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Chapter Text

Chapter One summary:  Dean wakes up with Sammy in a very strange and new place.

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PROLOGUE

Dean ran .

He’d never run before holding Sammy.  He was old enough to understand the rules his parents had explained.  Sammy was too little for the first months, couldn't even lift his head, and had to be held so carefully.  Even now, although Dean was proudly allowed to carry his brother at times, he understood he had to be extra gentle with his baby brother and be slow and careful.

But not now.  He had to run .  Get them out of the house.

Dean knew what he had seen, his dad had seen it too, and had placed Sammy in his arms, ordering him to run.  Dean did as told, holding his brother tight as he raced down the stairs, his mind focused only on getting outside with Sammy and nothing else.

He didn’t notice how the front door was already open, as if expecting him.  The door was always locked, but not this night.  Dean didn’t question it, just barreled through, his bare feet hitting the cool grass of the yard.

And then he was picked up.

Dad , he thought in relief.  But it didn’t feel like Dad, John’s loving but rough arms.  These arms were slim, but strong, and along with the arms something else, something soft, maybe a blanket, was wrapped around them.

Dean had only a moment to register random things, the sounds of an explosion, Sammy crying, the oddest feeling of going up in the air.

He bowed his head, clutched Sammy even tighter in his arms, and let his mind go when two soft fingers touched his forehead and he surrendered to sleep.

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CHAPTER ONE

“Sammy!” Dean turned his head and coughed as he woke up. He felt funny, sore all over, but his baby brother was the first thing on his mind.  “Sammy?” he repeated urgently, struggling to open his eyes which seemed unnaturally closed tight.

“Hush now, young master, your brother is right here,” a soft female voice said.  Dean was picked up in warm arms and cuddled gently as he tried to wake up, confused.  For a second he thought it was mom holding him, but the voice and feel was different and he frowned.  “Samuel is safe, just as you are,” the voice assured him, and Dean finally managed to open his eyes enough to see Sammy sleeping peacefully in a small cradle beside the bed, his blankie in one hand and favorite stuffed rabbit in another.  The arms holding Dean lowered him down so he could touch his brother to reassure himself that it was really Sammy and Dean felt a wave of relief.  But the small movement resulted in an unexpected pain in Dean’s head and he whimpered at the sensation, slowly realizing how achy his entire body was.

“Ah, I’m sorry, young master, too much movement too soon.  Young bodies take so long to adjust.  Here now, this will help.”  The lady holding him sat on the bed and Dean found himself back on a soft lap and offered a sippy cup.  Ordinarily he would have frowned, having felt that he had graduated from baby things, but he accepted the cup and drank the contents without question as he was settled just a foot or so from Sammy’s cradle where he could see him.  He worriedly but willingly drank from the cup, keeping his eyes on his little brother.  The cup’s contents tasted like milk, with something else added that he couldn't name, but it tasted very good indeed and instantly eased his cough.

“There now, just rest and eat for now; it’s what you boys need,” the lady’s voice continued, now gently stroking his hair.  Dean turned his head enough to see a long light brown braid of hair, and knew for certain it wasn’t his mother.

Dean pulled away from the cup.  “Is Sammy ok?” he asked.  He didn’t remember ever seeing Sammy sleep so soundly, not even sniffing in his sleep when one of Dean’s feet brushed against the cradle. He had heard his parents sigh and say that Sammy was not a good sleeper, which Dean had taken to mean that Sammy was awake a lot.  Dean had tip-toed whenever Sammy was asleep, careful to not wake him.

“He is perfectly fine, just as you are,” the lady promised him.  “Just tired out by the trip.  He will need to rest longer than you.”  The cup was offered again, and Dean accepted a few more swallows before pulling back again.

“Trip?  We didn’t go on a trip,” he puzzled.  They had been at home.  A usual day. A usual night…until….until… something happened. Dean suddenly wasn’t sure what it was.  Just a feeling that something was off.

A warm hand ran through his hair.  “You are perfectly safe here,” the woman promised him.  “Nothing to worry about.”  The cup was pressed back on him, and Dean finished it without complaint.  “Now, back to bed with you, young master,” the lady said as she took away the cup.  “And I’m sure someone will be happy to join you.”  

Dean was laid back in bed, and then the lady picked up Sammy and put him into Dean’s arms, adjusting pillows and blankets so Sammy was secure and both he and Dean were firmly tucked in.  Dean had a million - surely it was at least a million - questions, but he was too tired to ask any of them.  He closed his eyes and soon was as fast asleep as Sammy.

*****

A quiet but familiar sound greeted Dean when he woke up again, and he was relieved to see Sammy awake, happily eating from a bottle, smacking his lips loudly in contentment, something that Dean and his mom had giggled about Sammy always doing.  He slowly sat up, his body still sore for some reason, and saw that the nice lady from before was holding Sammy, seated on the bed beside him, and Dean got his first good look at her as she turned and smiled.

“Good afternoon, young master,” she greeted him.  She was older than his Mom, maybe like a grandmother would be.  Her hair was indeed in a long brown and gray braid and Dean thought it looked pretty.

Dean wrinkled his nose a little, not sure what ‘young master’ meant.  “I’m Dean,” he said.  He smiled a little, trying to be polite even as his focus was on Sammy, who had finished his bottle and was being held up to burp.  “What’s your name?”

“Ah, I am sorry, little one; I forgot to introduce myself before.  I am Signe, and am here to take care of you and young Samuel.”  Sammy let out a burp as if on cue and Dean giggled as Signe smiled.   Sammy was laid back down in his cradle, and Dean watched intently as Sammy sighed and seemed to go right back to sleep, no fussing at all.  He touched his brother’s cheek and was rewarded with Sammy turning his head in his direction, and Dean made sure Sammy’s favorite stuffie and blankie were with him.

Dean was then gently lifted from the bed covers, settled on Signe’s lap, and offered another sippy cup which made him frown a little.  “Sippy cups are for babies,” he pointed out.  Not really fussing, but just trying to make a point.

“Ah, so that is what you here call them.  A marvelous invention indeed, it is.  But now that I know they are for babies, and not for brave warriors, I will make sure it is different next time,” Signe assured him.  She still offered him the cup and Dean sighed, but accepted it.  She had called him a brave warrior, after all, and Dean was happy at those words.  Besides, he was hungry, and the warm milk - or whatever it was  - tasted even better than it had before, and he still didn’t feel quite right, tired and sore, and thus welcomed the comfort from Signe’s lap and milk.

It was nice, sitting warm and comfortable, Signe humming a little as she gently rocked him, and Dean was soon tired again, feeling as sleepy as Sammy.  But he had two very important questions when he finished his milk.

‘Where’s Mom?  And Dad?”

“They are safe, young master,” Signe assured him, hugging him securely.  “Your only job now is to rest and look after your brother.”

“I always look after Sammy; it's my job,” Dean agreed with a yawn, distracted from his questions.

There was a soft kiss on his head.  “And you do your job perfectly,” Signe smiled at him.  She laid him back into bed and retrieved Sammy from his crib to lay with his brother again, tucking blankets around them.  “You are both safe, I promise, young master.  All will be well.”

Dean yawned again in response, closing his eyes and carefully holding Sammy in his arms.  He still had those at least a million questions, but none seemed too important right now, and he fell back asleep.

******

The next times seemed to repeat over and over; Dean would wake up only long enough for a glass - no more sippy cup - of milk and now bites of cereal, fruit, vegetables, and bread before soon falling asleep again.  He was getting a little restless at staying in bed, but couldn’t deny that he still felt achy and too tired to fuss ab out it.  Sometimes Sammy was awake when he was, and sometimes not, but at least they were never apart.  

Dean was very happy to be awake once just as Sammy woke up, and proudly fed his baby brother a bottle, both of them held securely on Signe’s lap.  Sammy ‘burped his approval’ of the meal, as their mom had always whispered to Dean, laughing quietly, and it made Dean think again of their parents.

“Can I see Mom and Dad?” he asked as Sammy was laid back into his cradle, already back asleep.  Dean wasn’t really scared or worried, just confused why his parents weren't there….wherever here or there was.  Dad was gone a lot, but Mom had always been with him.  But he felt safe with Signe, and somehow not too worried or upset about anything.  His questions about their parents were almost more…curious…and not scared or frightened.  Everything seemed safe and happy in his young mind.  He had no real concerns or worries as long as Sammy was with him.

“They are both very busy right now, young master,” Signe answered as she placed a wooden tray on the bed, several small plates of food and cups of milk and juice laid out so Dean could pick his own meal.  “But I promise you that they are safe and love you very much.”  Dean relaxed at the words that his parents were safe, something making him comfortable and content with that simple explanation, and instead focused on some other things that had puzzled him for sometime now.

“Why do you call me ‘young master’? " he asked, curious as he tried to eat carefully, mindful of the bed blankets.  Meals allowed in bed at home were a rare thing, and he appreciated it here, thinking that Signe was pretty wonderful.  “What does that mean?”

“Ah, it means you are a gentleman, a young man of rank.”

“What's rank?”  Dean accidentally talked with his mouth full of food, and Signe raised an eyebrow that made Dean bow his head in apology and not object at all when a warm washcloth was gently run over his mouth.  At least none had gotten on the bed sheets.

“It means you are a bit special,” Signe explained simply.  “You are my job, shall we say.  For now you are called young master, but one day you will be called Lord or Sir.”

“Like a knight?  Like Sir Galahad?” Dean perked up immediately, remembering the wonderful stories of brave knights and ladies and adventures his mom loved to read to him at night.

Signe smiled.  “Indeed,” she promised.  

Dean looked over at Sammy, who was now snoring just a bit.  “Is Sammy a young master too?”

“Oh, no,” Signe assured him with a smile.  She leaned forward and whispered in secret,  “He is a little master.”  Dean giggled and Signe joined him in a laugh.

“Sounds like little monster,” Dean kept giggling, and Signe laughed but also shook her head.

“He is far from a monster,” she said fondly, and Dean nodded in agreement after the joke was over.  His little brother was the best in the world.

He was tired already again, and Signe wiped his hands and face after she took away the food tray.  “Tonight, a bath,” she advised and Dean wrinkled his nose, but nodded.

“Yes…” Dean paused, not sure what to call her.  He didn’t know her last name, and Miss Signe didn’t sound quite right for some reason at the moment.  “Yes, my lady,” he finally decided, thinking of how he would one day be a noble knight.  Sir Dean.  It sounded good, he thought.

Signe chuckled again, tucking the covers around him.  “And good sleep to you, Sir Dean,” she agreed, even adding a curtsy, which made Dean giggle at the play.  He smiled, and quickly was back asleep.

*****

Dean explored around the large bedroom when he woke from his nap, finding all sorts of toys, books, and coloring pages in a play area.  But what truly excited him was when he peered out a large set of windows.  He could see a giant yard through the windows, with - he had to blink to be certain - a swing set and toys just like a park?

Signe chucked a little at his clear excitement upon seeing the playground equipment.  “I know you are getting restless confined to bed,” she said fondly.  “You are such a good brother to stay with Samuel.  But I think tomorrow will be a good day to explore outside for a bit.  You are strong enough now, and young Samuel can sleep just as well in his bassinet outside as in here.”  She smiled at Dean.  “You and your brother will not be separated,” she promised, and Dean nodded in agreement.

Dean ate a good meal, this time at a small table by the windows, and was careful, Signe praising him when not a drop of food or drink landed on his face or back on a plate.  Sammy woke up for a bottle and baby food, and Dean helped Signe feed him, this time Sammy staying awake enough for a little bit of Dean gently clapping his brother’s tiny hands and feet and ticking his tummy, which resulted in happy squeals as they carefully played.  

“Want to go to a park tomorrow, Sammy?” Dean asked, and got a happy spit bubble in return, which he took as a ‘yes’.

The promised bath was waiting, and he walked slowly to the bathroom, his feet and legs still a bit sore.  “Why do I hurt?” he asked Signe, trying to not sound like a whiny baby, but still making his feelings known.  He didn’t feel sick; not like when he’d had the flu and even had to go to the doctor.  That had not been fun at all.

“You are still adjusting to the trip,” Signe explained as she helped him take off his pajamas and picked him up to put in the bath.  “It is a bit hard, especially on children.”

“Trip?” Dean asked.  But he was soon distracted at seeing just how big and deep this tub was, far larger than any he had seen before; it was almost like a swimming pool.  And when Signe turned on something that made jets of water come out of the tub, spreading bubbles, Dean was fascinated.  He was even more thrilled when familiar looking toys were added to the bath, and he had several grand adventures before Signe called an end to play and bundled him into a warm towel and then fresh pajamas, combing his hair dry.  

Dean climbed back into his bed, reluctantly feeling tired again, and Signe laid Sammy beside him as she read him a story.  It was a story he hadn’t heard before, about a girl and her brother, which at first made him sigh, thinking it might be kind of girly and thus lame.  But the girl turned out to be a kick-butt heroine, riding a reindeer - a reindeer! - to rescue her brother from a wicked queen.  Dean decided it was pretty cool after all, and happily settled into sleep once the story was done.

The next morning Signe helped him into some jeans, sweatshirt, and comfortable socks and shoes after breakfast, Dean eager to explore.  They were just getting ready when Sammy woke up, making funny yawning sounds, smacking his lips for a bottle.  

Dean sighed, expecting that as usual, he would need to wait for Sammy to have his bottle and such.  He understood, he really did, that Sammy was a baby and his needs had to come first, but it had still been a bit hard at first being patient.  But Signe just scooped Sammy up in one confident arm and took Dean’s hand.  “Young Samuel can wait a few minutes for his breakfast, and have it just as well outside,” she promised Dean.  “No need to wait on your play.”

“Don’t you mean little Sammy?” Dean giggled, and Signe gave him a mysterious smile.

“That may not always be the best nickname for him,” she advised.

They went down a long hallway and then a huge flight of stairs, Dean twisting his head left and right to see everything.  It was by far the biggest house he’d ever seen; like a castle, he decided. There were all sorts of things on the walls and furniture Dean had never seen before, but he was too eager to get outside to pay it all much attention.  Then there were more hallways and finally a door to the outside.  Signe led him onto some kind of patio and Dean gasped, seeing the playground equipment up close; it looked even better than from the bedroom.  There was an affectionate hug and gentle push to his shoulders.

“Go play, young master.  Samuel and I will be right here.”  Dean nodded, and took off at a full speed.

The slides called to him first, and he happily explored the climbing equipment and all the different attachments.  It was built like a pirate ship and he inspected it thoroughly, deciding it would make a fine ship for future adventures.  There was even a sandbox and some tricycles on a long curved sidewalk path that went around the entire playground, and he happily traveled for a time, spending hours exploring all the different things.

Dean saved the swings for last, almost always his favorite.  There were different sized seats, including one that looked like Sammy’s baby jumper, and Dean knew he would be glad to push Sammy in it when he got big enough.

For now, he was tired out from his near frantic exploration of everything, and just pumped his legs to get the swing higher and higher.  When he was satisfied with the height, he leaned his head back a little, looking up at the sun, studying it intently for some sudden reason.  He knew it was autumn, but the day was warm, and he stared at the sun, thinking it was suddenly so hot and bright. Hot.  Bright.

He let the swing slowly come to a halt on its own, and walked back to Signe, frowning. She looked up from where she was checking on Sammy and tilted her head a little at seeing him standing so still, staring at her.  “Is everything alright?” she asked.

“There was a fire.  In our house.”  Dean was certain of that now, and could almost see and feel the light and heat, even in this new place.

“Oh, my dear.”  Signe gathered him in her arms quickly , and Dean willingly settled on her lap, his mind spinning.

“I know it was a fire,” Dean repeated.  He looked around the yard and patio of the house, as if seeing it again.  Him running down the stairs, holding Sammy.  He looked worriedly over at Sammy again, making sure he was safe and sleeping peacefully in his new cradle.  “Dad told me to take Sammy and run.”

“You did as told, and it was the right thing,” Signe assured him.  “It saved you and your brother.”

“But why are Sammy and me here and not with Mom and Dad?” Dean questioned, trying to understand.  It wasn’t that he didn’t like Signe, he was just so suddenly confused, something he hadn’t really felt before at his new place.  It had seemed so normal before; not worried at all about being away from his parents.  Why was he confused now?

Signe handed him a glass of water and Dean accepted it, thirsty from his playing.  When he was done, she put the glass aside and then tucked Dean back into her arms, almost cuddling him like she would Sammy, and Dean didn’t object.

“They love you very much, but it is safer for you and young Samuel to be here now,” she explained, one hand gently petting Dean's hair again.  “You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“I like it here,” Dean agreed, “and I like you.  But I miss Mom and Dad.  Why–”

There was a soft kiss to his forehead, and Dean closed his eyes, feeling too many questions tumbling now to keep any straight.

“You and your brother have nothing to worry about, little one,” Signe promised him.  “I know it's all too confusing, but I promise you will get answers.  For now, I think that even strong warriors such as yourself deserve a short rest after such exciting adventures you just had.  Shall we sit and watch your brother while I tell you another story?”

Dean nodded; it sounded good and easy, all that he wanted right now.  His head had begun to hurt while on the swings, but now it felt better and there was a cool soothing breeze that he liked after getting warm in the sun.  Signe started on another story, this one about animals, and Dean listened happily, his eyes still closed, but alert and listening.  After it was done, he asked for another story, and this one was about brave explorers on the oceans that Dean liked even more.

