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They were walking through the bunker, turning over all the ways in which the Devil siring a child could be a Very Not Good Thing, and arguing dispassionately about the right to life and Kelly’s position as its mother, when things turned suddenly and inexplicably personal.
“But what really pisses me off,” Dean stopped and turned to face Sam, arms aggressively akimbo, “is the thought of that… of him, having a kid, when you never got to have that for yourself, because of everything he’s done.”
Sam stared. Was that really what this was about, or was there more going on here, under the surface?
“Dean, you’re always talking about me starting a family, having kids someday… Don’t you ever think about that for yourself?” he asked, cautiously.
Dean scoffed. “Really? You see me having kids?”
“You’re great with kids,” Sam said, softly. “You’d be a wonderful mom.”
“Yeah, sure.” Dean raised an eyebrow to punctuate the sarcasm. “‘Cause our parents were such great role models to follow. Dad, with his military survivalist crap, think I should raise ‘em that way? Or Mom, yeah, now we know I take after her; but she went and made a deal with a demon and never thought to wonder how that would cost her kids, cost you, did she?”
Dean glared, breathing a little hard and fast, face pinched and stony.
“It wouldn’t have to be like that,” Sam protested, gently. “Dad did the best he could, you were always the one to tell me that; he didn’t know what he was getting into. And Mom - well, we wouldn’t even be here at all if she hadn’t done what she did, and you can learn from her mistakes. You’d know better; with all we’ve done, you do know better.”
“Oh yeah, I know better,” Dean said grimly. “With all I’ve done, following in her footsteps, making deals with demons; being a demon. Fine example of a mother I’d make. You’d be wondering the whole time when it could happen again, make you an uncle to orphans; and if you didn’t wonder, you should be!”
“Look, Dean,” Sam folded his arms, deliberately channelling his breathing to be slow and even, trying to keep his patience. “Shit happens, okay? Even without the supernatural, bad things happen to ordinary people, you can’t stop it. Mom, and Dad, and you, even me - we all did what we thought was right at the time, and sure, maybe we didn’t always make the right choices, and maybe we’ll fuck up again in future…”
He unfolded his arms and held them out in entreaty, eyes going wide and soulful in his best kid brother effort to charm. “But you can’t let that hold you back from doing what you want, what’s good and right and natural! We can’t let what we do stop us from being ourselves. Sure it’s noble and heroic but it’s too self-sacrificing. There has to be a middle road, one where you can hang up your hunting cap for a little while, without feeling guilty or worried you’ll make a bad job of it. Women all over the world have to make the same kind of decision, even if it doesn’t involve life or death deals.”
Dean fixed him with a bright, brittle glare and folded her own arms. “Sam, you are the last person in the world I thought I’d be hearing this from. What is this, I’m a woman, so I should naturally want to have kids, is that it? You think motherhood is just something all women are good at because of their DNA?”
“Dude, I never said that!” Sam shrank back into himself, hurt and confused. “That’s not what I meant at all, and you know it. C’mon, stop deflecting. I’ve seen you with kids, and you practically raised me. You are a good mom, whether you want to be or not.”
Dean sniffed and jerked her gaze to the side, tapping her fingers against her leg in a nervous, jerky rhythm. “Yeah, well, I had to raise you, nobody else around to do it. Doesn’t mean I should drag a kid of my own into this world. Seriously, Sam, monsters, demons, frikkin angels; everything against us and Satan himself about to pop off a carbon copy; you want me to put a child through all that?”
“Well it’s what you’re suggesting I should do,” Sam said, levelly.
Dean looked momentarily flustered but rallied quickly. “You - it’d be different for you! You’ve always wanted out, you left for Stanford and Jess and normal. With what you know, you could keep ‘em safe, give ‘em a stable upbringing. You know, like Ellen and Jo.”
“You could do that too,” Sam suggested, with just the faintest lilt at the end to turn it into not quite a question.
Dean’s lips screwed into a sneer and she unfolded her arms and shoved her hands deep into her jacket pockets, blowing out a frustrated breath.
