, I don't think I want to," Singer's eyes widen as he looks from Big Dean to Daddy and back again. "And you say you've got a lead on whatever's been setting those house fires and killing those families?"

"It's a demon," Tall Sam says. "And yeah, we've got some leads. We're gonna hunt it."

"A demon?" Bobby looks equal parts shocked and skeptical. "Are you sure?"

Big Dean nods.

"As sure as we are that it was a demon that killed your wife, Bobby," he says gently. "And we're also pretty sure you're gonna wanna help us bring this one down."

Bobby stares at them like he's not sure whether to cry or slam the door on them. Maybe both.

But there must be something in Big Dean's face that he trusts, something that makes him believe them despite himself. That and the fact that Baby Sam is blowing raspberries at him, reaching for his cap with chubby, drool-slick fingers, flashing his dimpled smile and chanting "bah bah bah bah" like he knows him.

"Okay, come on in," Bobby accedes reluctantly. "But don't touch anything. I'm in the middle of an important case and I've got all my research just where I want it."

So of course the first thing Baby Sam does is make a mess, cruising around the room as soon as Daddy puts him down, grabbing papers and books and dumping everything on the floor before Tall Sam gets a chance to set up the portable crib and sticks the baby in it with some toys.

By that time Bobby's been properly scolded for not running the usual tests on them to be sure they're not demons themselves, and he's staring at Big Dean and Tall Sam with amazement as they run down the list of monsters and creatures they have first-hand knowledge of.

"You boys need to stay for at least a week," Bobby says when they stop for air for a minute. "I need at least that long to pick your brains on all this crap. Hell, I'm just getting started understanding the supernatural world. You boys have been living your whole lives in it."

"Learned a helluva lot about it from you, old man," Big Dean says. "Growing up, we spent weeks right here, learning from you."

Tall Sam and and Big Dean head into town to the public library to do some more research and pick up some supplies. Bobby feeds the kids macaroni and cheese for dinner while he and Daddy share a bottle of whiskey and exchange hunting stories. When Tall Sam and Big Dean get back they take the bottle away, help Bobby grill some steaks, then Daddy and Tall Sam bathe and put little Sam and Dean to bed.

Daddy explains to Dean that he needs to be a good soldier and man up while Daddy's gone hunting.

"Can you do that for me, Dean?" Daddy asks. "Stay here and look after your brother for me for a few days? I need to know I can count on you."

And Dean nods, says "Yes, sir," and doesn't cry, because he's a man now and Daddy needs him to be a good little soldier and Baby Sam needs him to protect him and keep him safe while Daddy's gone.

He lays awake for a long time, listening to the voices rise and fall, catching bits and pieces of the conversation as he huddles around his baby brother like a human shield, guarding him against the world.

Chapter Text

In the morning they're gone.

Dean fights the urge to cry so he can be a big boy and show Uncle Bobby how to do things like feed Baby Sam and change his diaper. Uncle Bobby makes faces a lot, curses as Baby Sam gets into his stuff, makes a mess of his house.

"You're a menace, you know that, kid?" he says to Baby Sam as he picks up another armload of papers that the baby has pulled down off his desk. "Of all the monsters I've learned about in the past two years, you are the scariest."

"He's not a monster," Dean lisps defensively. "He's my brudder."

Uncle Bobby just shakes his head, makes more comments about what a holy terror Sam is, and he never seems to get the knack of caring for the baby, so Dean really has his hands full. It's awkward having to tell the strange grown-up that he needs to feed Sam now, or change him, or put him down for his nap, so Dean just does it himself, and by the end of the day he's pretty tired. He pulls Sam into the crib and sings to him, and he's only vaguely aware of Uncle Bobby checking on them, turning out the light, because he's pretty much asleep by that time.

*

The next day passes a lot like the first. Then the one after that. By the end of the week they're in a routine, Uncle Bobby doing the cooking and cleaning up after the baby, Dean taking care of Sam. Daddy calls to check in on them every day, making his report "from the field," and asks Dean if he's keeping the home fires burning.