After the stories, Signe picked up him and Sam and carried them to the kitchen, where a meal was laid out.  Sammy feasted on his bottle and baby food while Dean ate a sandwich with fruit and vegetables, asking Signe about some of the animals that he didn’t know about in the first story.  He was relaxed again, and didn’t object when Signe took them back upstairs to their bedroom and settled them into bed for a nap.  Dean wasn’t too thrilled at the prospect of a nap, but Signe promised to let him explore more of the house and playground later, and Sammy was zonked out again as usual now, so he didn’t fuss.  He was tired after his morning adventures, and decided an afternoon nap was ok…just this once.

They had a tour of the house once Dean woke up, Signe carrying Sammy, and Dean was amazed at the size of the house and how many rooms it had.  There was even a piano, and Signe said that Dean and Sammy could learn to play it if they liked when they were older.  Dean wrinkled his nose, and politely thanked her, but hinted that he would prefer drums or a guitar, to which the lady laughed.  After more time at the playground that afternoon, Dean enjoyed a quiet dinner with Signe as she read to him from a book, feeding Sammy his dinner as well.  Bath time was what Dean guessed with a sigh was again a nightly occurrence, but didn’t argue when the bubbles and toys appeared again and he had to admit he had gotten dirty and sweaty from his play.  Signe bathed Sammy in a smaller plastic tub that was attached to the larger bathtub, and Dean enjoyed watching his brother clap at the bubbles.

They were settled into bed again together while Signe treated Dean to yet another story and he happily fell asleep, all thoughts of heat and bright light banished from his mind.

*****

‘He remembered some today, my lord’, Signe spoke quietly.  ‘The fire.  He was easily soothed and distracted but his questions grow as he grows stronger.’

‘I understand.  I shall make them dimmer again for now.  He is far too young to know the truth.’  There was a faint chuckle.  ‘He is stubborn indeed, resisting both your magic and mine.  I will be no doubt apologizing to you many times in the future, and thanking you repeatedly for taking them on.’

‘It is my honor to serve you, my lord, and the boys.  They do not deserve what was laid before them.’  She smiled before continuing, teasing gently.  ‘And as I have survived serving you, I feel confident about the young masters.’

There was an indigent gasp.  ‘Signe, I think I should feel wounded!’

‘Never, my lord,’ she chuckled.  “You did the right thing.  It is a hardship for them now to be separated from their parents, but it was going to happen anyway.  They are now protected by you.’

There was a long sigh.  ‘And I will indeed need to protect them from so much more.’

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Chapter Text

Dean had to stop and stare in amazement the next morning when they went outside to the playground.  Was that…was that a giant cardboard dragon set up in a section of the yard?  And a cardboard sword lying on the ground beside it?  He looked up at Signe, hardly able to believe it, and she smiled.

“Save us from the dragon, Sir Dean!” she begged.  Well, Dean couldn't possibly turn down that plea, and he charged into battle.

And it was a glorious battle indeed.  Dean fought the beast for well over an hour, charging, retreating, sneaking up behind it for attack.  It was total play fighting, and Dean loved every minute of it.  He finally finished off the dragon by knocking it off its stand and stabbed his sword where he was pretty sure was its heart.  Signe applauded and cheered as he gave a little bow, very pleased with himself.

He was also very warm after such exercise, and rejoined Signe and Sammy under the shade of the patio, drinking lemonade and describing his adventure to Sammy, who seemed more awake today as well.  Signe spread out a blanket on the grass for Sammy to have some ‘tummy time’ and Dean started teaching him again how to crawl.  Sammy was getting pretty darn close to understanding how to get his hands and knees under him, and was already great at pulling himself with his hands and arms and cheerfully chased after some bubbles that Dean blew from a bottle.

Dean smiled up at Signe as Sammy plopped down again, but giggled, and thus showed he was alright.  It was really nice, Dean thought.  Very fun and peaceful, and wherever they were, he liked it so far.  When Sammy went down for a nap, Dean returned to the playground until lunch.  

Dean was a little intimidated by the giant kitchen in the giant house, but Signe easily managed, fixing Dean his favorite grilled cheese sandwich and insisting he also eat some carrots and celery, which didn’t bother him.  She seemed to know his likes and dislikes, and Dean was a little bit in love with her now.

He was not so in love when another nap was suggested, but went along with it for Sammy’s sake and did sleep a bit.  In what seemed to now be a usual schedule, they returned to the playground after nap time where Dean explored some more, trying and failing to decide which piece of playground equipment he liked the most.  The cardboard dragon was still lying, dead, and he studied it with satisfaction.

“Ah, now is this the dragon slayer I’ve been told about?” a cheerful male voice spoke up, and Dean looked to see a young man standing on the patio beside Signe and Sammy, smiling.  Dean brushed off his hands on his pants and tried to not strut over.  

“I killed it,” he confirmed proudly.  

The man’s eyebrows rose.  “I must know how you accomplished such a feat,” he said seriously.  “Surely it was not an easy battle!”

Dean tried to not smirk.  “It’s not that hard to kill dragons, if you just know how.”  He smiled at the man, thinking him friendly.  “I’m Dean.”

“And I am Harold,” the man introduced himself.  “I would be honored if you would show me how you vanquished such a ferocious beast.”

Dean wasn’t sure of some of the words, but got the idea.  With a nod from Signe, he led Harold over to the dragon and explained his strategy in great detail.  Harold asked serious questions, clearly appreciating the effort it had taken, making Dean proud.

Harold seemed to know even more about animals than Signe and showed Dean some pretty terrific books that afternoon, patiently answering all of Dean's questions.  “Can you teach me more?” Dean asked eagerly.

Harold and Signe exchanged smiles.  “I would be proud to be your teacher, young lord, “ Harold assured him.

Oh no.  Dean knew a school trap when he saw one.  He’d started nursery school a few months earlier and it was ok, but not his favorite place to be.  “Do I have to go away to school?” he asked, trying not to whine.  He had hated leaving Sammy at home everyday and liked that they were together all the time again now.

“I shall teach you here,” Harold explained.  “Just you and I.  That way you don’t have to leave your brother.”

Dean considered the matter and nodded after some serious thought.  It sounded far better than being stuck with other kids, and he really did want to learn how to read, so he could teach Sammy.  “Alright, but how do I have school here?”

“Why don’t we go see?” Harold suggested and Dean nodded as Signe picked up Sammy to follow them.  Harold led them to a room on the second floor, near the bedroom, where Dean found a little desk and chair all setup in a classroom, along with familiar looking posters and items from his preschool.  It was a nice, sunny room and Dean thought he wouldn’t mind studying there. 

“How long is school every day?” Dean asked.  He was beginning to understand the big hand and little hand on the clocks, and frowned at how much time he might have to spend away from Sammy.  He hadn’t liked that at all before.

“Um, a few hours here and there.  Plenty of time for breaks.  And of course when Sammy is awake, you should play with him,” Harold offered, and Dean nodded in quick agreement.  That seemed fair to him as Harold showed him a stack of brightly colored books.

Harold made it a game, which Dean appreciated, but he knew the man was trying to figure out how much Dean knew already, so he tried his best to honestly show his counting and letters, even the words he could already read and proudly showed off his writing and coloring skills.  His new teacher seemed impressed, as did Signe, though both gently observed after a time that even brave warriors needed to wash up for supper, and Dean was surprised at how late it already was.

They ate down in the kitchen again, which Dean was starting to get more comfortable with, pretty certain he could find his way down to it now, even in the big house.  Dean chatted about his favorite movies and TV shows, trying to hint that he had yet to see a television, and both adults smiled, assuring him that TV was not banned, and he could watch some tomorrow.

“Do I have to start school right away tomorrow?” he asked.  He was really enjoying his lazy days of play and staying with Sammy.

“Um, a hour or two of practice would be good,” Harold decided, “but we can study in the morning and then have tomorrow afternoon free for play.”  Dean accepted that as fair and nodded.  “And besides, we have yet to explore past the yard and playground.  There is much more of the estate to see.”

“Like what?” Dean asked eagerly.  Harold and Signe smiled, and it turned into a guessing game.  “A pool?  A lake?  A circus?”  Both adults chuckled at that one.  “Another dragon?  Woods?”

Dean was kept happily guessing through dinner, Harold promising to meet him in the morning when Signe took Dean and Sammy upstairs for their bath and bed.  Sammy was more alert this evening, and the two boys had a gentle water fight, Dean of course letting Sammy win.

“I’ve never seen Sammy sleep so much before,” Dean commented as they were tucked into bed, Sammy joining him again as was now usual as well.  Dean knew that once he fell asleep, Signe put Sammy back in his cradle where he was safer, and that was fine. “Mom says he’s squirmy.  Like a worm.”

Signe chuckled at the description.  “I’m certain he will be crawling and running very soon, young master.  You will likely be tired chasing after him!”

“Never.  I’ll never get tired of taking care of Sammy,” Dean declared and was rewarded with a kiss to the forehead.

*****

The next morning Dean spent a couple hours in the ‘schoolroom’ with Harold, and had to admit that the time went by fast and it was fun.  Maybe it was having Harold all to himself, Dean pondered, but the man was always right there to answer questions and help Dean find answers, and didn’t seem to mind too much if Dean changed the subject after they were done with one lesson and moved onto whatever topic Dean wanted next.  By the end of the morning, Dean was convinced he had learned more than he had in all those silly months before at his first school.

Dean definitely hadn’t forgotten the promise of another surprise and continued with his guesses during lunch, both Harold and Signe still being odd and mysterious, refusing to say yes or no to anything.  Finally, after hands and face were washed, they headed out past the yard, which seemed to get bigger every time Dean saw it.  They went on a path he had not noticed before and turned a corner behind tall trees to see–

“Ponies?!” Dean practically shrieked.  There was a large corral and barn and sure enough two ponies were contentedly eating hay and oats as they looked up to greet their visitors.  Dean was practically jumping up and down in excitement, having seen and touched real horses only a few times before.  He’d had one ride at a country fair sometime, and besides getting Sammy, it had been the most exciting thing ever to happen in his life.

An older man, who reminded Dean of a real cowboy, came over to introduce himself as Karl, smiling at the boys.  “Ah, young lord Dean, the dragon slayer,” he said with a kind smile, shaking Dean’s hand.  It made the four year old feel very grown up. 

“It was just a cardboard dragon,” he admitted, suddenly shy at the attention.

“But a slain one nonetheless,” Karl nodded.  He took Dean’s hand and guided him into the corral where the ponies ambled over the check for treats.  Karl handed Dean a few sugar cubes to feed them, showing how to hold out his hand flat and open so the ponies could lick up the treats, and Dean giggled at the tickling.  “So how do you like this lady?” Karl asked, patting the neck of the larger gray pony.

“She’s beautiful,” Dean said honestly.  Her white mane sparked in the afternoon sun, making shiny dots against her gray coat.

“What would you name her, um?”

Dean pondered for a moment, considering the pony and then grinned.  “Starlight, since her hair looks like shining stars.”

“A perfect name,” Signe agreed.  “It will suit her well.”

Dean whipped his head around.  “I get to name her?” he asked.

“Better, “ Karl smiled.  “She is now yours.”

“What!?”  Dean shrieked this time for sure and it woke Sammy up, who yawned and looked around at what was disturbing his latest nap.  “How can I keep her?  We live in a house in town.”

“Well now, this is a big place, different,” Signe pointed out.  “And plenty of room for both ponies.”  She nodded at the smaller one.  “That one will be for young Samuel in a few years.”`

“Oh!  Thank you!”  Dean was jumping up and down, thanking all the adults over and over, not sure what to do or say.  Signe brought Sammy over and his hand was held out to pat the smaller pony, who whinnied a little at the baby’s touch.  Sammy just giggled as usual, very happy with his tiny hands exploring the silky brown mane of the smaller pony.

Dean, meanwhile, was given a quick lesson on how to ‘cinch’ the saddle, and lifted onto Starlight for his first ride, led around the corral.  It was a bit more complicated than Dean remembered, Karl gently showing him how to keep his feet safely in the stirrups and hold the reins, but Dean caught on quickly and after a few turns he was allowed to guide Starlight on his own, the pony keeping a calm and steady pace.  Sammy was lifted onto his horse for a moment and then happily went back to Signe’s arms.

“What is her name?” Dean asked, looking at the other pony.

“Well, it would be fair for Samuel to get to name her,” Harold pointed out.  “And that may take some time.  Perhaps for now we can call her Gava?  That is a word that means gift.”  Dean nodded in approval, agreeing it was a good name until Sammy got older and could decide for himself. 

After such an exciting afternoon and skipped afternoon nap, Dean practically fell asleep in the bath after dinner, and didn’t say a word at the earlier than usual bedtime.

*****

The following days blurred into weeks and more, even as Dean studied and learned more about calendars and counting, which he enjoyed.  He liked learning to read as well, and after some thought, decided he had no problems with his schedule of school in the morning, and then playtime in the afternoon, including now riding Starlight.  He sometimes had odd dreams, and didn’t really like anything too hot or bright, but mostly, he was happy, even when naps were directed.  He was sometimes cranky about it, but always did fall asleep after lunch, and still had plenty of time for play.  On the few days it rained, there was coloring or painting, games, and allowed television.

Sammy decided it was high time to crawl, quickly proving Signe correct in that everyone was now chasing after him.  Dean thought his brother went from zero to sixty quite impressively, and started wondering now how long until Sammy walked.  It seemed that every week Sammy got bigger and stronger, and Dean enjoyed being able to have some small real games with him and pushing him on the swing set.  With Karl keeping a protective arm around both boys, Sammy sat in front of Dean on Starlight and they rode around the corral, Gava trotting alongside.  Karl explained that the ponies were sisters, and Dean nodded approval, thinking it right.

“Just like Sammy and I are brothers,” he said happily.  

He occasionally asked about his mom and dad, and was always assured that they were well, but that this was his and Sammy’s new home.  Dean frowned at that a little, uncertain how that worked.  “Don’t families live together?” he asked Harold during lessons one morning. 

“Usually, yes, but sometimes they must be apart.”

“I know one kid whose mom and dad live apart, and he spends one week with his mom and one with his dad,” Dean conceded, thinking that over.  “But why can’t we see Mom or Dad?  I mean, I like it here, and I know Sammy does too, but…” he trailed off, his handwriting practice turning into doodling on the side of the paper.

Harold didn’t object, and just sat quietly, letting Dean think.  “You miss your parents,” he finally commented gently, and Dean nodded.  “That is a very normal feeling,” the teacher assured him.  “I am positive that they miss you.”

“Why are we away then?” Dean asked.  “Signe said something once….I think Mom and Dad had something to do?  And we needed to stay here?”  Dean had no memories of anything regarding a fire anymore, or many specific thoughts of his life before.  Warm and happy feelings, but no solid memories to disturb him, and he felt perfectly safe and comfortable where he and Sammy were now.

“They will always be your parents, but we are your family as well,” Harold said kindly.  “There are many kinds of families, including ones that you make of your own.”

“Not just born into?”

Harold shook his head.  “Not always, no.  You can make your own family of people you love and care about.”

Dean considered that for a moment.  Well then, his family would be Sammy, of course, and now Signe, Harold, and Karl.  “But Mom and Dad are still my mom and dad, right?”

“They always will be,” Harold assured him.  “And you must tell Samuel about them when he is older.”

“I don’t remember much,” Dean admitted, still doodling while his thoughts were elsewhere.  “Don’t know what to tell him.”

The teacher smiled and found a piece of drawing paper.  “Why don’t you start by drawing them?” he suggested.  “Then we can write their names, and what do you remember.  It will be good to look back on, and help you remember what to tell Samuel.”  

Dean bit his lip, but nodded and accepted the new paper.  It took a few sheets, but he finally made a drawing that he was happy with, his parents standing with Dad holding Dean and Sammy in Mom’s arms.  Then he carefully wrote down on other paper things he remembered, Harold assisting with spelling and insisting on good punctuation. By the end of the lesson, Dean had a list of 18 things he remembered about his parents, and was satisfied.  Harold carefully put the papers in a clear folder where it could be saved and then it was time for lunch.  Dean raced down to the kitchen, all thoughts of his parents now neatly put aside.

*****

‘An excellent idea, Harold.  They will have questions as they grow older, and this will help Dean remember what to tell Samuel.’

‘Thank you, my lord.  Young Dean’s thoughts are now clear, I believe.  He will of course always have questions, as will Samuel, but it seems any ill memories are gone.’

‘I took the last few minutes of his old life.  One day I may need to return them, as they are his memories that he has a right to have, but it will be only if he asks.  In the meantime, there is much else for him to work on.’  There was a chuckle.  ‘The dragon didn’t stand a chance, did it?’

Karl snorted in laughter.  ‘Not for one moment, my lord.  And speaking of which, I believe the young Master Dean is ready for some training beyond horse riding now, if I may say so.’

‘Nothing violent,’ Signe cautioned.  ‘We are saving them from what they would have faced.’

‘It will be nothing like what their father would have done,’ Karl agreed.  ‘They are born to be warriors, but the training does not have to be harsh or cruel.’

‘It will come naturally to them, regardless,’ said the voice sadly.  ‘Even I cannot alter that.  So yes, I agree Dean is old enough for some things now, but only as he seems ready.’

‘It will be as you say, my lord,’ Karl bowed his head.  “I will not push him to do anything he is not willing to try.’

‘Then I leave them in your capable hands.”

‘They are adjusting quickly, my lord.  I think Master Dean is ready to meet another new person, and Samuel has no fears,’ Signe commented.  

