Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey, Winchester. Got a new case for you. Homicide. You interested?” Arthur asks, handing Sam a manila folder. He takes it, and sits down at his desk, while his boss perches on the edge of it. “Todd and Henry Marston. Father and son duo it looks like. We were only able to arrest the son on charges of homicide, but the old man got picked up for accessory, along with some breaking and entering, you know, the usual.”

“Right,” Sam says, finally taking his eyes off his boss and opening the folder. When he does, he is met with two familiar faces. On the left, his older brother, being a smartass even while getting his mugshot taken. And next to him, his dad, eyes filled with fury. He swallows down the lump in his throat, and puts the folder down. “Yeah, I’ll take it. I’ll be right back.” 

He doesn’t answer when his boss calls out for him, instead just rushes to the bathroom and grips the edge of the sink. His family. Homicide. Fake names. It’s been 12 years since he last saw them. And now, here they are, in the same town he lives in, arrested, and he’s their lawyer. 

He can’t be. It’s incredibly unethical, not to mention highly illegal, to defend someone you know, let alone family. But they don’t know. They have fake names. Arthur doesn’t know they’re related. But what if he finds out? He’d lose his job. He’d go to prison. Sam groans, and tilts his head back. He has Jess and a newborn baby waiting at home, he can’t just-

But you know what will happen to them if you leave. 

They’re innocent. Sam knows that. They’ve been in a situation like this before, when Sam was just a kid, and they only got out of it by skipping town as fast as possible. If Sam doesn’t take this case, and prove that whatever Dean and John killed wasn’t human, then… Then what? You can’t just expose the truth to the entire town. Okay, so, another angle. Self-defense? 

That could work. Yeah. I can just prove that whatever they killed was trying to hurt them first. 

How? 

Sam pushes that thought out of his head and takes a deep breath. He has to take this case. They’ll be facing death row if he doesn’t. “Fuck,” Sam whispers, hanging his head again. “God damn it.” He splashes cold water on his face, and walks out of the bathroom back to his desk. 

Arthur is still there, reading through the files. “You good, Winchester?”

“Yeah. Just…something I ate.”

“You jumped on this case pretty fast. You don’t want to hear more?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at Sam. 

He laughs uncomfortably. “It’s homicide, Arthur. Yeah, I want the case,” he says, still smiling. He’s only 30 years old, and although he’s a damn good lawyer he’s still new, and he’s never been assigned a homicide before. 

“Great. Well, look over their files, you can talk to them in the morning. It’s almost 5 anyway, and I gotta bounce. Finish up here, start working on that case, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam says, paging through the folder.

—

Sam stands in his daughter’s room, rocking his daughter gently in his arms, thinking. He needs to talk to Dean and John. The victim’s head was cut off, which makes it really difficult for Sam to say it was self-defense. But, at least he knows what he’s dealing with. A vampire. But only one?

It’s odd. They travel in groups, and if one is killed, the others will go after whoever hunted them. But it’s been 36 hours since the body was found, and nothing. So, it’s either working alone, or Sam has a mess on his hands. He hopes it's the former. 

But there’s another problem. John.

He kicked him out, told him not to call. Sam said some pretty fucked up things during that fight, and John did too. Dean had gotten a black eye trying to get in the middle of it. And now he has to face them again. John, who told him he never even wanted another son. Dean, who said that Sam was a traitor, and didn’t care about the family. 

And then there was himself, with the words he can’t forget. I don’t care about mom! God how he’s regretted those words. He looks down at his sleeping daughter and presses a light kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Mary Dean,” he whispers, cupping her head with his hand. He puts her back down in her crib, and shuts the door silently behind him. 

“Hey,” Jessica greets him as he walks into the kitchen. “Is she asleep?”

“Yeah. How are you feeling?” he asks, kissing her cheek. 

“Starving. Make me some pasta would you?” she asks, lowering herself into a chair and laying her head in her arms. Sam does as she says, and it takes everything in him not to spill his work situation with her. 

She knows about hunting. He told her after he proposed, but it hasn’t come up since then. And he doesn’t want to worry her. But God, he needed someone to talk to. He serves Jess a bowl of spaghetti, tapping her shoulder to wake her up. 

“Thank you, love,” she whispers, picking up her fork. Sam sits down across from her and starts eating, but he stops when he looks up to see Jessica’s shoulders shaking. 

“Jess?” he asks, putting his fork down. She looks up at him, tears in her eyes, and then she starts sobbing. He gets up and pulls her from the kitchen, laying her down on the couch against his body, holding her tight. “Hey, Jess, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispers reassurances into her ear, but the crying doesn’t stop. 

