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Full House Winchester

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The aroma of the pancakes Daddy's cooking downstairs fills the whole house. There's bacon too, and coffee. With my eyes still closed, I take another sip of the delicious aromas, inhaling the smells, allowing them to comfort me. I luxuriate in the coziness of Saturday morning, breathing deeply, making ready to sleep for just a few moments longer.

And then a hand hits me in the face. "Ow!" I open my eyes, and see I've got a twin on either side of me. Even my loud cry doesn't wake them from their peaceful slumber, so I do it. I shake them both awake. "What are you doing in my bed? Again."

Both are bleary-eyed, but still have the wherewithal to look to the other and have a wordless twin conversation, as to what exactly they want to tell me. God that's annoying. "Tell me the truth, or I'm going straight to Daddy."

"Fine," Jared says.

"Jared," Jen complains.

Jared ignores him. Sometimes one twin decides what's best for them both, like they're one person, and the other goes along with it, even if they'd rather their twin did not. "We had another nightmare."

Allow me to clarify. When he says 'we', he means they both had nightmares separately, but at the same time. They're not even necessarily the same nightmare, though sometimes they are. But the twins often talk in 'wes' and 'ours', like they are one person, even though they're not identical, which has gotten worse this second time around, according to Daddy.

"Why can't you sleep in each other's beds?"

"Not good enough, we need you Dean," Jensen says, and yeah that's surprising. He's not prone to vulnerability.


"Yeah, there's something 'bout you, helps us sleep," Jared explains, yawning.

"Can't you go bother Papa, and Daddy?"

"Nooooo way," Jensen says. "Think about it for a second. They hear we're having nightmares, they're going to freak out and think we need help of some kind."

"Maybe you do."

"It's only the second time, and we're sure it's just a side effect from bein' hunters mixed with whatever the fuck that Modlenol crap does."

They're both looking at me with big eyes, making them look a whole lot younger than they are. "Fine. But could you at least let me know when you're climbing into bed with me?"

"We were trying not to wake you. We were being considerate," Jensen says.

"And I appreciate it, nevertheless, tell me next time."

"Yeah, yeah."

I rub a hand over my face. Living with these two has sure been interesting. "So other than I don't have the power to make you seek some kind of help, what makes you two need me over just yourselves?"

"You just have that something about you. It's not the same as the kind of solidness Cas, or Dal has. We've talked, and we think it's the hunter in you," Jared says.

I roll my eyes. "Not a hunter."

"Yeah, we know you're not anymore, but it's part of your DNA. You'll always have that something about you because of it, and that's why it would still be you over Cas and Sammy, or even Chris and Dal no matter what, uh for this."

Sometimes, they're the worst, most obnoxious brothers ever, but moments like this make up for all the rest. I've also noticed Jensen inching just a little bit closer to me, and Jared too, like the dreams they were having are still washing through them. I've been a Winchester and a Colt a long time, they need comfort, we can sense these things miles away. "Come here you two."

That's all it takes, and they're clinging to me, one on each side. I squeeze them tight. "I'll keep you two safe," I promise.

"Thanks, Dean. You're a pretty decent older brother most of the time," Jared says.

"I agree with Jared," in news that surprises no one, "and I appreciate the sentiment, but no way you could actually protect us from the thing in my dream."

"Bet I could too. I have my very own archangel."

"Did you have to mention that guy?"

"That guy is my boyfriend." I'll never get tired of saying that. "Be nice to him, or I'll let him turn you into dust."

Jensen rolls his eyes, but doesn't stop squeezing me.

Eventually we decide to get up. I send them to do things like brush their hair and teeth, while I do the same, so we can head down at slightly separate times. When I get down there, Daddy's got Jake set at his highchair, and he's cooking up a storm. "Hey Daddy," I say stealing a slice of bacon from the tray. "Where is everyone?"

"Coming. Papa and Uncle Chris are having showers, and Dal is still asleep – Chris brought him down here. You mind helping me out a bit?"

"Sure, Daddy."

I help him set the table, and entertain Jake. Eventually, the others trickle in. The table is a lot fuller now with four adults, three teens, and a baby. There's still one missing though. As if on cue, Michael's sliding the glass door to the kitchen open, and taking his place beside me. I love the feeling when we're all together like this, especially with the feeling of Michael right next to me.

Father clears his throat. "I have an announcement, the teens of this house are released from their confinement. Dean, you're still on probation."

"Yes, sir," I say while Jensen and Jared high-five each other, which means an earlier curfew for me than usual.

"Sweet, does that mean we can go out tonight with some of our friends from school?"

"A bunch of teens hanging out together all in one place?" Papa says. "That sounds like it's a party to me."

"It's not a party. It's merely a gathering of kids, children if you will. It's at the Soda Shoppe, and anyone who's anyone is going," Jared says. "Please, Cas?"

"All right, you may go," he says after thinking about it momentarily. I bet that has something to do with giving Daddy a break from them more than anything. "If your brother agrees to go with you."

"Dean? Why does Dean need to go? We don't need a babysitter," Jensen says.

"Nevertheless, that's the deal. No Dean, no deal," Papa says.

"Sorry guys. If we're free, I'm doing something with Michael."

Before that might have created an outburst, and sometimes it still does, but the twins have learned other ways of getting what they want, without a sore bum to go along with it. Sometimes. "Huh, that's too bad Dean," Jared says.

"Yeah," Jensen says. "Seeing as you're, you know, on probation and all, would have been a great way to step up in the responsibly category, and show Father Winchester here how much you can be trusted by doing a good job. You'd think he'd be jumping at opportunities to do so, but," he shrugs. "Oh well."

I look to Papa to see if that's true. I know they're just trying to manipulate me into what they want, Papa knows they are too, but manipulation or not, they may have a point. Papa nods. "Yeah I know what they're up to, but I can't deny they're right. I would like to see you step up like that, Kiddo."

And that folks, is the Winchester Way in action. It's not always to do with spanking, even if it's a lot to do with spanking. I resign myself, because yeah I do want to show Papa how responsible I can be. I look to Michael. "Will you come?"

Michael brushes a hand through my hair, feeling sorry for me. "Hanging out with a group of teenagers is the last thing on Earth I want to do, but of course I will. I'd do anything for you."

"Oh my god they're so sappy," Jensen says.

And yeah, we kinda are. We get to be now; he can go fuck himself.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Michael?" Papa says, unable to conceal his glee.

Michael sighs. "I will come, providing Uncle Gabriel gives his permission."

"But you're coming regardless of him though, right Dean?" Jared says.

"Yeah, I'll come either way." There goes my night.

"Awesome. We'll need you to make a stop to pick up Hank on the way."

Hank. I don't like Hank. "I'm not a taxi service. Hank can meet us there. I'll drive him home, and that's the best deal you're getting."

"Cas?" Jensen says.

"Dean isn't a taxi service for your friends," he clarifies, because I kind of am for Jared and Jensen.

I smile because Papa took my side. "Dean, I do expect you to be the adult tonight. You're meant to keep them out of trouble."

In other words, I'm doomed. Daddy can barely keep them out of trouble. "Yes, sir."

Papa nods. "You'll be fine, I trust you Dean."

Oh god, that kills me. I can't keep the other thing to myself now, and besides, they can't stay mad at me for too long, their social life often depends on me. For the very short time they were ungrounded, while I was still grounded, before they got re-grounded, I was allowed out to tag along to keep an eye on them. Daddy and Papa do not trust them with good reason. They get up to a lot of trouble. "Jared and Jensen are having nightmares."

"Dude!" they say together.

Papa looks to me. "Only two, they come to my bedroom."

"We did, but never again," Jen says. Except they one hundred percent will whether I want them to or not.

"Why is this a big secret?" Papa asks.

"You'll make us do something about it, and it's just a couple of hunting nightmares leftover from all the hunting years," Jensen says.

"I agree with you," Papa says to all of our surprise. "I think nightmares are normal, and you've appropriately sought comfort. I don't feel it's affected your waking hours, but if I do see it is then yes, we will have to decide what to do about it." We means Team Adult, not Team Teens. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," we all say.

"That mean we can still crawl in with Dean when we need to?" Jared asks. See, knew they'd be back.

"So long as it's okay with, Dean," Papa says.

"It will be," Jensen says, but his eyes look to me a little concerned it won't be.

"It's fine with me, so long as you remember the rule I told you this morning."

They're both relieved. "We'll tell you."

"In the meantime, Papa, this mean I can leave to hang out with Michael today?"

"It does," Papa says smiling his proud smile at me. Okay, giving up my first night free sucks, but it's worth it for that look.

"But, not until the four of you clean up the breakfast dishes," Daddy says. "No one's going anywhere until this place is spic and span."

No one argues with that, too happy we've all been set free. Besides, it's kind of fun doing stuff simple as dishes together. We do that the Colt way and have some laughs. It's good bonding, like Daddy says.

"And before you say it Michael, no. No grace."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," he says, but I know he was.

It's when we're in the middle of washing and drying dishes, Michael tells me. "Um, you're going to have to drive today." Holy shit is Michael blushing? "Uncle Gabriel has the keys to my Jeep."

"How'd you get here?"


"And he didn't come in to sit at breakfast with us?"

"I begged him to drop me in the front yard, so I could explain the whole Jeep situation at a time more convenient. I think he took pity on me, even if I don't deserve it."

I laugh. "What is the Jeep situation, Michael?"

He sighs. "Uncle Gabriel and I got into a… disagreement last night. He has the keys for a week."


"I know, I'm sorry. I don't even know how it happens, and then there I am saying something I shouldn't. I blame Modlenol."

I have to give him that some. Even the Angel-brand messes with you. "Well I don't mind driving, Baby," I say and kiss his lips.

A wet dishtowel is thrown at my head. "Knock it off you two! Quit having sex in the kitchen," Jen says.

I peel the towel from my face. "It was a kiss, a small one at that."

"Whatever. Are we done, Dean? Jared and I want to go make some phone calls about tonight."

Maybe I see why Papa hates, 'whatever' so much. "Yeah, we'll finish up. Go'on." Their excitement about tonight is kinda cute.

When they're gone, Michael's mad at me. "I didn't agree to that. I'm stuck on dish duty too."

I wince. "Right, sorry. I should have."

"I'm starting to think I need to chat with Papa Winchester about this."

"About what?"

"You and them. You're a bit Daddy Winchester when he goes Captain of the Ship Sam Colt when it comes to them, but without enough Winchester."


"One hundred percent."

He's right. "Okay, message received. I'll work on that."

Michael nods. "To be clear, I'm not going to step in with most of the stuff surrounding the twins – that's clearly between you and your parents, but if I notice you're taking on too much for them, things that are clearly jobs that have been given to them, I will." He kisses me again. "Especially when it involves me doing extra kitchen duty," he teases.

"Got it, sir. I don't get it though, I thought you loved cleaning."

"Clean is what I love. Cleaning? that's simply a means to get to the end I desire, not something I relish in." He kisses down my neck, and my cock, which has been hard since Michael got here, gets harder. "Especially when I do want to fuck you into oblivion, now we're stuck here."

"We've got thirty minutes of work left."

"Ugh, then we should head over to see if Uncle will give me permission for tonight. He barely allowed me to come here. I need your help."

Which means we need to go in person, so he can see my adorable Dean smile. "Okay, kitchen, Gabriel and then sex at your apartment, sound good?" He smacks my ass. "Hey!"

"Sounds good."


Gabriel made the executive decision to move Angel Central to a new place, which Michael was responsible for finding, with a little help from Tom. It's every bit as big, but as he told Michael, it's some-place they can make new memories, since the old place had such horrific ones. It's also a place I'm now welcome.

First thing on our list of things to do before sex, is stop by to secure Michael's permission to hang out at the Soda Shoppe with me, so I can babysit the twins. It's my first time here, seeing as I've been grounded forever (though I was allowed out once to help with a particular packing project at the old place), but Michael's been here a lot more than he'd like to be. Not only was he grounded for some time, but Gabriel wanted him to move back in. Michael's still got his apartment, but he's not there much.

