Blessings in Disguise
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or Buffy. That’s Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke.
Author’s Note: This should be read after ‘Chapter Forty: Of Jinxes and Other Nonsensical Things’ from A Watcher’s Charming Adventure. This will make sense but it still ties into that story.
Sam really sort of wished that whatever had crawled up Dean’s ass and died? Would just move the fuck on. Seriously, he’d seen poltergeists less pissy.
Dean stomped to the Impala, Sam trailing, long suffering, along behind him. They swung into the car simultaneously and Dean slammed his door hard enough to rock the car. Jesus, he was even willing to take it out on his baby. As the car revved to life, though, a thready wail rose up behind them and they both twisted to look in the backseat.
The guns that had miraculously appeared in their hands froze at the sight that reached them.
“Sam,” Dean said with this awful calm. “Sam, tell me there aren’t babies in our backseat.”
Sam’s jaw flapped for a minute and he said, “Maybe we’re hallucinating? We’re being tortured and we’re hallucinating your worst nightmare.”
Dean shot him a pissy look. “Babies are not my worst nightmare.”
Sam smirked, even though he knew exactly what Dean’s worst nightmare was. “Oh, come on. All those women you’ve slept with. You don’t have bad dreams about one of them dropping a baby off on your doorstep?”
Dean smirked. “Sammy, that’s why I always keep moving.” The guns were tucked away, even as they never turned away from the babies in the backseat. “One of us has to look for some kind of note.”
Sam raised his eyebrows at him, even as the wailing in the backseat grew louder. “Odds say that they’re yours. You check.”
Dean grimaced at him but reached for the first baby and started feeling around its blankets for some kind of note. “You could check one of the other ones.”
Sam grinned. “I’m standing guard in case they’re shapeshifters and they go for your face.”
Dean jerked in his seat, hands pulling automatically away from the wriggling infant, before he scowled at Sam and hissed, “Bitch.”
“Un uh,” Sam said, and, okay, maybe he was enjoying himself a little more than he was supposed to be. “Language, Dean.”
Scowling, Dean turned to the second baby and gave a triumphant, “Ha!,” as he pulled a letter out of its blankets. He twisted in the seat, letter in hand, and said, “I checked for the note, you pick up the screaming kid.”
Sam frowned but fair was fair. He picked up the screamer gingerly, almost dropping it when it arched in his hands, wailing ratcheting up a little. He quickly shifted so that he was cradling it. The baby didn’t seem to like that, either.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean snarled and smacked the steering wheel.
“Dean?” Sam said over the crying kid. Really, how was it still breathing? He was getting a headache.
“Anna,” Dean said, eyes sliding to the infant in Sam’s arms before turning to the ones still slumbering in the backseat.
“As in fallen angel Anna?” Sam asked, eyebrows trying to crawl off his face.
Dean gripped the steering wheel but nodded. “She says they’re miracles.”
“Well, since angels don’t really have reproductive parts, yeah they’re miracles,” Sam said, glad that whatever the kid’s deal was, it was finally starting to taper off with the screaming. Jesus.
Dean glowered at him. “She had the right parts when she was on Earth, you douche.”
Sam cupped his hand around little it’s head, covering its ears. “Seriously, dude, watch your language.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Like they’re not going to hear worse if we keep them.”
“Oh, who are we going to give half Winchester, half angel babies to, huh Dean?” Sam snapped.
He knew what Dean was thinking. They were hunters and their lifestyle didn’t lend itself to raising kids. He also knew that Dean was trying to think about anything other than the babies right at this moment. Family was family and it didn’t matter how weird it got, Dean wasn’t the sort to toss a kid by the wayside, even if it came as a huge surprise.
“We’re not getting rid of them,” Dean snapped back and Sam didn’t breath a sigh of relief. Something was still going on in Dean’s head. “We just have to figure out who can take them while we’re…busy.”
“What did Anna say?” Sam said, soothing a hand over the baby’s slightly bald head. He didn’t doubt that she would know that Dean wasn’t going to give up his kids or his lifestyle. She seemed like the type to prepare for that eventuality. At least, human Anna had been. Who knew what angel Anna was thinking. Angels were weird like that.
Dean ran the letter through his hands. “She says there’s a place, in San Francisco. With hunters and warriors for the light.” Sam snorted and Dean scowled at him. “I’m just telling you what she said.” He glanced at the baby, then said, “I was thinking we could get Bobby to go with us, check it out. Maybe have Ellen take the babies while we’re checking into it.”
“She’s not going to do it,” Sam countered, grip tightening a little. “Ellen always expected hunters to be accountable for their little issues. She’s not going to take care of them while we run off to check out some place.”
Dean nodded, hands wringing the steering wheel. “I know. I just thought…maybe.”
“We’ll get Bobby and we’ll all go and he can stay with the babies while you and I go look at this place,” Sam said, then frowned. “What is this place?”
Dean glanced at the baby again, now sleeping peacefully against Sam’s chest. “The North American Watcher’s Council Branch.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Well, that’s just…”
If that was Anna’s best idea, they were screwed. All hunters knew of the Council. All hunters knew that the Council? Was the big leagues. Sam glanced down at the baby that had its little hand wrapped tight around his finger. Then again, they were talking angel-Winchester babies. Maybe they’d shifted from one on one to the big leagues. They had sort of started the apocalypse, after all.
Sam looked at Dean, who was staring at the baby. “They’re two girls and a boy,” Dean said out of thin air before looking Sam in the eye. “As much as I don’t know about kids, I don’t know even more about raising girls.” He waggled the letter a little. “And the Watcher’s Councils’ main army is made up of…”
“Slayers,” Sam nodded. “Girls, in other words.”
Dean nodded, smoothing out the letter. “Maybe they’ll help us.”
Sam traced a finger over little its tiny little fist. “It’s worth a shot.”