Her postpartum depression has been hitting hard. It’s been six weeks since Mary was born, and the doctor said that the depression should start to let up soon, but it won’t be gone for months. He just hopes it doesn’t last too long. He hates seeing her like this. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, smoothing her hair. She shakes her head and puts her hands on her stomach, continuing to cry. “I’m sorry, baby. It’ll be okay.”

He doesn’t expect a response, but suddenly Jess pushes herself off of him, then immediately falls back into the couch. “No it won’t be okay!” she yells. “I’m tired, Sam! I’m so fucking tired! I miss her so much, and I can barely get up, and you’re always at work, and I’m left to deal with her by myself and I can barely make myself food! I need you here, Sam! I’ve needed you here for the past month!” 

Sam is used to this speech. She brings it out sometimes when she’s overwhelmed and stressed, when the depression hurts hard. He took time off work when Mary was born, but he doesn’t get paternity leave, so he had to go back after he used up all his vacation days. Jessica said it was fine, that she could take care of the baby on her own during the day, and Sam protested, but he did have to get back to work. 

“I know. I’m sorry, honey,” he says softly, grabbing her wrists. “But I’m right here. And she’s right here too. I know you miss who she was to you before you gave birth, but remember, Mary is right here. She’s just down the hall. She’s fine, and you take wonderful care of her. I know it’s hard, but-”

“No, you don’t know!” she yells again. “You don’t know how it feels to not be able to get out of bed! To not be able to feed yourself, to be sobbing while trying to feed your baby! You don’t know how it feels to wake up to crying when you just fell asleep in the middle of the day, and you don’t know how it feels to miss her like I do!”

Sam takes a deep breath, staying calm. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like.” He doesn’t mention all the times he raises Mary, too. He’s here morning and night, all day on the weekends. It’s not as much as her, but he does know a bit of how tiring it is. “But it’ll be okay. The doctor said-”

“I don’t care what the doctor said!”

“Jess, honey, stop shouting, please,” he pleads, eyes turning downwards. “You’re going to wake up the baby.”

All of a sudden, she’s crying again, crawling into Sam’s lap. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Sam, I didn’t mean it,” she says softly, hugging him. 

“It’s alright. You don’t have to apologize for how you feel. You need to eat, can you finish that spaghetti I made? Do you want something else?”

She nods, and Sam helps her to her feet and back to the kitchen table. He makes a quick salad to go along with the pasta, then goes back to eating. It’s a bit cold now, but he doesn’t mind. 

Sam decided on the spot to tell her about work. Just a bit. Nothing detailed, but she deserves to know. “I got assigned a homicide,” he says, twirling his pasta around on his fork. 

“What?” she asks, looking up. “Honey, that’s great!”

Sam laughs at that. “Strange how a homicide is good news.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just a big step, you know?” she reassures him. 

“Yeah. It is. It’s uh…kind of a lot. I hate to do this but I might have to stay at the office a bit longer for the next few days.”

“Can’t you just bring it home?” she asks. 

“I…” he sighs. “Okay, I won’t be staying at the office later. It’s a bit more hands on than that. But I can’t tell you anything else, Jess.”

“Hands on? Are you going to be okay? It’s not dangerous, right?”

Sam grabs her hands from across the table. “No, no. I’ll be fine. It’s just that there are people I need to talk to, get information from.”

Jess narrows her eyes at him. “Isn’t that the police’s job?” she asks. 

“Well, yes. But I can be back here with you sooner if I do it myself, you know how long they take to do things like this.”

“Sam, I don’t want to sound…like a bitch…but…this is murder. You’re defending a murderer?” 

“They’re innocent. And besides, everyone-”

“Deserves a right to counsel, I know. And what do you mean ‘they?’”

“Jessica, I’m sorry, but I really can’t talk about it, you know that.”

She looks back down at her food and nods, feeling tears come back to her eyes, even though she was fine just a minute ago. “Yeah. I can’t eat. Thank you, though,” she says, standing up from the table and making her way down the hall and into Mary’s room. 

—

Sam gets up early the next morning to mentally prepare himself for what’s about to happen. He’s going to see his family for the first time in 12 years. In an interview room at the county jail. Honestly, he’s surprised they haven’t broken out by now. 

He smooths back his hair and puts on a nice shirt and pants, but dresses it down by wearing a more casual jacket. He doesn’t want to seem too uptight. He changes Mary’s diaper twice before he leaves, then gives her a kiss before giving Jessica a light peck. “Love you, bye,” he says, walking out the door and to his car. 

His heart is pounding fast when he reaches the jail. He can barely get himself to go inside, but he manages. “Hi, I’m Sam Winchester, Marston’s lawyer,” he says, giving the man at the front desk his card. 

“Right. You defending both of them? I didn’t know that was allowed.” He leads Sam through the back door and into an interview room. “Wait here, I’ll go get them for you. Be on your guard, though, these two love to be smart about everything.” Sam represses his laugh and nods, putting his bag on the floor and the folder in front of him. 

