He Looks Just Like You

Sam sat cleaning his weapons, his eyebrows pinched in concentration. Almost two weeks had passed and Sam still hadn’t heard anything from his brother. Dean wouldn’t answer his phone, wouldn’t return his call. He hadn’t made any attempt to make contact at all, and it scared Sam as much as it pissed him off. Dean just ups and leaves with no explanation and he’s meant to just sit around and wait? Sure, he’d finished the hunt, got himself some cuts and bruises but nothing he wasn’t used to. And he owes Dean a huge ‘I told you so’.

“’There hasn’t been a Harpy sighting since the eighteenth century.’” Sam imitated childishly, scowling down at his dismantled weapon. “Yeah, tell that to them.”

His train of thought was interrupted by his phone going off. He pondered just letting it ring out, it was probably Bobby. But something inside him had him jumping off his bed and all but diving at his phone. Looking at the display number, it was Dean. He sighed in relief as he answered it and pressed it to his ear. “Where are you? Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? You could have been killed for all I know! And they were Harpies, like I told you!”

“Sammy.”

“Dean,” Sam went silent at the tone in his brother’s voice, his plan of ranting at Dean deflating. “Dean, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Dean, you don’t sound alright. Is something wrong?” Sam dropped onto his bed, flicking his hair out of his face.

“No.” Dean sighed before muttering softly. “Yes.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Not on the phone.”

“Alright, where?” Sam got up, throwing his bag on his bed before shoving everything randomly into it. Dean muttered the address, his tone alerting Sam that something was really wrong. Once he’d checked the room over, making sure he’d left nothing behind, Sam grabbed his bag and made for the car he’d rented the day after Dean had left. He ended the call after Dean before rushing over to pay for his room. When he’d finally roused the owner and paid, he got in the car and sped out of town. He drove all night and all of the next day until sometime after eleven pm, he pulled up beside the Impala. He was tired and hungry but he ignored both as he got out of the small car and ran to the door. It was open, which bothered Sam; something really must have Dean’s attention to stop him from even locking the door. He shoved the door open, poking his head into the dark room only to see it was relatively empty. Frowning, he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “Dean?”

He got no answer, causing him to squint into the darkness. In the moonlight that streamed through the window, his eyes went instantly to the bed. The blankets were pulled off, in a pile on the floor. The pillows from both beds were in the middle of the queen mattress; formed into a square, a kind of barrier that held a bundle of blue blankets, blankets that wriggled; and breathed. Frown deepening, Sam moved to the bedside before lifting the top of the blanket, his eyes going wide. A tiny baby was sleeping, its tiny hand close to its tiny mouth. As he held the blanket up, the baby opened its eyes, stared at Sam for a moment before beginning to cry; the cries quickly turning into full blown screaming.

“Holy hell, I’m sorry. Hey, baby. It’s okay, stop crying baby.” Sam panicked, searching the room before settling for lifting the tiny child into his giant hands. He rocked the baby softly, trying desperately to calm it. He spun around when the bathroom door was thrown open, the unmistakable sound of a bullet being chambered.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Dean?” Sam started, the child still screaming as Sam looked over his brother; who was in nothing but a towel and looking tired.

“Sammy.” Dean put the safety on before dropping the gun on the table, flicking the lights on as he moved towards his brother.

“Where the hell did you get a baby from?” Sam demanded.

“Give him here.” Dean ordered, causing Sam to turn away and keep himself between his brother and the infant.

“Dean, did you steal a baby?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Dean walked around his brother before glaring at him when Sam moved the child away. “Give me my son, Sam.”

“You’re son? Are you crazy? Where’d you steal him from? Who’d you steal him from? More importantly, why the hell did you steal him?”

“Sam, you big idiot! Give me John so I can calm him down!” Dean side stepped Sam before taking the baby away from him as he froze. Dean moved the blanket, softly pressing the baby to his bare chest and holding him there, skin to skin, allowing his warmth and scent and heart beat to calm his little boy.

“Did you call him John?”

“John for short.” Dean muttered, swaying slowly as the baby began to calm his screaming.

“For short?” Sam goggled.

“Johnathan Dean.” Dean mumbled absently, shutting his eyes when he felt John begin to paw at his chest. His cheeks went red when the little baby latched onto his nipple, thinking that by doing so, he’d get milk.

“He’s feeding off you!?” Sam laughed, amusement shadowing the question of why exactly Dean had a baby.

“Shut up.” Dean glared, sliding a finger between his chest and Johnathan’s eager lips. When the little baby began to whimper, making little ‘O’s in the air with his mouth, Dean went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle before shoving it in the microwave. He sighed, Johnathan having latched on again, suckling loudly but getting nothing causing his little brow to pinch in frustration. “Get your shirt off.”

“Excuse me?” Sam asked, eyes wide.

“Take your shirt off. Skin to skin contact usually keeps him calm and I need to put some pants on and get his milk to the right temp.”