Dean bites back the terror he feels the first time Daddy asks that question, protests that "There's no home fire here, Daddy. I've got my firetruck."

"Good boy," Daddy answers. "You keep your brother safe. That's your job right now."

"Yes, Daddy," Dean nods.

"All right then, I got somebody who wants to talk to you."

He puts Tall Sam on the phone.

"Hey, Dean."

"Hi," Dean feels warm all over, although he's already forgetting what Tall Sam looks like.

"How are you doing?"

"Fine," Dean looks at Baby Sam, who's sitting on the floor of the kitchen with a spoon in his mouth, stacking bowls.

"How's the baby?" Tall Sam asks.

"He drools a lot," Dean says.

"That's because his teeth are coming in," Tall Sam says. "The one-year molars. Those are the big ones in the back. Soon he'll be able to eat everything you eat."

"He already does that," Dean says. "Yesterday he ate most of my hamburger. Then he threw up."

Tall Sam chuckles.

"Yeah, sorry about that. He's never gonna be very good with hamburgers."

Another day, another phone call, Uncle Bobby talks to Big Dean for a long time, exchanging information about demon activity, omens, other stuff Dean doesn't understand.

"Where are you?" Uncle Bobby asks, then huffs a breath at Big Dean's answer.

"They're headed to Salvation, Iowa," he tells Dean when he gets off the phone. "You can't make this stuff up."

The next day when Daddy calls, he passes the phone to Tall Sam pretty quick.

"Are you practicing your reading?" Tall Sam asks.

Dean nods, then remembers Daddy telling him people can't see you when you talk on the phone, so he says, "Yes, but Sammy keeps trying to grab the book."

"Put him in the playpen with a toy for awhile," Tall Sam instructs. "You need to practice what I taught you. Okay? Can you do that, Dean?"

Dean nods.

"When are you coming home?" he asks plaintively.

"It'll just be another day or two now," Tall Sam says. "We're gonna bring your dad home safe and sound, I promise. Okay?"

"Okay," Dean nods.

"Listen, Dean," Tall Sam says. "I want you to remember one thing, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Dean nods, then says "Yes."

"No matter what happens, no matter how things go here, you are a really special little kid, you hear me? Don't ever let anybody tell you anything else. Least of all you. It's been a real privilege to know you, Dean Winchester."

Tall Sam pauses, and his last words come out sounding choked, like something went down the wrong pipe.

"One more thing," Tall Sam says when he gets his voice back. "Your little brother is gonna grow up and you are gonna be everything to him someday, okay? Everything. It may take him awhile to figure that out, but eventually he will. So don't forget that, okay? Sam loves you. He always will."

Dean's mind is starting to wander, because Tall Sam is just saying stuff he already knows, and he doesn't really understand why grown-ups get so sad-sounding sometimes.

So he just nods, says "Okay," and "Bye" and waits politely for Tall Sam to say the same thing.

He waits and waits, but finally Tall Sam sniffles and takes a deep breath.

"Okay. It's gonna be okay," he says. "We'll be home soon, I promise. You have my word."

But the next day they don't call.

Uncle Bobby mutters a lot all day, keeps looking at the phone. Finally he takes the boys into town for groceries, then stops at the playground to let them run around. Dean puts Sam in a baby swing and pushes him, then climbs onto the big-boy swing next to him and pumps his legs, trying to show Sam how to make the swing go.

When they get back to Bobby's place Dean puts Sam down for his nap, then he climbs up on the chair at the table with his reading book and his pencil and paper, practices writing "Dean Winchester" over and over, then tries "Sam Winchester" a few times.

Uncle Bobby cleans his guns, looks grim, stares at the phone a lot.

After supper Dean gets his reading book out again while Uncle Bobby makes a couple of phone calls. When he gets off the phone after the second call he seems worried, a little shocked.