His leg is bouncing and he’s biting his nails when the door opens. “Not gonna talk to some stuck up-” Dean is in the middle of speaking when the guard steps aside, and pushes both he and John inside. Dean’s jaw drops a little, but all three of them are good actors, so he gets it together and shuts his mouth. 

“This is your lawyer, Sam Winchester. Be nice, he’s here to help you.” He handcuffs both of them to the table Sam is sitting at and Dean rolls his eyes. 

“Oh come on, is this really necessary? I’m not going to kill my lawyer you dumbass,” he says, glaring at him. 

“See what I mean?” the man says to Sam, before walking out of the room and shutting the soundproof door. No one says anything, Sam just flicks his eyes back and forth between his dad and his brother, taking in their appearances. 

Dean looks a lot older. He’s 34 now, which would make his dad 60. He doesn’t look much different, though. “Okay are we going to sit here staring at each other or address the elephant in the room?” Dean says. 

Sam lets out a laugh, then covers his hand with his mouth. 

“What’s so funny,” John says, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Nothing. Nothing, it’s just…this is ridiculous. Oh I am so going to lose to my job,” he says, smiling and gripping his head. “Jesus Christ.” He looks back up at his family, still smiling from shock and fear and denial. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Dean says, a bit cold. 

“Okay, listen, before we get started…I don’t want to talk about anything…personal. Not until you’re free. So just…tell me what happened.”

“Straight to business, huh, Sammy?” John says. “Gotta say, you’ve changed.”

“Dad,” Sam warns. 

“Fine. It was a vampire. Don’t know if it acted alone or if there’s a nest. Dean sliced the bastard's head off before I could get that information out of him. And then the cops showed up. Which, by the way, how the hell did that happen?”

“It was the motel manager. She heard something about ‘killing the son of a bitch’ and ‘cut his fucking head off’ when she walked past your door. Cops traced the plates.”

“See, Dean! I told you to keep your voice down!” John reprimands. 

“What? The walls were thin, that thing was $30 a night, it wasn’t my fault!”

“Well you-”

“Stop it!” Sam says loudly. “No arguing. You said there was no nest where the body was found. A shed off the highway, right? Dirt road?”

“Yep. No local murders, though. We tracked him here from a few towns over.”

“And nothing’s come after you?”

“Besides a guy with a tramp stamp and knuckle tattoos, no,” Dean says. 

Sam sighs and leans back in his chair. “Alright. I need that nest to be around here somewhere.”

“But dad said-” Dean starts. 

“Yeah, I know. But I need a nest. I have to close your case quickly, before anyone figures out your real names. Easiest way to do that is a claim of self-defense. And I can prove it, but I need another vamp. Multiple, preferably.”

“Wait, are you planning on going after them alone? Try and get some confession out of them?” Dean asks, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. 

“Yeah. Kind of. Here’s the plan.”

—

Sam bought a machete from an outdoor store, and sped over to where the body was found. Luckily the area wasn’t taped off anymore, so he didn’t have to worry about his DNA showing up in any evidence. He pushed open the door, but there was nothing in there. He walked around the perimeter, looking in the old wardrobe that stood against the far wall. 

Nothing. He was just about to leave when the backs of his knees gives in, and he falls to the floor with a curse. There’s a woman standing above him, fangs out, hands on his neck. He kicks his knee up and pushes her off of him. He runs out of the building, but it’s in a forest, so the vampire runs right after him. He grabs his phone and calls 911 discreetly. She can’t know what he’s doing. He turns the volume all the way down and hopes to god that the cops can trace his signal out here. And that he can hold her off until they do. 

“Wait!” he says, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “Stop! I was just looking for-”

“Oh, honey, I don’t care. You show up where my husband was killed, with a machete in your hand? You’re going to feed us nicely,” she croons, slowly stalking towards him. 

“Feed you? What the hell are you talking about?” Sam fakes panic in his voice for the dispatcher. “Oh my God, are you in some kind of cult?!” he yells, backing up. 

“Don’t play dumb with me, Winchester. Your-” and Sam knows where that’s going, so he tackles her to the ground and starts throwing punches. She fights back, and the machete flies out of his hand. He managed to get on his feet again, but he didn’t have time to pick up the machete, so he runs back to his car, praying that she’ll follow. And that the cops aren’t here quite yet. 

He unlocks the door and grabs a gun out of the glove compartment, pointing it at the vampire. “You’re insane!” he shouts, cocking the gun. They both know it won’t do anything, but he has to keep up appearances. 

“Darling you know that won’t do anything to me.”

“What do you want?” he whimpers, but his hands don’t shake. 

“Food. Like I said, you’ll feed us well. A big body like your’s…we can feed for days.”

