Work Text:
November '99
Kansas City, Kansas
Dean started shaking violently, tears welling up in his eyes as he collapsed to the floor. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't the right time for this. He couldn't be in this situation. And Tom had abandoned him.
He let the pregnancy test slip from his fingers, dropping it to the floor as he wiped away the tears that were falling without him realizing. Would Tom have accepted this unexpected pregnancy if he were still alive ? Dean wasn't sure. Tom had changed so much in recent months; he was no longer as loving and affectionate as at the beginning of their relationship. Sometimes, he even became violent. But maybe this pregnancy could have brought them closer again. Dean had no certainty.
What was he supposed to do now ? He didn't feel capable of taking care of this child alone. But he couldn't consider getting rid of it either.
John. His father. He could help him. Or maybe he wouldn't want anything to do with him after their last conversation. Dean didn't want things to end like this. He never thought John would react that way. He should have reacted differently. Dean shouldn't have let Tom stop him from going back to his father. He should have stood up for himself.
Dean wanted to see his father again. He was the only person who had ever mattered in his life. He was the one who had raised him after his mother, Mary, died. He took his role as a father very seriously, taking care of Dean, protecting him, and loving him. He rarely said it, but he always made it clear that Dean could count on him no matter what. But is that still the case ?
The tears flowed freely. Thoughts raced through his mind. A wave of nausea hit him violently. His breathing became labored. His vision blurred. Then nothingness.
May '00
Kansas City, Kansas
Dean held his baby in his arms and gently rocked him. Then, he picked up the bottle he had just prepared and slipped the nipple into his son's mouth. The brunette gazed into the barely open eyes of his little one.
Samuel "Sam" Winchester was born on the night of May 2, 2000. He was a full-term newborn, measuring forty-eight centimeters and weighing three and a half kilograms, very healthy with a nice tuft of brown hair on his head.
Dean had faced his pregnancy alone, tackling each challenge without help. At the beginning, it had been very difficult, with nausea and vomiting, back and leg pain, and episodes of extreme fatigue while he had to keep working at the elementary school cafeteria. He had finally quit that job when he reached eight months of pregnancy, realizing he needed to rest to welcome his baby.
Three days had passed since Dean had left the hospital alone with his son in his arms, after a solitary delivery. But he was thinking of one person in particular: his father. He would have loved for him to be there during the delivery. Yet, his father didn't even know about his pregnancy.
Dean had thought it through, he had prepared their things because he felt ready to go see John. Dean had contemplated this visit since he discovered he was going to be a father, and tonight, he would be on his way with Sam to Lawrence.
Putting the bottle on the coffee table, Dean gently lifted Sam and held him against his shoulder to burp him, as they had shown him at the maternity ward. This thought weighed on him. Despite the research he had done and the advice he received at the hospital, he was truly disoriented about how to take care of a baby.
Once the burp was accomplished, Dean put his son back in his crib and gently rocked him. He brought his lips softly to the baby's forehead and placed a gentle kiss there.
Lawrence, Kansas
The brunette put the pacifier back in his son's mouth because he had started crying; he must have been hot in his car seat. They had just driven three-quarters of an hour from Kansas City to Lawrence. It felt like those minutes had passed in a flash; he was so stressed but also so eager to see his father. It had been three years since he had any contact with him, and he missed him so much. He wondered if his father had missed him, or if he had been living as if he never had a son.
It was nine o'clock at night, and they were parked in front of the house where Dean had grown up. He sighed and rubbed his finger against Sam's round cheek. The warmth of his cheek soothed him a bit, giving him a kind of motivation to face what Dean saw as a trial. The little one turned his head to seek his father's finger, making a sucking noise that made Dean laugh.
He removed his finger and placed both hands on the steering wheel of the Impala. He let his head drop onto the headrest, gripping the steering wheel tighter, and took a deep breath. They had to go. Sam had to meet his grandfather.
He opened the driver's side door and got out of the car. A peaceful breeze rose, the night was mild. He walked to the back of the car to open the trunk and retrieve the black diaper bag, which he slung over his left shoulder. He then went to the front passenger side to open the door and detach the car seat.
Dean removed the car seat from the car, being careful not to be too rough.
"It'll be okay, little one, it'll be okay," Dean said to Sam. He was mostly trying to reassure himself, he was really stressed.
The brunette crossed the street to walk up the driveway, holding the car seat firmly. He recognized his father's 4x4 parked in front of the house. John was indeed there. He observed the house and the front yard; everything looked well-maintained. One of the house lights, probably the kitchen, was on.
Once in front of the door, Dean took yet another deep breath and rang the doorbell. He glanced at his now-sleeping son. It was too late to turn back.
A few seconds later, heavy footsteps were heard as the hallway light came on. Suddenly, Dean had a flash of regret; maybe this wasn't a good idea. The door opened to reveal a surprised-looking John. The brunette was so happy to see him after three years without seeing or talking to each other.
