Chapter Text
It started with dinner. Sam had gone to get whatever greasy burgers the local diner was serving but just happened to drop Dean’s on the way back. Dean flipped his brother off before storming out of the motel. He didn’t even bother with the Impala, the diner was close enough and the rain had died down.
In the middle of the road was a discarded takeaway box with a burger spilling out right beside a pothole. Despite his annoyance, Dean chuckled. There was no way Sam had seen the pothole behind his ridiculous bangs. Dean would use this as point in their endless debate of shaving Sam’s locks.
Rats scuttled into alleys as Dean approached, somewhere a loud, persistent bird screeched in miserable chirps that made Dean’s chilled ears ache as he flicked through the menu. Dean barely managed to read their selection of burgers when the chirps grew louder, more high pitched. More desperate.
Dean grunted in frustration and followed the screeching chirps into the alley behind the diner, expecting to find some trapped bird or a particularly angry pigeon on that stayed out too late. Dean has seen more than a few of those in abandoned houses. Most often being torn apart by rats in a gruesome scene of feathers and guts that made Sam retch.
Dean paused at the mouth of the alley. They were hunting a shifter after all. Dean took a breath and sighed. He could handle a shifter and curiously over took caution. The alley was dark save for Dean’s flashlight. Rats scampered into torn trash bags but the screeching persisted through the rustling trash and deepening patter of rain.
Dean paused and listened to the screeching. Left at the next turn.
As he rounded the corner, Dean pulled out his knife. If it was a bird, he’d put it out of its misery. If it was a thief, he could handle it. If it was the shifter… the silver blade glowed dully in the what little light peaked through the clouds. If it was the shifter then Dean could take care of it.
The screaming chirps came from a sagging, wet box wedged behind a dumpster. Knife ready, Dean crouched by the shaking box and cut the wet tape. What was inside shocked Dean more than any razor teethed trickster or half eaten bird.
There were feathers, yes. Black and wet and molting off skeletal wings and sticking to the soaked walls of the box. But beneath the wings and feathers was a naked infant. Small, pale and trembling from cold and crying. The winged creature chirped miserably, voice weak and trembling now. The baby rolled and wet, bright blue eyes locked onto Dean’s. The child- the creature- reached up, fingers red with cold and blue lips parted in wailing sobs.
Dean’s grip tightened on the knife as the baby desperately reached for him. Every human part of him wanted nothing more than to scoop up the infant, keep it warm and safe but the part of Dean that had kept him alive since he was four told him to kill it.
The chirping sobs reached a crescendo and Dean let the creature grab onto his finger. Immediately the tiny thing bought the finger to its mouth and gnawed with soft, toothless gums, hiccuping sobs dying. Before the thing could react, dean touched the silver blade to its arm. No reaction besides a confused chirp. Dean splashed a drop of holy water onto the not-shifter’s forehead. Rather than scream or sizzle it cooed, eyes glowing slightly at the holy water melted into the rain that covered the not-demon.
A full body shiver went through the winged creature and it made a sad little sound that pulled at Dean’s heart. He tested the creature. It wasn’t a shifter or a demon, that didn’t mean it wasn’t a threat. But right now all Dean could see was a cold, starved baby.
Without another thought, Dean scooped the baby into his arms, cradling its neck and tucking it under his jacket to protect it from the now pelting rain. The baby’s head lolled closer to Dean and it made a soft, popping sound followed by a satisfied sigh. Dean’s grip tightened on the baby as its blotchy face smoothed and its crystal blue eyes fluttered closed, no longer battling fat rain drops.
Dean made his way out of the alley, not caring to dodge the rats and trash bags, focused solely on the tiny, winged creature in his arms. The sniffling, blue, skinny creature that had been left to die in a box behind a dumpster. Light from the diner cast the baby’s face in harsh shadows that made the lack of baby fat obvious. Dean’s stomach growled but he couldn’t bring himself to care when he was cradling the hollo stomached baby.
The baby made soft fussy sounds as Dean carried it back to the motel already coming up with an excuse to tell Sam. He didn’t know how anyone could leave a baby,— didn’t matter if it was human or not— to die. They were so small and innocent and stared up with big, teary eyes. Dean knew human’s did horrible things. He’d met people who hunted others for sport yet still loved their children. He’d seen dogs die so their littler could feed. He’d even seen vampires try to turn their children. No matter what species, children were precious. Innocent. To be protected. Dean didn’t understand how someone could abandon a baby. Especially the skinny, wide eyed one in his arms.
Dean knocked on the motel door twice. When Sam didn’t immediately open he knocked harder.
“Open the door, Sammy,” Dean snapped making the baby whine. “Sorry, kiddo.”
Seemingly happy with the apology the baby popped its thumb between its blue lips.
The motel door rattled as locks and chains came loose, when Sam opened it, warm golden light spilled out.
“What took you so long?” Sam grunted with a yawn.
Dean shouldered past Sam, kicking off his muddy boots and soaked jacket. The baby’s face wrinkled at the sudden light and it frowned at Dean, clearly not happy with the bright light. “It’s been a rough night, Sam,” Dean said and set the clammy baby on his bed.
“What the hell is that?”
Dean made sure the baby was safely on the bed before turning to Sam and pointing at the winged baby. “I have no clue but it’s not a human, shifter or a demon.”