‘The blood is almost purged.  So, yes, I will meet them soon.’

Chapter Text

It took Sammy just a month to decide that crawling wasn’t really for him, and started working on walking, making Dean and all three adults race after him even more than before as he began standing on his own, hanging onto things, and trying to walk.  It was around then that Dean became aware of invisible servants around them, preventing Sammy from falling as he tried to climb up bookcases or headed to crawl right into the pool.  Signe explained that they were magic spells to help watch and assist the boys, and Dean accepted the explanation without hesitation.  He had thought he’d noticed things moving invisibly before, like making a toy appear in front of Sam, or something Dean was looking for suddenly appear before him, and he took it in stride. 

Magic was cool.

And so was everything, actually.  

He liked school learning with Harold, but it was even more fun in the afternoon when Harold and Karl began showing him moves with cardboard swords and other small toy weapons, all three taking on wood dragons.  Dean had seen martial arts on TV, and begged to learn some when Harold admitted he knew a bit of different styles.  Between school, general play, chasing after Sammy, riding Starlight, and what he proudly called ‘training’, his days were full and happy. He seldom fussed at bedtime, usually ready for a bath and story after a full day of learning and activity, and Sammy was cheerful as ever.

Their bedroom had changed a little bit, Dean allowed to pick out new bedding, decorations and all sorts of things from  catalogues and he happily helped put up posters and additional items.  Sammy had graduated to a full size crib instead of the smaller cradle he’d had at first, and half of the large bedroom was turned into an area for his things, although Harold and Karl, rearranging the beds, made sure they were still close enough so Dean could see Sammy’s crib from his bed and reach it easily.  They also had a separate playroom where Sammy spent most of his mornings with Signe while Dean studied, and again, Dean was allowed to pick out items to make it how he liked.  Sammy was usually happy with anything, but he wasn’t shy to show his preferences for things if offered a choice, and he was clearly into animals, not at all interested in cars or trains like Dean.

Sammy’s likes and dislikes extended to food now that he was starting to taper off the bottle, and Signe took it in stride as Sammy approved some foods and threw others on the floor.  Dean was privately amazed at how many vegetables and fruit Sammy would eat, and then reject the best things like bacon or pie.  His little brother was strange, Dean decided, but he loved him nonetheless.  

Sammy was also getting better at keeping his balance when riding Gava, always protectively supported by an adult.  Dean was busy learning all about taking care of horses, and could now proudly saddle Starlight himself, the pony always standing patiently while the boy focused on all the steps involved.  Karl was kind but strict about the proper way to do things, and Dean always listened carefully to him and Harold during training.  He had figured out that both were soldiers, like his dad had been, and wanted to learn from them.

By now, two dogs and several cats had joined the family, as Dean regarded them, keeping the boys company and adding to the general fun of their days.  Even some wild animals like several families of rabbits and squirrels became regular visitors to the yard, Signe helping Dean cut up carrots and leaving out nuts daily.

Before long, Dean realized by studying a calendar with Harold’s assistance that it was nearly Christmas.  He didn’t really remember Christmas the year before, just very vague memories of sparkly decorations and presents.  This Christmas Dean made drawings for the adults and for Sammy, and was rather puzzled at references to a Julenisse or Jultomte that he heard the adults mentioned.  Harold explained it was another name for Santa, and Dean felt reassured that presents were apparently in the future, although he and Sammy already had so many toys, he had honestly no idea what else he needed.

Signe taught him to bake cookies and they had a nice meal outside the day before the holiday, which made Dean ask about the lack of snow, since it was winter, if he understood the seasons well enough, and was puzzled about the constant warm temperatures.

“Where we live it doesn’t snow at the house,” Harold explained.  “Not all places get cold and snow in winter.  Some stay in almost the same weather all year around.”

“Oh.”  Dean could remember sledding the year before, and was a bit disappointed.  “I like snow,” he hinted.

“Oh, you will see some soon, I promise,” Karl promised, winking at the boy.  “Snowball fights are marvelous.  And warriors train for all types of weather, don’t we?”  Dean beamed at the assurance, and decided it was nice for it to be warm enough to play outside everyday and ride Starlight but still apparently have snow nearby.

That night, Signe tucked the boys into bed quickly after their bath, saying that they needed to be asleep so Julenisse could deliver presents.  This of course made Dean determined to stay awake and spy on this new kind of Santa.  He pretended to fall asleep, but managed to stay awake until he figured it was surely late enough.

Signe’s bedroom was connected to the boys room by a door, always kept open so she could hear them if needed.  Dean carefully studied the doorway, checking that lights were off and he figured Signe was in her bed.  Then he cautiously snuck out, knowing Sammy was too little and besides, he would just make noise.  This had to be a secret mission.

He didn’t notice how there were plenty of turned on lights in the halls and stairway, allowing him to easily see well enough and have no fear of the dark as he crept downstairs.  Dean decided a perfect vantage point to view the living room where they had set up decorations, presents, and cookies for Santa was to hide under a table along one wall, and settled into his guard.

A soft sound woke him up sometime later, and Dean mentally grumbled to himself as he opened his eyes, upset he had closed them.  He was obviously a crappy guard.  But still, he remained silent and hidden, and to his amazement, saw a strange sight by the tree.

Someone, their back turned to Dean, was looking at the note Dean had left for Santa, and also eating up the cookies.  They were dressed simply, no red suit in sight, but Dean still had a feeling as the person turned and he could see now that it was a man.  The stranger snapped his fingers, and suddenly more presents appeared under the tree.  Dean couldn’t withhold a gasp at the display of magic, and the stranger smiled, looking directly at Dean’s hiding spot.

“Much better, don’t you think?  Definitely needed more presents for you and your brother.  I have no idea what Signe meant when she tried to say you had enough.  No one can have too many toys…or candy,” he added, now opening a candy bar that he took from a pocket.

Dean felt emboldened enough to leave his spot and approach the man, guessing that if he knew Signe, then he was a friend.  “Sammy deserves a lot of presents,” he said, looking in awe at the giant pile of boxes.  He of course hoped some were for him, but he always put his little brother first.

“And so do you!  Now, it’s a bit early for presents, but surely no one including Signe will object to a late night snack.”  He snapped his fingers again, and a new plate of cookies and glass of milk appeared as the man sat on the couch and gestured for Dean to join him.

“Are you Santa?  Or Julenisse?”  Dean asked as he decided to join the man and accepted a cookie along with the magic.  It was hard to tell because he had definitely brought presents, but he was dressed in a normal pair of pants and sweater, and lacked any sort of beard.  Just wavy hair.

“Oh, my, I wish I could say I was.  Things would be quite different, I assure you.  But no, I am not him, although he is a good friend.”

Dean swallowed his cookie.  “You know Santa?” he asked in amazement.

“I do indeed.  And shall speak to him about the appalling lack of presents here.  In fact, still more are needed.” He snapped his fingers, and yet more boxes appeared, making Dean stare, mouth wide open.  “You should close your mouth before something flies into it,” the man said, grinning at Dean.

Dean snapped his mouth shut, covering it with one hand for extra protection, uncertain what could possibly fly into his mouth, but not ready to take any chances.  The man laughed, and offered Dean a candy cane.  “I’m joking,” he assured the boy.  “Nothing will fly into your mouth….except some candy.”  Dean accepted the candy with relief and the two companionably sat together for a time, Dean admiring the lights on the tree.

“I’m Dean.  What's your name?” he finally asked when he had crunched the candy down.

The man paused, as if trying to decide.  “I have several names,” he said finally.  “Different people call me different names.  But I would like you and Samuel to call me… Gabriel.  It’s….” he shrugged.  “The truth, I guess.”

“Lying is wrong,” Dean agreed.

“Sometimes it's necessary, kiddo.  But I won’t lie to you or your brother.”

Dean didn’t understand why lying was necessary, but nodded anyway.  “I won’t lie,” he promised.  The man chuckled.

“Ah, kiddo, we shall see.  I suspect Samuel will bear that burden.”

“What?”  Dean tilted his head, now completely confused.  The man smiled and reached over to gently ruffle his hair, and Dean didn’t object because another cookie was offered at the same time.

“My lord,” a familiar voice said from the doorway, and Dean looked up to find Signe standing there, dressed in her robe, and arms crossed, a firm look on her face that Dean recognized.  “Any more sweets, and young Master Dean will be up all night.”

The man - Gabriel - shrugged.  “And would that be so bad?”  Dean quietly agreed with him.

Signe raised an eyebrow.  “Then you get to watch him all night on a sugar high, and the young master will miss opening presents in the morning when he crashes at dawn.”

Miss opening presents?  Oh, that was bad.  Dean looked at Gabriel, and the man looked equally suddenly distressed, though it could be at the thought of having to watch the boy.  “Er, alright, yes, excellent point.”  Gabriel hastily patted Dean’s shoulder and then stood up, encouraging the child to do the same.  “Off to bed with you.”  Dean nodded in agreement, but paused.

“Will I see you again tomorrow?” he asked.  

Gabriel grinned and ruffled his hair again.  “Yes, and I can’t wait to meet Samuel.  I hear that he’s trying to walk already.  Sounds like a Winchester alright.”

“He’s fast, but not as fast as me,” Dean assured him.  “Good night, Sir,” he said and hurried to Signe’s side.  To his surprise Signe curtsied to the man, and Dean hesitated, and then gave a little bow, following her example.  She smiled in approval at Dean, and the man looked a touch embarrassed.

“No need for that, and especially to not teach them that,” he muttered.

“There is all the need, my lord,” Signe replied, her voice calm and firm as always.  “And it shall be taught.”  Then she took Dean’s hand and returned him to the bedroom.

Dean thought he might get in a bit of trouble for his night excursion, but Signe just smiled as she tucked him back into bed.  “I used to sneak out and wait for Julenisse as well,” she confided with a whisper and smile, and it made Dean grin in relief that he was clearly not in trouble.

“Did you ever see him?” he asked,

“I did indeed. I also met our lord on another occasion, and that is a story for another time.”  She kissed Dean’s forehead, and to his surprise, he yawned, suddenly tired despite the cookies, candy, and excitement.  “Now, to sleep, young master, and tomorrow you and Samuel will meet our lord again.”  Dean nodded, and quickly fell asleep.

*****

*****

Dean woke up early and Sammy also pulled himself up to stand in his crib, indicating that he was ready for the day.  Signe insisted on a quick wash of hands and face, and then carried Sammy down to the living room, Dean rushing ahead.  Dean was beginning to worry if the man and presents had been a dream, but to his relief, the man was still there, now chatting with Harold and Karl, and the pile of presents nearly reached the ceiling.

It was hours of happy chaos, Dean helping Sammy open presents and the boys shouting in delight at each new reveal.  The cats were delighted with the paper, ribbons and boxes, and the dogs were just plain excited as always, and it was fun.  Meals were laid out on a table, the boys allowed to grab a few bites here and there as they liked and then return to the presents.  Dean proudly presented the pictures he had drawn for the adults, and snuck off for a minute to his schoolroom to make another for Gabriel, which was received in delight.

“A masterpiece!” Gabriel declared, holding the drawing.  ‘Best present I’ve ever received, Dean-o,” he vowed, and Dean blushed at the praise.  

Sammy spent most of his time sitting happily in the pile of presents, crawling around and generally enjoying the excitement.  Dean helped him assemble some of the toys with help from Harold, and the boys were allowed to stay in pajamas all day, playing and napping as they liked, no formal meals; just a constant buffet of things to nibble on.  Dean put on shoes so he could take carrots down to the ponies, Karl helping him, but otherwise the day was spent inside, playing.  Dean joined Sammy for an afternoon nap without complaint in a snug blanket fort in the living room while the adults visited, and in the evening there were some fireworks which thillred both boys.  Dean still didn’t like anything too bright or too hot, but the fireworks were okay, kept rather low key and showering mostly animal images in the sky that had Sammy pointing and babbling.

“He said ‘itty’,” Dean pointed out to the adults.  “I think he’s saying kitty.”

“Or could be bitty, ritty, or titt–” Gabriel started, but quickly shut up at a look from Signe.  Dean understood that some words sounded alike - rhymed - but didn’t understand the look everyone gave the man.

“What's a tit–?” Dean started to ask, but stopped at a look from both Signe and Harold, and even Karl raised an eyebrow.  It was definitely a question for another time.  Maybe Sammy was too young to hear it, Dean decided.  He was, after all, just a baby.

After such an exciting day, it was hard to say goodnight as Dean didn’t really want it to end, but he dozed off on the floor, clutching a new toy, and didn’t object when Harold picked him, Signe taking care of Sammy.  Signe insisted on a quick bath for both boys and soon had them tucked into their beds.  

“Love you,” Dean told Signe, giving her a hug and kiss, which was returned.  

“Sleep well, young master.  We shall have some exciting days ahead of us now that our lord is here,” she smiled.

“Our lord?  Gabriel?” Dean asked.  He’d heard the other adults refer to the new man as such throughout the day.  At Signe’s nod, Dean bit his lip in thought.  “Should I call him my lord?” he asked seriously, part of him remembering when Signe started calling him young master.  “Is it like his rank?”  Dean understood now that this rank was like military rank, and knew there were different levels.

“Well, it would be proper,” Signe agreed, “although he has given you permission to call him by his name, and no one will think badly if you call him that.”

“He screws up his nose when you call him my lord,” Dean giggled, and Signe chuckled in agreement.

“That he does.”

“He looks funny.  I think I will call him my lord, just so he makes that funny face,” Dean decided.

“As good a reason as any,” Signe agreed.  Issue settled, Dean happily went to sleep, smiling as he imagined the look on their lord’s face.

Chapter Text

Gabriel did indeed screw up his nose and narrow his eyes when Dean started to loudly address him as ‘My Lord’ at every possible moment the next morning, the man seemed to clearly blame Signe, Harold, and Karl, although he was far from mean, and after a few fussy moments, everyone seemed to get over it.  Karl whinked at Dean at breakfast, which assured the child.  He had a suspicion that Signe was really in charge of things, but always felt reassured by support from Karl or Harold.  Maybe it was a guy thing, he thought.

“So, what is this that I hear about snow?” Gabriel asked as he chugged hot chocolate with melted candy canes in it, something that Dean had quickly decided was his new drink of choice.

“I like snow,” Dean admitted, feeling free to speak up now that he was comfortable with all the adults.  He had been unsure at the beginning, but now accepted them all as easily as he had his parents, who he rarely thought about anymore.  When he did, it was simply feelings of happiness and contentment.  There was no sense of missing them, satisfied that all was well and Sammy was safe, which was the most important thing of all to Dean.

“We did promise some sledding trips, my lord,” Karl confirmed.

Gabriel brushed his hands as he was washing up from breakfast.  “Well no worries then!  I have the perfect hill prepared!”

“After proper dressing, my lord,” Signe said calmly, and just as Dean suspected, Gabriel - their lord - said nothing in objection as heavy winter clothes Dean had not seen before appeared as they went out onto the patio.  Sammy fussed at the bunny suit he was bundled into and Dean frowned a little at the heavy pants, boots, and jacket he was forced to pull on, but as the group made their way past the stables and around another bunch of trees, Dean was amazed to see a long, snow-covered hill and feel definitely colder temperatures.  Ever better was some invisible line pulling sleds up the hill and then turning them loose at the top.  Dean could barely stand still enough to be bundled into a hat and gloves, and then sat in a sled with Karl, his eyes wide as they were taken slowly by the line to the top.  Once there, Karl helped Dean into a new sled and then Harold joined the boy for his first trip down the hill, sailing safely over bumps and turns.

Dean soon gained confidence to take the sleds on his own, hollering approval at each run.  Sammy was happy to be passed among all the adults for runs, and Signe, Sammy, and Dean all climbed into a longer sled for several runs, Dean holding his brother carefully.  It was another day of excitement, and Dean was barely able to stay awake for bathtime before bed.

The next day Gabriel created a small circus where the snow hill had been, Dean and Sammy entertained all day with shows and friendly animals.  The day after that, there was a warm lake beach and all adults helped Dean build the biggest sandcastle ever in between swimming lessons.  Sammy spent most of his time trying to eat sand, keeping Signe on her toes.

Dean lost track of how many different exciting things they did and was soon exhausted by all the fun.  He was honestly happy when it rained one day and they stayed inside watching movies and playing with the never ending new toys.  Sammy was zonked out most of the day, napping with a pile of dogs and cats, and Dean joined them after lunch for a welcomed nap.

“They are both doing well, my lord, as you can see,” Signe said, Dean’s ears catching the adult conversation as he slowly woke up, snug in the latest blanket fort that he was sharing with Sammy and some pets in the living room.  “Virtually no memories, and no dreams.”

‘They are healing well,” Karl’s voice agreed.  “Young Master Dean shows few signs of any distress.  His memories are few, fading, and only of good things.”

“They deserve it,” Gabriel’s voice sounded, more serious than his usual tone.  “What else can be done?”

“I do not think anything right now, my lord,” Harold offered.  “They will be educated as you wish, taught all skills.  Both are as they should be; healthy, and happy.”

“And spoiled,” Signe added, and Dean frowned a little, wondering if that was a bad thing. “As they should be.”

“It is as I wished,” Gabriel said.  “I would do it again to save them; they did not deserve what fate had planned.  But still….Samuel….I cannot see his exact fate, changed it as I have.”

“Neither will suffer as they would have,” Signe said firmly.  “Surely whatever they face will be better.”