"Hello Dean," Tom says when we enter. "You get sprung from jail?"

Tom's been a lot friendlier since the whole 'End of Lucifer' thing. Daddy's even had him over for dinner a few times – which Michael and I both thought was weird since he doesn't need to eat – and he comes by for game nights, and Netflix marathons. He's found he enjoys popcorn.

"I did." He holds his hand up for a high-five. I got him onto doing that.

"Is Uncle around?" Michael asks.

"In his office, but Michael a little advice? You might want to go for a little more deferential than you were last night. You're getting on his last nerve."

I don't think I'll ever not be amused by just how rebellious Michael is with Gabriel. It's like he missed his teen years having Lucifer for a Father, and now he's living them. I can't quite call Michael a brat though. It's more like how Daddy is when he gets in a mood; willful. But willful, or brat, makes no difference. Still gets you in the same amount of trouble.

Michael nods, but because I know him so well, he's not answering in words to prevent himself saying what's he's thinking, which will get him into trouble with Tom. Michael grabs my hand, and leads me to Gabriel's office. He knocks on the door.

"Dean," Gabriel greets me when we head inside, his perfect curls bouncing like happy springs. "I see you brought my churlish son, home." Michael bristles. "Your father set you free?"

"He did sir," I say, doing the charm-thing I came here to do, lathering on the respect. It's already not looking all that good permission-wise at the moment. Call it a hunch, one honed from years of dealing with parental units, but I can tell Gabriel isn't feeling super generous with his wayward son.

"That's good, and I take it that means you two are not here on a social call? Plans are calling you?"

"Not our plans, sir. My brothers want to go somewhere, I'm the chaperone, and Michael's hopefully my company?" There we go. Maybe if I ask, and lay on as much Dean-charm as possible, he'll say yes. Parents love me.

"Where is this outing taking place, Michael?"

It's a normal Dad-type question, but Michael hates having to answer to someone, which is odd, and I still can't quite figure it out, because it's not like he didn't have to answer to Lucifer. Like, all the fucking time.

"It's at the Soda Shoppe, sir," Michael answers through grit teeth.

"Who will be there?"

"Is there a reason why that's important?"

I give Michael a searing look. That's not how you talk to a parent who has complete control over your social life.

"It's important, because I don’t want my kid hanging out with hooligans." He learned about hooligans from Papa, which I'm sure makes Michael over the moon with happiness.

"I am told it will be kids from school. Presumably Jensen and Jared's ages," Michael says, but his tone could improve. Not that I can talk, since I've been known to take that tone with my parents, but from experience, I know it's not a tone parents like so much.

"Dean, do you know these children?"

I can feel Michael's impatience growing, but thankfully he says nothing. "Some of them. If it helps, Papa seems to think it's a safe outing." I've learned parents like to hear when other parents think something is safe, when it's a parent they admire and trust, and this seems to ease any apprehensions said parent might have had.

"All right then. If Castiel thinks it's okay, I don’t see any reason to say no, except Michael, if you want to continue to acquire my permission for these kinds of things, I want to see an improvement in your attitude. Going out is a privilege, not a right. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir." Is Michael blushing?

"You'll have him home by midnight, won't you Dean?" Gabriel says playfully.

"Before. I'm still on probation. Have to be home by ten-thirty."

I'm feeling pretty good by this point, permission is granted, we've reached playful stage, all we have to do is make a quick exit, but then Michael has to go and say something stupid. "Couldn't I get an extension this one time? I would just be at the Winchester's, Tom could come pick me up."

Oh Michael. There's a way to ask parents that question, and there's also a way to not, he's just done the not. It's also a timing thing. Tom tipped us off that Gabriel wasn't super happy with Michael already, as my father would put it, he came into this office on thin ice. That's a time when you say yes sir as much as possible, and take what you can get, not ask for things that are likely to upset said parent. Seriously, I should write a book on this stuff, and give a copy to Michael.

Gabriel's eyes change from playful glint, to just like Papa's when he's about to lay down the law. "We have been over this. Your curfew is non-negotiable. You're lucky to be let out at all after the way you behaved yesterday. In fact, you can expect some nos upcoming until you can learn to be more respectful. If someone can bring you home for midnight, that would be fine, no sleepovers tonight. Otherwise, home when Dean can drop you off." In addition to making a point of making Michael respect his curfew, I suspect that Gabriel's of the opinion that if you're going to be belligerent enough to get your vehicle privileges suspended, he's not going to generously cater to your travel needs. I note he does not give him the option of taking an Uber either.

Also, I know it, I can feel it like a sixth sense. Gabriel is one breath away from withdrawing his permission for tonight. I elbow Michael as subtly as possible and whisper "apologize." Thankfully, he listens.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Gabriel. I won't ask again."

"Thank you," he says. "Dean, you'd better take him away on that note, before he says something else to be kept in for the night."

See? "Thank you, sir," I say on Michael's behalf.

When we're out from under his watchful eyes, I feel like we've only just escaped with our lives, which is dramatic even for me. "Michael," I say and whack him. "That was too close."

"I'm sorry."

That's all he's got for me. We've already been through this, we'll be through it again. "Where should we go now?" I say, as we walk away from his uncle's office.

"Let's go to my apartment. At least we've got one place left where we can be alone. And besides, it was next on our list."

But when we get there, and slide the elevator door open, it's crawling with angels. "What in the name of Father is going on here?" Michael is incensed, and probably for a few reasons. Aside from the commandeering of his apartment, all of the angels are wearing their shoes, mucking up his floors.

The entire place, save his bedroom, has been turned into an office. Cubicles have been set up, in every square space they can be.

"Didn't Gabriel tell you?" one of the angels says. "He needed a place for our sector. It's just for a few weeks."

"This is my apartment. He didn't ask me, nor did he bother to tell me." Michael's grace starts to burn behind his eyes, and the angels in the room are scared. He could take them all out, this whole room. My boyfriend is so powerful; I fucking love it. It's hot. It's also no secret that he's the one who took out Lucifer, which let me tell you, leaves an impression. All noise stops, every angel frozen.

"Dean, a little help," an angel, whose name I don't know, asks me. They all know my name for the obvious reasons.

And I do, because I think he will regret obliterating his apartment later. Michael loves me, pretzel buns, and this apartment. "Michael, c'mon Baby. Let's go sort this out, eh?"

I approach him carefully, flinching when he moves too fast, to grab my arm. He stares at me, as I do nothing but breathe, not wanting to elicit a primal response. Finally he let's the blue light fade away, until just his Michael-blue eyes are left. Feeling it's safe now, I tug him to his room, and shut the door, as the angels go back to their… whatever it is they were doing.

Michael's still pissed, but at least it's not destroy-everything-in-sight, pissed. "He did this on purpose, Dean."

"Maybe. But look, we're alone. We got what we wanted."

"Those are angels out there Dean; they can hear everything we say in here should they choose to. I don't want them hearing what I intended on doing to you."

Yeah, he's right. "Please don't argue with Gabriel about this." It will for sure end in Michael being grounded tonight.

Michael flings himself onto the bed, frustrated. "I can promise you tonight, but not beyond that."

I sit down beside him. "Could you also promise me that when you do talk to him," because he won't be able to help himself, "you'll be respectful enough not to get into trouble? I just got out of trouble, and with the twins around, that's only bound to last for so long." I never thought in a million years I would be having this conversation with Michael.

My boyfriend.

My boyfriend Michael. That makes me feel so warm and fuzzy.

He reaches for my arm, and yanks me to him, I fall to his chest, right where I like to be. "Not fair, you know I can't deny you anything."

"Open-toed sandals, playing in dirt, the croissant that fell on the floor at breakfast."

"Anything aside from that which is dangerous and, or life-threatening."

I laugh. "A Floor Croissant is dangerous and, or life-threatening?"

"Yes. Who knows what's living on the floor?"

I roll my eyes. "Does that mean you promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."


We end up having to head back over to the manor, to get Michael some different clothes. Apparently, all of Michael's clothing was mysteriously relocated there. It was another ledge I had to talk Michael off of, and I know he promised me, but I still think coming here is a mistake. "Can't you just wear what you're wearing, or get something from Daddy?"

"No. I won't be long. Wait here," he says being all secretive. He's up to something; I know it. I leave him to it, and sit on the bench in the front entryway.

He said he wouldn't be long, but it feels like I've been waiting forever. I'm about to pull out my phone and text him to get his ass down here – yes he'll spank me, yes it will have been worth it – but my boredom is broken by quiet laughter. "Shhhh, I heard the kids come in," a familiar voice says. Oh my god that's Tom! What is he up to?

"I heard them head upstairs. You know they're glued at the hip." Fuck that's Gabriel!

I listen closely, and you'd think someday I'd learn, but no I don't. I hear distinct kissing sounds. What the…? Is Gabriel making out with Tom?

"Sorry, I can't keep my hands off you," Gabriel says between kisses, "and I've been so busy with Michael, haven't had time to do this."

Thankfully, I can't see what this is. Hearing it's bad enough.

"I'm not complaining about your hands."

Ugh, my ears! Can a person bleach their ears?

Their liaison comes to an abrupt end. "Sorry, Baby. I need to have a word with Michael before he leaves. Not only did he swing by his apartment today, he and Dean are going to some teen thing, I need to remind him about curfew."

Is that what parents really talk about while they make out?

I stand, just as Gabriel comes around the corner Tom-less, and sees me. "Dean, you were quiet out here." Fuck, he's shocked. Pretty sure he suspects I heard them.

Thankfully, we don’t get further than that, Michael's coming down the stairs, and we're both too shocked at what he's wearing to be concerned about Gabriel and Tom's make out session.

Most kids who rebel get a mohawk, dye their hair, get a tattoo. Michael has decided to wear a t-shirt, and jeans. They're not even a faded pair of jeans, but a nice, crisp blue pair. The t-shirt looks like it's been ironed (who the hell irons a t-shirt?), and it's a nice, grey V-neck.

I'm dressed almost the exact same way, but my t-shirt is forest green, and my jeans are in fact semi-faded, which is to say, his outfit is no more shocking than mine, but on Michael, it looks obscene, and like he's practically naked with his arms showing like that. He looks like we did when we were staying at Nan's over the summer, but more dressed up, with fancier jeans.

Oh no, has Michael gone his own Michael version of Colt?

"Michael, what are you wearing?" Gabriel says.

"I'm a kid. A teen, even. Now I'm dressed like one," Michael says, looking to me as if to say to Gabriel, 'example A; teen.'

Gabriel does look me over, and then back to Michael. It's easy to tell what he's thinking. Michael's not technically doing anything wrong, even though we both know he's doing something. "I suppose there's no rule against being dressed like that," Gabriel says, disapproval clear on his face. He doesn't like it, and I wouldn't be surprised if he dreams up some kind of rule about it eventually. "But we will discuss dress code later." After he talks to my father about the topic he means. "For now, Michael, I want to apologize about your apartment—"

"—no need sir, I'm not mad," Michael says.

Not mad? Not mad? He almost blew up his building.

"Regardless, I want to apologize anyway," Gabriel explains. "It's only for a few weeks, was a last minute thing; I had planned on telling you about it when you got back – didn't think you'd go there. And as we already agreed, you're living here for a little while now anyway." 'We agreed', is Gabriel's way of saying he finally got Michael calmed down about his decision. Gabriel's made it clear he's the parent, and Michael is the child who will obey him.

"I understand, sir. Was there anything you wished to speak with me about before we leave?"

Gabriel looks confused by Michael's response, or lack there of. I am too, but at least I'm gonna get to find out. He shakes his head. "No, just to be home by curfew."

"Yes, sir."

"Did you do this Dean?" Gabriel says. "I'm still unsure about the clothes, but I'll take this positive change in behavior."

I shrug. It's good to be the good-influence-friend, so I'm vague letting him come to his own conclusion. "Maybe, sir."