“What about your husband? The one who died?” Please, please let the cops show up soon. Please. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, Winchester? Did you lose your memory? Or are you just plain stupid. He tried to get those boys first. The tall one, with the beard…called himself Todd? He looked delicious. And his son? I guess size runs in the family,” she taunts. “I heard they had a third son. We weren’t going to come looking for you, but you wandered right into our nest. 

“That’s what happened with the…Marstons, was it?” she says, rolling her eyes. “Jerry almost got the old man. And then that son of a bitch cut my boyfriend’s head off! ” 

Sam almost cries in relief. He got it. He got his evidence. He can hear the wail of sirens in the distance, too. “Because you’re fucking insane! You’re a cannibal! What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yells, making his voice shake again. 

“Oh, come off it, Winchester! I know who you are!” Her head whips around at the squeal of tires, and Sam takes that moment of confusion to hang up the phone and reach behind him and grab a hunting knife. Not good enough to take a head off, but enough to stop her from running. He gets behind her and holds the knife to her throat.

“You say one word about who I am, or who they are, I will hunt you down. I will make you watch as I torture your family, nice and slow.” She growls at him, but about 5 cops are out of their cars with their guns pointed directly at the woman and Sam. He fixes his face into one of terror, and tightens his grip.

“Drop the knife and step away from her, Winchester!” one of the cops yells. “Girl! Put your hands in the air and get on the ground! Now!” Sam does what he’s told and lets the vamp go. But, she’s a sneaky bitch, and she starts running, knowing that those guns won’t do anything to her. Gunfire fills Sam’s ears, and he has the urge to run after her, but he knows he can’t. She’ll outrun the cops, hide away for a while. But once Dean and John are out, they’ll take care of it. And not get caught this time. 

Three cops run after her, and two stay behind with Sam, who is sitting on the ground, staring at the grass in a daze. “Winchester, you alright?” one of the police officers says. He nods, but she puts a blanket around his shoulders anyway. She helps him up and leads him to the back of the ambulance, where he doesn’t say anything, just lets the paramedic stitch up his cut lip. 

A few minutes later, the police officer comes back to him. “Here you go. Drink up.” She hands him a water bottle, and introduces herself. “My name is Hanna Montgomery. I know you’re pretty shaken up, but can you tell us what happened?”

So he does. 

—

The vampire got away, but there's an APB out for her now. Sam got a nice long lecture from his boss as well as the board about chasing leads by himself, and how he’s not a cop, and he shouldn’t have even been there in the first place. 

They say they can take his job for that, and his heart sinks, because even though it’s over, and Dean and John are free, they could still figure out his relationship to them. He leaves his office building in a haze, and runs into his family right outside the doors. He jumps, and grabs his heart. “Sorry. Hey.” He looks around him to make sure nobody is watching, before walking away from the building a bit and sitting on the bench.

“Thank you, Sam,” John says, extending his hand for a shake. Sam takes it, and guilt creeps into his heart. 

“Yeah. No…no problem.” He gulps. “Here. This is my phone number, just in case. I have to head home, but I’m glad you’re out.” He reaches out to shake Dean’s hand, and leaves a note he wrote on a paper towel in the bathroom in his palm. “Take care.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and walks off, Dean and John watching him go. 

Dean slides the note into his pocket, while John says, “Come on. We gotta skip town. Find that vamp.” They slide into the Impala, and as soon as they’re out of town, Dean opens up the note that had been burning a hole in his pocket. In neat script, on a brown paper towel, Sam wrote, “Dean, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving you, and I’m sorry for not reaching out. I wish we could have seen each other under different circumstances. I would love to see you again. I want you to meet my family. Dad, too. Call me in a few weeks, once things have died down. Tell me where to meet you, and we’ll be there. Tell Dad I’m sorry. Don’t let him read this, I can barely admit it to myself. But I regret the things I said to him. Just tell him I’m sorry for that night. Maybe he’ll learn how to apologize, too. Love, Sammy.”

Dean is smiling by the end, and bunches it up again. “What was that?” John asks. 

“Sam left me a note. He says he’s sorry. For what he said to you the last time he saw you.”

John gives a light “hmph,” and turns his attention back to the road. 

“He said he wants to see us again. He told me to call in a couple of weeks. He said he wants us to meet his family.” Dean pauses, then gets quiet. “He’s married. I saw the ring.” Family. “He doesn’t just mean her, right? I mean, family, that sounds-”

“You think he has a kid,” John sighs. Dean nods, a knot in his chest. Did Sam really have a kid? Didn’t even tell them? How old are they? “Well, I guess we’ll see,” he says, pressing his foot down on the gas, and speeding down the road.

Chapter Text

“Sam Winchester,” he says, picking up his phone and turning on the speaker, so he can go back to feeding Mary. 