“We will train them, my lord,” Harold added.  “But with love and a stable home.  Far different from what they would have endured.  They are both warriors; one can clearly see the signs.  But here they will have the security that would have been lacking and they will never be alone.  They will be different, but no less fierce and powerful.”

“Especially Samuel,” Karl offered.  “Once can see his power already, as with Dean.  Their fates are clearly foretold.”

Signe sighed, and Dean felt bad at hearing her clear distress.  “As unfair as it is,” she said.  She was obviously sad, and Dean made himself leave Sammy’s warm body and crawl out of the blanket fort and to the lady.

“Don’t be sad,” he said, crawling up onto her lap. Signe smiled, and lifted him up.

“How can I possibly be sad with such a wonderful young man as you to keep me company?” she teased gently, folding her arms around him.

“And Sammy,” Dean added.  Signe nodded gravely.

“And Sammy,” she agreed.

Gabriel - their lord - snapped his fingers and Dean’s favorite juice appeared on the table along with some favorite snacks.  “Thank you,” Dean said politely, remembering his manners as he tucked into the treats.

“Anytime, kiddo.  Anything you want, just let me know.”

Anything?  Dean pondered that for a moment in between bites, wondering what else he could possibly want.  “Can you teach me magic?” he finally asked.  It was fun to see things appear and disappear and Dean understood Gabriel was more than he appeared.

“Umm….sort of.  I guess,” The man pondered the idea, looking amused.  “It won’t be like my magic, but still, I can show you quite a bit.  Though I should tell you that Sammykins is going to have more magic than you.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose.  “Really?”  He wasn’t jealous, but happy for his brother.  It sounded pretty cool, and Sammy deserved good things.

“He will be powerful,” Karl confirmed.  “And you will have another strength, just as strong.”

“What kind?” Dean asked eagerly.  Karl smiled, exchanging a glance with Harold and their lord, and Dean grinned.  “Fighting?”  He was so proud of his training with the men, Karl and Harold hinting that he was a mighty soldier already.

“Exactly,” Gabriel confirmed.  “The best hunter in the world.”

“Oh, cool,” Dean said happily, barely containing his excitement as Signe hugged him.  

“Now you must not forget your studies and other learning,” she gently warned him.  Dean wrinkled his nose a little, but nodded at the instruction.  He understood that warriors had to read and write.  “There is much you must learn.”

“We shall learn together,” Harold assured the child.  “And you will be able to teach Samuel a great deal.”  Dean liked the sound of that and nodded again, very content with things.

There was a disgruntled sound from the blanket fort, and Sammy emerged, crawling out with a sad face.  He’d been fussy all day, quite unlike his usual self.  Gabriel picked him up, cradling the child, and touched his forehead gently.  Immediately Sammy quieted, and Dean looked at their lord curiously.

“Was that magic?” he asked.  He had seen Gabriel calm Sammy a number of times in the past days, almost as good as Signe did.  Sammy didn’t mind Harold or Karl holding him, but he clearly preferred Signe, and Dean could understand that.  But since Gabriel had appeared, Sammy was crawling toward their lord even more than he wanted Signe.

“Um….of a sort,” Gabriel said vaguely, exchanging some look with the adults. “But I know a big brother hug would make him feel even better.”  Dean nodded agreeably, and joined his brother on the floor, quietly starting them to play with some toys that appeared before them.

“They are truly doing well, my lord.”

‘There are only the faintest traces of the demon blood, but Samuel’s soul will always remember it.  I cannot change that, as much as I wish otherwise.  And one day, he may need to remember it; to draw on that power.”

“Then we shall do all we can to prepare them.”

“I know you will, and thank you for your service.”  There was a chuckle.  “I truly could not venture to do it without you.”

“I would like to see you try to handle children, my lord.”

“Signe! I am again truly wounded.”

A respectful cough.  “There is a reason you turned them over to Signe immediately, my lord.”

“Et tu, Karl?”

“But of course, my lord.”

“My lord?” Dean looked up at the man, politely waiting to get his attention.  “Did you bring us Starlight and Gava?”  Dean had wondered who had given them such amazing gifts, and had now figured it was the man.

“I did, kiddo,” Gabriel agreed easily.  “I know they're not the best means of transportation lately, but coolness never goes out of style.”

Dean just blinked, understanding only that yes, the ponies had been a gift from their lord.  “Thank you,” he said sincerely.  “I’ll teach Sammy how to ride when he’s old enough.  With Karl’s help,” he added quickly, seeing the older man raise a grey eyebrow.  Dean had thought of Karl as a cowboy, but now he reconsidered, remembering what their lord had said was Dean’s power.  “Are you a hunter too?” he asked.

“I am,” Karl agreed.  “As you shall be, Master Dean.”  Dean grinned at the words again, glad to confirm what he’d been told earlier.

“I’ll work hard,” he promised solemnly.

There was an odd look between the adults.  “We know you shall,” Signe agreed, and Dean nodded, putting his attention back on Sammy, who was trying to eat a toy.  “No, Sammy,” he said patiently.  “Here, chew this ‘stead,” he offered, handing over a soft biscuit.  Signe had said that Sammy was ‘teething’, getting his teeth, and Dean vaguely understood that it was painful, grateful that he did not remember such a time.

It was time to visit the ponies, and Karl supervised Dean putting on his boots and raincoat after Dean gathered the apples and carrots for their daily treat.  Sammy and Signe stayed inside, but the men accompanied Dean down to the stables where Starlight and Gava were waiting impatiently for their expected snacks.  Dean overheard the adults talking about travelling, and it made him think of something.

“Why aren’t there any cars here?” he asked, curious.  So far they had walked everywhere to get to different places and it was short easy walks, but Dean had always loved cars and noticed there were no roads.

“Well, as I said, horses aren’t the latest form of transportation,” their lord said.  “There are faster means, but horses are still the best.”

“Like cars,” Dean said confidently.

“Like cars,” Gabriel agreed. 

“And I like cars,” Dean confirmed, smiling.  “My dad had a cool old one that he said we can fix up.  I get to watch him work on it sometimes, and hand him tools.”  Dean felt very proud of his work.

“I’m sure you are a huge help,” Gabriel agreed.  “Would you like a car to work on here?”  He grinned at Harold.  “Your teacher also likes classic vehicles.  Maybe it could be a science project.”

“Oh really?” Dean looked at his teacher with wide green eyes.  “We could do that?”

Harold chuckled a little.  “Well, seeing as how you already have some experience, young master, I see no reason to not continue.”  Dean had recalled that his dad liked working on cars, and it had been noted in Dean’s own handwriting of memories of his parents to one day share with Sammy.  “I wager that our lord could find us the best vehicle.”

“Impala,” Dean informed him.  He didn’t know much else, but remembered how cool that name was.  “An Impala car.  Black.”

Gabriel exchanged a small look with the other adults.  “Then that is what you shall have,” he promised.  Dean could hardly contain his excitement as they returned to the house, where he held Sammy and told him stories about a magical Impala car, and how it traveled around the world in search of adventures. 

Sammy seemed to appreciate the story, but still clung to Gabriel or Signe when not with Dean, being rather fussy.  “Does he feel okay?” Dean asked worriedly as Sammy refused any of the new real foods he had seemed to like and demanded instead his old bottle, curled up in Signe’s arms.  “Do his teeth hurt?”

“Um, yes, his teeth,” Gabriel answered vaguely.  He took Sammy from Signe and settled him down in his arms easily enough.

“Very common, my young master,” Signe assured Dean, giving him a hug and relieving him of concern that there was something wrong with his little brother.  “It may continue for a time.”

“Oh.”  Dean didn’t like that at all.  He hated seeing Sammy in any pain.

Their lord chuckled.  “Sasquatch will be fine,” he promised.

Dean wrinkled his nose a bit at the word.  “Sasquatch?” he asked.

The adults looked amused.  “Um…something very big,” Harold explained, and it made Dean snort.

“Sammy’s tiny, not big,” he argued.  Dean was very proud of his big brother status and new privilege of staying up a bit with the adults after Sammy was tucked into bed.  Dean knew his brother was safe in their room.  “Dad was tall.”

“And likely so will you two be as well,” Karl said.

Dean nodded, liking that idea, and then went back to his playing with yet another new toy.  Thinking or talking about his parents didn’t bring any worries or sad feelings.  He’d been assured that they were safe, just like him and Sammy, and at his age was content to leave it at that.  He sometimes thought he should miss them, but he didn’t for whatever reason.  Maybe it was because they were all safe, he decided.

Gabriel announced after dinner that evening that he had to go away for a while, and entertained Dean with a silly guessing game about where he was going, and when he would be back.  Dean finally gave up with a snort of frustration, but still smiled.  He liked their lord, just as he liked all the adults, and Sammy clearly felt the same.  He truthfully could find nothing wrong with life.

“Will you teach Sammy magic when you get back?” he asked as Dean prepared to go upstairs for the night.  Signe had already taken Sammy up for his bath, but Dean was enjoying being with the men and treated as more of a grown-up.

“Not yet, Dean Bean,” Gabriel chuckled.  “He needs to be able to talk first, I think.”

“Oh.”  Dean nodded, understanding that; it made sense.  “I’ve started training and I’m four.  So when he turns four?”

The men exchanged amused looks.  ‘Well, now, that might be another guessing game,” their lord teased.  “Are you ready for that?”

Dean giggled, shaking his head.  “No!  I don’t know the first answers,’ he hinted with a bit of a pout.

“And keep guessing,” Gabriel said, tousling Dean’s hair.  “I’ll be back soon, and then we’ll have a new game to play.  And in the meantime, I’ll see about getting that car for you.”  He shook his head dramatically.  “Four years old, and nagging the old man for a car already.”

“Yeah!” Dean approved happily.  “A black Impala,” he reminded the man.

“I won’t forget,” Gabriel promised.

Signe returned after a bit and Dean said his polite goodnights before heading upstairs for his bath and bedtime.  Sammy was, as usual, zoned out asleep, but Signe read Dean his bedtime story and tucked him safely into bed, a couple cats and dogs joining the boys.  “Sleep well, young master,” Signe said, giving Dean his goodnight kiss.  “You have much to learn, but there is always play as well!  Do not be too tired for that!”

Dean shook his head.  “Not too tired for play,” he agreed, even as he yawned.  “G’night, Signe.”

“Good night, my dears.  Call me if you need anything.”  She quietly turned down the lights and went to her own room, keeping the door open as always.

Dean sighed as he punched a few pillows to get comfortable, very satisfied with things.  All was well, he decided.  Sammy was safe, and they had lots of fun things to do.  Even school was pretty nice, he decided, and he liked learning.  Especially fighting.  That would be the most exciting of all.  Content and happy, he cuddled his favorite stuffed toy and fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Dean’s fifth birthday in January was celebrated in a manner that he’d never even dreamed of.  An entire circus performed out in the field with all sorts of games and events.  There was also a huge group of other kids around Dean’s age that were introduced as assorted nieces and nephews of Signe, Harold, and Karl.  Dean was a little shy at first, not having been around other kids for a few months now, but he quickly regained his confidence and the friendly group welcomed him in with enthusiasm. There were even a few other babies that Sam was introduced to and they all seemed content sharing gumming toys and petting animals while watched over by babysitters.

Gabriel was there, of course, orchestrating everything and making it all insane and perfect.  The party had a cowboy theme, which thrilled Dean to no end.  Starlight and Gava were joined by other ponies, offering the assorted children rides between games, and lots of cowboy hats were shared around.  There were also assortments of cowboy boots for everyone to pick from, in all sorts of colors.  Even Sam and the other babies tried a few out, but Sam led some kind of rebellion in preferring to be barefoot and refusing to tolerate the boots for more than a minute. 

There were five elaborate cakes to choose from, since Gabriel apparently had some belief that each year of age deserved a separate cake.  The children were allowed to sample each cake, but slices kept small by order of Signe to prevent further sugar over load.

Of course there were tons of presents, and Dean was slightly embarrassed at all the attention, not at all used to it.  He honestly wasn’t sure what to do with so many toys in addition to what he already had, but Harold had the brilliant idea to store them in a new shed in the yard that was promptly dubbed the toy garage.  Dean was assured that his new friends would visit often, and it was the perfect place to put all the toys for them to choose from in the future.  All the children loved the idea and helped Dean sort them into tidy piles and boxes in the garage at the end of the day.

As promised, Dean’s friends did visit almost every weekend, and he loved the chance to be with other children.  He loved his family, of course, and Sammy most of all, but it was still so fun to be with other kids.  Since he was now a grown up five-year-old, Dean understood his school time was increased, keeping him on a strict schedule of study, but there was still free time every day and weekends were always reserved for fun.

“Training” as Dean thought of it, was also done everyday, which counted in his mind as even better than play, especially when it was included on weekends, all of the other kids wanting to learn how to be hunters (whatever that really meant; none of the students were quite sure).  They were allowed nothing dangerous of course, and strictly supervised, but there was some martial arts, occasional paper swords, and even plastic toy bows and arrows with safety rubber tips.  A girl named Helen, a niece of Karl’s, proved to have an aim with the bow that could only be described as awesome, and Dean fell in love with her the first time she knocked an apple off a stand on her first try.

Dean was also five when the adults very carefully, very gently, began teaching him about the things in the world other than people and animals.  He had heard of some of them before from big kid talk - like ghosts  - but most were new creatures.  He was always eager to learn more, but the adults kept the discussion of them simple and easy, always assuring him that he and Sammy were safe.

“You will learn more, I promise,” Harold said one day as they finished a book about sea monsters.  “And know that you are always perfectly safe here.  None of these things can hurt you or Sammy.”

“You protect us,” Dean nodded in understanding.  “You and Karl, and Signe, and our lord.”

“Especially our lord.”

“And I’ll protect us too?  When I get older?”

Harold smiled at the boy.  “Yes, but not until you are much older.  We will train you to protect many people, but only when you are ready.”  Dean liked the sound of that very much, and beamed at his teacher.

Sammy turned one year old in May, and had the same extravagant day as Dean’s birthday.  He and the other babies played and smashed cupcakes while Dean led the cheers and helped Sammy blow out a candle on his cake.  Gabriel kept it to one gigantic cake for the one year old birthday, but there were plenty of cupcakes for more sampling.  Signe just sighed and gave their lord a look that Dean was glad was not directed at him, as it usually meant he had done something naughty.

Dean was really quite happy with things and settled into a nice routine.  School was in the morning and sometimes in the afternoons as well, but there was always plenty of free time for riding Starlight or play.  Their lord visited at least once a month for several days, and turned the field into all sorts of different places for them to explore.  Dean’s favorite was still the ocean beach, and Sammy loved anything with animals.  Dean was learning to swim now in both the pool at home and at beach visits, and Sammy was allowed in the water with Signe or Harold holding him.

Dean’s friends never asked about his parents, or mentioned theirs, so at times he quite honestly forgot about Mom and Dad.  It was when he was reading a book of fairy tales one rainy afternoon that he put together enough of the words and story to be a bit upset, suddenly thinking of his parents, and confronted Signe.  She was his to-go on all issues, and always honest.  He found her in the kitchen, preparing an afternoon snack while Sammy napped in a nearby bassinet, and climbed up on his chair.

“Signe?”  He waited until she turned and nodded slightly, understanding that he had something on his mind.  “Where are my mom and dad?”

Signe raised a grey eyebrow, but put the fruit snacks aside and sat at the table beside Dean.  ‘They are safe; why do you ask?” she inquired gently.

Dean held up the book, pointing to one story.  “I think in this story the parents leave their children.  On purpose, to get rid of them.”  The title Hansel and Gretel stood out against the paper.  “Why would they do that?  And did Mom and Dad leave me and Sammy?”  Dean didn’t think his parents would do such a thing, but he really didn’t remember them, so had no idea what to think about what they might have done or not done.

“Oh my darling.”  Signe took the book and put it aside.  “That is one story that is not for children.  I have no idea why it was ever put in books for young people.”

“I know it's a story, but is it sort of true?” Dean asked, uncertain.  He was at the age where he sometimes wasn’t sure what was real and what was make-believe.  It was hard to tell sometimes, especially since he knew that  magic was real.  He’d seen plenty, and begun to learn that lots of magical things were real.

“No, this is not true,” Signe said firmly, pulling Dean onto her lap for extra focus and attention.  Dean went willingly as always, ready to listen to whatever she had to say.  “That is a made up story,” she started, pointing to the book.  “Not all stories are happy ones.  Just because it is written, doesn’t always mean it's true.”  Dean nodded after a moment, understanding that much.

“And your parents…” Signe paused, giving Dean a warm hug.  “You have always been told that they love you, and miss you, correct?”  Dean nodded again.  He seldom thought or asked about Mom and Dad, but when he did, he was always assured that they were ok and he should not worry about anything.  “That will never change.  Your parents did have to go somewhere else, but made sure you were safe and always taken care of.  Just because they are not here, does not mean that they don’t love you and Sammy.  You will always be their sons.”

“Will they come back?  Where did they go?”  Dean was pushing a little more than he ever had before, suddenly curious. 

“They’re in Heaven, kiddo.”

Dean looked up to see Gabriel in the chair beside him, and Harold and Karl entered the room moments later as if summoned.  He felt comfortable with all the adults, so that didn’t bother him, but Gabriel’s answer made him frown.  He’d heard of Heaven before, in books and some movies and TV shows.

“So they’re dead?” Dean asked, his voice small and unsure.  He was pretty sure Heaven was where dead people went, unless it was Hell; he’d also heard of the other place. 