"Very well. See you boys later. Have fun."

"What was that all about Michael?" I say when we reach the Impala.

"He hates these clothes," Michael says with glee.

"I knew it! What are you trying to achieve though? You hate those clothes too."

"Actually, I find them quite comfortable." Sure he does. "I'm going to turn over a new leaf."

"Hooookay, Michael. This doesn't have anything to do with your apartment being hijacked, does it?"

"It has everything to do with it. It's all I've got left of my waning adulthood, Dean. However, disobeying him does nothing, but prevent me seeing you, which is not on." Michael's been adamant about spending every spare second he has with me after all the The Happenings. Some of his behavior with his uncle has resulted in him being grounded to Angel Central. "So I am looking for other rebellious options."

"You could always, I dunno, just do what your uncle says." And yes, I do realize this is me saying this, pot, kettle and all that.

"I don't think you understand. If I do that, what other kinds of restrictions will he impose? I can't allow him to have complete authority over me."

"Doesn't he though?"

"Technically, yes. But he doesn't need to know that."

"Pretty sure he knows. Didn't you say God literally told him that? I get it though, you're doing the things you can get away with, as a last ditch effort, to hold onto some of the type of autonomy you had before." Lucifer was strict about some things, sure. Michael had to drop everything and go to him when called, he wasn't allowed to leave Collins Country without permission, and he had a few rules when he was younger, but in between that, Michael had a lot of freedom.

Gabriel is way more a parent-y kind of parent, like my parents, and even though this development in their relationship is new, Michael has always been more Gabriel's son than anyone else's. Over the past few weeks, I've realized just how much Gabriel's been there for Michael. He did the best he could under the circumstances. Tom too come to think of it. Tom brought Michael everywhere when he was 'little', and was there for him in other ways I'm beginning to learn about.

They are quite the sight at family dinner, which oh yeah that. Gabriel has also been present for more than one family dinner, and he's been known to drop by to chat with my father to acquire parenting tips. Cue eye rolling.

"I only mean to make a point."

"Yeah, Michael? Parents seldom take kindly to that kind of thing." Oh. Oh. Oh I get it now. Amidst all the 'parent' advice I'm trying to give him, I realize that's just the thing. This is about Michael being a kid. The relationship between Michael and Lucifer was so dysfunctional, for all Lucifer would tout about raising Michael, he never truly got to be a kid.

Combine that with the fact Michael's sour about not winning the level of freedom he expected in being free of Lucifer, and you get this Michael. It's an oddly comforting thing to brush up against the boundaries set, and push at them, especially when you know inside those boundaries were made with love. You feel loved experiencing what it feels like to have loving boundaries enforced.

Personally, I think the whole thing is good for him. It's clear all of Gabriel's actions are derived from love and good intentions, even if he's sometimes very angel about it.

I'm not going to dare say any of this to him though, and look forward to see what Papa says about Michael's new clothes.

Papa doesn't disappoint. "Michael, what the devil are you wearing?"

"A t-shirt and a pair of jeans, sir. Have I broken a rule, sir?" Michael plays the innocent card, knowing full well he's not doing anything wrong, save freak everyone out a little.

Once again, Papa looks to the very next teenager in the room, which so happens to be me, and I'm dressed too similarly for Papa to say anything. Michael's right, it's the perfect crime. Maybe I should be taking tips from him. "No, but I don't like it. Can't put my finger on why," he admits. "It weirds me out." Papa learned that from me.

Michael is doing his best not to smile and give the game away, but he has to fight the corners of his lips curling up pretty hard.

"I think it's a good thing," Daddy says. "You've been dressing that other way since you were little, and don't get me wrong, you looked sharp sweetheart, but that's too stuffy for everyday."

Michael grimaces at 'since you were little'. Daddy refuses to call Michael anything else from those years.

"Well, now that I can be in charge of my own wardrobe, I'm finding my tastes have changed." Lucifer did prefer him to be formally dressed, but I call bullshit on his tastes changing, Michael loves being fancy.

"So long as you continue to dress nicely for church and Sunday dinner, I don't see the problem," Papa says like he's being asked permission.

Michael remains quiet, only a simple nod of acceptance, but I feel his hand tightening around mine in irritation. "Uh, where are the twins? Don't we have to go?" I say, hoping to get Michael the hell out of here before he's in trouble with my father, which will put him in trouble with his uncle.

Daddy rolls his eyes. "Dear lord, they've been primping themselves for the past two hours."

"I hope they don't think they're bringing girls or boys home," Papa says.

They probably do. "No one's coming home in my car, 'cept the four of us," I tell him.

"I knew I could count on you, Kiddo. Keep them in line."

"That, might be asking a bit much, but I will keep them out of serious trouble," I promise.

Daddy pours us tea while we wait, and busies himself in the kitchen, while I spend some quality time taking Michael in, because you know, it's not like I see him all the time, or anything. Sue me. Things feel different now, like, for instance, we get to stare dreamily into each other's eyes. We don't realize we're doing it half the time, and can spend long silences this way.

I smile at him, and he smiles back. We even get a little shy, and start giggling at our ridiculousness.

"Oh, my God. Cas, you're really making them our babysitters for tonight? If I gotta watch them do that all night, I'm gonna hurl," Jensen says coming into the kitchen.

Michael's beaming smile for me, frowns into his usual scowl. "You know maybe we'll feel like coming home early, won't we Dean?"

As much as Jensen and Jared talk about themselves as one, Michael and I have started doing that a bit too. Is this what it feels like to be a real couple, one like Papa and Daddy?

"Can they do that? Cas, can they do that?" Jared asks.

"When Dean wants to come home, so do you. I suggest you behave yourselves," Papa says thus gifting me some kind of leverage over them.

"Awww man."

"Does everyone remember what time curfew is?" Papa asks without missing a beat.

It's midnight for me, but the twins are 'younger', and thus have to be home earlier. "Ten-thirty, sir," I answer for them remembering when my curfew was that early. Huh, feels kinda good to be, so old and mature as to be trusted with a midnight curfew, even though I complain about it. But for now, it's ten-thirty for me too, since I'm still on Winchester probation.

"We're like, the only ones in our grade with a curfew," Jensen complains, but wisely doesn't ask for an extension for. Papa does not like that, and while Jensen hasn't tried to find out yet, he's smart enough to figure out we've just been un-grounded, and he probably shouldn't push it.

"That can hardly be true," Papa says. Pretty sure they amuse him sometimes.

"Nope, ask around Uncle Cas. I mean Cas," Jared says.

It's not the first time he's slipped up like that, and it's hard not to have a moniker for Papa since he's so authoritarian. Jared gets kind of embarrassed, but he really doesn't need to. Jensen's already taken to calling Papa, Father Winchester, and Papa Cas, which began in jest and in combination to Michael's name for Papa, but he says it more and more.

"It's okay, son," Papa says – he's got no quams calling them 'son'. Papa's an all in kind of guy. He adopts you to be his son; you're his son. "I've already told you I'm okay with such a moniker, or something else of your choice."

Normally it's suggested to get the moddlified to address their new parents appropriately. With Jared and Jensen, things weren't so clear-cut. They're still old enough, they feel the brotherly relationship they had going with both Daddy and Papa, but they're noticeably young enough the relationship has changed, and it keeps changing. And I suspect that me, and the twins forming brotherly bonds, so quickly has hastened a more parental rapport.

Example, me telling them 'Daddy says it's time for dinner,' or 'Papa says it's time for bed.' It's bound to create that kinda feel for them too, at least in some way. That language will make its way into their brain.

Hence, no one's made them do anything as of yet, but Papa did invite them to use what they felt comfortable.

Jared nods in response, not wanting to offend Papa, but also unsure if he's going to go there. "Back to curfews, the boys of this house have one, and that's final. It doesn't matter much to me who else does and who doesn't."

Jensen gets the drift he's walking a fine line, and holds his hands up in supplication. "Not complainin', just noticin'. An observation, really."

I would love to let them walk themselves right back into trouble, my night would certainly be a helluva lot better, but I'm in the mood to be a good big brother tonight. "C'mon you two. Let's get out of here before all that hair gel crusts over."


"We'll be in, in a bit. Make sure you—"

"—yeah, bye dude," Jensen says.

"…behave," I say anyway, even though they're long gone. I close my eyes, and open them again. "Ugh, those two sometimes," I say.

"Impertinent," Michael says.

I fume in their direction for a few moments behind the wheel, as Michael reaches for my hand. "Forget about them, Duck. Look, we're finally alone now."

Delight spreads on my face. Finding alone time has been difficult, lately. I'm sure my eyes are glittering along with Michael's, and we're thinking the same thoughts. We scramble for the back seat, knowing time is not a luxury we have.

In short order, I'm on my back, in the backseat of the Impala, with Michael prowling on top of me. There's a moment where he stops to look at me, even the air seems to stop moving around us, like he's impacted it somehow. He's been doing this a lot since, well, I died. Cataloging me, looking at me in awe, at first that I was here at all, which morphed into awe of me generally. It makes me kinda shy. I can't look at his eyes for too long when he looks at me like that, the intensity threatening to consume me.

Finally, when I think I'll combust, he slides my shirt up enough to access my belt buckle. He's smiling. And it's not that lame-ass smile from before, it's a real smile, one that speaks of happiness, and on occasion will reach his eyes. Don't get me wrong, Michael's still exacting, sometimes cold, easily irritable archangel, he's just developed some tenderness, with me specifically.

He unbuckles my belt and slides it out of my belt loops. And then his eyes go dark. "Open," he says folding it in half. Michael and I have long since developed trust, I open and let him put the belt in my mouth. He's going to be rough. "That doesn't mean I don't want to hear you, I want to hear what you get past the gag."

My cock jumps, and I nod, since I can't say a standard, 'yes sir' with a belt in my mouth. With a last dark grin, he undoes my jeans, and I lift my hips so he can slide them off, and I feel the cool air for long enough to get gooseflesh, but Michael's quickly using his new-found angel mojo to warm up the car. He's proud whenever he can do these things for me, no matter how small, and I'm only just beginning to understand what living without the use of his powers meant to him; what it took from him. He's borderline adorable about it, but like hell I'll tell him that.

Michael starts kissing my hips close to where my rock hard cock is weeping, hoping to fuck it'll get to go in his mouth. It's the only way he can tease me right now, however, and so it will likely get forgotten, which will just make it harder. We don't have a lot of time, the hallmark of rushed, trying-not-to-get-caught, teenager-sex.

Suddenly, Michael's tongue is wet, and hot in between the cheeks of my ass, setting my cock alight with a tingling sensation. "Mmmmmm. Mmmmmhhh-uuuuuh!" I moan, frustrated. I want him to touch me so bad, but instead, he licks up my crack, and under my nuts, anywhere but my poor cock, who's getting oh so lonely.

"Oh, poor boy. So needy. Just for me, isn't that right?"

"Mmmmm-huhmph," I say around my own belt. Fucking Michael. Fuck me, before someone comes by. Sure we're hidden, but we're not invisible.

But no. He drives me crazy, sucking along the spine of my hipbone, pulling all kinds of sound from me, as I keen and buck and writhe. I can't even curse him properly. All the while, Michael smirks with his eyes, but his lips are soft, telling me that while he plans on being sadistic, there's love there. Deep love.

Knowing I'm not getting anything I want until he decides it's so, I surrender. Michael takes his time sucking and licking at my hole, getting it wet, and then sliding a finger in. Finally, he gives my cock some attention, licking up the shaft, and breathing on it, continuing to pump fingers into me.

As his fingers move in and out, in and out, my cock's hardness ratchets up until I’m trying to beg him with the fucking belt in my mouth. "What's that? I can't understand you I'm afraid. You want me to stop?"

"Nooooo! Fuck no. Please," I shout, but it comes out muffled. I know he can understand me anyway, especially my head shaking frantically.

"All right, I suppose I could play a little more," he says, ghosting a hand over my cock, which is starting to throb. "If you're a good boy, and you follow my instructions exactly."