"Omen activity's stopped," he tells Dean. "All's quiet, and I got no idea what that means."

Dean nods and goes back to his reading, sounding the words out slowly like Tall Sam taught him. Baby Sam is practicing climbing onto and off of one of the big chairs, looking pleased as punch when he gets up on it and manages to sit there like a big boy, his chubby bare legs sticking straight out in front of him, little dimpled hands clutching the arm-rests, looking like a tyrannical baby king.

The next day comes and there's still no sign of the hunters. Uncle Bobby charges around the house, slamming doors and cursing.

The phone rings.

Uncle Bobby knocks over a chair to answer it, barks "Yeah?" into the mouthpiece.

He listens for a moment, and his eyes go wide.

"You sure? Rufus, are you sure? 'Cuz I got these kids here and if they just lost their family, I gotta know."

Dean's sitting on the floor with his firetruck while Sammy chews on one of Uncle Bobby's slippers.

"Yeah, well okay, if you say so, 'cuz I got instructions to put these kids in a truck and high-tail it to a storm-shelter in Kansas if that thing got away, and I --

That's when the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine reaches Dean's ears. He looks up, excitement surging through him.

"Daddy!"

"I gotta go, Rufus," Uncle Bobby says. "I think they're here."

Dean's already up and running across the room to the door, has his hand on the knob when it opens on its own, sending him jumping back a few steps.

Daddy and Tall Sam stagger into the room, holding Big Dean between them, his arms across their shoulders. Big Dean looks battered, one eye swollen shut, his lips and one cheek cut and bleeding, the other one bruised dark and purple.

Tall Sam doesn't look much better, and Daddy's pretty messed up too, but he manages to smile a little at Dean as they stop in the doorway.

"We got him," Daddy says. "We killed the bastard."

*

"Cornered the son-of-a-bitch at the Talley ranch," Daddy explains later, once they've got Big Dean laid on the couch and checked his wounds. They all need cleaning and bandaging, so Dean's got his hands full fetching supplies and helping Uncle Bobby and Tall Sam, who's in the best shape of the three and still has use of both his hands.

"He was getting ready to infect another baby," Daddy goes on. "Laid a devil's trap in the kid's room, caught him in the act. Sam rescued the kid while Dean and I took him down."

Big Dean has three cracked ribs and a broken knee cap -- apparently the demon slammed him into a wall and them stomped on his leg while beating on his face pretty well. Fortunately, he was so distracted by Big Dean he never saw the other two, didn't expect Tall Sam to grab him from behind, hauling him backwards off his brother so Daddy could get his shot.

The details go right over Dean's head. He's too overwhelmed by all the blood. When the men strip their jackets and shirts off there are more wounds, more blood. Daddy tells Dean he's seen worse, as Tall Sam stitches up the gash in his shoulder. Daddy's left hand is broken, and he's pretty banged up and bruised, but nothing that won't heal, he assures Dean.

"I'll be fine," he ruffles Dean's hair, pulls him in for a hug once he's fairly well cleaned and bandaged.

And Dean goes, hugs his Dad as tight as he dares, squeezes his eyes shut to hold back the tears.

Later, when they're all bedded down -- Daddy sharing Uncle Bobby's room, the elder Sam and Dean on the couch and floor of the living room, little Dean and Baby Sam in the crib in the hall -- Dean is almost asleep when he overhears them talking.

"Thought I'd lost you," Tall Sam whispers.

Big Dean makes a groaning noise.

"Ow! Not so tight, Sam."

"The way he kept slamming your head against the floor -- and when you stopped moving -- "

"Damn it, I'm fine. Stop sniveling," Big Dean mutters. "You're getting the pillow wet."

"I just lost it, Dean," Tall Sam goes on, and his voice is a little muffled, like he's got his face pressed against Big Dean's shoulder. "I saw red. I didn't know what I was doing."

"Well, whatever it was, you done good, Sam," Big Dean mutters. "Happy birthday."

