Dean bopped his head to Zeppelins’ ‘rambelin’ on’. The sun had bleached his dark blonde hair a lighter shade. His porcelain skin had a golden tan. He looked healthy for the first time in months. He felt good, his belly was full, and he was rockin’ the tunes. It had been a great week.

He smiled as he slipped the last bolt into place. This was amazing; he had totally rebuilt her engine in five days. Batman who? He laughed to himself. They were at Bobby’s, they had a week off from hunting, not because the demons took a holiday, Dean and Sam did. They refused to chase anything for seven days. Bobby and their dad, John, reluctantly joined them. They sat in the yard drinking and working on the car.

Dean was happy, for now. Sam, Bobby, and John stood around the grill laughing. They were literally watching the paint dry. While he worked on his baby, they painted Bobby’s old house. White with black trim, not the most original colors, but that’s what his surrogate uncle wanted. They even put in window boxes so he could grow his own herbs. Who knew Bobby was so gay?

Dean loved having his family back together just being men. They could scratch their balls and fart all day long no one would say anything.  He refused to think about his Mom, Cassie, Jessica, or Kathy, Bobby’s wife. He was not going to think about the bad times. He just wanted to live in the moment. He was going to relish these good times no matter how long they lasted. Satisfied he closed her hood.

“Purr for me baby.” He started the car again and laughed when she came to life smooth as a kitten.

“She sounds good.” Freshly shaven, John leaned into the window. “Thinking about going to the Roadhouse and playing some pool, wanna come with?”

“Yeah, let me get cleaned up.”

John watched his eldest son run into the house. He had not seen him this happy in years. The elder hunter felt another twinge of guilt. He had simply meant to avenge Mary’s death not drag his boys through this hell. Dean lost Cassie and their children. Sam watched as Jessica burned on the ceiling. If he had stopped hunting when the demon was dead then they would have a better life. Sam could be in school. Dean would be playing little league with his own boy. They could be doing anything, anything but this.

Dean hurried into the small room he was using as a bedroom. The laughter faded from his eyes when he stood in front of the gold and silver urn he kept with him. He spent a fortune on it. More than he could afford. How do you do to honor your wife, more than he had, but he did his best and Cassie would know that. He spoke to them every day. He told them about his day, how hard it was without them. His son, Dean Jr., would have been five in a few days. His little girl Stephanie would be three.  

Dean fingered the picture he kept next to the urn. Cassie demanded they have a professional photo done. She wore a cream sun dress and gold sandals. Her hands emphasized her swollen belly. He sat next to her, his arms wrapped around their light haired infant son, D. J. They both wore cream suits with dark green shirts. They were smiling. The studio lights glittered off his wedding band, taunting him. The Doctor was going to induce her the next week. Soon they would have a daughter, Stephanie. Cassie said even God was happy that they had found each other. He had been really, really, happy that day.

He and Cassie had been married for seven years. Of course, he was on a case when they met. A demon had tortured and killed her parents along with six other couples. He went to interview her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. Her beautiful smooth skin and silky black hair. Her soulful brown eyes trapped him. They begged him to save her. He would. In his young life he had never felt such passion for another person. He hunted the thing down and slaughtered it effortlessly, for her. Well not effortlessly. It bruised a rib and threw him down a flight of stairs. That night he came limping back to her apartment, a large cut and a little blood sent her running for the first aid kit. Sure, he winched a little more than he normally would have. He wanted her to like him. She invited him to stay in the guest room and sat by his bed when he fell into an exhausted sleep. The next morning he showered and ate the breakfast, she cooked for him. They stood at her door saying their goodbyes for the fifth time.  His hand was on the knob, but he could not turn it. She was hurting. He could not leave her alone, not like that. That was his Cassie; she twisted him up in knots without trying. He proposed three weeks later. They lived together in the tiny brick house for two months living the apple pie life until his dad called.