Gabriel took a deep breath and then reached out to pull Dean into his lap.  Dean didn’t object, but did look back to make certain Signe and the others were staying.  He knew now he had asked a pretty big and serious question and he might not like the answer.  Signe smiled reassuringly as she gently moved Sammy, still sound asleep, to her lap, so Dean could see his brother easily, and it helped him feel better.

Gabriel waited until Sammy was settled and then smiled down at Dean; a little tight and sad smile, but still, a smile.  “They are in the Heaven where people go when they die,” he confirmed.  “They are no longer on earth.  But they are safe, and happy, and know that you and Sammykins are safe and happy as well.”

Dean bit his lip in thought as he pondered that answer.  He knew what dead meant.  “So we can never see them again?” he asked nervously.  That thought had honestly never once occurred to him; he’d always assumed he would see his parents again sometime.

“You will see them one day, I promise.  It won’t be for a long time, but you will see them again,” Gabriel vowed.

A flicker of some memory came to Dean, of when he first woke up with Signe and Sammy.  “When they died, that’s when Sammy and I came here to live?” he guessed.

“Yes.  You could not go with them, so I promised to take care of you and your brother.”

Dean frowned, trying to understand, but then he sighed as a soothing warmth eased his confused mind.  His parents were dead, and that was of course sad, but they were also ok and he and Sammy would see them again.  And he and Sammy were safe, so there was really nothing to worry about.

“Could have told me before,” Dean grumbled a little.  He wasn’t a baby; he could handle hearing that his parents were dead.  He didn’t hardly remember them anymore, so while he was sad, it wasn't really a bad sad.  Besides, Mom and Dad were happy where they were.  That made him feel things were ok.

Gabriel chuckled.  “Questions are answered in good time, and when one is ready to hear the answer,” he said mysteriously.  Dean had no idea what that meant, but shrugged it off.  All adults said weird things from time to time.

Sammy chose that moment to wake up, sleepily hinting he wanted attention, or perhaps a bottle or snack.  He saw his brother and reached out immediately.  “De,” he gurgled.  Just over a year old, Sammy was beginning to talk in simple words.  Dean was a bit smug that one of Sammy’s first clear words had been “De.”  It wasn’t Dean's full name, but it was close enough and clear what it meant.  Signe handed the baby over and Gabriel made both boys comfortable on his lap.

‘Dean is old enough now to have more questions, my lord’

‘And they will be answered truthfully…..as when appropriate.  I will restore his memories when he is older, but for now, it would only cause fear and confusion.’  Gabriel hugged both boys tightly.  ‘I refuse to let Dean remember it for decades if need be, but he did see their mother.  It was no sight for any child to recall.’

There were soft murmurs of agreement from the three aides.  They would do anything necessary to protect the boys.  Including protecting them from the lives they would have led.

’Just because they are destined to be warriors does not mean they do not deserve love and care, especially as children,’ Gabriel had pointed out.  It was their focus now; to give they boys what they deserved.

“Gaa!” Sammy said, reaching out to the being holding him, one baby hand smacking Gabriel’s chest.  Sammy had been a good boy, sitting still on his lap forever , and still no treat appearing as always happened when Gabriel held him.  Sammy really expected better of the adult and was about to get cranky over it.

“Oh, hold your horses, Samsquatch,” Gabriel sighed, but grinned.  He snapped the fingers of the hand holding Dean, and a tray of fruit and cookies appeared on the table within reach of the toddler.  Sammy gave a happy gurgle and reached out, snagging a piece of banana and sending pieces of it everywhere as he squeezed his hand.  “Oh, dad, no!” Gabriel protested and Signe saved him by taking Sammy back and getting a napkin ready to catch the squashed banana pieces from Sam’s tiny hand before they could fall on the man.

Dean giggled, reaching himself for a cookie.  “Banana, Sammy?  Why eat fruit when you can have a cookie?”

“Yeah, I completely agree,” Gabriel said, grabbing a cookie as well.

“Because Samuel knows healthy food as opposed to sweets,” Harold said, smiling as he took a few grapes.

Dean looked at Karl, and the oldest man shook his head.  “I refuse to get involved,” he said gruffly, but took both a strawberry and a cookie, showing he seemed to like both.  Signe just smiled serenely, not getting involved either.

Things continued smoothly, Dean and Sammy both happy and content.  Sammy now had a few friends as well who came for baby play dates, the one-year-olds occasionally squabbling over toys, but usually sharing well and basking in attention.  Dean continued his proud training with his own peer group, all gaining confidence in their skills.  Helen continued to rule the archery field, but Dean was getting better and still in love with her.  

Life was good, Dean decided one day as he and Sammy colored, looking around their home.  They had love, fun, and so, so, so many toys.  He understood his parents were dead, and that was sad, but really everything was okay.  Sammy was safe and happy, and that mattered the most, Dean believed.  He would one day be a hunter, whatever that was, and Sammy would do magic.  It all sounded perfect.

Chapter Text

When Dean was six—almost seven—he pieced together fragments from holiday specials and library books, and decided it was time to confront their lord. The moment came during a quiet afternoon snack in the living room.

“Are you the Archangel Gabriel?” he asked, eyes sharp with curiosity.

Gabriel, mid-bite into a generous slice of pie, nearly choked—an exceedingly rare occurrence. He coughed, muttered a curse at his vessel’s limitations, then gave a slow nod. “I am,” he said, studying the boy. “How’d you figure that out, kiddo?”

Dean pointed at the television, where a Christmas special played in the background. “Those shows,” he said with a smug little shrug. “And some stuff I read. Your name came up. Angels have powers. You have powers. It wasn’t hard.”

He gave Gabriel a look—half challenge, half triumph. “And I know angels and demons are real,” he added matter-of-factly.

Gabriel’s grin returned, wide and impressed. “Smart,” he said, nodding. “And here Harold swears you only read when forced.”

Dean snorted. “I read,” he said, digging into his own pie. “Just not always what Harold wants me to.” He paused, then added with a glance at Gabriel, “Didn’t want to lie. You’re an archangel. That’s... kind of a big deal.”

Gabriel chuckled as he conjured up more pie with a snap of his fingers, the dessert appearing with a flourish that made Dean’s smug grin stretch even wider.

“You’re very smart, Dean O,” Gabriel said, ruffling the boy’s hair affectionately.

Dean shrugged, trying to play it cool, though the pride in his eyes betrayed him. “Can I learn more about what angels can do?”

“You will,” Gabriel promised, his voice tinged with mystery. “More than you want to know, I suspect.”

Dean paused, spoon halfway to his mouth. “Hmm… I want to know a lot,” he said thoughtfully. Then his brow furrowed. “What about Sammy?”

Gabriel tilted his head. “What about him?”

“You said he’d have powers like yours,” Dean reminded him. “But he’s not an angel, right?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No, he’s human—just like you. But… he’s special. He’ll have some abilities that angels have. Not now, though. He needs time. He has to grow, learn control, and understand the world before that.”

Dean nodded solemnly, then brightened. “Sammy’s smart. Really smart,” he said with conviction. “He’s only two, but he talks all the time. He knows colors and numbers. He even sits with me in the schoolroom sometimes. I help him count, and I’m teaching him to read.”

Gabriel smiled, watching the boy’s pride swell. “Sounds like you’re a good teacher.”

Dean beamed. “The best,” he said, licking pie from his fork.

But Sammy, for all his brilliance, was also a bit clumsy. Just last week, he’d been toddling toward lunch when he tripped over his own feet and flattened a poor garden plant. That morning, he’d toppled right out of his chair mid-snack. The adults insisted it was normal—just part of growing up and mastering the art of walking and running—but Dean wasn’t convinced. He didn’t remember being that clumsy.

Still, none of that mattered. Dean adored his little brother, quirks and all. He’d always take care of him. That was non-negotiable.

The boys were used to the field around their home transforming—Gabriel’s magic could turn it into a snowy tundra, a jungle, or even a moonlit beach—but after Dean’s seventh birthday, Harold announced something new.

“This time,” Harold said, eyes twinkling, “we’re not just changing the field. We’re going to travel. Really travel. To places around the world.”

Dean blinked. “Aren’t we already on Earth?”

Harold chuckled. “Technically, yes. But this estate is hidden—protected. You and Samuel are old enough now for our lord to take you beyond it. To see the real world. To meet people. To learn.”

He pulled out a massive atlas, its pages filled with vibrant maps and pictures. “You get to choose where we go first.”

Dean’s eyes lit up. He loved when friends visited the estate, but the idea of venturing out—seeing new places, meeting new people—was thrilling. A little scary, maybe. But mostly exciting.

He spent the next hour flipping through the atlas, Harold offering tidbits and stories about each location. After narrowing it down to three, Dean made his final decision the way any wise seven-year-old would: with a solemn round of eenie-meenie-miney-mo.

His finger landed on a page. “Here,” he declared, grinning. “This is where we’ll go.”  Harold nodded, and promised to let their lord know the chosen destination.

“Well, this canyon is pretty grand,” Gabriel quipped as the group stood on one of the viewing platforms overlooking the vast expanse of the Grand Canyon.

Dean rolled his eyes, catching the pun instantly. He’d chosen the destination because the pictures made it look enormous—and in person, it was even more breathtaking. They spent the day exploring scenic trails, sampling food from local restaurants, and simply enjoying the novelty of being out in the world.

“Dad did a good job with this place,” Gabriel remarked offhandedly, gazing out over the layered cliffs.

Dean frowned, puzzled by the comment, but tucked the thought away for later.

At first, it was strange—seeing so many new faces, hearing unfamiliar sounds, and navigating places that weren’t shaped by Gabriel’s magic. But Dean and Sammy adapted quickly. Monthly trips became a tradition, each one filled with discovery and delight.

The only downside was the fatigue. Magical travel took a toll. After their first trip, Sammy slept for an entire day, and Dean—much to his embarrassment—needed a long afternoon nap.

“It makes you feel a little ill,” Signe explained gently, brushing Dean’s hair back as he yawned. “It’ll get easier as you grow.”

Dean blinked sleepily. “Is that why we were so tired when we first came here?”

“It is,” Signe confirmed. “But you’re both strong and healthy. You’ll adjust.” She hugged him tightly, her voice softening. “And no matter where you go, you’ll always come back here. This is your home.”

Dean didn’t quite understand why she sounded so serious, but he hugged her back, grateful for her warmth.

Sammy, though clever, was still too young to choose destinations. So Dean and Harold made plans with him in mind—zoos, aquariums, and natural habitats where animals roamed freely. It was in those wild places that Gabriel’s powers truly dazzled them.

Their lord conjured protective bubbles that let them stand atop Mount Everest, untouched by the biting cold and thin air. They hovered near the rim of active volcanoes, safe from heat and ash. But the most magical of all was the ocean.

Gabriel’s bubble allowed them to descend into the deep, gliding through coral reefs and swimming alongside whales. And it was there, in the shimmering blue silence, that Dean witnessed something extraordinary.

A great white shark glided toward the bubble, its massive form casting a shadow over the group. Sammy shrieked and launched himself into Signe’s arms, trembling. Dean let out a startled yell, instinctively backing away, nearly diving for cover beside his brother.

“It’s okay,” Gabriel said gently, stepping forward with calm authority. He scooped Dean into his arms, his presence warm and grounding. “She’s not dangerous—just curious,” he added, watching the great white shark glide past with slow, deliberate grace. “She didn’t mean to frighten you. She’s sorry.”

Dean stared at the creature, still wary. He’d read enough to know sharks could be dangerous. “She?” he stammered. “Friendly?”

“Yes, she,” Gabriel confirmed with a soft smile. “And very friendly.” He extended a hand toward the bubble’s edge, and the shark responded—mouth parting in what might have been a grin. Dean blinked. It was mostly teeth, but… maybe there was a hint of a smile in there.

“Samsquatch, look,” Gabriel urged, voice low and encouraging. “She likes you.”

Sammy peeked out from the safety of Signe’s arms, his eyes wide. “Shark,” he said clearly, a tremble in his voice.

Dean didn’t blame him.

“Yes, a shark,” Harold agreed, standing beside them. “Very good, Samuel. But she won’t hurt you. No animal will ever harm you or your brother.”

Dean looked up sharply. “They won’t?” he asked, hope and disbelief mingling in his voice.  He wasn’t really afraid of animals, but he had learned from science that some were dangerous to people and should be left alone.

“Never,” Signe promised, brushing a hand over his hair. “And in time, you’ll be able to communicate with them. At least a little.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “We can talk to animals?” His heart thudded with excitement. He and Harold had read Dr. Doolittle a few months ago, and the idea of speaking to animals had lived rent-free in his imagination ever since.

Gabriel chuckled. “Not quite like the doctor in the book. But yes—most animals, in some ways. Especially Sammy.”

Dean turned to his brother, who was now watching the shark with cautious fascination. “Sammy can talk to animals?”

“Not yet,” Harold said. “But he will. It’s part of his gift.  And you will have some ability as well.”

Dean’s eyes sparkled. “That’s awesome .”

“It is, isn’t it?” Gabriel said proudly.

“And animals will be willing to help you,” Karl added, stepping forward and playfully pretending to scratch the shark’s snout through the bubble. The shark responded with what looked like a laugh—her body rippling with amusement as she circled the bubble once more.

Dean beamed, the revelation settling in like a warm blanket. More allies. More protection. Between their little family and now the animals, Sammy might actually be safe from everything. Well… almost everything.

Outside the bubble, a variety of fish had gathered, curious about the strange visitors in their realm. Sammy giggled as a school of vibrant fish darted toward him, pressing his tiny hands against the invisible barrier. The fish swarmed eagerly, trying to touch him, and Dean watched with quiet satisfaction.

“Animals really like Sammy,” he mused aloud, eyes following the swirling colors. It wasn’t just the fish—back home, their pets always seemed drawn to his little brother. Wherever Sammy went, creatures followed.

“They sense otherworldly beings,” Gabriel explained, watching the scene with a fond smile. “And all forms of magic. Samshine will always have critters around him.”

“Like you do,” Dean said, glancing up at their lord. He’d noticed it before—how animals gravitated toward Gabriel, gathering like loyal companions.

“Yup,” the archangel replied with a sigh. “It’s a curse.”

Dean giggled. He knew what a curse was, and having animals around definitely didn’t count. Gabriel was just being silly again.

Harold cleared his throat and launched into a science lesson about the ocean—currents, ecosystems, pressure zones. Dean sat up straighter, listening intently and asking questions to make sure he understood. He knew the drill: after every trip, he had to write a report, give an oral summary, and take a small test.

He’d grumbled about it at first, but now he understood. Knowledge was part of the job. If he was going to be a hunter—someone who protected others—he had to know everything he could.

And he would. For Sammy. For everyone.

***

That night, Dean was jolted awake by soft whimpers coming from Sammy’s bed. He was halfway across the room when Sammy let out a full-throated scream, the kind that shattered the quiet and sent Dean’s heart racing.

Used to his little brother’s nightmares, Dean scooped Sammy into his arms without hesitation, holding him close until Signe arrived. A sippy cup of warm milk appeared in her hand, conjured by a quiet spell. Sammy, still sniffling, accepted it with a sleepy nod as Signe settled into the rocking chair beside his bed.

Dean, always nearly as shaken as Sammy, curled up on a cushion at her feet. Signe wrapped one arm around him, pulling him gently into her side.

“It’s alright, young master,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “Samuel won’t remember the dream.”

Dean frowned. “Why does he have so many bad dreams?” he asked, voice tight with worry. “Especially if he forgets them?”

Signe continued to pat Sammy’s back, her touch rhythmic and calming. “Some of it is his powers,” she explained softly. “He sees things others cannot. Our lord blocks most of the visions, but some slip through.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What does he see? Monsters? But he’s not learning about scary stuff yet.” He knew the rules—no frightening books, no spooky shows, no talk of anything that might scare Sammy. Dean enforced those rules more strictly than anyone.  He was old enough to learn about such things, but not Sammy.  Sammy would never ever learn, if Dean had his way.

“He’s not learning from us,” Signe agreed. “He’s too young for that. But his powers reach beyond what we teach. They show him things—images, feelings—that frighten him, as they would any child. We do our best to shield him, but some dreams still come.”

Dean bit his lip.  He didn’t like that. Not one bit.

Signe gave him another squeeze. “Our lord may be able to do more,” she said gently. “I’ll speak with him.”

Dean nodded, his jaw set. “Sammy needs protecting,” he said fiercely. “I won’t let anything hurt him. Not even dreams.”  He didn’t remember much anymore about their parents. But he remembered one thing clearly: Sammy had been entrusted to him. And Dean took that job seriously.

Chapter Text

Dean regarded his new teacher with quiet intensity, sizing him up from across the training field. He’d known this day was coming—had been prepped for months. Turning ten meant graduating to a new level of combat instruction. And not just any tutor, either. Their lord had made it clear: this one was a seasoned warrior, even more formidable than Karl. A Heaven garrison commander.

Dean respected that. Rising to such a rank meant discipline, strength, and leadership. It meant Castiel was the real deal.

So he waited, silent and composed, while the angels exchanged greetings with Karl. Dean kept his posture straight, his expression neutral, and crossed his fingers behind his back. He hoped— really hoped—he’d meet Castiel’s standards.

Logically, he knew he was ready; Karl and Harold had both assured him of that. And Dean wasn’t one to brag, but he usually topped the training drills among his friends. Well, except for archery—Helen still ruled that field, and Dean was still hopelessly in love with her.

