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Death helped Dean get Sam’s soul back into his body, which was fantastic. He even put up a wall in Sam’s mind to block the trauma, which was even better.
The problem was that Sam being reminded of any of the crap he did while being soulless threatened to break that wall, and by extent, break Sam.
Dean had always protected his younger brother. He was fairly confident that between him, Cas, Bobby, and some solid on-the-spot lying, they could get Sam through this unscathed and unaware– or, at least, he would be confident if it wasn’t for the baby. Dean’s baby. Dean’s shape-shifting baby that he fought Soulless Sam over keeping.
Sam entered the living room of Cas and Dean’s newly bought cabin. Bobby John was sitting in Dean’s lap, still not fully in control of his shifter powers and with a distinctly different eye color than he’d had last night.
Sam inhaled sharply, staring at Bobby John, and Dean knew he wasn’t going to buy that he’d simply forgotten what his nephew looked like.
“That’s…where’s Bobby John?”
“He’s with his other dad,” Dean lied. Well, it wasn’t technically a lie– Cas was back in the nursery, cleaning up after Bobby John’s latest change. Dean loved the kid, but even after hearing Lisa’s friends describe their messy babies, Dean still wasn’t expecting this level of mess. “It’s his nap time.”
“So this is…?”
“Adam,” Dean blurted out. He floundered for another name. “Adam Chevy Winchester, Bobby John’s twin brother.”
“He’s so blonde,” Sam said, slightly in awe, sitting down beside Dean. “Wait, did you seriously name your kid after your car?”
“Baby is important to me,” Dean replied with a scowl. He pulled a chunky red block out of Bobby John’s hands before he could cram it into his mouth.
“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to name your kid after your mistress.”
“Whatever. Are you gonna hold your nephew or not?”
Sam’s gaze softened, and Dean gently deposited Bobby John in Sam’s lap. Sam wrapped one of his gigantic moose arms around Bobby John’s torso, handing him the block he was reaching for with his chubby little fingers.
“Don’t let him swallow that,” Dean said, standing up and stretching his legs.
Sam rolled his eyes. Dean ruffled Bobby John’s dark hair, then ruffled Sam’s, despite Sam’s protesting glare. “I’ll be back, I gotta talk to Cas about something.”
The nursery looked much better than it had when Bobby John had first changed that morning. The walls were painted a soft baby blue, something Cas insisted would be good for the baby. Dean was just happy to hold his hand in the paint aisle and listen to him weigh blue-greens against green-blues.
“What did Sam say about Bobby John changing?” Cas asked, turning to face Dean.
Dean closed the door shut before pulling Cas in, giving him a lingering kiss on the lips. Dean pulled away, resting his forehead against Cas’s.
“I have it covered.”
Cas cocked his eyebrow. “You told him we had a second kid, didn’t you?”
“I told you, I had it covered.”
“Dean.”
“Cas.” Dean leaned in for another kiss, and Cas– with an irritated gaze– let him do it. “It’s fine. It’s just for a few days. Sam told me he found a hunt out in Kentucky, and it looks like he’s gonna go right back to hunting.”
“Sam deserves to know.”
“And if it breaks the wall in his mind?” Dean snapped.
“It won’t,” Cas replied firmly.
“You don’t know that,” Dean muttered.
Cas sighed, some of the irritation slipping from his voice. “What did you tell Sam our other child was named, anyway?”
“Adam Chevy.”
Dean kissed Cas again before he could even roll his eyes at how stupid the name was.
To Dean’s relief (and his surprise, even if he would never admit that), the whole two-babies-in-one-thing seemed to go over well. Or, at least, Sam didn’t outright question it, even as he strapped “Adam Chevy” into the one high chair they had for dinner.
Bobby John was well-behaved during dinner, too. He seemed excited to have another person around, and he babbled happily as Dean spoon-fed him.
“Here comes the Impala!” Dean said, mimicking the purr of the engine as he deposited the spoon into Bobby John’s gleefully open mouth.
“It’s supposed to be a plane,” Sam said, digging into his salad (which Cas insisted Dean buy).
“Well, I don’t want to scare the kid,” Dean retorted, preparing another spoonful of baby food.
The issues all came after dinner. Bobby John wanted to keep playing with Sam and his blocks. He did not want to take a bath. And when Bobby John had tantrums, he unlocked his shifter-given strength and his skin started peeling off.
“Please just go back to being the you from yesterday,” Dean pleaded, cringing as Bobby John’s cries echoed painfully in the tiny bathroom. “I’m not going to be able to explain a third kid.”
Bobby John’s wails were cut off just long enough for Dean to get splattered with shifter goop. Eyes squeezed shut, shirt dripping with lukewarm bathwater, Dean prayed that Bobby John would at least still choose a form that resembled him and Cas.