Tall Sam makes a surprised snorting sound.

"It's not my -- shit. It's my birthday. Wow. Huh. Killed that bastard on my birthday."

"Yeah," Big Dean agrees. "Helluva birthday present, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah," Tall Sam breathes. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

They're quiet for a moment, then Tall Sam huffs out a breath.

"So what now?"

"What'd'ya'mean?" Big Dean growled.

"Well, these kids are still vulnerable. Just because we killed Azazel -- hell, maybe just because we killed him -- there'll be fall-out. What do we do next?"

Big Dean shifts, moans a little because it hurts to move.

"Sorry. Oh shit, Dean, I'm sorry," Tall Sam mutters.

"Fuck you you're sorry," Big Dean grumbles. "You ever been flailed on by a demon general? 'Cause I gotta tell you, it sucks ass."

"No, I know," Tall Sam says sympathetically,. "I get it, Dean. I'm sorry. Oh my god, I'm so sorry -- "

"Ow! That's my sore arm!"

"Sorry."

The sound of moaning and creaking springs finally stops, Big Dean finally finding a way to lie comfortably.

"So -- " Tall Sam tries again quietly.. "What do we do now?"

Big Dean sucks in a big breath, shifts again before answering.

"Right now? Right now we get some sleep. Tomorrow we get a birthday cake."

"Seriously?" Tall Sam sounds irritated and pleased at the same time.

"Ow, goddamn it, stop hugging me! Let me sleep!"

"Can't let you sleep," Tall Sam says. "You've got a concussion. I have to help you stay awake."

"Ow! Not the leg!"

"Sorry," Tall Sam mutters. "Can't give you more pain meds 'cuz they'll just make you sleepy."

"Fuck," Big Dean moans. "Just stop touching me!"

"Can't," Tall Sam says petulantly. "Need to make sure you're okay."

"I hurt everywhere, Sam. Fuckin' everywhere, okay? Everything hurts."

"Everything?" Tall Sam murmurs.

Big Dean gasps, makes a funny little noise low in his throat.

"Not everything," he agrees. "That doesn't hurt."

"Hmm," Tall Sam says. "How 'bout this?"

Big Dean gasps again.

"No, that doesn't hurt either," he says, his voice sounding a little choked and gravelly.

"Feels okay?" Tall Sam pushes.

Big Dean give a low moaning sound and doesn't answer.

They don't speak again, and after awhile Dean pulls his brother's small body against him and kisses the back of his neck. Within a few minutes he falls asleep feeling all safe and warm and at home.

*

The next day they have a birthday party.

Baby Sam gets cake all over himself, all over the table and chairs and floor and Dean and Daddy, who's holding him in his lap as he takes handfuls of the sugary stuff and crams them in his mouth.

Then he throws up.

Uncle Bobby can't wait to get rid of them. He's grumpy and happy at the same time, relieved the demon's dead and excited to share the news with his network of hunters. He's even more relieved when it's decided that Daddy should head to Minnesota with the kids the next day, leaving Big Dean to recover for awhile. And of course Tall Sam will stay with his brother, so the next morning they say their goodbyes on Uncle Bobby's porch.

The men give each other hearty handshakes and pat each other on the back, wincing a little at the soreness of their pulled muscles and bruises.

Tall Sam squats down to Dean's height, looks him in the eye.

"You remember what I told you, Dean," he says. "You're a great kid. You're gonna be a really good man someday. I promise."

Dean nods, puts his hand out to shake Tall Sam's. Tall Sam looks down at Dean's hand, takes it between both of his and squeezes for a minute, then puts his hand on Dean's shoulder and leans in to place a kiss on his forehead.

"Take it easy, kid," he murmurs. "Have a good life."

"I will," Dean promises, because he can see it matters to Tall Sam.

"Good luck, son," Daddy says as he shakes Tall Sam's hand. "Thanks for -- Just thanks."