A cat, utterly indifferent to the celestial gathering, rubbed against Dean’s leg. He smiled down at it, grateful for the distraction. Sammy stood a few feet away, surrounded by his usual entourage of animals—birds hopping in the grass, a squirrel perched nearby in addition to the usual cats and dogs. He’d begged to be present for the introduction to another angel, and the adults had agreed, with the understanding that he’d leave once formalities were over and let Dean get to work.

Dean didn’t mind Sammy being there for introductions. He just didn’t want to be knocked flat in front of his little brother once training started. He had his pride, after all.

And judging by Castiel’s stance, Dean suspected he’d be on the ground in less than ten seconds.

The garrison commander’s vessel was tall—taller than Harold, who Dean already considered a good height. His dark hair ruffled slightly in the breeze, and Dean instinctively ran a hand through his own. Castiel wore an angel blade at his hip, longer than Sammy and twice as broad. Dean had handled pieces of full armor before and respected its weight, but Castiel looked like he was the armor—solid, immovable, and built for war.

And then there was the frown.

Gabriel and Karl had assured Dean that Castiel considered it an honor to be assigned as his instructor. But the stern expression carved into his sharp features made Dean swallow hard.

He just hoped he survived the first lesson.

Dean snapped out of his anxious thoughts as the three men approached. He straightened instinctively, resisting the urge to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants. Gabriel wore his usual cheerful grin, Karl had his quiet, reassuring presence, and Castiel’s frown had somehow deepened even further.

Yep. Dean was definitely going to end up flat on his back.

“Dean-O, this is Cassie, my little bro,” Gabriel said with his usual casual flair. Normally, that nickname would’ve earned a grin from Dean, but today he was too nervous to respond. He’d been taught proper etiquette for years, and for once, he took refuge in it—bowing his head respectfully to the angels.

“Sir,” he said to Castiel, eyes flicking briefly to the ground before forcing himself to look up—and up—at the towering figure.

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel said, his voice low and gravelly, like distant thunder. Dean swallowed hard, hoping the sound wasn’t audible. Those piercing blue eyes locked onto him, and it felt like being scanned by a divine laser.

“Yes, Sir,” Dean replied quickly, unsure what else to say but figuring agreement was the safest route.

Castiel said nothing more, just continued to study him in silence. Dean wondered if the angel was going to speak again—or if this was some kind of test.

“Now boys, no need to be so formal,” Gabriel said brightly, stepping between them. With a mischievous grin, he ruffled both Dean’s and Castiel’s hair at the same time.

Both the boy and the angel turned toward him with identical expressions of indignation.

Gabriel burst out laughing. “Oooh, twin death glares. Help me, Samkins!” he called dramatically to the youngest, who was still surrounded by animals and watching with wide eyes

“Okay?” Sam said tentatively, his eyes flicking between the adults but his feet staying firmly planted where they were.

Castiel’s head snapped up, eyes locking onto the youngest. Dean’s stomach tightened. He didn’t like the way the angel was suddenly focused on his baby brother.

“Samuel,” Castiel said, voice still a low rumble. Just one word, but something in the tone made Dean bristle.

“My little brother,” Dean said sharply, stepping forward and meeting Castiel’s gaze head on. He was relieved when the angel’s attention shifted back to him. “You’re not teaching him,” he added, voice flat and firm.

One dark eyebrow rose. “Am I not?”

“No.” Dean shifted slightly, preparing himself. Any second now, the ten seconds would begin. “Sammy’s too little. He’s not even six yet.”

It was a detail Dean clung to—this brief window each year when he was technically five years older than Sam. A little extra time to protect him, to keep him innocent. Never mind that Dean had been swinging wooden swords and shooting toy arrows at five. Sammy wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

“The boy with—” Castiel began, but Gabriel jerked his head sharply. Dean felt something pass between the angels, like a silent thunderclap. A rebuke. Castiel’s words cut off, and Dean glanced between them, trying to decipher what had just happened.

Gabriel’s expression darkened for a moment—an open scowl that made Dean’s breath hitch. But then, just as quickly, it vanished. Gabriel was all smiles again, his usual irreverent self.

“Sammykins, come here, my boy,” he said cheerfully, beckoning with a wide grin.

Sam obeyed, stepping forward quietly. Gabriel wrapped an arm around him, and Sam bowed his head, mimicking Dean’s earlier gesture.

“Sir,” he said softly.

There was a long pause. Then Castiel bowed his head in return.

“Samuel,” he acknowledged again, voice still low but more even now—less thunder, more calm.

Dean exhaled slowly, tension easing just a bit. He didn’t know what had just happened, but Gabriel and the animals would never let anything happen to Sammy. And neither would Dean.

Gabriel rubbed in hands together, usual smile back in place.  “Well now, enough of this.  Cassie, DeanBean, we’ll let you two get to work.  Samsunshine, we have our own lesson today.”  Sammy nodded solemnly at the words.

Their lord had kept his promise, beginning to teach Sammy magic once the boy could talk.  Dean wasn't jealous - he understood that he and Sammy had different strengths, and admired his baby brother for his own talents.  In fact, he sometimes felt a bit sorry for Sammy, whose lessons seemed to consist of lots and lots of sitting and reading,  Dean much preferred being out and about and active with his training, even with his formal studying. Harold willingly led hands on science lessons, letting Dean learn by doing.  Dean was glad he seemed to have a good memory, as he needed to only read something once, and he could remember it.  Harold pushed Dean to understand things and reflect, and that was sometimes a pain.

But Sammy suffered some real pain.  He often had headaches after a long session with Gabriel, making Dean frown.  The adults had explained to Dean that there was really no other option, as Sammy’s body held magic, and practicing it could lead to physical effects.  Gabriel always healed Sammy afterwards so he wasn’t in pain for long, but it still made Dean grimace when he watched a lesson and had to see his baby brother wince.  

Dean had once tried to sit in on one of Sammy’s lessons. Just once.

Gabriel had let him, with a smirk and a raised brow. “If you think you can handle it, DeanBean.”

He’d lasted ten minutes. The air had grown thick, humming with energy that made his skin crawl. Sammy had been pale, eyes glowing faintly, lips moving in a language Dean didn’t recognize.

When the headache hit, Sammy didn’t cry. He just clenched his fists and kept going.

Dean had left after that, stomach churning. He’d found Harold in the greenhouse and asked, “Is it supposed to hurt?”

Harold had looked up from a tray of seedlings, his expression unreadable. “Sometimes the things we’re born to do cost us.”

Dean hadn’t asked again.

Sammy was brave about it, already stubborn about anything and everything, and didn’t hesitate to tell Dean to go away.  Still, Dean was careful to never tease his baby brother about some matters, and was even more laser focused on protecting him.

Gabriel and Sammy said their goodbyes and headed up to the house, Karl excusing himself to go see the horses.  The menagerie of animals followed Sam, and Dean found himself alone with his new instructor.  Alright, he thought, gulping a little as he looked up at the commander.  Ten seconds.  If he could last ten seconds, he’d be happy.

****

It was more like five seconds.  But to be fair, Castiel waited a time before testing Dean’s hand to hand combat.

First, he had Dean go through warm up exercises with his sword, showing what he knew of basic moves and stance.  Then the angel held his blade steady, and had Dean parley, striking it while Castiel held it still, testing the strength of his students' force.

Dean’s arms were sore by the time Castiel called a halt, sweat trickling down his back despite the cool morning air. Castiel hadn’t moved once, his blade held perfectly still, like it was part of him.

“Again,” the angel said, voice calm.

Dean gritted his teeth and struck. The clang echoed across the training yard for the next few minutes. Castiel didn’t flinch.

“Your strength is adequate for your age and being human,” Castiel finally judged. “But your balance falters.”

Dean stepped back, panting, glad for the break. “I’m working on it,” he muttered, knowing it was a weak spot.  Karl had said much the same before.

Castiel tilted his head. “We will indeed address that.  Brute strength and force is necessary, but also balance. You need that to endure.”

Dean blinked. “Endure?”

Castiel lowered his sword. “Magic burns. Steel scars. But both require the same grace.”

“I don’t have grace,” Dean pointed out.  He knew what angel grace was.

There was a pause.  “Apologies, I am accustomed to instructing those who do,” Castiel finally answered.  He sent his blade away and took Dean’s sword away in the same smooth movement, making Dean blink.  He hated being disarmed.  But he didn’t have much time to reflect on it as Castiel took hold of his arm.  “Escape me,” he ordered simply, and Dean went to work.

He didn’t break the angels' hold on him once, no matter what he tried.  And when the time came to evaluate fighting, Dean was indeed on the ground in under five seconds.

Afterwards, Dean lay on the ground, chest heaving, the cold ground pressing into his back. Castiel stood over him, impassive.

“You lasted longer than expected,” the angel finally said.

Dean groaned. “That was five seconds of pure humiliation.”

Castiel extended a hand. Dean hesitated, then took it, letting the angel pull him to his feet with ease.

“You are not weak,” Castiel said. “You are unrefined.”

Dean snorted. “Gee, thanks.”

Castiel didn’t smile, but his gaze softened a fraction. “Refinement comes with time. And pain.”

Dean rolled his shoulders, wincing. “Plenty of that going around.”

Castiel turned, gesturing toward the training dummies. “Then let us continue.”  Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

That night, he had an extra long soak in the bathtub, wincing at strained muscles that promised to bother him.  Signe had offered bath salts and then withdrew, Dean having gained privacy during baths some years earlier.  She still sat with Sammy, but allowed Dean to be on his own.  There was a knock at the door and Sammy entered.

“You look….tired,” Sammy ventured, sitting down on the chair Signe occupied during his baths.

“So do you,” Dean countered, sending a tiny splash at his brother, making the younger one giggle.  “And you would hurt too if you went one-on-one with that angel.”  Dean liked Gabriel of course, but had decided that Castiel was a bit of a jerk.  A jerk with wings.  Still, he was eager to learn all he could from the commander.

Sammy swung his legs, watching the steam curl up from the water. “Gabriel said I might start seeing things soon. Not dreams. Visions.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Like prophecy stuff?”

Sammy shrugged. “He said it’s part of the magic. When it gets stronger.”

Dean leaned back, letting the warmth soak into his bones. “Sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” Sammy admitted. “But he said I’ll be okay. He promised.”

Dean glanced at his little brother, noting the faint shadows under his eyes. “You better be. Or I’ll punch an archangel in the face.”

Sammy giggled again. “You’d miss.”

Dean grinned. “Not if I aim for the nose.  Besides, he’s short.”  It was true; even Signe was taller than their lord.

Sammy wrinkled his nose.  “I still think you’d miss it.  And it would be dis–disrefupthal.”

“Disrespectful,” Dean corrected idly.  It was a word Harold certainly used a lot, as in, not being disrespectful.  Dean was very familiar with how to pronounce and spell it.

“Disrespectful,” Sammy repeated, nodding and no doubt committing it to memory.  

“Well, anyway,” Dean shrugged.  “I still don’t like anything hurting you.”

“I don’t like it too, but Gabriel says it's part of growing up.”

“Um…” Dean pondered that for a moment.  He, of course, was growing up, practically a teenager now.  But Sammy still had a long way to go.  His brother was scary smart, and learning magic, but to Dean, Sammy would always be a baby that he protected.  And speaking of which, Dean looked at the clock on the bathroom wall.

“Isn’t it your bedtime?”  Sammy rolled his eyes, which meant yes.  “Go on then.  Signe is waiting, I bet.  I’ll be in later.”

A small snort escaped Sammy.  “If you can get out of the tub,” he teased.  More than once, Dean had gotten a little too comfortable after a long day of training, and made his aches and pains known as he struggled to get out the massive tub.

Another splash was sent Sammy’s way, and this time it found its mark and sent water drops across his pajamas, resulting in a shriek.  “Dean!”

“Sammy,” Dean teased back.  Sammy muttered something about big brothers being stupid and grabbed a towel to dry off, then stomped out.  Dean just chuckled, having no intention of getting out too soon.

He finally made himself leave and made his way into the large bedroom that the brothers still shared.  The room was plenty big enough for both their beds and assorted bookcases, desks, and chairs, plus Sammy’s toys.  Over the years they had decorated it in a variety of styles and posters, their lord providing anything they liked, but both boys liked to keep it pretty simple.

Dean padded into the bedroom, towel slung over his shoulder, hair damp and sticking up in odd directions. Sammy was already under the covers, clutching his stuffed lion—one Gabriel had enchanted to purr when hugged.

“You dry off okay?” Dean asked, tossing his towel onto the back of a chair.

Sammy nodded, yawning. “Mostly. My sleeve’s still soggy.”

Dean smirked. “Battle scars.”

Sammy giggled, then grew quiet. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think Gabriel and Castiel ever get scared?”

Dean paused, surprised. “I dunno. Maybe. Even angels have stuff they don’t understand.”

A soft purr filled the room as Sammy hugged his lion tighter.  “I don’t want to be scared of visions.  Gabriel says he won’t let anything happen, but…” he trailed off, uncertain.

Dean patted Sammy’s hand.  “You know he will keep his promise.  And no one will let anything bad happen.”  He couldn’t help but wonder what was causing this.  Sammy hadn’t had bad dreams for months.

“Ok, if you say so,” Sammy finally said after a moment’s thought.  He knew his brother would never lie to him.

Signe arrived to tuck Sammy in and read him a story, and Dean excused himself to go downstairs.  One of the many advantages of being older was being allowed to sneak some treats before bedtime, so long as Sammy didn’t find out.  Gabriel himself had approved the action, and even Signe allowed it so long as Dean was reasonable in what he feasted on.  It had taken a few stomach aches before Dean learned that he couldn’t eat all the pie in the refrigerator, but he still had one good-sized slice, magic ensuring that there was always fresh pie available.  

He enjoyed his slice of apple pie, and then quietly made his way back upstairs and slipped into the bedroom.  Sammy usually fell asleep quickly, especially after a day of training with their lord, and tonight was no exception.  Signe stayed with him until Dean arrived, then quietly said her goodnights to the older boy, adding a kiss that Dean felt he would never be too old for.  Dean admitted that after his day, he too was ready for bed at a rather alarming early time, but shrugged it off. No one would mind.  He crawled into bed and the invisible servants dimmed the lights, leaving just the lamp in the bathroom on while the many assorted animals that had chosen to bunk with the boys for the night settled in.

Dean lay still, listening to the soft breathing of his brother and the occasional rustle of fur as one of the animals shifted. The lion purred faintly in its sleep, curled beside Sammy like a guardian.

The ceiling above was etched with faint constellations—magical, glowing softly, a gift from Gabriel for nights when dreams felt too heavy.

Dean traced one with his eyes, a shape like a sword, then another like wings.  He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But he knew he’d face it with Sammy at his side, and maybe—just maybe—with enough pie to get through anything.

*****

‘He is surprisingly well trained,’ Castiel conceded.

‘I told you, Cassie, Karl and Harold knew what they were doing.  And Dean’s a tough little rascal.”

‘Yes.  But I assume also some of your involvement, brother.’  Blue eyes gazed at the other being.  ‘You did not tell me that you gave them grace.’

Gabriel winced a little.  ‘I actually didn’t.’

‘I don’t understand.’  Castiel looked at him in confusion.  ‘How could it be otherwise?  Only an archangel can give a human grace.”

‘Right, and we know two archangels who have a special interest in those boys, don’t we?’

There was a long silence, Gabriel munching candy as a way to distract himself from the deadly serious topic.  Castiel just starred, his expression blank.

“How can this be?’ the younger angel finally asked.

‘I think they were born with it, Cassie.  Remember, all sorts of beings manipulated human lives so these two could be born.  Michael and Lucifer must have set something in motion millenia ago.  Granted a drop of grace to someone, or healed them with grace remaining, and it's come down through the line.  But at least it seems our brothers have no idea; if they did, I think they would have taken Dean and Sam at birth.’

Castiel’s expression tightened.  ‘Then the boys are more dangerous than we know.’

‘They are in more danger than we know, Cassie,’ Gabriel shot back.  

‘How long have you known about the grace?’

Gabriel sighed a little, shoving another piece of candy in his mouth.  ‘Since the day I found them,’ he admitted.  “It shown.”

His little brother frowned, looking even more stern than usual.  ‘Then are you certain this has been the right course?’

‘It’s the only course,’ Gabriel said flatly.  ‘I’m not going to stand by and let two innocent kids be hurt.’  He looked at the other being.  ‘Are you still with me, bro?’

Castiel paused, but then nodded.  ‘I have seen what was to be, and agree it was not just.  I stand by my word to protect them, but we must be more careful than ever.’

‘I know.’  Gabriel frowned, snapping his fingers and getting more candy.  ‘But it’s our only chance.”

Castiel stood in silence as Gabriel conjured another handful of candy, the wrappers vanishing into thin air.

“They’ll start to feel it soon,” Gabriel added quietly. “The grace. It’s subtle at first—dreams, instincts, maybe a flicker of light when they’re scared.”

Castiel’s gaze darkened. “And when it’s no longer subtle?”

Gabriel didn’t answer right away. He looked toward the sky, as if searching for solutions in the stars.

“Then we pray they’re ready,” he said. “And that we’ve taught them enough.”

Chapter Text

When Dean hit thirteen, Sammy wasted no time kicking him out of their shared bedroom. “Hormones,” Karl muttered dryly, and Sammy—wise beyond his eight years—declared he knew enough to know he wanted no part of that mess. Gabriel nearly collapsed in laughter, then snapped his fingers and conjured a brand-new room across the hall for the newly moody teenager.