“Hey Sammy,” his brother’s voice rings through the phone. “Been long enough?”

Sam smiles, and his heart swells. “Dean! Yeah!”

“You sound surprised,” Dean says. 

“Well, I didn’t….think you’d actually call. I thought dad would…”

“Dad’s getting better. And of course I called. It’s been long enough, I think maybe…we can be in each other’s lives again.” Sam puts down the bottle he’s holding, and grabs his phone with the hand that isn’t holding his baby. 

“Yeah. I’d like that. I would invite you here, but, you know, familiar faces.”

“That’s fine. Dad and I found a hunt in Modesto. Boring fucking town, but it’ll work, right? We can meet halfway?” 

Sam sighs. “We can’t drive that far, Dean. San Jose? This weekend?” he asks, putting his phone down again and standing up with Mary in his arms. 

“Sure thing. Book us a room in a nice hotel with your fancy lawyer money, eh Sammy?” he teases. 

Sam rolls his eyes and smiles. “5 stars.” Mary starts to coo, and Sam knows that she’s about to cry, so he wraps up the phone call. “We’ll meet you there. Dad’s coming too, right?”

“Yep. We’re both interested in this so-called family of yours.” His tone is lighthearted, but he can’t help but be a little sad that he’s not Sam’s family anymore. 

“Yeah,” Sam says, heart clenching. “Okay. I have to go. I’ll see you soon.” He hangs up without saying goodbye, and starts to pat Mary’s back, shushing in her ear. Jess is out with her parents tonight. Nothing fancy, but they insisted they get her a real dinner. 

Her parents never liked Sam. They thought he was too shady for Jess. No family, ran away at 18. They hated that long hair, too. Always made comments about people who weren’t rich, which pissed off Sam and Jess to no end. They bought Jessica a sleek red Corvette for her 25th birthday, and then yelled at Sam when he was seen driving it to their house, Jessica in the passenger seat. 

So, he’s never really liked them either. But he knows that she loves them anyway, and she needs a break. It’s been about a month since Dean and John came through town, and Jessica is doing a lot better, but she’s still a bit depressed. She has an appetite, at least, which Sam is relieved about. She had been losing too much weight too quickly, and he worried. 

Sure enough, Mary starts crying, and Sam groans, knowing that she’s tired and needs her diaper changed.

—

When Jessica comes home, her mother leads her into the house. Sam is on the couch, in sweats and a gray t-shirt that is way too thin, watching Die Hard (he’d never admit it but it’s one of his favorite movies). “Jess,” he says, pausing the TV and getting up. She’s stumbling a bit, clutching her mom’s arm. “Are you okay?” he reaches for her but Leila Moore clears her throat, and he backs off. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” he asks, getting even more panicked now. 

“Oh calm down, Samuel.” That’s another thing: they wouldn’t stop calling him Samuel. “She’s fine. Just had too much wine.” She lays Jessica on the couch where Sam was just sitting, and she giggles, reaching for the remote and turning the TV on.

“What?”

“Wine, Samuel. It’s an alcoholic beverage? You drink too much of it and you get drunk. I thought you were smart,” she says with a frown. He holds back a curse for the woman, because he’s just plain confused now. 

“Saammmm,” she calls. “Whyare u watchingthis trash,” she slurs, and he stares at her, confused. 

“She doesn’t drink,” he says, turning back to Leila. 

“Hell of a husband you are. Make sure she gets to bed okay. And don’t even think about touching her,” she says with a hard glare and a finger in his chest. Sam bites his lip and counts to 5 so he doesn’t deck the woman. 

“Of course. Bye.” He practically pushes her out of the house, and locks the door behind him. “Jess?” he calls. 

“Mhm?” she responds, still laying on her side, the remote in her hand, which is hovering over the floor. 

“Are you okay?”

Jessica laughs, and pulls Sam down by his shirt. “I am sooo good Sam. I really should do this more. I like it. It’s fun.” She tries to keep her face serious, but for some reason she starts to laugh again. 

Sam starts to worry even more. “No, you really shouldn’t. Come on, it’s late,” he says, picking her up off the couch. She wraps her legs around his waist and kisses him, but he pulls back. “Jessica, let’s go to bed.”

“Yeah, Sam. Let’s go to bed,” she says, kissing his neck. He puts her feet down on the floor, and slings her arm over his shoulder, now walking to their bedroom. He doesn’t answer, just makes sure Jess is laying down before taking her shoes off and unzipping her dress. He doesn’t pull it off, just brings the covers up over her chest. 

“Go to sleep. I’ll be there soon.” He smiles and kisses her forehead, and goes downstairs, picking up his phone, finger hovering over the number Dean called him from. He puts his phone down and shakes his head, then gets Jessica some water and pain medication. 