“No, I - I couldn’t, Sam,” she confessed. “I don’t want to. I love hunting, it’s my calling, I’m not gonna give it up for kids and some apple pie life while I know there are people out there dying, monsters running around free because of me! And I’m not throwing that back at you, Sammy,” she added quickly, pinning him with her earnest green gaze. “You want out, you want a family, that’s fine; that’s a worthy goal, I don’t hold it against you. Someone’s gotta keep the species going!”
She grinned, lopsidedly. “But it’s not gonna be me, just because I’m a woman, just because I ‘have a way with kids’.”
“You know,” Sam said slowly, “I could turn your argument back on itself. You don’t want to have kids, but you’re so desperate for the idea of them, of at least one of us getting to have a normal life, you’re pushing for that to be me without even asking if it’s what I want.”
Dean stared. “Well, don’t you?” she asked, a frown creasing above her nose. “I thought… Stanford, Jess. Amelia. It is what you wanted, once..?”
Sam breathed in, blew out a quick huff of air that stirred the bangs of hair hanging over his eyebrows. Folded his arms again, looked past Dean to the wall as though staring through it to the world outside the bunker.
“Yeah, maybe, once,” he admitted, so quietly it was almost a whisper. “Mostly I just… I wanted away from this life, from Dad, from the unrelenting misery and frustration of it all. I wanted to broaden my horizons, see what else life had to offer. Well, I’ve seen that now, and I know that what it’s got to offer us is just more of the same, whether we try to run from it or not.”
Dean made a soft sound of protest, concerned, and started to step forward, but Sam checked her with his hand held up.
“No, it’s okay, I’m not bitter,” he said. “I just think… it’s like you said, some people gotta live their lives to carry on the species and some gotta hunt to protect them, and I’m not sure - well, maybe some folks can manage them both at the same time, but look what happened to Jo, and us, so - maybe you’re right. We’re just cut out to be hunters, not civilians, and that’s okay. I’ve come to accept that; I can accept it for you, too; and you should do the same. I’m good with this, Dean; hunting, with you, like it’s always been. You’re my family, and we’re good at this. We should keep going, together.”
“Saving people, hunting things?” Dean queried, with a soft, one sided smile.
“You betcha,” Sam smiled back. “Maybe we won’t have any kids of our own, but we can sure help to save everyone else’s. And that’s a pretty good legacy, as they go.”
Dean nodded. “I think so.” Then she grinned. “So you’re stuck with me now for good; your plan to sideline me with a doting husband and rugrats has failed, bitch!”
Sam huffed a short laugh as he muttered the time honoured response. “Jerk,” he threw back affectionately. “Don’t make me rethink my choices; you get too annoying, I can always go find myself a new girlfriend to shack up with. You can choose not to be a mother, but I can make you an auntie, what do you think about that?”
“Dude, I would be an awesome aunt!” Dean responded so enthusiastically that Sam rather regretted the joke; he didn’t want to start up the whole discussion again. “I would turn up outta the blue with weird scars and the best creepy campfire stories and a ton of candy…”
“That settles it,” Sam stopped her, laughing. “There is no way I’m having kids just so you can get them hyped up on sugar and scared out of their wits just before bedtime.”
“Aunt and uncles’ prerogative,” Dean smirked. “I’d make Halloween legendary.”
“No,” Sam replied firmly, but with a smile. “But you can come help me in the kitchen and make some of your legendary zinger burgers, ‘cause it’s dinner time.”
“Fine, but you’re doing the washing up!” Dean told him, flicking him on the collarbone as she sauntered past.
“No problem - wait,” Sam was suddenly suspicious. “When was the last time you washed up; how many dishes are already waiting for me in there?”
Dean’s laugh floated to him along the corridor, an earthy, wicked cackle. “Chef makes the burgers, assistant does the dishes,” she called back.
And they were back to normal, teasing, easy going, affectionate siblings. Sam reflected, as he followed his sister to the kitchen, that he had all the family he wanted or needed right here. And maybe Dean did too, after all.
Now they just had to fix this business of Lucifer going all domestic and maybe, just maybe, they could settle into a semblance of normal.