I want to whine and complain, but I know what that will get me. And as much as I say whine and complain, the idea of following Michael's instructions, and being a good boy is super hot. Also the fact that I know he will extract vengeance should I disobey.

"I want you to spread your legs, don't look at me like that, best as you can."

I want to roll my eyes, oh how I want to roll my eyes, but I want whatever he's about to do to me more, and if I misbehave I'm not going to get what I want. Like a good boy I can sometimes be, I spread my legs, slinging one over the seat, and the other off the seat and to the ground. "No, I think not. Up there," he says tapping my left thigh.

He means for me to put my other leg up, and have my foot resting on the top of the driver's side seat.

"We've done enough yoga lately, you can manage."

Have we ever. A good story for later. For now, I do as he says, propping my heel on the seat, effectively spreading myself over for him, as wide as I can be. "Yes. Fuck Dean, you look so hot like this. Someday I'm going to tie you up like this, and torture you for hours," he says, tracing a finger over my balls, and then dipping it inside of me.

My cheeks heat at being so wide open, and on display like this. It's worse in the best way with his eyes on me, enjoying the view, taking his time opening me some more with his fingers. I can feel how wet it's getting down there, which is a fun new thing he can do with his angel mojo. We may never have use for lube again, and I am okay with that.

Satisfied that I'm desperate enough, he unzips his jeans (I still can't get over he's wearing jeans out of the house like this) and pulls them and his boxers down, taking a whole leg out. I get a nice viewing of his ridged cock, which I notice is leaking just as much as mine is. He gives it a few tugs, and then leans over top of me, planting one hand on the leather seat beside my left ear. With the other, he reaches for the belt. "Open." He removes the belt contemplating. "I've love to mark you up with this, but not enough room. Next time."

Dropping the belt to the side, he uses his hand to help guide his cock into me, which slides in with ease. From there it's like he can't hold back any longer, and he slams his cock home, pulling it out again just as quickly, so he can ram it back in. Michael's using force tonight, as my spidey senses indicated he might, but tonight, it's not just fucking – as we do at times, because let's face it, sometimes it's just horny teenager sex – he's trying to get deeper, deeply connected to me, to own me and make me his all over again.

He hits my prostate over and over until I'm begging anew. "Please, oh god please Michael, I need to come so bad."

"As you wish."

I take that as a yes, and when his cock brushes into me again, and over the sweetest spot, my cock releases everything built up inside of it. So does Michael's, and he's beautiful as he comes inside me.

When we're re-dressed, and have come out of our sex-drunk haze, we know what we have to do. "Ugh, we actually have to go in there don't we?"

"Yes. And it's been enough time they could have ended the world by now."

"Yeah, well we should go then," I say really fucking regretting that we have to leave the car and therefore our cozy little love nest. Michael and I spend a lot of time together, but our alone moments have been sparse the last few weeks. "Before we do though, there's something I should tell you."

"Oh?" he says, concern etching into his features.

"I think your uncle and Tom have a thing going."

Michael's face scrunches up in consternation. "I know."

"You do?"

"Yes. They think they've been clever in hiding in from me, but they are not that clever."

"Why haven't you said something to them?"

He smiles a smirk-y smile. "Aside from that it's customary to not delve into the love life of one's… parent, their terrible subterfuge amuses me greatly."

Of course. I laugh. "So it doesn't bother you?"

"No. I've noticed something between the two for a while. In helping, and looking after me they've grown close. Neither of them said it in so many words, but I got the impression they were afraid to start something with Lucifer around. Now that he's gone they are finally free."

"Meanwhile, they're concerned they're going to traumatize you. You could put them out of their misery, you know."

"I could, but it's so much more fun this way."

We exit the car, and hold hands in public, loving it's something we're free to do now, as we enter the Soda Shoppe. There are a lot of fucking teens here, and this is totally a party, but I doubt Papa believed them anyway when they said it's not. Michael and I find a booth where I can spy on my delinquent brothers, and I convince Michael to let me order junk food.

They don't appear to be doing anything suspicious, just talking to a group of their friends, hamming it up for them, but you never know what they've got going on in the underground. Once I've ordered, I get their attention and wave them over, to which they give me a look that says they'd really rather not. To which I put on my best Daddy, and a look that says they'd better get their Coltish, Winchester butts over here in about three seconds, or we can go home.

They slink over, and slug themselves down into the opposite side of the booth. Michael and I are being gross and sappy, and sitting on the same side of the booth, so we can snuggle. "What do you want Dean?" Jared says, put out.

"Yeah. This is so not cool man," Jensen says.

"Not trying to be cool, Jen. I'm your older brother, and I'm making my presence known." I learned that one from Papa. "Don't do anything ridiculous, and I won't have to embarrass you by getting Michael to lift you each by the scruff of your shirt collars and drag you out of here. Other than that, I won't embarrass you by associating with you in any way, shape, or form. Meet us out at the Impala by ten after ten sharp, so we can get home for curfew."

"Yeah, yeah," they say.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, Dean."

"Better. Now go have fun."

They're as annoyed as I would be if one of my parents just gave me that lecture, but my ass is on the line here too. Once they're gone, Michael and I resume our Love Fest. He puts his arm around me, and I snuggle in. "You know, this is like our first date since…" I don't say it. Michael still can't talk about it in a for real way.

"This is not counting as our first real date. I intend to take you somewhere nice."

"Tomorrow night?"

"Have you forgotten about Sunday dinner?" he says.

Oh right, forgot tomorrow was Sunday, and Michael made a promise to my father not so long ago (even if it feels like soooo long ago), he would commit to attending each one.

"It will regrettably have to be next Saturday, so block that off, your plans are with me."

I love it when he's commanding like that. "Yes, sir. Ugh, that means tomorrow is church day. Church days have become such a pain with everyone." Not to mention, Papa has to get all strict because Jensen and Jared can't stop complaining for five seconds. It's like they've never been church before. Jeez. Jake still doesn't like his church clothes, and he's such a heartbreaker about it.

We get our food, and man does it taste delicious after eating weeks and weeks of only healthy stuff. Daddy's on a tear in the health food department these days for some reason. Sure, he's always into health food, but lately, that's taken a whole new meaning. I am gonna enjoy the fuck outta these fries.


The night goes well, but I'm distracted doing a lot of admiring of Michael in his new clothing choices. I can see his biceps; I can't help it. Not to mention, I can still feel him from in the car earlier. Michael eats with me, even though it's not necessary for him. I thought he'd tell me things tasted different, or like dirt, but he says nothing's changed from before.

After I stuff my face, I luxuriate in the feeling of Michael, sinking into him, allowing myself to get comfortable. I miss laying with him naked in his bed. We've had a very PG-13 relationship of late. Papa, and Daddy have allowed us a little more leeway on that front, we're allowed to cuddle on the couch during movies, more than just the standard hand holding. They really are trying to give me some adult privileges, but I want to rip Michael's clothes off and make out with him.

Papa sat Michael down in his office after the Happenings, for what Michael described as the longest conversation about sex in his entire life, which is saying something. It ended in a spanking for Michael, which succeeded in making him swear off even trying to have sex with me for a week, even though Papa didn't ever tell him we couldn't.

Surprisingly the spanking wasn't for the having of the sex. My parents know Michael and I have sex, they're not stupid, but they expect us to be appropriate about it. Having sex outside of Doctor Miller's house? Inappropriate.

My parents may have resigned themselves to the fact we have sex, but they're also not going to give us the all clear to fornicate in my room whenever I want. They're not going to make it easy, which I suppose is fair, they are my parents, but we thought we'd have Michael's apartment. I wonder if Papa's already got to Gabriel on the whole sex thing in teenaged bedrooms?

Yeah probably. Guess it's going to have to be car sex for a good long while. Even the tree house isn't safe these days. Michael kisses my crown. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Sex is going to be hard," I tell him.

"Is that what's on your mind? Is that all that's ever on your mind?"

"I am a teenager Michael. Sex is always on my mind. You're a teenaged archangel, shouldn't it be on your mind double?"

He's quiet for a few moments, and then he admits it. "Fine, you're right. But thinking about it's non-helpful. My cock is hard right now," he whispers in my ear, which in turn makes my cock hard.

I look to where the twins are, and the time. "They were told to meet us out at the car at ten after ten. How about we wait out there?"

"You trust them to do that?"

"Not exactly. Fine. One more round and then we come back into wrangle them to the car?"

"Fuck Dean, I don't think I have a choice. I need to be in you," he says quietly.

It's a good round of sloppy, frantic, teenaged-sex. I throw my head back when we're done, even Michael having to collapse for a moment on top of me. Things are good, things are so, so, so good. We have to scramble a bit with our clothes when we, to our huge surprise, hear the twins approaching – we really thought we'd have to wrangle them. We get ourselves together, just in time.

"Oh my god, are you two…? Ew! Forget it, I'm not sitting back there. I'm calling an Uber," Jensen says.

Jeez. I open the door and Michael and I pile out. Jensen and Jared are there with their friend, Hank. I don't like Hank. I don't trust him. Don't know what it is, but my sixth sense just goes on alert with that guy. "You're fine," I tell him. "Get in the car."

"When did you become, so bossy, Dean?" Jared says trying to be cool in front of their delinquent friend. I just know he's delinquent. Maybe he's one of those hooligans Papa always talks about?

"Since I've been charged with the responsibility of the likes of you two, now quit messing around. We have to get going, if we're going to be on time."

I notice right away, Michael's looking at them funny, and then he crosses his arms. It only takes a second of standing with them for me to catch on. "Oh my god, you idiots smoked weed!"

"Shhhhh, not so loud. Besides, it's totally legal in the state of California," Jensen says.

"Not for fourteen-year-olds," I counter. "Why? Why did you do this?"

Jared shrugs. "We like it? Guess you should have been keeping an eye on us instead of having sex where we have to sit. Ew!"

I suppose he does have a point, I should have been watching them and not having sex with my hot boyfriend, but that doesn't erase the fact that they should not have been smoking up. "Yeah, I did fuck up, but that doesn't make this okay. Get in the car." I'm surprised when they actually look chagrined. I quickly check my phone, as I go round to the driver's seat, huh, it's only nine-thirty. That means they must have known we'd need time to deal with this. They fucking planned all of this, hoping I'd dig them out of trouble. Jerks.

When we're all in the car, including Hank who I can tell is silently judging us, I slam my head against the seat. We just got out of being grounded. But it's not just that, this means I will have let my parents down yet again. I already did the worst thing they could imagine, by racing off to fight demons and dark angels, getting myself turned into fertilizer, such that only God himself could put me back together again. I've spent weeks, weeks earning their trust and good graces back, and in just a few hours, I've wiped it away again.

Dean Winchester, thy name is fool.

"You know Dean," Jensen says. "I bet your boyfriend could help us out."

Hank (hopefully) doesn't know Michael is an archangel, so Jensen talks in code, but we all know what he means. Michael gives Jensen his best glare, but then takes my hand and relaxes his features into something softer just for me. "These two deserve to be skewered, but I know that means you skewered with them, well, and me too. I'm willing to help them for us."

That is very tempting. I also appreciate Michael giving this to me as my call. Tonight was about me being responsible, and I was decidedly not. It's also a something between my parents and I, not a Michael and I thing. My father is going to expect Michael-involvement, he'd likely expect Michael to make me come clean about this, but Michael really meant it when he said we'd get up to some kid mischief together, and this classifies, so he's keeping his Top-hat out for this one. Weed is a big deal to my parents, but surprisingly not Michael. He's against smoking it for all the stuff it does to your lungs, and also vaping because of what it did to that seventeen-year-old kid, but the oils, and edibles? He's for medicinally.

But my parents, have never allowed recreational use even minimally like they have for alcohol, and far as any of us know, the twins aren't using it medicinally. Even if they were, that would be something Papa and Daddy would want to consent to on their behalf, as their parents, a privilege they would have to earn, just like a beer at a Colt party would be, or have been recommended by a physician. Basically, this is not going to go over well. Ugh. Fuck my life. "I need to think about this, let's just get Hank home."