When she wakes up, Sam is already up, feeding Mary. It’s a good thing they already had bottles of milk on hand, because Sam’s not sure she should be breast feeding right now. Jessica climbs down the stairs, dressed in pajamas now, and sighs when she sees Sam.

“Jessie,” he says, pulling out the nickname he rarely ever uses for her. “How are you feeling?” 

“Physically?” She mumbles. “Fine. I’m just…shocked. Angry, disappointed. At myself,” she says, grabbing a cup of coffee. 

“What happened? Your mom said you had too much to drink. But I’ve only seen you drunk like…two times,” he says. 

“I know. I didn’t mean to. My mom ordered me a glass, and I thought what the hell, I deserve to let go a little, right? But then I had another, and I thought, Sam’s got Mary, they’re fine, just let it go, so I had another, and…God, I don’t know why I did it,” she says, covering her face with her hands. 

Sam slings Mary over his shoulder and starts patting her back while he walks over to Jessica. “Honey, I’m not mad, you know that, right?”

“Yes, I know that. I’m mad at myself. I was just feeling like such shit. Dad wouldn’t shut up about you, saying…I don’t know, Sam. I just feel like a terrible mother,” she says, looking at Mary. 

“You’re not. You’re the best mom a kid could ask for. Drinking isn’t a crime, honey, you’re 28 years old. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Jessica smiles and puts her cup of coffee down. “I’m okay. It was just right in front of me, so I kept drinking it.” She reaches out for Mary, and he hands her over, smiling when he sees how Jessica’s face lights up at her touch. 

“Good. I’ve got to go to work, if you’re okay.”

“Sam, really, I’m fine. Go.”

He finishes up his own cup of coffee and grabs his bag off the table. “Love you, bye.”

—

On the drive from Palo Alto to San Jose, Jess insisted on sitting in the backseat, so she could watch over Mary. It’s the first time they’ve driven her this far, even though they’re only 40 minutes away. Sam doesn’t drive the Corvette often, but he figured Dean would be ecstatic, so he took it instead of his blue Prius. 

He had actually booked three rooms at a five star hotel. How’s that for low-class, huh, Freddy? He thinks, mentally cursing Jess’s father. When he pulled into the parking lot, he didn’t see the Impala, so he figured they’re just behind them. They’re early anyway. 

Sam checks into the hotel while Jess feeds Mary in the car, and then the three of them make their way up to their room, not even having to carry their own luggage. Sam’s gotten used to nicer things, but sometimes it still shocks him when he remembers how much money he has.

The hotel room is less of a room and more of a suite. It has a couch and a small kitchen, along with a king sized bed and a crib for Mary. Dean and John’s rooms are the same, even though they probably won’t use anything other than the bed. 

15 minutes later, Dean sends Sam a text, here. what room r u, and soon enough there’s a knock at the door. Jessica tightens her hold on her baby, and Sam gives her a kiss. “It’ll be okay. I know I’ve said a lot of shit about my dad, but he’s a good guy. Dean is a bit much, but his intentions are good. Let me know if he hits on you and I’ll knock him out, okay?” he says, giving her a goofy smile. She rolls her eyes and nods, so Sam goes to open the door. 

“Hi,” he says, stepping to the side to let in the two men.

“Jesus Christ this is a nice place,” Dean says, looking around the room. His eyes fall on Jessica and the baby in her arms. “Even nicer now,” he says with a smirk. “Dean Winchester,” he introduces himself, gently grabbing Jessica’s hand and kissing the top of it. “And who is this?” he asks sweetly, looking down at the baby. 

“That’s Mary. Our daughter. She’s only 10 months old,” Sam says, standing next to Jessica. He glances over Dean’s shoulder to see his dad, rooted to the spot, lips in a thin line. But it’s not an expression of anger. Sam’s not quite sure what it is, though. 

“Aww. She’s a cutie. Mary Winchester,” he repeats. “Kind of ironic Sammy.”

“Yeah no shit,” he smacks the back of Dean’s head and smiles. “And actually…it’s Mary Dean Winchester,” he says, blushing and looking at the floor.

“No fucking way!” he says, pulling Sam into a hug. “Dude you’re fucking weird. Did Jessica even have a choice in the name?” he asks, looking over to her, still smiling. 

“Actually, Mary was my grandmother’s name. And of course I had a choice. It’s cute, her name. Mary Dean,” she says, looking back down at her baby. 

“Oh my God did she just say my name is cute ?” Dean says in disgust. 

“Shut up, man,” Sam responds. Dean gives him a pat on the back. 

“I’m proud of you, Sammy. I really am.” Dean is never serious, but now he’s looking into his little brother’s eyes like he did when Sam was 14 and Dean saw him making out with a girl under the bleachers, explaining safe sex to him. It was odd. But it felt nice. 