Dean might’ve protested, but one glance at his upgraded digs and he was sold. Gabriel had gone all out: a massive TV, top-tier music gear, and a bathroom twice the size of the one he used to share with Sammy. Sammy slapped a “Keep Out” sign on his own door with dramatic flair, and Dean respected the boundary—especially since his new space was nothing short of epic, even by archangel standards.

Though he’d never admit it out loud, Dean appreciated the privacy. He loved Sammy, would’ve bunked with him forever if needed, but the kid was safe, and this was a golden opportunity for a little independence. Gabriel, ever the showman, grinned as Dean wandered the room, already dreaming up additions.

“Within reason, kiddo,” the archangel said, arms crossed with amusement. It was Dean’s birthday gift, and the teen was brimming with ideas.

“How about a weapons wall?” Dean asked, eyes gleaming. Hunters always kept their favorites close, and he wanted the same. Gabriel sighed, but relented.

“Only because Sammy-wammy’s old enough now,” he said with a snap.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “I dare you to call him that.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Not suicidal, thanks.”

Dean smirked but moved on. “More speakers?”

Another sigh. Another snap. Then a second snap. “Soundproofing added,” Gabriel noted.

Dean’s expression turned serious. “I’ll still be able to hear Sammy, right?”

Gabriel nodded. “Promise. You’ll hear him if he needs you. But he won’t have to suffer through that noise you call music.”

Dean huffed at the jab to his beloved classic rock, but the reassurance mattered more.

Sammy’s nightmares hadn’t stopped, and his visions—though not yet terrifying—were growing more frequent. He knew far too much about the supernatural for someone his age. Monsters hadn’t invaded his dreams yet, but they lurked at the edges.

Thankfully, his ever-growing entourage of animals remained close, acting as guardians. Sammy had even become fluent in their language—or close enough. On a recent trip, when a curious spider wandered too near Dean and triggered a reflexive reach for his weapon, Sammy scolded him with the authority of a seasoned diplomat.  Dean, properly chastised by a seven-year-old, had apologized to the spider and gently relocated it to a tree of its choosing.

That first night, Dean lay sprawled across his new bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The soft hum of the soundproofed walls wrapped around him like a cocoon, and the faint scent of cedar from the magically conjured furniture lingered in the air. The television glowed silently in the corner, paused on a classic monster flick he’d seen a dozen times.

He should’ve felt triumphant. The room was epic—Gabriel had gone all out. But instead, Dean felt... twitchy. Like something was missing.

He rolled over and glanced toward the door, half-expecting Sammy to burst in with a complaint about bedtime or a new animal friend. But the hallway was quiet.

Dean sighed and reached for the remote, but paused when he heard a soft rustle. Not from his room—from across the hall.

He sat up, listening. A muffled whimper. Then a whisper.

Dean was out of bed in seconds, barefoot and silent as he crossed the hall. Sammy’s door was cracked open just enough for moonlight to spill across the floor. Inside, Sammy was curled up under his covers, clutching a stuffed fox to his chest. A squirrel perched protectively on the headboard, eyes glowing faintly.

Dean stepped in quietly. “Nightmare?” he asked, voice low.

Sammy nodded without opening his eyes. “It was dark. And cold. Something was watching you.”

Dean’s stomach tightened. “Me?”

Sammy nodded again. “It had wings. But not like Gabriel’s.”

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, brushing Sammy’s hair back gently. “You’re safe. I’m safe. And if anything tries to mess with us, we’ve got Gabriel, Karl, and a whole zoo of backup.”

The squirrel chittered in agreement.

They sat in silence for a moment, the moonlight painting soft shadows across the room. Then Sammy reached under his pillow and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. A sketch—rough, but unmistakable. A shadowy figure with jagged wings and glowing eyes.

Dean stared at it. “You saw this?”

Sammy nodded. “It didn’t speak. Just watched.”

Dean folded the paper carefully and tucked it into his pocket. “Thanks for showing me. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Sammy yawned and snuggled deeper into his blankets. “You can stay here tonight if you want.”

Dean hesitated, then nodded. “Just for a bit.”

As he settled beside his little brother, the squirrel hopped down and curled up at his feet. Somewhere in the house, Gabriel chuckled softly to himself, sensing the shift.

The room might be new. The space might be separate. But the bond between the brothers? That was unshakable.

*****

Dean woke to the soft chittering of animals and the smell of pancakes—Gabriel’s idea of a “balanced breakfast,” which somehow included whipped cream and chocolate chips. He stretched, blinked at the squirrel still curled up beside him, and glanced at Sammy, who was already awake and sketching furiously in a notebook.

“Morning,” Dean mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Sammy didn’t look up. “It came back.”

Dean sat up. “The winged thing?”

Sammy nodded, flipping the notebook around. This time, the figure was clearer—its wings jagged like broken glass, its eyes glowing with a sickly green hue. Behind it, a swirl of shadowy shapes loomed, indistinct but menacing.

Dean frowned. “You saw more?”

“I think it’s looking for something,” Sammy whispered. “Or someone.”

Dean’s stomach dropped. “Me?”

Sammy hesitated. “Maybe. Or Gabriel.”

Just then, Gabriel popped into the room with a flourish, holding a plate stacked high with pancakes. “Breakfast for the brave!” he announced, then paused when he saw the drawing and his smile faltered.

“You know what that is,” Dean said, standing.

Gabriel sighed and set the plate down. “I was hoping it wouldn’t show up yet.”

Dean crossed his arms. “What is it?”

Gabriel glanced at Sammy, then back at Dean. “It’s called a Harbinger . Old magic. Not evil, exactly—but it shows up when something big is about to change. It watches. It waits. And sometimes... it warns.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “Warns about what?”

Gabriel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked to the window and looked out at the morning light. “You’re growing up, Dean. And Sammy’s powers are growing with you. The Harbinger might be drawn to that. Or it might be drawn to something else entirely.”

Sammy looked up, wide-eyed. “Is it dangerous?”

Gabriel turned, his expression unusually serious. “Only if ignored.”

Dean stepped forward. “Then we won’t ignore it.”

Gabriel smiled faintly. “Good. Because I think it’s just the beginning.”  He shook his head, and his smile grew larger.  “Alright, now eat up before Signe discovers I let you eat pancakes in bed.  And Cassie is waiting for you, Oh Teenager.  I think he has something really special planned for today since he was Mr. Nice Guy and let you take your birthday off training.”

Dean grumbled and rolled his eyes, but went to work demolishing his share of pancakes before changing into clothing suitable for an angelic beating at hand-to-hand combat.

Later that evening, Dean sprawled across his new bed, flipping through a catalog Gabriel had conjured —“Celestial Interiors: For the Discerning Hunter.” He snorted at the name but circled a few items anyway that Signe, Harold, and Karl had promised to provide as their birthday gift. A mini fridge. A punching bag. Maybe a lava lamp, just for the aesthetic.

Across the hall, Sammy was curled up with a fox and two cats nestled at his side and a barn owl perched on the headboard. He was sketching something in his notebook—another dream, maybe. Dean kept his door cracked, just enough to hear if Sammy stirred. The soundproofing was good, but Gabriel had kept his promise: Dean could still hear the soft rustle of pages and Sammy’s occasional whisper to one of the animals.

A sudden knock made Dean sit up. Gabriel leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Kid’s drawing again,” he said quietly. “This one’s got symbols I haven’t seen in centuries.”

Dean frowned. “Is it dangerous?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Not yet. But it’s powerful. He’s channeling something ancient. Might be time to teach him a few more protective wards.”

Dean nodded, already mentally preparing to brush up on his own sigils. “He’s just a kid.”

Gabriel’s expression softened. “He’s your kid brother. And that makes him stronger than most.”

Dean glanced toward Sammy’s room, where the fox had now curled protectively around the boy’s feet while the cats settled into various warm spots. “I’ll keep him safe.”

“I know,” Gabriel said. “But you’re not alone. You’ve got help.”

Dean didn’t respond, but the weight of those words settled over him like armor. He wasn’t just a big brother anymore—he was a guardian, a partner in something bigger than either of them understood yet.

*****

To Dean’s relief, the following months passed in peace—no sign of the Harbinger, no ominous dreams. Sammy confirmed it hadn’t returned to his visions and seemed content to shrug it off. Life resumed its gentle rhythm, though Dean couldn’t shake the sense that storm clouds loomed on the horizon.

Gabriel and Castiel spent long hours with Dean, unraveling the tangled history of Lucifer and the celestial upheaval that had rippled through Heaven and Hell. The second archangel, they assured him, posed no direct threat to the boys. Still, Lucifer was real—and so were demons. Dean absorbed the revelations with quiet resolve. It made sense: if angels walked the earth, their darker counterparts surely did too. He listened intently, memorizing every detail, and threw himself into training with renewed purpose.

At thirteen, Dean was finally deemed ready. Gabriel, Castiel, and Karl took him on his first real hunt. Years of practice with illusionary creatures conjured by angelic grace had prepared him well, but this was different—this was the real world. The mission was a standard salt-and-burn, a restless spirit laid to rest. Dean returned to the estate exhausted, caked in dirt, muscles sore from grave digging, but grinning with pride.

The estate was quiet when Dean returned, the sun dipping low behind the trees, casting long shadows across the gravel drive. His boots crunched with each step, heavy with dried mud. The ghost had been a simple case—tragic, but straightforward. Still, the adrenaline hadn’t worn off. His heart beat with the rhythm of something new: pride.

Sammy was waiting, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe like he’d been there for hours. “You look like you crawled out of a swamp,” he said.

Dean grinned. “Close. Graveyard.”

Sammy wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

Dean stepped forward and wrapped his little brother in a bear hug, ignoring the protests. “You missed it, man. It was awesome. Real ghost. Real grave. Real shovel.”

Sammy squirmed, trying to escape. “You smell like dead things!”

“Authentic hunter aroma,” Dean teased, smearing a streak of dirt across Sammy’s cheek. “You’ll get used to it.”

They wrestled in the hallway, laughter echoing off the walls. For a moment, it was just two brothers being kids—no angels, no demons, no looming threats. Just joy.

Later, after the scolding and the cleanup, Dean sat on the edge of his bed, towel around his neck, hair damp from a quick shower. Castiel appeared silently in the doorway, his trench coat fluttering slightly despite the still air.

“You did well,” the angel said.

Dean looked up. “Thanks. It felt...right.”

Castiel stepped inside, his gaze thoughtful. “You are growing into your purpose. But remember, hunting is not just about skill. It’s about heart. Mercy. Judgment.”

Dean nodded slowly. “I get it. It’s not just about killing things.”

“No,” Castiel said. “It’s about protecting what matters.”

Across the hall, Sammy’s laughter drifted as he played with a dog, Signe for once not enforcing a strict bedtime. Dean listened for a moment, then turned back to Castiel.

“I’ll protect him,” Dean said quietly. “No matter what.”

Castiel’s expression softened. “I know.”

The next morning Sammy sat cross-legged on the grass, brow furrowed, watching Dean spar with Castiel. The older boy moved with precision, his wooden blade slicing through the air in practiced arcs. Dean blocked, ducked, and countered—his movements sharp, but still learning.

“You’re stiff,” Castiel said, circling. “Loosen your shoulders. You’re not a statue.”

Dean grunted, adjusting his stance, not wanting to admit he was indeed sore after the previous nights hunt. “I’m trying not to get my head knocked off.”

Sammy giggled from the sidelines. “You kinda look like a scarecrow.”

Dean shot him a look. “You’re next, mophead.”  Sammy had started simple self-defense training at age five, and graduated to wooden weapons at seven.  He now took his turn with training, practicing with his brother, Karl, or Harold while Castile supervised.

Sammy’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

Dean tossed him a padded stick. “Come on, little bro. Time to earn your stripes.”

Sammy hesitated, then stood. “Fine. But if I break something, it’s your fault.”

They squared off, laughter bubbling between them. Sammy swung wildly, missing by a mile, and Dean caught him in a gentle lock, flipping him onto the grass with exaggerated flair.

“Ow!” Sammy groaned, sprawled dramatically. “I’m dying.”

“You’re fine,” Dean said, offering a hand. “Lesson one: don’t announce your defeat before the fight starts.”

From the edge of the yard, Gabriel watched silently. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by a distant look. When Dean noticed, he walked over, brushing dirt from his shirt.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

Gabriel blinked, as if pulled from a deep thought. “Yeah. Just... remembering.”

“Something bad?”

Gabriel hesitated. “Something old. Heaven wasn’t always war and politics. There was joy once. Laughter, goofing around with your brothers. Like you and Sammwich.”

Dean tilted his head. “Do you miss it?”

Gabriel gave a half-smile. “I miss what we were—before we forgot how to love.”

Dean didn’t respond. He simply stood there, shoulder to shoulder with an archangel, watching Sammy laugh as a bird chased him across the field.

“Don’t lose that,” Gabriel said softly. “The world will try to take it from you.”

Dean nodded, his gaze drifting inward. He suspected more than the adults ever said. Gratitude lived in him—no doubt about that—but it shared space with quiet questions. Angels, demons, monsters… he knew enough to sense that not everything added up. Life here was good. Almost perfect. But Dean had seen too much to believe perfection came without a price.

Why them? Why this life?

Their parents had died—and yet somehow, he and Sammy had ended up in the care of an archangel, an angel garrison commander, and three humans who treated them like family. Signe, Karl, Harold… they had never been anything but kind. Protective. Loving.

Harold jogged over to coach Sammy on some technique, his smile warm and unguarded. Dean felt a stab of guilt for his suspicions. His earliest clear memory was Signe helping him, followed by Harold’s steady presence and Karl’s guidance. They had always been there. Always safe.

And Gabriel and Castiel? They were no different. Castiel could be stern, sure—but Dean trusted him with his life. Sternness was a small price to pay for Sammy’s safety.

Dean could live with that.

Dean lingered beside Gabriel, the breeze tugging gently at his jacket. Sammy’s laughter rang out again, high and clear, as he collapsed into the grass with Harold beside him. The bird fluttered away, mission accomplished.

Gabriel watched them with a distant look, as if seeing something far beyond the field.

“You ever wonder,” Dean said quietly, “if this is all borrowed time?”

Gabriel didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed fixed on Sammy, on Harold’s easy smile, on the golden light spilling across the yard.

“All time is borrowed,” he said finally. “But some debts are worth carrying.”

Dean nodded, unsure if he understood, but feeling the truth of it anyway. The world was vast and strange, full of things he couldn’t name and fears he couldn’t voice. But here, in this moment, there was laughter. There was warmth.

And maybe that was enough.

Signe’s voice called from the porch. “Dinner.”

Gabriel clapped Dean lightly on the shoulder. “Go on. Before Signe threatens to withhold dessert.”

Dean smirked and turned toward the house. Sammy was already racing ahead, Harold chasing after him like a big brother who’d never grown up.

Dean followed, the weight of his questions still there—but lighter now. Not gone. Just… quieter.

For now.

Chapter Text

When Dean turned fourteen, he began driving lessons in the Impala—his beloved “Baby,” christened years before with reverence. Sammy scoffed at the whole affair, but never missed a chance to hitch a ride.

Harold and Karl took turns teaching Dean, while Gabriel conjured empty roads around the estate for practice. Dean drove with care—mostly. There were plenty of moments he floored it, but never with Sammy in the car, and always with permission.

“You ought to build a racetrack, my lord,” Karl said dryly to Gabriel one afternoon as they returned from a lesson.  Dean had pushed the engine and Karl swore he had whiplash.

Castiel stood nearby, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the vehicle. He’d never understood humanity’s attachment to machines.

“It’s hardly safe,” he muttered.

Gabriel waved him off. “Relax, bro. This one’s enchanted. Nothing can hurt anyone inside it. And no matter how hard Dean-o tries, he can’t hit a thing.”

Karl raised an eyebrow. “He tries very hard,” he assured their lord.

Castiel nodded solemnly. He’d joined a few drives before deciding he wanted nothing more to do with the car—or the teenager behind the wheel.

“I trust your wards, brother,” Castiel said, “but I’ll add my own grace. One cannot be too careful.”

Gabriel looked wounded. “Hello? Archangel here.”

Castiel nodded again, oblivious to the sarcasm.

Dean, meanwhile, was grinning as he checked Baby’s trunk, admiring the hidden compartment for weapons.

When Dean was old enough, Gabriel produced a driver’s license—perfectly legal, perfectly forged and Dean memorized every detail. Soon, they ventured into the real world, taking turns as passengers while Dean drove them in small groups. Sammy was thrilled. Castiel and Karl looked resigned. Harold and Gabriel were enthusiastic. Signe withheld judgment.

“Hunters travel by car,” Castiel conceded one night over dinner. “I see how it is logical. They must move quickly and carry weapons. As much as I disapprove, I agree that Dean—and eventually Samuel—must learn to drive.”

Sammy perked up. “When do I get a car?”

“Never, pipsqueak,” Dean said instantly.

“Hey!” Sammy protested.

“I’ve no doubt Samuel will be the safer driver,” Castiel added.

“Hey!” Dean echoed, offended.

Castiel turned to him, eyes narrowed. “Yesterday, you swerved onto an unpaved road for a ‘shortcut’ that nearly sent the vehicle in a ditch.”

“ Nearly ,” Dean pointed out. “Just nearly. No way I’d let Baby go into a ditch.”

Blue eyes regarded the teen.  “You have an unhealthy attachment to that vehicle,” Castiel stated.  

“It’s a bond you’ll never understand,” Dean agreed.  Sammy rolled his eyes, sharing a smile with Signe.