"Wait, you guys said they'd help me too," Hank says. "No way I'm getting thrown under the bus by myself. My parents still think weed is a gateway drug."

Little shits. They did bank on me helping them out. They're wise enough to keep their smart mouths quiet. "Then why did you smoke it, Hank?"

"Because I like it?"

"Try that one on your parents, Hank," I say not caring at all. He wants to break his parents rules; he can deal with them. I've got my own parents' rules to deal with.

"Forget it. You guys send me off on my own, I'm telling all, and my parents will call your parents."

I hope the twins are seeing what a not-awesome friend Hank is. I look at Michael, and he shakes his head apologetically. He can't use his mojo on Hank. One of Gabriel's rules, not just for Michael, but all the angels he's in charge of, expressly forbids the use of grace in front of muggles, er humans, unless absolutely necessary, or in the case of someone like me, who already knows about them. Michael might be argumentative about other things, but he won't disobey that order, not for something like this anyway.

"I read about some drops that can be used for the eyes to make them less red? Visine," Michael says. "How about some of those to start?"

I nod and start the car, totally mad at myself.

No one talks all the way to the gas station, and when we get there, Michael offers to run into grab the Visine. "Hank, you're coming with me," Michael says in no uncertain terms. The little dweeb goes with him, having the sense to look afraid of Michael.

Which leaves me alone with my two delinquent brothers. "What the hell were you two thinking? We are in so much trouble."

"We were thinking your angel boyfriend would do his thing, snap his mystical fingers, and bippty-boppity-boo!" They both burst out in giggles at themselves. They are totally stoned.

"You know Michael can't do his thing on Hank. Wait, what did you tell Hank?"

"Don't worry, he doesn't know about Feathers. We just said our awesome big brother and his boyfriend would help us out, but you are being totally not awesome right now," Jensen says.

"Yeah, more like bogus," Jared adds.

"Okay, Bill and Ted. Calm down. You're lucky I'm not back there spanking you right now for this. Wouldn't that be a sight for Hank to see?" They think he's so cool, I'll never understand it.

I see both sets of eyes, in the rearview mirror, widen in shock. "You wouldn't?" Jared says.

Would I? I just… said it like nothing; peeled off my tongue. Felt so natural after hearing someone say that to me all my life, be it Papa, Daddy, Uncle Dal, Uncle Chris… the list goes on. But I haven't actually spanked the twins yet. So, would I? You know what? I one hundred percent would. And what's more, I get it now. I get what they're doing; they're testing me. They're seeing where I fit in the Winchester hierarchy, hell, I get to see where I fit.

And see it's a bit convoluted. There's Colt Law, and Winchester Law, which run side by side in my family as if two roads parallel to each other, existing at the same time, taking you different places, the twain shall never meet kind of thing. But us boys, we've been trying to build some bridges between the two, because fact is, we're Colts and Winchesters.

Winchester law is clear on this one. You come clean, and accept the consequences. End of story.

But Colt law? I know if I were with my Colt cousins, they'd say we keep it between the teens, since nothing truly harmful was happening. I think of the many times some of the older cousins let the littler cousins do things we weren't supposed to.

Nothing harmful is going to result from this. They're stoned, but it will wear off, they'll probably sleep more soundly than ever, and I won't have to see that terrible wince of disappointment on Papa's face. Or Daddy's. And oh my god Uncle Dal and Uncle Chris. What's the use in having access to grace, something almost as good as the power of God, if you can't even use it?

But none of these thoughts overrules the one that's most important to me, the one I learned from the man himself, my father. I have responsibility to them. All weed smoking aside, because I don't care about that so much, they're literally testing me to see just how seriously I take my responsibility to them. Sure they'll be pissed at me, but they're gonna feel so safe knowing that I'm willing to put my own ass on the line doing what's best for them. I know what I have to do.

There's also the me to consider, which Papa has underlined is important. What they did wasn't cool on that level too. Sure an older Colt Cousin might let you have an extra beer when they shouldn't, but that's trouble they're consenting to. There's a mutual trust in that exchange, the trust in that you can handle another beer, so he's not going to get in trouble for your drunk ass doing something stupid.

I did not say I was on board with this, and now my ass is on the line for something really stupid, something I've never even done myself. I am not okay with this, and they're going to know. This totally breaks brother code!

Michael and Hank are heading back toward the car. Michael's smiling too brightly, and Hank looks like he just saw the boogey-man. I guess giving me a moment alone with my brothers wasn't the only reason he pulled Hank away. He's a lot quieter when he gets into the backseat, sitting on the outside this time, squishing the twins together. "Here's the Visine," Michael says.

"Thanks, I'll take that," I say. The twins and Hank watch on horrified as I drive by the trash and toss the Visine away.

"Hey! Whadja do that for?" Hank says. The twins have already caught on.

"Sorry, not sorry, Hank. You're just gonna have to tell your parents what you did. We're telling ours."


I couldn't be happier getting Hank out of my car, and then I head to Casa de Winchester.

"You're really gonna rat us out?" Jensen says.

"I really am."

"But then you'll both be in trouble too," Jared says.

"We will, and we're going to talk about that tomorrow, but first things first."

I take Jensen by the scruff of his neck, and Michael takes Jared, and we frog-march them into the house, stopping to take our shoes off, and then heading through to the living room where Daddy and Papa are cuddled up together Netflix and chilling. Sadly for them, they're not going to get to the chilling part of that.

"All right, lemme go," Jensen says. "Stop being dramatic."

"Dean?" Papa says sitting up. "Everything okay?"

"No it's not."

"Everything's fine," Jared says. "You're makin' him think we're dying, dude – which we are not." For some reason, that sets him off giggling, which sets Jensen off giggling. Oh yeah, that's right they're stoned.

That gets Papa standing, and Daddy too. "Somebody better tell me what's going on soon."

"These two imbeciles got stoned," Michael says. He crosses his arms, doing his best to pretend like he's one of the adults reaming them out, but that's about to end real quick.

"How did that happen? You two were supposed to be watching them," Papa says.

Michael's posture changes to more subdued, I suddenly wish I'd have let Michael do whatever he was going to do to hide their stonedness from our parents. I put my bravest face on. "We were watching them, but then we went out to have sex in my car." My whole body winces.

"Dean Daniel, Jonathan Winchester," Daddy says. Wow. Four names is Colt for not-good. That's all he needs to say to me for me to know everything about how much he's going to tell me off later. He turns to Michael. "Michael, if Dean is going to be irresponsible, I expect you to have some sense."

Michael bites his lip. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Explain yourselves," Papa says to the twins.

"It was stupid," Jensen says. "We don't even like smoking weed really. Just, all our friends were doing it, so we toked up. It was such a small amount, we didn't think it'd be a big deal." Huh, they both told me they liked it, so either they're lying to Papa, or they lied to me.

"It is a big deal. The children of this house have not yet been permitted so smoke weed. Jared and Jensen, head to bed. I'll deal with you before church tomorrow. Dean, Michael stay. Sit."

Awww, man.

"You mind if I help them get to bed, Cassy? I want to get the smell off them, they smell like skunk."

"Go ahead, Baby." He kisses Daddy, and then rounds on the two of us when everyone's gone, and there are no witnesses to hear us scream. "The disappointment I feel is monumental, Dean. I made it clear you were on probation, this does not bode well for you."

Ouch. Like, fucking ouch.

"Yes, sir. Am I grounded again?" I have to know. It feels like it's been forever, and it really sucks I will be again for probably forever.


"What? Really?"

"Yes. You know I always appreciate you coming clean, and owning up. When you are honest, and I don't have to catch you the consequences will be much less severe."

"Sooooo that's it?" I say hopefully, knowing there's no way in hell it could be that easy.

"Oh no, you're both getting a good spanking, but that's the only consequence owed here."

"What about Daddy? He looked mad."

"I'm not going to stop him lecturing you, but I am dealing with this. Stand up please."

Michael's quiet with dread, knowing he's next, I fill with dread when I watch Papa start to unbuckle the belt he's wearing. I stand, but all I can focus on is Papa pulling at the buckle of his belt, and unlatching it, and then sliding it through the loops in his pants. He does it seamlessly, the mark of a man who's done it hundreds of times.

"Why aren't your pants down, young man?"

Because of that I want to say. Thing with leather is, you can make it nice, so fucking nice, and it can leave the most beautiful fucking bruises to look at for later, but you can also make it sting like hell, and bite, and I have no doubt that's what Papa intends to do with it. Quickly, so as not to earn any more than I already have coming, I remove my jacket, undo my jeans, and pull them down to the top of my thighs, leaving my boxers up.

"Bend over, hands on the arm of the couch, please."

I do as instructed, leaving my ass out and vulnerable.

"Dean, when I tell you to watch your brothers, I expect you to keep both eyes on them, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," I say wincing for what I know is coming. Papa lays down ten solid stripes on my clothed bum, each one elicits a wince, and sharp breath. I want to run when he reaches under the waistband of my boxers, and pulls them down, letting the night air drift across my already sore cheeks, but leaving them up enough to cover my important bits from target range.

"I expect," whap! "a lot more," whap! "from you, Dean." whap!

Every single one of those is a trial. A sting that radiates outward and stays in the same spot all at once. He's not in a generous mood tonight, and some of his stripes end up in the same spot, deepening the level of fucking, ow! It's not by accident. "If I ever have to chastise you for this again," whap! whap! whap! "sitting will be a distant memory."

"Y-Ye-ow! Yes, sir."

He lays down another ten and they are not nice. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

He doesn't give me much reprieve, as I tell him what I have to say from myself. "I'm," wince, "sorry, sir, and" whimper, "I, ah! I'll, next time, you can count on me," I get out before the next one. "Two eyes, four! I messed up, and, ah-ow! it was the wrong example to set. They look up to me!" I realize as I say it they do. Weeks ago, I looked up to them, but Modlenol changes a lot.

He pauses, and I get to rest. The sting in my ass is prominent though. I try not to squirm, I want to show him how well I can accept the consequences, but man does it ever hurt. "They do, son. We've all noticed they do."

I nod, as Papa rubs lightly over his work on my ass, which I appreciate. It doesn't alleviate the sting as much as I'd like, but it's something. "You can't properly guide someone who doesn't respect you. They might be upset with you at times, but they'll appreciate that you won't allow them to do foolish things."

"Yes, sir."

"All right, we'll finish up with ten more, and then I want you in that corner while I deal with Michael, we're not done talking."

The last ten are very reminiscent of the way Grampa Clyde gives a proper hiding with his belt, at least the version I've recently had after the whole happenings saga, which I'm told was easy compared to what he gives others. If that's easy, I don't know how anyone can manage hard. Point is, it was not fun, but his opinion was if I wanted to race off and do big boy things, I could have a big boy spanking. Papa's definitely taking a page out of his book, and I've got to use my best breathing techniques to make it through.

I am never so glad to be done, and I almost wish I'd just been grounded instead, almost.

Gingerly, I pull up my jeans, and head to the corner, while Papa reads Michael the same riot act he gave me, only his includes a hefty lecture on what he should and shouldn't be allowing me to get up to. I don't envy Michael what I can hear Papa laying down on him with this leather belt.

When it's over, I get called back, and we're both made to sit again, which neither one of us is able to enjoy. Michael will heal faster than I will, but that, what I heard Papa doing to him, he'll feel till he gets home, at least. I grab his hand, both because I'm still relishing every second I can, and when you go through a spanking together, it's natural to seek comfort, and give comfort. I feel a contented, buzz, actually, even though Papa's not done with us.

"Now that we've dealt with your irresponsibility, I want to talk about sex in public, before Daddy gets back."

He one hundred percent threw them both in a bath, probably together to teach them a lesson. I almost smile thinking about it. They'll be busy awhile yet.