He turns back to Jessica, and smiles. “You really are beautiful. And so is your daughter.”

“Thank you,” she says quietly, shifting Mary in her arms. 

Dean looks at Sam, who looks at Jess, who looks at Dean, who looks back at Jess, who then looks at Sam again. “Do you…want to hold her?” she asks, a tremor in her voice. 

“No, that’s alright. Gotta get to know me better before I hold your baby girl, I get it,” he says sweetly. Jessica smiles, and looks over Dean’s shoulder, wondering why John hasn’t said a word. And then she notices that John isn’t here. Sam follows her gaze, and his heart drops for a moment, before he remembers where John would be.

“Crap, I’m sorry, Jessie, I’ll be right back. Dean, you okay?” He nods, and Sam grabs the hotel room keys before leaving the room. He doesn’t have to walk far to find the closest vending machine. John is leaning against the wall with a cigarette in his hand, and Sam frowns. “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be doing that in here,” he says, sticking his hands in his pockets. 

John shrugs and snuffs it out on the wall before throwing it into the trash can closest to him. “I guess.” He takes a deep breath, and Sam leans against the wall with him. “Sammy…” he starts, his voice weak. “I’m so sorry.”

Sam’s head whips around to look at his father. He has never heard John Winchester say “sorry.” “What?” he says. 

“I…I’m sorry. For the way I…raised you. And for the things I said, when you left. You know that’s not true, right?” he asks, looking up into Sam’s eyes. 

He feels something he’s never felt before. He’s not sure what it is, but it makes him warm, and confused, and a little bit angry, but also incredibly happy. “Well…no. I didn’t know,” he says, frowning. 

“Sam…” John says, his voice finally breaking. “I was angry. I loved you. I do love you. It was a shitty thing to say. Mary always wanted two kids, and I actually wanted three. I guess what I’m trying to say is that…I’m proud of you. And I understand your anger now. Seeing your daughter, hearing her name, I…” his breath hitches and he turns his face away from Sam, who does the same to give him some privacy. “I saw everything I should have been to you and Dean. So, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t look at Sam, because his eyes are filled with tears, and so are Sam’s. 

“Dad?” he says quietly. John turns around, and Sam looks at the floor. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean it. I was angry, and I was a kid, and I wanted to hurt you. But, dad…I love you, too,” he admits, still not looking at John. He jumps when strong arms are wrapped around his shoulders, his head pushed into the crevice between his father’s neck and shoulder. His breath hitches, and he wraps his arms around his dad for the first time in 20 years. 

—

When they get back to the hotel room, both eyes are dry, and neither of them bring up what just happened. Dean is sitting on the bed with Mary in his arms, and Jess is watching him tickle her with a smile on her face. She hears the door open, and turns. “Finally. I thought you were gone forever,” she jokes, planting a kiss on Sam’s cheek. 

“Jessica?” John clears his throat from behind Sam and extends his hand. “I’m John. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Jessica takes his hand, and yelps a bit at his strong grip. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, pulling his hand back. 

“It’s alright. I’m Jessica.” Dean appears next to her with Mary, and Sam takes her from his arms. 

“And this is Mary Dean. She’s 10 weeks old.”

John’s heart softens, and he reaches out to touch the baby’s tiny hand, but Jess lets out a protesting noise before he does. She didn’t mean to, and she covers her mouth with her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay, honey. She’s very protective right now. And you do have a firm grip,” Sam says to his dad. 

He smiles awkwardly and picks at his nails. “Right.” 

“Well…we down for drinks?” Dean asks, clapping Sam on the shoulder. 

“Dude, be gentle. And no, you idiot, we have a baby. Jess and I don’t drink anyway.”

“Really?” he asks, raising his eyebrow. “Come on, dude, did that college teach you nothing?”

Sam rolls his eyes and laughs. “It taught me a lot, actually. And for your information Jessica and I met at one of those college parties.”

“The hell were you doing there if you weren’t gonna drink,” he asks them both. 

“Well, Brady, my roommate and her old friend, dragged me along. Jess was there because…” he trails off, not admitting to the part where the two of them shared a joint on a balcony. “Anyway. No alcohol. I don’t want either of you drunk around her,” he says. “I’m serious.”

Anger flares up inside John at that. “Jesus, son, you really think so highly of me?”

“Dad, stop, he’s just-” Dean interrupts

“What? I’m just telling you I don’t like it when you’re drunk. And I don’t want my child around you if you are.”

“What the hell are you trying to say to me, Sam?” he says, stepping towards Sam. 

“Jesus, dad, all I’m saying is I don’t want to make her upset!” And right then, Mary starts to cry in Sam’s arms, and Jess takes her from him. 

“Good job, Sam,” she says before going into the bathroom and closing the door. 