“Wait,” Sam held his hand up, confusion and worry clouding his mind. “You want me to hold the baby.”

“No, I want you to give him a peep show. Yes, you idiot.” Dean all but yelled, his tone causing Johnathan to whimper. Sam didn’t argue, simply stripped his jacket and his shirt before looking back at Dean.

“Now what?” Sam went star struck as Dean handed over the baby. Johnathan snuffled, crying softly at the lack of warmth and heart beat before he instantly locked his lips around Sam’s nipple and went silent again. Sam watched in amazement, his face contorting at the weird sensations he was feeling over being ’fed’ from. Dean sighed, rubbing his face before he quickly pulled on a pair of jeans then opened the microwave to test the temperature of the milk. Finding it still cold, he put it back in before dropping into a chair and shutting his eyes. “You look beat.”

“He hasn’t stopped crying for three days now.” Dean mumbled, his head back and his eyes closed as he rested.

“Dean, where did you get this baby?” Sam asked, his voice quiet as he watched the newborn suckle. It was so odd. “Don’t you think his mother might be frantic wondering where he’s gone?”

“She already knows.” Dean answered curtly.

“Alright, but how? Did she just agree to let you take her baby?”

“Sam,” Dean sat up and stared at his brother. The microwave beeping stopped him and made him stand. He checked the milk and found it the right temperature before he handed it to Sam. “You feed him; I can hardly hold my hands up.”

“How the hell do I do that?”

“Just hold it near his mouth; he’ll know what to do.” Sam did just that, and almost instantly, Johnathan let go off Sam’s nipple and began drinking from the bottle. “And don’t let him drink it all at once; he’ll just throw it all back up.”

“Okay.” Sam muttered, his eyes intent on the child in his arms. “Dean, you have to tell me. If you say you didn’t steal him, I believe you. I trust you. But you have to give me some answers.”

“He’s my son Sam.” Dean rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Do you remember about a year ago, we were just driving through this small town?”

“You wanted food for the tenth time that day.” Sam laughed fondly, remembering the exact day.

“Yeah, well you remember how I sent you to go do the hunt on your own? Said I had to take care of some personal things?”

“Yeah,” Sam clicked on quickly. “Who was she?”

“Her name was Jeduthun Wesson, and I’ve never loved anyone more in my life.” Sam looked over at his brother, noticed the tears, listened to the heart ache in his voice and knew he meant every word. “She was my personal business Sammy. We got in deep, both of us. And I got scared because of it. I ran. I just left her. I thought I was doing the right thing by her. She could do so much better then me. She was smart and beautiful, absolutely gorgeous with the whole world ahead of her. But she was too young. I mean, I go for young, but Jeduthun was still only a teenager.”

“Dean,” Sam started before going silent.

“I didn’t know she was pregnant. I left before she found out. I left her behind because I figured she’d always be a car trip away. I figured I’d go, let her grow a bit older then I’d come back and if she was still in love with me, then maybe I could give up hunting and have a normal life with her.” Dean looked out the window, his cheeks stained with tears of grief. “I let her down Sammy. I was too afraid I’d get her hurt to even notice that I was breaking her heart by leaving. I was stupid. You know, I told her, I told her everything about our life and she didn’t care. She just wrapped her arms around me and said it only made her love me more. That I would risk my life, would spend my whole life fighting evil to protect others. She never looked at me like I was crazy and that’s how I knew she was the one.”

“She sounds like she’s amazing.”

“She was.” Dean shook his head before dropping it into his hands and openly crying. Sam stared, all emotions in his body standing still as he watched his brother break down in front of him, knowing he couldn’t do anything to make him feel better.

“Dean,”

“She’s gone Sammy.” Dean looked up then, his eyes staring into Sam’s before he flicked them down to look over Johnathan. “She’s gone and all I have left of her his our little boy.”

“This won’t make anything better, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to lose someone so close to you.” Sam knew exactly how it felt to have the one you loved most, ripped right out of your life. He knew no words would make the ache go away, nothing, not even time, would heal these wounds. So they fell into silence. Dean fell asleep, exhaustion getting the better of him. Sam let him rest; taking it upon him self to get to know is nephew. John had finished drinking, had burped clean and was now sleeping in Sam’s arms. He watched him, studying his features.

What seemed like hours passed before Dean stirred again. He was frantic for a moment, his eyes searching the room before they fell upon Sam and John, causing him to sigh in relief. He rubbed his face before getting to his feet and cracking his back.

“Suns up, did I sleep long?”

“Only a minute.” Sam muttered before smiling and looking up at his brother. “You’re a father Dean.”

“Yeah.” Dean answered before grinning widely. “Yeah, I am.”

“You know,” Sam got up, bouncing John in his arms as the baby babbled in his sleep. “I think you’ll make a good dad. No, I know you’ll make a great dad. You practically raised me.”