"I've been over this with you both separately. Daddy and I have relaxed the rules about that." My parents talked about a lot in the days following the events after Lucifer. In deciding what constituted 'more responsibility', sex was included. Daddy admitted it was something that was going to be hard for him to adjust to, Papa reluctantly admitted I've been a teenager a long time, and so long as I was responsible, it wasn't something I was going to be in trouble for. They weren't stupid, they knew we were having sex before, but it was sort of an underground, we'll turn our heads so long as you're not too obvious and it'd better not be in your room Dean Winchester. But now, well I've not been given the go ahead for the house yet, but I think that's where they intend on going with it. "Why the car? Weren't you at Michael's apartment today?"

In case anyone is wondering, yes, this is as awkward as it seems, and yes I'd rather have another go with Papa's belt than this. "Michael's apartment is the new site of some kind of angel headquarters for a few weeks," I explain.

"Ah. What about Michael's, um, bedroom?" Guess it's just as hard for Papa too.

"Too many angels there, sir," Michael answers for us.

Papa gets it, angels can hear things real well. He nods, and then takes a deep breath, like he's not sure about what he wants to say, but it's got to be said. That's the kind of thing he's got to do as Head of House. I expect something bad, but it's really… good. "I've already run it by Grampa Winchester, and he's on board considering your circumstances Dean, and well, you're still his favorite person, of course."

"Oh board for what, Papa?"

"It's a little out of the usual, but it still falls within the jurisdiction of the Winchester Way." Okay, now he's just building the anticipation on purpose. "I was going to redo the rec room downstairs, make it a better, more grown up games room for you, your friends, and the twins and their friends – Lord knows they need someplace to have friends over where I can keep a better eye on them."

Unless Papa's suggesting we have sex on the pool table, I don't know how this connects. "That sounds awesome, Papa."

"It will be really nice, but where I was going with this, I'm going to redo the bedrooms down there, make it one larger bedroom, for you and Michael."

Michael and I have to look at each other to make sure we both heard the same thing. "Um, sorry sir, but what?" I ask.

"Michael's not moving in, you still have to ask to have him over, but you can move to a new bedroom, a more private one, and it would be permissible for you two to… have sexual relations when he stays over."

Ew! Did my father just say 'sexual relations' in reference to Michael and It? I don't care how old I get, this will never be comfortable.

"Your uncle Dallas brought forth the idea, actually. He made a good point that when he moved in here, he was seventeen. We allowed him to have, visitors, when he was eighteen. Regardless of your age, we want to trust you with this in a more grown up way. How does that sound?"

"It sounds awesome, Papa. Like, the best thing ever."

"We expect you to be a grown up about it, Dean. It's still a privilege." And we all know privileges can be taken away just as quickly as they are given in Winchesterland.

"Yes, sir. I can be trusted with this, I'll make you proud—"

"—you always make me proud, son."

"Not to bring it up again, buuuuuut…"

"What you did tonight was not something I'm proud of you doing, no, but overall you make me a proud Papa."

I didn't even cry during that spanking, this kinda stuff's what's making me tear up. "But Papa, I messed up royally tonight. Why would you do this for us? I'm not sure we deserve it."

Michael's not saying much, I can tell he feels the same, and pretty sure he's been shocked into silence. "This is most certainly not a reward for what you two did, but at the same time, tonight's made me realize it's time. You really impressed me by coming to me with this, I know the courage it must have took, and I think if you had been given the same level of adult respect, it would have given you the space to make more adult choices."

Wow. Just wow.

"But, uh, warning. Daddy is not ready for this. He wasn't against it, but he wasn't thrilled either."

"I don't want him to be upset, Papa."

"He'll be fine. He just needs some time to adjust is all. I think he mentioned something about picking all new furniture."

Papa does know Daddy the best, so I trust him. "Okay then, I'd love that, Papa." Somehow this makes me feel like Wendy leaving the nursery.

"It's settled then. I'll have the contractor come by the house on Monday."

Wow so soon. "What's settled?" Daddy says returning to the living room.

"I told the boys what I was planning in the basement."

Daddy's face falls a little, but only a little. "My baby boy's growing up," Daddy says.

"I'm not moving away, Daddy."

"I know, sweetheart. I'll be okay, but don't think I've forgotten about what you did tonight."

"We were spanked within an inch of our lives," I say hoping for sympathy. I, of course, get none.

"I'm sure Papa gave you a decent lecture too, but I want to underline, you are growing up, when you are in charge you need to act like it. It's not a responsibility you are given lightly. What would it have been like if I cut out while looking after all my Colt siblings?"

Yikes. Yeah, the whole house would have burnt down. Not to mention, Daddy had a whole lot more responsibility than they're expecting me to have, but I get it, having some is important for developing life skills and what I've been given pales in comparison to what Daddy had at my age. It's time to step up.

"I really am sorry, Daddy. That's part of why I cam clean. I wanted to be held accountable for this. What I did was irresponsible, anything could have happened, especially with those two."

Daddy sits himself between me and Michael putting an arm around each of us, and we both lean into him, so he can cradle each of our heads in his large hands, and kiss each of our crowns in turn. I know what he's thinking as he does it, same thing he's said out loud for weeks: I'm glad God gave me more time with you two.

"Sending you two to look after them for an event like tonight wasn't just for show. Frankly, we don't trust them with the kinds of stuff we'd trust you two with." Man, I'm so fucking touched. "You need to do better."

"We'll do better," Michael promises.

"We will. In fact, tomorrow after church, I'm having my own brotherly chat with them," I say.

"And I'm helping," Michael adds.

Daddy nods. "Good, I was going to suggest it."

"If everything is settled, I think it's time we all retire for the night," Papa says. "Michael, are you staying over?"

Whoa. Papa really is trying.

"I won't be allowed, sir," he admits. Yeah. He's gotten on Gabriel's last nerve. "Would someone mind taking me home?"

"Here, Baby." I pull the keys to the Impala out of my pocket, and toss them to him.

"Really?" he says.

"Not like you'll crash her."

"Yeah but," he takes a breath he doesn't need. "I'll bring her back in time to pick you up for church."

Chapter Text


I pull in at eleven thirty pm, and put the Impala in park, well before curfew. I'm still reeling about the evening, and that Dean loaned me Baby. It's not the first time I've driven her, and there have been times I've had to drive her back for Dean, but not like this, an official loan.

Since I don't have anything pressing to do, I add 'wash Dean's car' to my list, but first, check-in, so Uncle knows I made it home for curfew.

I end up finding him and Tom cuddled up on the couch watching Netflix, very together. I have to conceal my glee at the way they frantically jump up trying to pretend like they weren't just Netflix and chillin' like Papa and Daddy Winchester were when Dean and I found them. "Michael, you're home early," Uncle Gabriel says.

"I am."

"You were so quiet," or they were so distracted, which is saying something for angels. "We were just, uh, we were…"

Do I finally put them out of their misery? I suppose it's time. I don't make it easy for them. I cross my arms and try doing my best Gabriel even if I look ridiculous with how young I look. "Something you want two tell me?" I raise both brows.

Uncle pulls Tom back to him, and settles in again. "How long did it take you to figure us out?"

"Before, or now?"

He thinks about it. "Both."

"I noticed you two making eyes at each other years ago. Lucifer almost caught on. I diverted him for you."

"We appreciate that," Uncle Gabriel says.

"Recently? As soon as I came… home," I say pausing on home. This being my home is a point of contention. "You two are not super stealth about it."

"We didn't know how you would feel about it; we were trying to find a way to tell you."

Since this seems to be a night of fessing up, I go with the trend. I sit on the couch adjacent to them. "I haven't exactly been the beacon of openness, and understanding. I've had something negative to say about every rule and administrative decision you've made, since being in charge. I can understand why you've been going back and forth with how to tell me. I apologize for my behavior, I'm just—"

"—testing? We know, Michael. Castiel, Sam, even the Cowboy told us what to expect," Uncle Gabriel says.

"There's also something you should know," I begin. "Castiel had to punish Dean and I tonight." I tell them everything, including about the room Castiel is having reconstructed for Dean. Uncle Gabriel hasn't seemed to mind me staying over at the Winchesters, so long as I spend sufficient time at home, and that I acquire permission. "Are you, will you punish me too, sir?"

"Definitely. You're sentenced to watching the rest of this Queer Eye marathon with Tom and I."

"Hey! You were watching without me?" I complain at Tom. That's our thing.

"Just catching Gabe up, he was behind us by two episodes. C'mon over here though, you'll be cold and lonely over there."

If Gabriel spends too much time around Castiel, Tom spends too much time around Sam. "I'm fine over here. Besides that's ridiculous. I can't get cold."

It's like I told him they took Perfect Strangers off Netflix, and he's trying to do calculus all at once. "But Sam seems to think—"

"—we don't need to recreate The Winchesters over here. One place where all their nonsense happens is enough," I say.

"Get your irascible tookus over here now, Michael, before I do give you a real punishment." That's Gabriel.

"Fine." But my arms are crossed, and I'm acting less than my fake, human age.

As I get up they part, making space for me in the middle of them. Tom is like an over-sized, excited puppy. "That's better," he says, as I sit down. He snaps his fingers, and a blanket we don't need appears to make us 'cozy'.

"How are you two supposed to enjoy each other with me in the middle?"

"Don't worry, we can enjoy each other later," Uncle Gabriel says in a way that's slightly teasing, but still manages to keep his austere character.

"Uncle!" Ew.

They both smile, as I settle between them. It's not the same level of comfort as I feel nestled within my Winchester family, but I think we're getting there.


It didn’t help matters that Gabriel had to physically collect me when I wouldn’t leave the Winchester’s. Things got worse before they got better. Sure I had agreed to God’s condition that I subject myself to Gabriel’s authority, but saying and doing are quite different.

And Gabriel had a specific Michael-Agenda. He wanted to structure everything with the sole purpose of giving me a proper human-style youth, one that might serve to mend some of what Lucifer did to me, but one with an angel-spin.

Gabriel is every bit as arrogant about being an angel as any of us angels are, but he realizes I’ve been… afflicted by my human family, and feels the need to adjust accordingly. Dean pointed out how considerate it was for Uncle Gabriel to do such a thing; I find it unnecessary and irksome.

It’s been, an interesting annoyance.


~THEN:Four days after the happenings~

Gabriel is being over-the-top-ridiculous. He won't let me go anywhere, and he's making me eat breakfast with him, while he sits sipping coffee, and slowly working on a chocolate croissant. He doesn't need the food, but he likes to eat sweet things, and coffee. "Is there any chance I can head over to the Winchester's after this farce?" I'm angry. Dean died. He died. Just because Gabriel doesn't know that, doesn't make any difference to me – he knows I went through some stuff, it was Dean for Father's sake!

I'm already familiar with the kind of respect, Uncle Gabriel expects from me. When I said nothing was different between Gabriel and me, I meant it. I've always deferred to him anyway, because I do respect him, and he was in charge before anyway. Right now, however, I'm … fuck fine, I'm emotional dammit, because of Dean. He was sliced open before my very eyes, and every moment I don't see him whole… I, fuck, where is the Pine-Sol?

Ugh. But my point is, I'm well aware, I'm not paying Gabriel the respect due, as my superior, now the superior, and the look he's giving me says how much he likes it. About zero.

"You're not going anywhere, Michael. Not until we've talked, and sorted out a few things." He sips his coffee, telling me with his body language that I'd better mind my tongue.

I reign in my temper, some. "We could sort out things now."

Uncle Gabriel frowns, his forehead scrunching up, irritated. "We'll sort things out, when I say we will. First you're going to eat, and I'm going to finish my coffee."

"I don't understand why I need to eat this, I don't require food, anymore." My hands tense, and shake with rage.

"Tom made that for you, and you will eat it," he says in a way that's final. His tone also says continue to argue at your own peril.