"Hi, Dad," Dean said, forcing a smile to hide his unease.
He noticed that John's gaze fell on what he was holding in his hands. He pushed the car seat towards his father so he could see what was inside.
"Let me introduce you to Samuel Winchester, my son, Dad."
John stepped aside from the door and made a gesture indicating they could come in. He hadn't said a word since he opened the door; he was just looking at them with the same surprised expression.
Dean entered the house, nostalgia hitting him hard. The house was the same, it even had the same smell. He headed towards the kitchen; nothing had changed there either. Dean wondered if the rest of the house had stayed the same.
It had only been three years since he left his father's house, but it felt like a century. He had spent his entire life in this house, nineteen years in total, only to leave abruptly and not return for three long years.
He placed the car seat with Sam on the dining table and stood next to it, staring at his feet. John finally decided to say something, his facial expression somewhat relaxed.
"So...," John took a deep breath and continued, "When did you have the child ?"
"Five days ago," Dean replied, keeping his eyes down. He could feel his father's insistent gaze on him, which intensified his discomfort.
"Dean..."
At the sound of his name, Dean finally looked up. His father had just said his name. It had been so long since he heard his father's voice say his name.
Their eyes met, and the two men stared at each other for a moment of awkwardness. When had it become this awkward between them? John finally broke the heavy silence.
"Do you want something to drink or something...?" he asked, moving towards the fridge. He opened the door without waiting for Dean's response and closed it without taking anything.
"No ! No, it's fine," Dean replied.
John came back towards him and pulled the chair opposite Dean to sit down. This time his expression was neutral. He had his elbows on the table, his hands clasped together, and his chin resting on them.
"I missed you, you know, Dad," Dean suddenly said, redirecting his gaze to his shoes.
"You could have called; I would have answered if you had," John said, frowning but keeping his voice low. "Why are you coming back now ? Why not earlier ? I haven't heard from you in three years, and tonight you show up here with a baby."
"Please, Dad..."
"Where's the other father ? Is it that other jerk you brought home ?"
Dean took these words harshly, each question feeling like a punch in the gut. How could he explain to his father that Sam's father had died seven months ago and that he had prevented Dean from returning to Lawrence?
But at that moment, Dean had already taken the risk of coming back to his father; he owed him an explanation.
"Yes, it's him. His name was Tom... well, it was," he corrected himself. "The thing is, Tom died seven months ago. I never knew how, but his friends wouldn't tell me anything," Dean said, lifting his head towards his father.
"I see..."
"It's been seven months that I've been alone in a tiny apartment in Kansas City. I went through the entire pregnancy alone without any support from anyone because there was no one with me."
As he told his story, Dean felt the tears welling up in his eyes. He didn't want this heavy loneliness anymore.
"It was a choice you made, Dean," John reminded him. "You made the choice to leave this house and not come back, and you knew you could come back whenever you wanted. I would never refuse you access to our home."
"It wasn’t that simple," Dean tried to defend himself.
"You chose to go through your pregnancy alone. You chose not to ask for my help."
"But I’m here now !"
The sudden raise in Dean’s voice startled Sam, who had been sleeping in his car seat, causing him to start crying. Dean apologized to his baby and tried to calm him by putting the pacifier back in his mouth. He gently rubbed his finger against his cheek to remind him of his presence and try to soothe him. He wondered if it was really a good idea to have come.
"I just came here to ask for help, but I think maybe it wasn’t a good idea to come here."
He took the diaper bag he had left on the table and put it back on his left shoulder. He picked up the car seat with Sam in his hands and lifted it off the table.
As he started to move towards the door, his father stepped in front of him to block the way. John placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder at the base of his neck.
"I’ve been so worried about you, my son." He rubbed his thumb against his son's neck. "Every night I think about the day you left and the things I said to you, I didn’t mean what I said. I’m so sorry, I should have reached out to you, I’m the one who hurt you."
"I’m only twenty-two, I have no idea how to take care of a baby, and yet I decided to keep him, and I’m so worried about this little one’s future, you can’t imagine how much." The brunette placed his right hand over his father's hand, making sure to keep his left hand on Sam. "We don’t have to live here with you, but all I need is support from the person who means the most to me !" he said. "I want things to go back to how they were, with Sam this time."
"I want you to stay here."
Saying this, John took the car seat from Dean’s hands. He also took the diaper bag from his shoulder and walked back to the table to place everything on it.
Dean lay on his bed, nothing had changed since his departure. Except for the slice of pie he remembered leaving on the nightstand, it was no longer there; his father must have cleared it away. His room was the same, it felt like he had never left this place, like he had never spent almost three years outside this house.
He sighed and turned onto his left side to face his son, who was lying on the bed. The blonde placed his hand gently on the baby’s leg and rubbed his thumb against it.
"Everything will be alright now, my Sammy. Your grandfather John is here for us now."