Tall Sam pulls Daddy in for a hug, and there are tears in his eyes. He nods as he releases Daddy, watches them as they walk to the car, where Baby Sam is already strapped into his car seat in the back. Dean crawls in beside him, lets Sam pull his hair and pat his head. The baby kicks his chubby little legs restlessly, anxious for the car to start and the familiar rumble of the engine to help him relax and fall asleep.

Dean turns around and stares out the back window as they drive away, watching Tall Sam on the porch until they finally turn a corner and he's gone.

Chapter Text

Dean wakes with a start.

It takes him a minute to remember where he is -- fuck, who he is -- because the dream still clinging to the edges of his consciousness is unbelievably vivid, like a memory only in bright colors and on a huge screen with Dolby surround-sound.

Then he realizes it's Sam's birthday.

He reaches instinctively across the bed but Sam's not there, just the rumpled sheet and pillow with the indentation of his head still in it. Dean grabs the pillow and buries his face in it, breathing in Sam's familiar smell.

Gone for a run, he figures, rolling over with the pillow still clutched against him, his mind running over the details of the strange dream as he lets himself doze for another minute or two, surrounded by the warmth and security of brother and home.

When he finally stumbles into the kitchen for coffee it's clear he's the last one up.

John Winchester is at the table, sipping coffee and reading the morning paper. He nods at Dean as he comes in, bathrobe loosely tied, slippers shuffling on the stone floor.

"Morning," Dean greets his father.

John grunts, doesn't look up as Dean pours his cup of coffee, heads into the library.

The tall, lanky grey-haired man sitting at the table looks up from his laptop, smiles at Dean from behind his glasses. As he does, his face relaxes into dimples and his hazel eyes sparkle.

Dean puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezes gently as he passes him to take the chair opposite.

"Happy Birthday, Uncle Sam," he greets the older man fondly.

"Thanks, Dean," his uncle smiles back. "Sixty-one and still kicking. Older than I ever expected to be, that's for damn sure."

"Found a case for us?" Dean asks as he takes a sip of his coffee.

"Maybe," Uncle Sam -- Tall Sam, Dean fills in, remembering his dream -- nods at him. "Possible chupacabra attacking cattle at ranch in Oregon. Ranchers have ruled out coyotes or bears, since the only thing left behind is the skeleton. Consumes the entire cow, right down to the bones."

Dean nods. "It attacking people?"

Uncle Sam shakes his shaggy head. "Not yet, but you know how these things are. They get hungry enough and brave enough, they can be pretty dangerous."

"Okay," Dean nods. "Sammy and I will get on it. We'll start out right after breakfast."

"Start out where?"

The voice behind him is as familiar as his own, and Dean doesn't even look up as his other uncle -- Big Dean, he remembers as he recalls his dream again, enters the room from the direction of the garage, where he spends most of his time when he's home.

"Uncle Sam's found us a job in Oregon," Dean says gruffly. Uncle Dean has never liked him much, he knows that, and he has to admit the feeling is at least partly mutual. But they tolerate each other.

Uncle Dean exchanges a look with his brother as he finds another chair, sits down carefully, sticking his bum leg out in front of him. Dean can tell it pains him, but he's not admitting it, any more than he lets any of his old injuries bother him. At least not in front of his nephew.

"Hey, you two were in my dream last night," Dean announces, mostly because he's impulsive and the damn dream is still haunting him.

"Yeah? What did you dream about?" Uncle Sam asks, raising an eyebrow..

"Sam was a baby," Dean says. "So I guess I must've been about four, and it was just after Mom died. You two rescued us from some attacking demons."

"That's right," Uncle Sam nods. "We did."

"You set us up, took care of us, trained Dad," Dean goes on. "Then you killed that thing that killed Mom."

Uncle Sam and Uncle Dean exchange glances.

"That's right, Dean," Uncle Sam agrees. "That's what happened. Are you remembering some of that?"

Dean shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable.

"I guess I am," he admits warily. "It wasn't exactly a happy time. I was pretty miserable, I think. Missed Mom a lot. Had a lot of nightmares about her death."