Realizing I'm not getting anywhere until I eat the stupid omelet Tom made me, I dig in. When my fork clatters to the empty plate, I get chastised for having no manners. I couldn't care less. I just want to get this talk over with, so I can get to Dean. Except Uncle Gabriel is not finished his coffee, and he said I would be waiting until he was done.

I don't see why we can't talk while drinking coffee. It's the most awkward thirty minutes ever. When he's finished, he pushes his coffee mug and empty plate aside, and leans back a little. "We have much to discuss."

"And if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to get on with it," I say. Yes I'm being impatient.

"Let's start there. Respect. I know you already know the kind of respect and deference I expect. Yes?”

“Yes sir, but—"

“—no but. I’m not going to allow you leeway there. Respect me, or suffer the consequences.”

I bite my tongue. This is angels. The highest ranking among us is owed a particular amount of respect. It’s necessary for battle. Beyond that, he is now my guardian, which has special significance. More important, Gabriel is someone who deserves my respect. “I apologize.”

“Better. You’re not leaving today, I have a job for you. Not a Lucifer job, something more domestic,” he explains. Everyone is pretty quick to clarify, to me, they're not Lucifer. Of course they're not.

“But, when can I go see Dean?” I don’t care what else he wants me to do, I don't care that I sound like a six-year-old asking for ice cream. I just want to see Dean.

“I assure you I’m not trying to keep you from him, nor will I, but we have some things to take care of here. Castiel has said he’d like to meet with all of you in three days. You may go back then—"

“—three days? Please Uncle Gabriel… I, I can’t.” And I really can’t.

He considers me. “We’ll see. For now I need your focus here.”

“I will do my best, sir.”

I get a curt nod. “The things we’re going to talk about, you’re not going to like a lot of them.”

I already don’t. I cross my arms.

He purses his lips, but doesn’t comment on my closed-off body language. “It is important to me, Michael that you have a better upbringing than what you had.”

“I don’t need upbringing. I’m an angel.”

“I disagree. Angels do. I was.”

He feels he had very significant impact from the time he spent with our Aunt Amara, and our other brother Balthazar. He calls it an upbringing, I have previously stated that I do not consider it such, but I am too influenced by humans. I suppose I could see why he considers it an upbringing if by angel standards. It certainly wouldn't be by human ones.

"What do you propose?"


"What? No. Absolutely not."

But for all my bravado, I pale at the look at get. "I wasn't asking Michael, it will be good for you, and I've been charged with what's good for you."

"This conversation is over." I stand up ready to storm out of the dining room, but Gabriel uses his grace to slam the doors shut.

"Sit down, Michael. We've barely begun talking."

I turn back toward him. "I don't want that."

"I know what you must be thinking. Lucifer did it to control you, it's not like that for me. I want you to have something special."

I believe him when he says that, which doesn't make it any easier. I know he has good intentions, but it's a road I've been down too many times.

"Look, we'll discuss that one some more, but for now let's move on. Please sit back down."

I do, knowing I'm in for more fiery topics.

"I want you to get to be a kid Michael. I don't want you worrying about angel business for a little while, which is why I've chosen Tom as my second. You will defer to him as well."

"What, your second? Over me? That's ridiculous. I've been around a lot longer than Tom."

"You have, but God has other plans for you."

"So it's about God now, is it?"

"A little, but mostly it's about what's right for you. He left me in charge of that, I will make sure this is done right."

I slump in my chair, like the kid he wants me to be, and rest my head on my balled fist, elbow propped onto the table. From there he goes through a whole list of rules, which include a curfew that apparently Papa Winchester suggested during their telephone conversation yesterday – yet to be decided on – and how much time he'd like me to spend 'at home' rather than my apartment. By the end of the conversation, my face must look like I've chewed a lemon, or that unfortunate time, Dean gave me a sour apple Jolly Rancher, which did not make me feel jolly in the least.

"I know this is going to take some getting used to, but Michael, I'd really like to make this work. I'm going to make sure things are different."

"May I go now?"

"Just one more thing that project I had for you? I'd like you to find us a new location. I want to move us out of here."

"Fine. Yes, sir." My eyes are all challenge. "May I go?"

Gabriel taps his fingers on the table. "Where will you be?"

Really? He needs to know that much? "My room."

He nods. "You may go to your room, but do not leave the house." I push away and storm out. When I get to my room, the first thing I do is call Dean. "Dean? Oh thank god."

"Oh my god, Michael. You have to stop acting like I'll die any second."

"But you did," I almost shout. Almost.

"And yet here I am. Ugh. You coming back soon? The twins are hellions. I need back up."

"Unfortunately not." I fill him in on Uncle Gabriel's decisions, everything except the Modlenol. I intend on talking Uncle out of that one. Dean laughs. "What's so funny?"

"The idea of you having a curfew is hilarious."

"This is supposed to give me the full growing up experience."

"It probably will."

We both pause for several of Dean's breaths. "I need to be with you, Dean.

"Me too. The need's overwhelming."

"Unfortunately he won't budge. I'm going to try again for tomorrow."

"Yes, please get here tomorrow. I—oh just a sec Michael. Yeah Daddy, I'm on the phone. What? but why can't he—yes, sir. Sorry Baby, I gotta go. Tomorrow though, right?"

"Yes, Duck. Tomorrow." I hope I can make that true.


But tomorrow doesn't happen, or well, not how I would like it to. Looking for a new place that is suitable, is harder than I thought it would be, and I know Uncle won't even consider releasing me, until I've gotten a good start.


When I've found a choice of several places, I take them to Uncle Gabriel hoping my task is done, but he proceeds to give me another task. "Excellent choices, Michael," he approves. "Set up appointments, and then I would like you and Tom to go look at them."

"Yes, sir. Sir? Between appointments, could I… could I go see Dean?" It's embarrassing having to ask for some reason. Why should it be? This is nothing I'm not used to.

"You may, Michael. I will set up a dinner with Castiel, but home by eight, and working on the task I've set. After all, these choices may not work out."

Set up a dinner? Like I'm a toddler on a play date? I would be insulted, I want to complain and protest, but I can't bring myself to more than mild irritation that I'm sure Gabriel doesn't miss. It's not like we're talking Modlenol here; I want to save my arguments for that. "Yes, sir."

I'm able to make it to Winchester dinner, but I'm only granted a couple of hours, which is not enough time with Dean.

It's not been a full forty-eight hours, but it feels like it's been years. I catalogue him, looking over every portion of him, making sure nothing's happened to him since I've been away. "You've got a bruise on your arm."

"Yeah that was Jensen. We got into a disagreement, he punched me in the arm."

I'll kill him. "I hope he got a good spanking for it."

"No. We sorted it out before anyone came along thankfully. Don't worry, I punched him back."

My mouth forms a line, as I restrain my anger.

"Look Michael, can we just… not fight? It's chaos here, I only get to see you for a couple hours, I'd love some snuggle time," he says shyly.

"Then that's what you shall have, come." I'll simply heal the bruise, while we cuddle.

When my two hours are up, I try calling, to see if my uncle will allow another hour. "No, Michael. Come, home." I almost throw my phone. This is so not fair!

I do obey him and return 'home', but I'm not happy about it, and charge straight into his office, without knocking. I'm angry enough my grace is bubbling just below the surface.

He takes one look at me, just one and decides, "no. I don't think so, son. We're not talking when you're like this. I don't feel like having my office destroyed even if we are moving out of it soon. Go cool off in your room, I'll be up in a bit."

"You're sending me to my room?"

"I believe that's what I said, yes?"


"—I'm not arguing about this. Go now before I drag you up there myself."

God did say he would be 'beefed up', stronger than me, but I've not had it demonstrated as of yet. I don't feel like finding out, as I'm carried across the manor, while the others watch on, so I storm up to my room like the teenager he wants me to be, and fling myself on the bed, pulling out my phone to text Dean. I've just been sent to my room, and I don't know why. Can you believe this?

I watch the little dots that show he's typing turn on and then off again a few times, which probably means he's typed and then changed his message a few times. Finally I get, Honestly? Kinda, yeah. You weren't in the best of moods. When he wouldn't let you stay, you stormed off.

I twist my lips. Did I have that big a tantrum? What's with me? Why am I acting like this? Lucifer was far less fair, and collected when dealing with me. I'm sorry, Duck. Just getting used to things.

Naw, I get it. And Gabriel's got all the makings of a helicopter parent, which is cute from the outside, annoying from the inside. I'm sure he'll cool it over time.

I'm not so sure.

By the time Uncle Gabriel comes upstairs to deal with me, I have cooled down, and I'm apologetic. It's a good thing I have to head over to the Winchester's to be reamed out by Papa Winchester tomorrow, or I probably wouldn't be allowed out. "Uncle, I'm sorry. I don't know what's come over me."

His smile is cool and amused. "I've noticed you're having difficulty. I trust you'll work on it. If not, I'll help." I have no doubt about that. "For now, there are some things we have to discuss, I've got to submit your school application."

"Uncle I told you—"

He holds up his hand, and I zip it, before I throw another tantrum. "We're going to need a surname, a new one."

I choose to focus on that rather than the Modlenol, and school thing. "Did you have something in mind?" I ask.

"I was thinking Windsor, or Fraser."

"Fraser, like the giant Scott you have a crush on from that show?" I raise a suspicious eyebrow.


"None of us look Scottish."

"Didn't I tell you? We're all dying our hair red."

I roll my eyes. "Har, har. I vote Windsor, if I get a vote. I think it suits us."

Gabriel smiles, a free smile I haven't seen him smile in years. "Windsor it is," he says. His arms are still crossed though, and I know he's not done with me. "I really don’t mean to upset you with the Modlenol thing. I feel it will help you, Michael."

"All due respect, sir, I don't need help."

"I understand you don't see that you do, but you do. When you slept you would have nightmares."

"So do a lot of people, and thankfully I don't sleep anymore, so problem solved."

"It's not just the nightmares. It's hard to explain, exactly, but Lucifer life's affected you. The anxiety—"

"—has a lot to do with Dean."

"Perhaps some is your worry for him, but it's made worse by… what was done to you. I've noticed it shows up, when—"

My body shakes a little. "—I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Michael. Maybe in time you will come to see the wisdom in this."

"If you're so insistent I need help, couldn't we just ask the cowboy to put me through his intensive therapy, or something?"

"That's a given, Michael. I've already talked to him about weekly sessions for you. But we have access to something that could help you more deeply, it's part of why Modlenol exists. I want you to have everything."

It's hard to stay mad when I can tell it's all coming from a good place. Doesn't mean I'm not heavily annoyed. "Couldn't we do the cowboy therapy first, see how that goes, and if it's not working, then we could go the de-aging route?" Talking to Dallas is not terrible. Of course I would rather not, but it's better than de-aging.

"By then school will have already begun, I'd have thought you would have liked to attend school with your boyfriend. Think of how close an eye you'd be able to keep on him then," he says not making it secret that he's trying to turn me onto the idea, the same way you convince a toddler they'll like the broccoli if they'd only just try it.

And dammit, I do like that idea.

"In fact, it's fine with me if you think about it that way if it helps the medicine go down that you're there to keep a better eye on Dean."

He knows me. That's fucking tempting. "I'll have plenty of time to keep an eye on him anyway, since apparently I'm not permitted to do as much angel stuff as before."

We go back and forth like that long enough I exhaust Gabriel, which is a feat since archangels seldom get exhausted. He has to resort to, "I am your parent, and I said so. Let that be an end to this discussion."

Only he's got another thing coming if he thinks I'm letting it go, I do however, let it go for now, since I'm equally exhausted.

"I believe we have our first showing in thirty minutes. Make yourself presentable, and meet us at the door."

My clothes are minutely rumpled, but passable by my standards, still I probably shouldn't argue about every, little, thing. "Yes, sir. Will you be coming with Tom and I?"

"Not for every showing, I'll leave that up to the two of you, but I can attend the first few."

I notice during the first showing, Gabriel and Tom make eyes at each other, when they think I'm otherwise occupied on my phone, which I get in trouble for twice, after the winking at one another. I'm far too amused at their terrible ability to hide any of this from me. It's not like I didn't know they were into each other before.