“Yeah, and look how you turned out.” Dean jibbed playfully as he set about making them both some toast, and as an after thought, some coffee. “I don’t know how I’m going to raise him Sammy; I don’t know anything about children, or about normal.”

“It’ll come to you Dean. You’ll just know what the right way is.”

“How can you be sure? I don’t want to screw him over Sammy; I don’t want to ruin his life.”

“Well,” Sam thought it over for a moment, staring at the baby in his arms before laughing. “You know, he looks just like you.”

“Yeah?” Dean looked over at them both, smiling before he too laughed. “I guess he does, he has Jeduthun’s hair though.”

“You’re going to have to chain him up in the basement if you want to keep the girls away from him.”

“Well, if he takes after me, I’ll be tying him up for the sake of those young girls.” Dean shook his head before sighing. “Seriously though Sam, what am I meant to do? Dad never raised me with hopes that I’d someday have a child of my own. He raised me to be a hunter.”

“Dean, you looked after me.”

“Those were dad’s orders.” Dean frowned as he placed a plate with several slices of toast on the table and nodded at them for Sam to start eating.

“You’re doing it now.”

“What?”

“You’re fathering me.” Sam smirked when Dean flustered. “You brought me up Dean, and you brought me up right. I’m a hunter, sure, but I wasn’t when I was at Stanford. You’re a good guy Dean; you’ll make the right moves.”

“What if I don’t?”

“You will. You did with me.”

“I failed you so many times Sammy.” Dean shook his head and sighed. “I don’t think I could fail Johnathan without feeling like Jeduthun died for nothing. If I screw his life up, I’ll never forgive myself. She died to give him life; I don’t want to ruin that.”

“When are you going to cut yourself some slack?” Sam frowned at his brother, angered slightly by his brother’s constant hatred in himself. “You were ready to kick my ass when you stepped out of that bathroom. You wanted nothing more then to protect your kid. And now you’re beating yourself up because you don’t know what to do? Dean, that’s what makes a good father. Not having all the answers are half the adventures of being a parent.”

“When did you become a fortune cookie?”

“Very funny Dean,” Sam deadpanned. “I’m serious, you’ll be fine. And you won’t be alone. I’ll be here to help you.”

“I don’t know if I can hunt anymore Sam.” Dean shook his head. “I don’t know if I should struggle with trying to raise him normal or risk having him resent me for raising him the only way I know how, as a hunter.”

“What would Jeduthun want you to do?”

“She’d want,” Dean started but stopped to really think about it. A moment passed before he smiled. “She told me she loved me because I saved people from evil.”

“Do you think she’d love you less if you brought your son up to help others? Chances are you could try bringing him up normal, and he’ll just get hurt when something comes around wanting revenge, or something will happen and he’ll just become a hunter anyway. If he’s not trained, he’ll get hurt. There’s also the good chance that he will have a normal life, and still be able to protect himself if evil does come knocking on his door. Just do what feels right. There are years that have to pass before you even have to worry about whether or not to start training him. And when he’s old enough to start training, maybe he’ll be old enough to make the choices for you. If he wants to take after you, wants to hunt, then you can’t say no.”

“I guess.”

“Dean,” Sam heard the self doubt again and snapped at it. “You’re not Dad. You’ll know his mistakes and know not to make them. He did the best he could, and you can learn from that and do better. You’re not stupid Dean; you’ll make the right choices. And if I think you’re being an idiot, I’ll beat you up for screwing my nephew over. And besides, I’ll be here to teach him. He won’t grow up not knowing Dean.”

“Can imagine him in school, ‘my uncle Sammy teaches me about mythology and demons.’” Dean laughed.

“And, ‘my father is the coolest father in the world, he fights evil and saves people and he protects me.’” Sam saw the way Dean looked when he said it, which caused him to smile. “You’ll make it work Dean, we’ll make it work.”

“I can’t ask you to stick around, to help me raise my kid.” Sam got up, having placed Johnathan back into his little make shift crib, and crossed the room to wrap his brother in a tight embrace. Dean hugged him back just as tightly before they pulled away from each other. Sam grinned wide, his dimples in full view.

“The best part about me being your brother, is you don’t have to ask Dean. You don’t have to go this alone.”

“Thanks Sammy.”

“It’s no problem. Now eat your damn toast old man, before your son wakes up wanting more food, which if he’s anything like you, will be very soon.”

“What can I say, he’s a Winchester.” Both brothers smiling, they sat at the small, dodgy table and devoured the toast quickly, both laughing as they bickered over the Harpy case. Dean knew, deep down that everything was going to be alright. He’d do the right thing by Johnathan and he’d make Jeduthun proud. They’d be a family of hunters, just like she’d always wanted and he’d tell his son, everyday, how much his mother loved him. After all, she wasn’t dead if they kept her memory alive with love.