The night he left to rejoin his father she told him she was pregnant. Dean was elated. He insisted they spend the rest of their lives together. They were married a few days after. Dean loved his life. He could hunt and care for his family. It was a good life. Then six months into her pregnancy but she took a fall on the icy pavement while he was hunting and lost their baby. They had been devastated. Cassie demanded they try again as soon as possible. He was reluctant. He could not take any more heartache. She refused to take no for an answer. She lied about taking her birth control. It took another four years, but she became pregnant with their son. She was thrilled. Dean was cautiously optimistic as each month passed. They rented a five-bedroom farmhouse near Bobby’s place. Sam and John moved in. Dean did not want her alone, but Cassie was stubborn. She had to have things her way. He was a hunter, she said. He needed to be out there saving people’s lives. The three men took turns going out in pairs. Someone was always home with Cassie and the baby.

It was cold rainy October day when they had their boy. Dean stood next to her hospital bed watching as his child made his entrance into the world. Dean John Winchester Jr. came out kicking. His father watched fascinated as his little red face scrunched up and the boy give a deafening scream.  Dean would never admit that it scared him just a little bit.

His boy was a wonder. Light hair and green eyes like his old man. Cassie did not mind because he had her relaxed temperament. He was a fast learner. He was always happy. His father loved watching him grow and explore. D.J. was fearless. Dean quickly became an expert on diapers and formula. He was determined to be the kind of father John never was. He stopped hunting and worked at the Road House with Ellen and Jo.

When D.J. was four months old, Cassie became pregnant again. They were so close to having their perfect family, until June 5, 2004.

Dean remembered everything about the day his family died. He had spent months replaying that day over in his mind. He dressed D.J. in a little blue jumper with a red tee shirt and his tiny red shoes. Cassie wore her favorite pink dress with a pink ribbon holding her wild curls in place. They were going to leave D.J. with his dad, go to dinner, and celebrate one last time before their lives became completely about the kids. He dropped her off at the doctor’s office two hours before the accident; he went back to Ellen’s to get his pay check.

He was late. D.J. had a cold and the Impala had a flat. Cassie, impatient as ever, loaded their son into a cab, without his car seat. She held their child on her lap. Gerald Wilkins had been working a second job to pay for his young daughter’s kidney surgery. He was driving a truck loaded with heavy machine parts and he was late. Ashe sped towards the Madison City Bridge he fell into an exhausted sleep.

The timing had to be perfect. Cassie called Dean as her cab turned the corner on Spring Street, seconds before the bridge. Gerald’s truck side swiped a parked car. Jerking awake he over corrected, the load shifted violently, and the truck flipped over the bridge on top of the cab. 

The cab driver died instantly. Cassie and his son did not. He could hear the sound of crushing metal and breaking glass. She was trapped beneath the wreckage.  Dean heard the sickening thump as D.J. flew forward into the driver’s head rest. His anguished filled screams still haunted his fathers’ dreams. Cassie was sobbing. She pleaded for her life and the lives of their children. Dean knew she was seeing a Reaper. He begged them to hold on. He could save them if they just did not give up.

Somewhere inside he knew his pleas were useless, but he never hung up the phone. Still, he cried out for them over the sirens and extraction equipment. Cassie continued to beg and his baby screamed. It seemed to take hours before the cries died away.

Sam raced him to the scene in Bobby’s old truck. When they arrived emergency services had already cut her out. He remembered the blood; it covered her beautiful dress. One of the paramedics held his tiny daughter in his arms. The man was sobbing. They told him the trauma from the accident forced Cassie into labor but the placenta separated from her uterine wall. They could not get to the baby to separate her from her mother. His daughter bled to death because Cassie had. D.J. had a fractured skull. His brain slowly filled with blood until the pressure became too great and his little body gave out. It was an excruciating end.

Dean was numb. For once, he did not have anyone to blame. Gerald was a father trying to save his kid. Cassie just wanted to be home with her sick child. The Impala did not intend to have a flat. The cab driver was doing his job. He could not even blame himself because Cassie would not let him. Every time he tried her heard her whispering to him, “Don’t you dare Dean Winchester, sometimes horrible things happen to good people.”

He did everything he could to bring them back. The Angels would not answer his prayers. He tried to make a deal, but the demons were enjoying his suffering and refused.

Dean wiped a tear away and pushed the memory from his mind as he did every day. He had to keep going for his family. That was how he would honor Cassie and his children. He would save other families. She would have liked that.

“Going to The Road House with the boys. We won’t be gone long, stay out of trouble.” Dean quickly washed the grease and grim off. This time when he passed them he did not stop to remember. He pushed down the pain. He would not drown in his misery, not today.