Sam runs a hand down his face and sits on the couch. John is still standing, still angry. “Sam. I didn’t appreciate that. In front of your wife.”

“Oh believe me, she already knows,” he shoots back, rolling his eyes. 

“Knows what?” he asks viciously. 

“Nevermind. Just…get out. Both of you, please. We’ll meet for dinner later, okay?”

Dean nods and grabs John’s arm, pushing him towards the door. “I’m sorry, Sammy,” he says sadly. 

“It’s not your fault, Dean.”

He buries his head in one of the pillows on the couch and screams into it, tears flowing out of his eyes freely now. Eventually, Mary stops crying, but Sam hasn’t. Jessica puts her into the crib, and sits next to Sam. “Sam?” she says gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, Jessie,” he cries, trying to keep his volume down. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. Seems like your dad really is a piece of work,” she says. “It’s fine. She needed her diaper changed anyway.” Well, it wasn’t fine, but she knows how much pressure Sam is under, seeing his family for the first time in years. And now with a job and a wife and a daughter. 

“I’m sorry. I never should have brought him here,” he says. “I’m just so mad. He’s so…earlier, when I was gone, he apologized. He actually apologized, and he told me that he loves me, and he…he hugged me. I was 10 the last time he hugged me.”

Jessica’s heart breaks for Sam. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s fine. He’ll be over it by dinner. He gets defensive.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” she chuckles. She pulls Sam up from the couch so he’s sitting now. “You’re a good man.”

Sam looks at her in confusion, so she expands. “I mean, with a father like John…you have incredible control over your temper. Mary is lucky to have you as her father.”

Sam tilts his head in adoration, and grabs her face in his hands, running his thumb across her cheek. “You’re too good to me.” He kisses her gently, and then pulls back. “I love you, Jessica.”

“I love you, Sam.”

—

No one brought up what happened earlier at dinner. Jess was bouncing Mary on her knee while they ate, occasionally handing her over to Sam, or, once, Dean. They talked a lot. They had 12 years to catch up on. The waiter must have been pretty annoyed because they stayed at the table without ordering anything for an hour after they ate. 

Dean told Sam about the day they killed the yellow-eyed demon. Sam was pissed that they didn’t tell him that, but he got married and had a kid without telling them, so it evens out. Jessica recounted how they met (Dean laughed so loud when he heard that Sam smoked weed that the table got strange looks) as well as their wedding. 

Sam told them about Stanford, and about law school. Dean said that he and John had split up for a while after the demon was killed. Dean lived with his girlfriend, Lisa, and John continued hunting. But then Lisa told him to get out, and he rejoined his dad, not having anywhere else to go. 

“Why didn’t you just call me?” Sam asks, for the third time that night. 

“God, Sam, we’ve been over this, just drop it,” Jess says. “What’s past is past. We’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

Dean caught wind of a case in Nevada that night, so in the morning, he and John packed up, and Sam walked them down to the parking lot. “Damn, that is a nice car,” Dean says, staring at the red Corvette. Sam hides his smile, but John rolls his eyes and gets into the Impala, picking up his phone and calling someone.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Imagine the speed on that thing.” He wolf whistles and Sam grins. 

“Yeah. Must go pretty fast.”

“You think she can make it up to 200?” he asks. 

Sam takes this as his opening, and closes his fist around the keys in his pocket. “I don’t know. Why don’t you go find out.”

“Sam I am not hotwiring and stealing that-” Sam pulls out the keys and wiggles his eyebrows at Dean. “NO FUCKING WAY!” he screams. He grabs the keys from Sam and runs over to the car. “Holy shit, dude, this is what you do with your fancy new job?”

“No, actually, Jess’ parents got that for her.”

“She into cars?” he asks, looking back at Sam. 

“No. I think they just wanted to piss me off. Her dad almost had a heart attack when he saw me driving it.”

“No shit?”

“Yep. Her parents are real dicks,” he says, lowering his voice. 

“Oh yeah. Get their daughter a fucking Corvette, real assholes,” Dean says, unlocking the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. “Oh my God,” he moans, closing his eyes. 

“Ew, Dean, stop flirting with my wife’s car,” he laughs, getting into the passenger’s seat. Dean goes to put the keys in the engine, but stops.

“Wait…I can, right?” he asks, terrified that since it’s not Sam’s car he won’t be able to drive it.

“Yeah. Just don’t crash it.” Dean turns the keys in the ignition and the purr of the engine is like music to his ears. He runs his hands over the leather steering wheel and tries discreetly to move the seat forward so he can reach the pedals. Sam chuckles at that, too, and connects his phone to the bluetooth in the car. “Go on, pick the music. I know a back road just a few miles from here.”

Dean is ecstatic. He puts the car into reverse, and starts driving.