"Uh huh," Uncle Sam nods, gazing at him with a steady, sympathetic expression.

Dean takes another sip of his coffee, glances at Uncle Dean, who's frowning, as usual. Uncle Dean has always been grumpy, but in recent years his gloomy attitude has become an entrenched part of his character, so that Dean rarely remembers him smiling or laughing, although he knows he can -- sometimes when Dean walks in on his uncle when he's alone with his brother, there's something of the happier, more contented man lurking just under the surface of his self-loathing and resentment, a resentment he seems to aim specifically at Dean.

Dean clears his throat, realizes he has something important he needs to say, but isn't sure how to say it. Not with the way Uncle Dean is glaring openly at him.

"What is your problem?" he says now, glaring back at Uncle Dean. "Why the hell do you hate me so much?"

Uncle Dean glowers for another second, then his lips turn up in a smirk.

"I think you know the answer to that, Mini-Me," Uncle Dean answers smoothly.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean snaps. "You're me. I get that. And you think I've had it so much easier than you did because you killed that demon for us early on, so we didn't have a lifetime of suffering and misery like you did."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it, pal," Uncle Dean growls, lowering his voice to its most menacing. "You may think you know the supernatural world, but if you'd seen half the things I have it would make your toes curl, permanently."

"Dean -- " Uncle Sam puts his hand on his brother's arm in warning. "It's all done now. Just let it go."

"Shut it, Sam," Uncle Dean shakes his arm free. "Kid needs to know." He points his finger at Dean for emphasis."Your little brother never had to go to Hell with an archangel riding his ass. Your little brother never had a fuckin' demon blood addiction. Your little brother never died in your arms -- "

"Dean!" Uncle Sam protests. "Stop! He knows!"

"Yeah? Good. 'Cuz he needs to understand how goddamn lucky he is, because -- "

"Thank you, all right?" Dean raises his voice to be heard over his uncles' bickering, and they both stop, stare at him.

"I'm grateful. I am." Dean continues. "I know what you did. What you sacrificed. Sam and I can never repay that. You saved Dad, for goddsake! I get it, and I just wish there was some way I could go back and fix it for you like you did for us. I tried, goddamn it, as you well know. I tried to go back. Spell didn't work, but I tried! Sam and I did everything we could to try to fix it. And we ain't done trying, I can promise you that. 'Cuz you guys are family, and there ain't nothin' I wouldn't do for my family."

Uncle Sam has tears in his eyes, and he's nodding, and Uncle Dean stares for another minute, then looks away, muttering crossly.

"What's up with all the yelling?" Dad comes in with his newspaper, glaring at them each in turn, then they all look up as a voice greets them from the doorway.

"What's a guy gotta do to get a cup of coffee around here?"

It's Bobby, hailing them from the top of the bunker's stairs, Sam on his heels, grinning broadly.

"Found him outside," Sam says, clapping Bobby on the shoulder and sending sweat spraying everywhere.

"Happy birthday, Sam," Uncle Dean bellows, brightening immediately at the sight of his favorite nephew.

"Thanks," Sam grins even more broadly, bounds down the stairs two at a time, then strides into the library, where he clasps Uncle Dean's hand, then reaches a hand over to ruffle Uncle Sam's hair.

"Birthday wishes for you, too, Uncle," he says jovially, then reaches his arms out to his brother.

"No way," Dean shakes his head as sweat splatters everywhere. "Shower first, hugs later."

Sam lifts his eyebrows, shrugs.

"Your loss," he agrees cheerfully. "I'll see you in ten." He waves to all assembled, then bounds off toward the showers.

"That kid has too much energy," Bobby grouses, but he's smiling. They're all smiling. Sam does that to people, just by being in the room.

"It's all that college," Dad announces. "The more education you have, the less common sense."

"Thank God for that," Bobby says. "If the kid had common sense too, he'd be pretty-much perfect. And nobody needs to be that perfect."