To Dean’s luck, by the time he toweled Bobby John off, he looked remarkably similar to the kid Sam had met yesterday.
“See?” Dean said, reaching out to give Bobby John a fist bump before remembering that the tiny child didn’t know what that was. “This is gonna work. We’re totally gonna fool your Uncle Sam.”
Dean put Bobby John to bed, before returning to the living room, where Sam had already pulled out a beer for him. Dean dropped beside Cas on the couch, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“So…what happened to Lisa?” Sam asked. “Not that I’m not happy for you guys.”
Dean grinned. “Long story.”
Sam smiled, the expression painfully fond. “I’ve got time.”
The next morning, Dean made pancakes, fueled by coffee and the memory of waking up beside Cas. Sam was out for a run while Cas fed Bobby John-- who was looking a little lighter brown than he had when Dean put him to bed last night. And his eyes…yeah, he definitely didn’t have hazel eyes last night.
“He shifted again,” Dean realized with a groan.
“Yes, he seems to be doing it more frequently than normal,” Cas said with a frown. “Do you think he might be sick?”
“You can heal him if he is, right?” Dean asked, setting aside the pancake batter. He pressed his lips to Bobby John’s forehead, but he didn’t feel warm. “We can’t exactly take him to a doctor.”
Cas tapped his fingers to Bobby John’s forehead. Dean watched the gesture nervously; only the smell of burning batter pulled him back into the kitchen.
“Perhaps this is a sign he’s getting more control over his powers.”
“Hopefully,” Dean muttered. It wasn’t like they could enroll him in school when he was changing his form constantly. “And when Sam gets back, you can take over coming up with a new name for the kid.”
Dean was starting to run out of family members.
When Sam returned from his run, him, Cas, and Steve Winchester sat down for pancakes and bacon. He didn’t mention Bobby John or Adam Chevy, so neither did Dean.
“Not to kick you out of the house or anything,” Dean started, drying off the dishes while Sam sat at the kitchen table, typing something on his laptop. “But you said you had a case down in Kentucky?”
Sam gave Dean an annoyed look. “You can just put a sock on the door.” Before Dean could come up with a witty retort, he gestured to something on his laptop and said, “It sounds like a werewolf. I’ll probably head out early tomorrow morning. Do you still have all your hunting stuff?”
“Oh, yeah. I keep all the weapons and silver locked up in Baby’s trunk.”
“The silver, too? I would’ve thought you’d have real silver forks and stuff. Seems practical.”
Dean set down the plate he was holding, leaning up against the counter. Sam was staring at him with the kind of expression that clearly said that he didn’t believe for a second that Dean had more than one kid. Hell, with that look, Sam was probably about to accuse him of having no kids.
“Sam–”
“He’s a shifter, isn’t he?” Sam asked, cutting Dean off.
Dean winced, thinking of not just the wall in his head, but how angry his brother looked. This was probably why Cas told him to just tell Sam in the first place, Dean mused.
“He’s my son,” Dean said firmly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam demanded, his voice a low hiss. “How the hell did you even end up with a shifter baby in the first place?”
“I was working a hunt, okay? The shifter killed the baby’s mom; he didn’t have anywhere else safe to go if it wasn’t for me. What was I supposed to do, Sam? Let the kid be trained by some psychopathic monster into being a killer? He’s just a baby. He can’t even take care of himself. I couldn’t leave him.”
“You still could have told me! What did you think I was going to do, shoot him?”
“Maybe I just wanted you to think of him as your nephew instead of as a monster!” Dean snapped. The words surprised Dean even as they tumbled out of his mouth. Of course he told himself he couldn’t tell Sam because of the wall, but maybe it was safer to let Sam speculate how Dean and Cas created a nephilim than to let Sam think that the only difference between the boy sleeping a few feet away and the monsters they hunted on a daily basis was the fact that Dean had a soft heart.
As if on cue, Bobby John started crying, clearly awake. On instinct, Dean moved towards his room, but Sam stopped him with a hand on the wrist.
“Dean, he is my nephew. No matter what.”
“No chick flick moments,” Dean said gruffly, before Sam dared go in for a brotherly hug.
“No chick flick moments,” Sam agreed. “Just tell me his name actually is Bobby John and not something stupid like ‘Adam Chevy’.”
Dean couldn’t help it; he chuckled. “His name is Bobby John.”
Sam nodded, a slow, fond smile spreading over his face. It definitely didn’t look like the face of someone whose mental wall was being demolished. “I like it.”
“Can I go check on my kid now?” Are we good?
Sam took a step back. “Better you than me.” Yeah, we’re good.