“Let’s go!” Dean hopped back into his baby girl and waited for the others to load in.

Sam could not help but laugh at Dean’s jovial mood. He had never seen his brother like this. Dean always seemed to be carrying the world on his shoulders, not this week. He was young and excited. Sam did not complain when he blasted the music and sang along, although, he was thrilled when they arrived at the Road House an hour later. Dean rushed through the door and saw the older woman standing behind the bar.

The gritty bar resembled a salon in the old west. The paint was peeling and the coat of smoke turned the white wash to gray. Ellen kept a clean place which was hard since grungy hunters were constantly dragging dirt through it. She vowed on day that she was going to shut the place down and scrub it from top to the bottom. That had not happened yet.

The woman in question stood at the bar yelling at Ashe and the cook, Mac, who stood by the pool table.

“Ellen!” Dean took his segregate mother in his arms and swung her around.

“Dean!” She squealed. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Just happy to see you sweetheart.” He kissed her cheek

“Winchester, tell me about that chick from Tampa. I could use a laugh.” He went over to the pool table to talk to Ashe.

“Is he high?” Ellen wrinkled her nose.

“We’re on vacation.” Sam announced proudly.

“Well boys, not for long.” Sobering, she went behind the bar and picked up an envelope. Trucker dropped this off for happy over there. She said Bella Talbot left it for him at some diner in Tampa.”

“That’s a long way to travel to deliver a package.” John said looking it over.

“Did you say Bella Talbot?” Bobby asked as he sat at the bar. He looked at his brother. “No good can come out of this.”

“Dean! We’ve got a problem.” Sam called out.

“No, no, we said seven days. It’s been five.” He yelled lining up his shot.

“A gift from Bella Talbot.” His father waved the thick envelope.

“Damn.” Dean dropped the pool cue. “What!”

John shot him a look before handing the package to him. Dean looked it over then ripped it open. A note fluttered out.

Dean,

I wanted to show you how truly sorry I am about Gordon.

Please, stop trying to kill me. Blood is not good for leather.

That long weekend in Tampa left you with more than just a bad memory. You left her pregnant. Being the great friend I am I even took the liberty of running a DNA test for you. Congratulations, it’s a boy.

Oh, I told Rebecca about the nightmare weekend you had with that crazy waitress four years ago. I had a good laugh. She did not find it funny. She looked quiet hurt. That wasn’t the same girl was it?

You better hurry love, the spirits are howling about Dean Winchesters new found son. Even the Angels could not keep this quiet forever. Hope this makes us even.

Ciao.

“That fucking bitch.” He pulled out copies of his medical records. He had been injured a few weeks ago. John picked up the note and read it aloud. “She’s lying.”

“Are you sure?” Ellen asked somberly.

“No.” Dean flipped through the papers; Bella highlighted the important parts of each one. He had a son. Mason Author Kennedy. “Sonofabitch!”

“What?” Sam screamed his head pounded to the beat of the music Ashe had turned up.

“Tulsa.” They nodded. Dean received a severe cut after a hunt, it got infected. He spent three days in the hospital. “A nurse came for a final blood sample when I was being discharged. I thought it was kind of strange, but Gordon sent that psycho after you. Bella must have used it to run my DNA.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

“No, that bitch couldn’t shit out the truth to save her life, but if he is…” He rubbed his neck.

 “Your kid ain’t safe out there alone.” Bobby finished for him.

Dean dug through the information until he found a phone number.

“Turn it off Ashe!” He waited until the music turned off. Without a word, he dialed it.

“Hey, this is Becca and Mason, say hi sugar,” He heard the child say no. “Leave a message and if I like you I’ll call you back within 48 hours. If I don’t like you then don’t hold your breath.”

“Rebecca, this is Samuel Wise,” Sam raised a brow. Dean shook his head. “I know it’s been a while, but I really need to talk to you. Call me back at 505-683-1224 anytime.”

“Samuel Wise?” Mac chuckled. “You really didn’t want this girl to find you.”

“What the hell happened in Tampa?” Ellen asked. She may be the only hunter who had not heard about Tampa, or she did not care to know.

“We need to go.” Dean walked towards the door. “If Bella comes back, shoot the bitch.”