Dean had been spending more time out in the real world lately—hunting, exploring, and meeting up with friends who were starting their own forays into the supernatural. It felt good. Not just the thrill of the chase, but the quiet satisfaction of independence. He still had Castiel with him all of the time, and either Karl or Harold tagging along, but the leash was longer now. He could breathe.

He was learning to navigate the real world: gas stations with flickering lights, diners that smelled like burnt coffee and secrets, and the occasional motel with a haunted room or two. And then there were the girls. Dean had worried, once, that his sheltered upbringing might make him awkward or weird. But he found, to his quiet relief, that he was doing just fine. A wink here, a well-timed joke there—he was cool. At least, that’s what girls told him. And he believed them.  He knew Castiel was always watching him somehow, but Dean usually managed to sneak away for a bit of kissing (and sometimes even a bit more) on most hunts.  

Alas, the great love of his life, Helen, was no longer his. She had chosen to chase a dream: a shot at the Olympics in archery. Everyone supported her, including Dean. One day, she would return to the hunt—but for now, she was training for something else entirely, and he wished her nothing but success.

They had parted on friendly terms, especially after an awkward pre-teen kiss had revealed a startling truth: there were no sparks. In fact, it felt disturbingly like kissing a sibling. They shook hands instead.

Back home, Sammy was growing fast. Taller, sharper, and more powerful by the day. Gabriel and Castiel had explained that Sam would be a hunter too, but with different strengths. Magic came naturally to him—sigils, wards, incantations. Still, he had to learn defense, just as Dean was tackling small spells for his own safety and guarding. They were being shaped into a team, and Dean felt a quiet pride every time he saw his little brother practicing in the courtyard, brow furrowed, lips moving in concentration.

Castiel had recently revealed that he was staying with the brothers permanently. Dean hadn’t expected how much that would mean to him. Cas had always been the stern instructor, the one who corrected his stance and barked orders during training. But lately, something had shifted. Dean was older now, more confident, and Castiel had started treating him less like a student and more like a partner. A friend.

Not that Cas had gone soft. He was still a strict pain in the ass. But Dean respected him. He wanted to learn, and he knew Castiel was the best. Still, he figured he could get him to loosen up one of these days. Maybe Gabriel could help. The trickster angel had a way of poking holes in Cas’s stoicism, and Dean was more than happy to encourage it.

One evening, after a successful salt-and-burn in a forgotten mining town, Dean sat on the hood of the Impala, watching the stars blink into view. Castiel stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes scanning the horizon like he expected trouble to rise from the earth.

“You ever relax?” Dean asked, tossing a pebble into the darkness.

“I am relaxed,” Castiel replied, deadpan.

Dean snorted. “That’s your relaxed face? No wonder people think you’re terrifying.”

Castiel turned to him, expression unreadable. “I am not terrifying. I am efficient.”

Dean grinned. “Same thing.”

They sat in silence for a while, the kind that felt comfortable. The kind that meant trust.

Back at the estate, Sammy was practicing a new warding spell under Gabriel’s watchful eye when Dean, Castile, and the Impala blinked back. The sigil in front of Sam flared brighter than expected, and Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“Kid’s got juice,” he muttered to his brother and Dean. “Get’s more powerful every day.”

Sammy beamed, cheeks flushed. He couldn’t wait to join Dean out there. To be part of the team. To face the world together.

Dean knew it was coming. The day they’d hunt side by side. And when it did, they’d be unstoppable.

*****

*****

Dean sailed through obtaining his high school diploma when he was sixteen, thanks to over a decade of Harold’s tutoring.  Gabriel and Harold both insisted that Dean take university classes now, and he was enrolled at college where he settled into a day student life, whisked back home each evening when he was not needed for a hunt.  An airtight story and paperwork background had been established for him, presenting Dean as a gifted student (which he was) who was staying in town with family since he was too young to stay in the dorms.  He was thrilled to be allowed to drive Baby around the campus and town, and quickly settled in.

He found he enjoyed college life, making friends among other young students.  Dean had long practice of living a double life, having to conceal things, and he had no difficulty posing as a student by day, and then being a hunter at night.  He knew that Cas was always watching him, but the angel had learned a bit of discretion, and let Dean be a teenager.  Even though he didn’t understand it.

And the Heaven’s garrison commander proved to be a pain at times.

“Dean.”  Castile knocked on the car door once before opening it, even though the doors were locked.  “We are needed.”

“Jesus, Cas!” Dean shouted, scrambling and torn as to what to do.  To her credit, the young lady he was kissing stayed much more calm and collected as Castiel regarded her.

“Hello, my name is Castiel.  I am Dean’s uncle,” Cas said, using the cover story they had developed.  Cas was working on some basic people introduction skills.

“Oh hi.  I’m Julie,” the girl said, nonchalantly reaching for her shirt and pulling it on.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yes.” Cas said simply, looking expectantly at Dean, who was trying to find his own shirt, digging frantically around the Impala’s back seat.  “Dean, we will take this young lady to her home, and then we must leave.”  He got in the passenger seat, looking over his shoulder expectantly at the two teens.  Julie was cool, but Dean was turning at least a dozen different shades of red and still fumbling with his own T-shirt.

“Do you require assistance, Dean?” the angel asked.  “Miss Julie helped to take your shirt off; perhaps she can assist you in putting it back on?”

Julie giggled while Dean recited every cuss word in every language that he knew under his breath.  It was a long list.  Gabriel had proven to be an excellent teacher when he was focused on a task.

Cas blinked. “That language is not appropriate for this situation.”

Dean groaned, finally dragging the shirt over his head.  He noticed that Cas was settled in the passenger seat and raised his eyebrow.  “Seriously, Cas?” he grumbled, gesturing at Julie.  

Cas blinked.  “Oh, my apologies,” he said.  He got out, and before Dean could move, got into the driver’s seat.  “Seatbelts,” he prompted the teens, before starting the engine.  Only the fact that Cas was technically his commander kept him from launching the angel out of Baby with righteous fury. Driving the Impala was sacred. This was blasphemy. 

They dropped Julie off with all the grace of a military extraction. Cas allowed exactly forty seconds for a goodbye and then barked the order to return to the car. Dean muttered curses under his breath, but Julie just smiled, kissed his cheek, and told him to call her. She found the whole thing hilarious. Dean, however, was convinced he’d been emotionally scarred for life.

Later, Gabriel nearly collapsed from laughter when he heard the story.

“Always knew you were a cock block, little bro,” he wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes.

Castiel tilted his head, thoughtful. “It had not progressed to penetrative intercourse,” he said. “I checked.”

Dean froze. “You what?!”

“I checked,” Cas repeated, utterly unfazed. “Therefore, I was not a ‘cock block’.” He even used air quotes.

Dean did the only mature thing he could think of—he bolted to his room and activated every ward he knew to keep angels out. Gabriel laughed harder. Cas looked confused. Dean considered changing his name and moving to another dimension.

Eventually, he recovered. Cas swore never to interrupt a date again without cause. Dean made him sign a napkin as a binding contract.

Dean chose to study engineering—something practical, something he could tinker with when he needed a break from the supernatural and divine. He thought about moving into the dorms when he turned eighteen, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t work. His life was too strange, too layered with celestial politics and monster hunts.

Gabriel, ever the dramatic benefactor, snapped a mansion into existence to support their cover story. Dean didn’t complain. The place had a fridge that restocked itself. He even slept there sometimes, but Signe put down her foot and rejected the idea of house parties, making even their lord acquiesce to her wishes.  It was too dangerous to have teenage civilians in a home with weapons everywhere.

Sammy visited often, always under Castiel’s watchful eye. The younger Winchester was on track to graduate high school even earlier than his brother, and Dean couldn’t have been prouder. The university Gabriel and Harold had picked for Dean would suit Sam too, and the kid was already sneaking into lectures and dissecting course catalogs like they were ancient texts.

Puberty hit Sam when he turned fifteen like a divine growth spurt. One morning, he was taller than Dean. Just like that. Dean’s ego took an initial hit, but he swallowed it—mostly. He started calling Sam the “jolly green giant,” and Signe reminded him of the time he’d insisted Sam was “tiny and not big.” Dean privately admitted he’d been wrong. Publicly, he denied it with every fiber of his being.

Along with physical height, Sam’s powers grew.  Since he’d turned thirteen he’d been allowed to observe Dean and Cas on hunts, Karl or Harold always with the younger brother.  When he was fourteen, he did his own salt and burn while Dean drank a beer and criticized his shoveling technique.  Sam scowled, and sent a clump of mud at his brother, using magic to hit his target.

“That’s cheating!” Dean objected when he was done complaining about his hair being messed up.

“Nah, I’d say that’s fair,” Gabriel decided, sipping his own fruity drink.  Castiel was just standing by the grave, watching Sam intently.  “He gets to use his powers for this.”

“Jealous?” Sam taunted his brother.  Dean snorted.

“Of you?  Nope.”  Sam narrowed his eyes, and suddenly Dean found himself up in a tree and all the beer was gone.  “Sammy!”

“Fair is fair,” Sam shot back. 

The brothers ended up having a half-serious wrestling match, and Castiel had to break it up when they both rolled into the opened grave.

Chapter Text

Sam joined Dean at college at the age of fifteen, and quickly threw himself into the academic life - or as much as he was allowed at his young age.   Dean found it all very good, glad that his baby brother was happy and learning.  Sam had always taken well to their unique life, but at the same time Dean knew Sam had craved more normalcy.  They had a loving and secure life, but it was far from normal.

Sam did what he could though to be normal; it was difficult being both a kid genius in college and a secret witch who hunted monsters with his brother, and was brought up by an archangel.  Still, he managed some typical milestones.  It turned out that Julie had a little sister, Jess, who told her parents one night that she had met a college student, and even worse, it was the brother of Dean Winchester.  Enter again stern Uncle Castiel, who assured the worried parents that Sam had no intentions toward their daughter other than an afternoon G rated movie and a hamburger.  Even Dean frowned in agreement, convinced that Sam was far too young for much of anything.

Including hunting, although Dean had to admit Sam could take care of himself in most cases.  

Between them, the brothers had racked up an impressive resume by the time Sam turned sixteen.  Vampires, check.  Werewolves, check.  Ghosts of all kinds, check. Assorted spirits of the dark, check.  Even a few demons, check.

The demons were the worst by far.  Gabriel and Castiel had prepared the brothers well, but it was still pretty unnerving at times.  They knew Lucifer was real, of course, and so were all the possible demons at his call.  Castiel refused to say much of anything about the fallen archangel and even Dean knew better than to ask Gabriel.

Things continued well, Dean and Sam splitting time between college and hunting, continuing to enjoy their home with Signe, Harold, and Karl.  Dean broke up with Julie on friendly terms, and moved on to other ladies demanding his attention.  Sam rolled his eyes and muttered about his brother, the horn dog, which confused Castiel.

“Dean is not a dog,” the commander observed.  Sam rolled his eyes again and stuck his nose back in a book while Dean smirked.  

Dean had long accepted his role as a hunter. It was in his blood, and he and Sam were a team—always had been, always would be. Sam, on the other hand, had always craved something more... something normal. But even he had come to terms with the life they led. He’d admitted that using his powers for good felt right, and despite everything, he was happy.

Dean understood Sam’s longing. He knew his brother sometimes dreamed of a life untouched by monsters and magic. But Dean figured that was just another teenage phase for his brother.  Harmless. Dreams didn’t hurt anyone.

Their lives were full. Rich with purpose, laughter, and love. They had a family—one forged in fire and grace. Hell, they were practically adopted by an archangel. How many people could say that?

Dean considered them lucky. Blessed, even. They had everything they needed.

There was nothing to worry about.

Except, maybe, the silence that had started creeping in at night. The way Castiel had been avoiding eye contact lately. Or the flicker in Sam’s eyes when he thought no one was watching—like something was waking up inside him.

Dean didn’t dwell on it. Not yet.  The time might come, but not right now.

****************

****************

****************

One Year Later……

They were trudging through the downpour, the abandoned church looking like a ghost on the outskirts of a nowhere-town. Rain poured down in freezing waves, soaking Dean to the bone—and naturally, he was silently cursing the weather.

Why was it always raining when they hunted demons? Why not sunshine? Or hell, a beach? Why did evil never lurk somewhere with decent lighting and a cold beer?

Beside him, Sam let out a grunt, his mouth twitching in what suspiciously resembled a smirk. Dean halted mid-step and shot him a glare.

“You better not be doing it again,” he growled.

Sam blinked. “Doing what?” he asked innocently.

“That thing. Checking out my mind.” Dean jabbed a finger at his younger brother. “I swear to God, if you’re poking around in my head again—”

“I’m not!” Sam snapped, his voice cracking with teenage indignation. He looked every bit the moody seventeen-year-old he was, arms crossed and eyes rolling like it was his full-time job.

Mind reading was a new trick in Sam’s arsenal—unpredictable, erratic, and far from mastered. Sometimes it fizzled out entirely; other times, it cut through thoughts with unnerving clarity. Dean had made his stance crystal clear: stay the hell out of his head. Sam usually responded with a glare and a muttered, “There’s nothing worth reading in there anyway.”

Even Gabriel refused to help, brushing off Sam’s questions with a grim look and a cryptic, “Too soon.” Castiel, for his part, grew even more silent and glaring whenever the topic surfaced, which was truly saying something.

So yeah—Dean was pretty sure Sam was practicing behind everyone’s backs.

“You know you’re not supposed to do that,” Dean muttered, his voice low and edged with warning.

Sam snorted. “Oh, and you’re such a poster boy for following orders?”

Dean’s scowl deepened. No, he didn’t follow all orders. Hell, just ask Cas.  Only the orders that made sense. And this mind-reading thing—this invasive, half-baked power—made zero sense. Which was a high bar indeed, considering they were two brothers raised by an archangel with a candy addiction and babysat by a celestial being with highly questionable social skills.  Thank God for Signe, Harold, and Karl.  Dean figured he and Sammy would be truly warped if not for them.

But back to the matter at hand.  “Can it, Sammy,” he barked.  He was going to continue, giving a proper lecture, but then Castiel zapped in beside them, having gone ahead to scout.

“Two demons,” he reported, his angel blade steady as always in his hand.  “Mid-level; in human vessels.  You have encountered ones of this power before, but as always be careful.”  He frowned, and Dean tilted his head a little.

“What’s up?” he asked, making sure his own blade was ready.  Beside him, Sam had already shifted to focus on his spells, his lips slightly moving as he began to whisper new incantations at Castiel’s report.  Demons in human vessels required different spells, especially since there was always hope they could save the person possessed.

“I do not know,” Castiel said slowly, his blue eyes focused on something only he could see.  “I sense nothing, but there is some feeling that I cannot track.  Some near emotion in the air.  It is irritating.”

Dean raised an eyebrow in agreement.  Cas didn’t exactly talk about feelings anytime, let alone claim there was some feeling in the air.  Huh.  “Yeah, well, keep track of that,” he muttered, focusing back on his weapons.  

Castiel stared at Dean, eyes narrowed, silent. Over the years, their relationship had subtly evolved. Castiel, ancient beyond comprehension, remained unchanged by time—but Dean had grown. Eleven years older now than when they first met, he carried the weight of experience, and with it, a quiet maturity. What had once been a dynamic of tutor and student had shifted into something more equal: a friendship forged in fire and trust.

Castiel had come to agree that Dean was no longer a child by human standards, and Dean, for all his stubbornness, had learned to accept that there was still much he didn’t know. In the end, when it came to training and hunting, Dean respected the angel’s vast wisdom and experience, and Castiel respected Dean’s unshakable instincts.

Dean knew privately that he and Sam had begun as a duty for Castiel; something that he more or less had been assigned to.  But he liked to think that over the past years he and Cas had become friends.  He knew eleven years wasn’t even a blink of time to the angel, but Dean had known Castiel for more than half his life now, and Castiel had learned much about humans, accepting what they brought to the universe, and respecting Dean’s abilities and fierce loyalty.

Castiel stood motionless, his brow furrowed as he stared into the rain like it might offer answers. “So what is this feeling?” Dean asked, breaking the silence as they resumed their slow march toward the church. 

“I do not know,” Castiel muttered, clearly frustrated. “And that is the most troubling part. Emotions are... peculiar.” Dean gave a half-shrug, adjusting the grip on his blade. 

“Ain’t that the truth.” Beside them, Sam exhaled sharply, trying to refocus.

As they neared the entrance, Dean halted—habit now more than caution. “Sam?” he prompted. 

“Two beings,” Sam confirmed, nodding toward Castiel. “I can sense their presence, but that’s it. No clue what they’re doing. Feels like standard magic... maybe stronger,” he admitted. “But I can’t hear any spells.” 

Dean nodded grimly. “They’ve been killing kids. So stay sharp—they won’t hesitate. And the bodies we’ve found? All blade wounds. They’re armed.” 

Castiel grunted. “I sensed little magic. I suspect their strength comes from the souls they’ve harvested. Sam’s magic will help, but we may need blades to finish this. They’re more Earth-bound than most.” 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, eyes narrowing. “I feel what you’re talking about. Something’s being blocked—but it doesn’t feel magical.” 

Dean tightened his grip. “Then we’re good. Let’s go to work.”

This was the part Dean lived for—taking down monsters that preyed on the innocent. Especially kids. This was the family business. And he didn’t just believe in it. He relished it.

They approached the church, and entered silently, all on watch.  Then all Hell broke loose.