"I'll be the judge of that, Singer," Dad says, but he's smiling too.

"So did anybody get him a gift?" Bobby asks, then looks around the room at the Winchesters -- all four of them -- who are looking down, looking away, avoiding each other's eyes.

All but Uncle Sam, who says "I did."

"What?" Dean's shocked, and feels more than a little guilty suddenly because he managed to not have a gift for either his Uncle or his brother, and that takes some doing.

Uncle Sam nods. "It's something I had as a kid. Figured he might like it."

Now everybody's staring at him, and Uncle Dean says, "What? Another amulet? Like he needs one of those. Kid goes around oozing luck and happy thoughts. Definitely doesn't need magical protection. The whole universe is on his side, as far as I can tell."

"Not an amulet," Uncle Sam smiles a little. "Something more basic. Something I spent hours playing with when I was little. I think I was hoping it would save me."

They're all curious as hell, but they wait, with typical hunter stoicism, until Sam comes back, clean and dressed in a tee-shirt and jeans, hair still wet and neatly combed back, face flushed.

"What? What did I miss?" he asks, looking expectantly from face to face.

"Uncle Sam got you a present," Dean says, unable to keep the smirk off of his face, the teasing out of his voice.

Sam looks at him, and Dean feels the familiar heat forming a tight knot in his belly. He will always feel it when Sam looks at him, he realizes. It's what Uncle Sam told him when he was a kid, when he first realized he was in love with his brother.

"Don't fight it, Dean," Uncle Sam said then, his gaze serious and solemn. "It's something we can't control. Dean and I have tried, believe me, and it only ends up in lies and betrayal and misery. You two have a chance to do it right. Really love each other. That's what we learned, although it took years of misery to figure it out. Much easier if you just get into the habit of loving and trusting each other from the start. We're soul-mated. God or whatever made us this way. I don't know why, but I do know that fighting it makes it worse. Way worse."

Dean smiles at his brother, shrugs a little, watches as if from a great distance as Uncle Sam hands Dean's brother his gift. His Legacy, he realizes, wondering only after the fact where the hell that thought came from.

Sam unwraps the gift, looking at least five times at his brother, as if Dean knows what the hell it is and must be in on the joke because if not then what the hell --

It's an airplane. An old, battered model airplane that looks like it's definitely seen better days, like it's been in storage for years, covered in dust and only recently wiped off.

And it's amazing.

Sam touches the plastic toy reverently, like it represents something so important he can't even express.

"This -- " he starts, then stops because his face shifts, his eyes fill with tears. He looks up at Uncle Sam, who is gazing at him with such intent, like he's willing him to understand something, waiting for him to get the joke.

"What the hell, Sam?" Uncle Dean barges in, sounding irrationally terrified and more than a little upset. "How did you -- Where the fuck did you get that thing?"

Uncle Sam's looking at his brother now, shaking his head as tears run down his cheeks. He has to take off his glasses, wipes them on his sleeve, just so he can see.

"I found it," he says. "I found it in the storage room. How did it even get there? I can't even -- We were here before, Dean. Even before we were here this time. Do you get it? We were already here."

"I gave you that when you were like -- " Uncle Dean thinks for a minute. "When you were twelve, man. Yeah. You were twelve. You had this fixation with flying, remember? From when you were really little. Always dreaming about flying, and then that time you jumped off the shed and broke your arm -- So I bought that thing with the money that I was supposed to be saving for food while Dad was in Kentucky hunting werewolves -- "

"I remember," Uncle Sam nods, shifts his gaze to his nephew, who's holding the airplane like it's some kind of talisman, something so special he can't even.

He's reading the lettering on the side, worn and rubbed from much handling. Somebody has painted something on the side, and Dean leans in, trying to make it out, fails.

"It says 'Rosebud,'" Sam says with a little smile. He lifts his eyes to Uncle Sam's, smiling broader. "It's a joke."

Uncle Sam shrugs.

"I used to think my life was a joke," he says with just a hint of the old bitterness. "One big fat meaningless cosmic joke, played on me and Dean starting the day I was born."

He looks at Sam, at Dean, at his brother, at Dad, at Bobby, then back at Sam.

"I don't think that anymore," he says with a little smile. "Happy birthday, Sam."

* *

EPILOGUE

Life goes on pretty normally after Sam's 31st birthday, or at least as normally as it has for the past thirty years or so. Dean's never quite sure what all the differences are, but from what he gets from his uncles -- mostly Uncle Sam -- things in that other timeline were pretty fucked up.

So yeah, he's grateful.

Sometimes he wishes he could go back, fix things from before his mother died, but Uncle Sam has explained that the deal his mother made happened way before his birth, that to go all the way back to 1973 and fix that could change things too radically. They might never have been born. Apparently there were angels involved in bringing John and Mary Winchester together, although in this timeline there's never been a sign of angel interference at all.

That's a good thing, Uncle Sam assures Dean, so he doesn't pry too deeply because really -- angels?! What the fuck?! Hard enough having to deal with the ghosts and monsters and occasional demons he and Sam hunt every day. No reason to bring something crazy like angels into the mix.

Ever.

It's a relief not to have to mess with the time traveling anyway. For awhile after he found out who his uncles really were and where they came from -- sometime around his twelfth birthday, when they came to stay for a few weeks so Uncle Dean could recover from a really nasty hunting accident which put him out of commission for several months -- Dean wondered why they had never returned to their own time. Uncle Sam explained that they had tried, spent the first few years trying everything they could to reverse the spell that brought them back thirty years in time in the first place. But nothing worked. They were able to make a couple of short trips into the recent past, which they did to set things right there, but the future was forever closed to them. Apparently they had changed the timeline irrevocably, so the spells to take them foreword in time just didn't work anymore. Uncle Sam figured they were probably created by angels in the first place, and since there were no angels now, then yeah.

So the older Winchester brothers spent their time hunting, traveling town to town, coming back to Blue Earth for birthdays and Christmas, calling to check on them pretty regularly. Evil still had them in its crosshairs, and at a certain point it was time to move on, then keep moving for awhile, but by that time Sam was in Kindergarten and not so impossibly little anymore. And the bunker was about the safest home base they could possibly ask for, so eventually they moved back there, finished school. Sam went to college, took his four years away from his family to get his bearings and make sense of his life. Dean and John kept hunting, and one day the older Winchester brothers came home to stay. They were in their fifties by then, and retirement didn't seem so bad as long as they could still be useful in the family business.

Which of course they could, being without compare the best hunters who ever lived, not to mention men of letters with a better knowledge and understanding of the supernatural world than anyone alive.

And when the day comes in 2013 that a door opens in the bunker and Henry Winchester steps through, they're all ready for him, not to mention the evil thing that comes out after him. They dispatch the Knight of Hell in one clean beheading, burning the body and scattering the ashes over a hundred and fifty miles of open prairie land in central Kansas.

Another win.

Dean still misses his mother sometimes, remembers her soft smile and the way she tucked his hair behind his ear and called him her "love." He fantasizes about finding the right spell that could take him back in time to that moment before she made her deal, aim the colt right between that demon bastard's eyes and pull the trigger. It wouldn't even know what hit him. Would never know Dean Winchester was supposed to kill him in the future, in another timeline. In two other timelines, as a matter of fact. But this time he would get that bastard before it got his mother, or his baby brother. Save his mom. Keep Sammy clean.

But he would need Sam's help to find the spell, and Sam would never agree to tempt fate that way. He would argue that things have turned out pretty well, considering. And they'd be incredibly stupid to try and mess with that.

And knowing what he knows about his uncles' lives in that other timeline, Dean would have to agree.

Still, he thinks about it. Fantasizes about saving the people he loves.

After all, that's what Winchesters do, isn't it?