I'm pretty sure even the Realtor thinks they're a couple.

We view three of the seven places I found, and Rita relays to us the times for the other appointments upcoming. "Did you like any of them?" I ask when we're back at the manor.

"The first one seemed like it might work. What did you think, Tom?" I don't miss that Gabriel's eyes are smiling.

"Also the first one, but I am concerned there's not enough land."

"Good point."

"May I be excused, sir?" No one's asking my opinion, so I might as well leave to call Dean.

"I want your opinion too, Michael. C'mon, let's debrief and then we should talk some more about school."

I don't want to go to school! I don't say it out loud in front of both of them though. Tom has always played a strange kind of guardianship role in my life. He was given to me, as terrible as that sounds, but that is how Lucifer's mind worked. He gave me an angel to run my errands, pick me up and drop me off as needed when I was a 'child'. Tom did more than that though. Not at first, but over time, he developed care for me. He helped me when Lucifer beat me, tended to my wounds. He'd spend the long month of July with me, while the Winchesters went to Texas, and I would be losing my mind with worry about Dean. We Pine-Soled a lot of stuff together, and watched a lot of sitcoms on Netflix.

He couldn't show he was too close of course, he had to be careful not to display too much affection, but sometimes, things came out. He was also quite vocal with his opinions when I'd go see Dean after having Lucifer cut me up, and it brought forth the reality that while Lucifer presented Tom to me as my caretaker, he was more than that, and had quite a bit of jurisdiction to save me from myself. Besides, even where he didn't, I know there were times he pulled Gabriel in, who could stop me if Tom thought I was being really ridiculous. I was surprised at the times he didn't. The pair of them took care of me together.

Which is why it feels like I'm standing before both of my parents, and I know how well it will go over if I lip off one in front of the other. I can't promise how well I'll hold my tongue, but I do follow them to Gabriel's office.

After we go through the pros and cons of each place we saw, Uncle Gabriel leads us into the school topic again, and Modlenol. "I'm excited for you to have this experience with Gabriel, Michael," Tom says before I can say anything about it.

"You are?"

He nods. "You'll get to grow up, a little, with a parent who cares about you."

"Forgive me, Tom, but I fail to see how a few years is going to make any difference."

"I'm surprised, Michael. You of all beings should know well the effects of Modlenol. It changes how you view people. You'll be able to grow a much deeper bond with, Gabe."

Gabe? "I've already grown up with Uncle Gabriel, I do have that bond," I say.

"You have one kind of bond now, yes, but it's not going to be like it will be with Gabriel, as your official guardian. Me too for that matter. I'm going to make sure you get the love and care I would have liked to have given you."

Perfect. Just what I don't need. "I assure you both, I got plenty of affections from the Winchesters."

Uncle Gabriel nods. "You did, but we are your family too, and we'd like to give our contribution. It will make life better for you and Dean in the long run."

This is looking bad for me, neither one is going to be talked out of it.

"I'll keep saying it until you know it's true, I'm doing this for you Michael, not for me. This is nothing like Lucifer's terrible schemes."

I sigh. "I know your intentions are good, Uncle, but I still disagree that it's necessary."

He looks to Tom as if to say, 'see what I'm dealing with?' "I will leave the outline I've drawn up for your classes on your desk. The ones circled in red are non-negotiable, the ones in circled in green are, and not to worry, I've consulted with Castiel, you're in most of Dean's classes, denoted by the 'D' written in at the corner of the block."

As much as I'm not for this, I can't help feeling touched at how much work he went through to make sure it was done for my benefit.

"I want it returned to me by the end of the weekend. Onto other topics, there's the matter of your curfew, which I have not assigned a time for. After chatting with Castiel, I've decided on midnight. It's the same as Dean's curfew, and therefore appropriate for a teen."

Except that I'm not a teen. But since that won't go over well (he'll just tell me I will be soon, which will anger me), I focus on its irrelevance. "Sir, a curfew makes sense for a human teenager, but not for me. I don't sleep. I don't need to get to bed at any particular time."

"I understand that, but that's not the reason for yours. Castiel and I chatted at length about this. One of the functions of a curfew is, so the teen will understand he is not yet an adult, and does not have full adult privileges. It's also to teach responsibility. A later curfew is a sign he's ready for more responsibility. It's also to remind him that going out is a privilege granted by his guardian."

"But sir, I can be responsible with my time."

"Michael." He's getting irritated.

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be belligerent, but what am I supposed to do all night?"

That makes Gabriel happy, like I only protested the curfew because I misunderstood it. "That's when we'll spend time together. I know you'll want to spend time with Dean, and the Winchesters while they're awake, I'm willing to arrange our family time in the nighttime."

"Family time?"

Uncle Gabriel nods. "Yeah, kid. Family time's important."

I'm torn between wanting to face palm, and feeling touched that he cares so much. I decide to protest the curfew later. After all, Dean does intermittently; maybe that's how this is supposed to work? Not that it's ever gone well for Dean, but Gabriel is not Castiel.

The whole while we have this lovely little conversation, Tom's beaming at us. "This is right," he says. "It's just so right. Things are really working out."

"All right, you're dismissed Michael. There are still a few more things we've got to deal with, like your participation in The Happenings, but I'm going to wait until Castiel has his say tomorrow."

I make as fast a get away as I can, not failing to notice that Tom does not leave Gabriel's office when I do.

I phone Dean to complain to him about my new curfew, and he thinks it's hilarious. "Sorry," he says between bouts of laughter. "I feel partially responsible, since it was Papa who convinced him of that one."

"You could stop laughing."

"I could… but it's too funny!"

"I'll show you funny, next time I see you. What are you doing tonight?"

"Jake won't sleep, so I offered to watch him, so Uncle Chris can take care of Uncle Dal. He's on my hip. You wanna say hi to Michael, Jakey? Go'on, say hi."

"Hi!" Jake says.

"Good evening, Jake," I say.

"I can't believe you're even stuffy with the nine month old."

"He's a Moddler, he'll understand me."

When morning comes, I'm informed I'm to meet Uncle Gabriel for breakfast. "Good morning, sir," I say, and take my seat.

"Good morning, Michael." He's got his coffee and croissant again.

Before me I've got muffins, bacon, eggs and fruit. "Sir—"

"—let's talk about that, sir. I know we had to be very formal before, but we can relax some. Of course there will be times when the use of 'sir' will be good for your social life," he says thinking he's funny, but meaning every word. "But I'm all right with relaxing to Uncle for less serious matters."

"All right. Uncle, will it be necessary for me to eat every morning?"

"Not every morning, but I'm told a meal is excellent bonding time."

"For humans. We are not human." I'm beginning to wonder if he somehow forgot.

"After spending sometime with humans, I am beginning to see that we may share at least some qualities. Besides, you spent a lot of time raised by humans, I think it's important I continue on with their techniques. It's been good for you."

I spend a good portion of the meal wanting to throw a muffin at his head.

After that it's more showings with Tom, and then Uncle Gabriel trying yet again to make me see the merits of regressing a few years, before I head to the Winchesters to get wrung out by Castiel.

I arrive home for dinner the next day, Castiel having allowed me to stay over the night before enabled me to escape the curfew thing, but Uncle Gabriel informed me I was to be home for dinner, a dinner in which he informed me that I too was grounded due to the escapades of the Happenings.

At first I was horrified thinking I wouldn't be seeing Dean a long time, and I almost threw a holy fit. Gabriel explained that if I behaved myself, he would still allow me to be at the Winchesters'. And that is the only reason the old house didn't get obliterated by my grace.


While things were irritating at that point, I was handling things fine, with a lot of complaining to Dean in between, but it was after Modlenol that things got real. Change was noticeable from the first day, but it was really the first weekend after school began even I couldn't deny it anymore


THEN: Post Modlification

I return home from school, Daddy Winchester having dropped me off as apparently none of the teen's driving privileges have been returned – I get my vehicle intermitently, but I have to ask. I swear, it's like they have a fucking parent club where they decided all kinds of things like privileges, and then mandate it for us all. "I'm home," I call out, hoping no one's too far away to hear me. I'm not in the mood to seek anyone out. It's Friday. I plan on getting my homework done, so I can hopefully head back over to the Winchester's. I head to my room, loosening the tie around my neck, the one that's swirling stripes of red and navy blue, part of the school uniform, and remove the navy school blazer.

Lucifer had a bit of a dress code, Gabriel hasn't mentioned one; I like to dress nice. I hang up my clothes out of habit, I really should just snap my fingers and change like that, but oh fine, Daddy Winchester's right, there's something in the doing of it.

I'm changed, and am halfway into my homework, when Gabriel comes to find me. "Hey kid," he says in a way I have no choice, but to call fond. "How was school?"


He nods. "Sounds about right. Michael, I came to inform you that I'm unfortunately going to be gone for a couple nights. Tom has to come with me."

This is not the first time, and I know what he's trying to tell me. He wants me home for the weekend. He's not fond of me being out of the house while he's out of town. He says it's to do with how he feels how he worries, even admitting it's not entirely rational. "Sue me, Michael. I feel better when you're here and surrounded by angels."

Apparently only he, and Tom pay enough attention to my whereabouts when I'm out of the house. Yes I've pointed out I'm an archangel, no it doesn't make any difference. It's a weird Gabriel thing, one I don't understand. Even Dean's parents don't have such a rule. "But, it's the weekend, Uncle."

"I know, but you'll have a great many weekends, to hang out with Dean. It's not like you two never see each other. Besides, you're still grounded, you should spend some of it actually being grounded." He raises a brow.

In that moment it hits me that I feel like a kid whose Dad is laying down the law, and – to use a phrase from Dean – it weirds me out a bit. Whoa. "Uhh, yes sir." That's a place you use sir with Gabriel. "What about church, and Sunday dinner?"

Gabriel crosses his arms, and looks me over with his austere stare. I've come to learn this could mean a few things, right now it means he'd rather not, but he knows I've made a commitment to my Winchester family for Sunday dinners, and Castiel prefers I attend church with them. Gabriel highly respects Castiel. "All right, you may go to both, but home by nine."

I don't like it, but it's the best I'm going to get. "Yes, sir."

When he leaves, I sit back from my homework, twirling my pen. What just happened? I didn't even argue. I need to talk to Dean to figure this out. I call him. "So, apparently I'm stuck home, because Tom and Uncle Gabriel are of doing Father knows what."

"Yeah, that's a fucking weird rule. Hey, what color do you think I should paint my toes? Orange, or pink? Daddy and I are doing pedicures tomorrow – man am I glad to be doing anything out of the house!"

"Dean, my problem; focus."

"Sorry. Want me to see if Daddy can get Gabriel to let you come to pedicures with us? I think that's the best I can do under the circumstances."

"You should do orange by the way – fall color – and I dunno, is there nothing I could discuss with him? Before, we were more like an army, I felt like I had to just obey, now it feels… I don't know."

"You're feeling more comfortable to question his decisions, because he's not just your drill sergeant, but never forget he's still part drill sergeant and that keeps me out of a lot of trouble with Papa."

"So then I should talk about this with him, again?"

"Fuck yeah. If that were me, I'd march in there and say, sorry, just a sec Michael. Yeah? I'm doing my homework Papa."

"Sounds like you're talking on the phone to me," Papa Winchester says.

"I'm helping Michael with a problem real quick."

"The next time I come up here, I expect you off the phone."

"Yes, sir. Uh, sorry about that Baby, where was I?"

March in there my ass. "I think I have my answer to the first part of my problem, but Dean, this time I didn't even argue. He seemed so, parent-like to me."

"Wow, Daddy's right. Maybe the Modlenol has affected you. You want me to put him on?"

I am so frazzled, maybe I should. "If you wouldn't mind."

"Sure." I hear him open the door to his room, and some of the sounds from the house start to drift into the phone, as he gets closer to the kitchen. "Daddy, Michael wants to talk to you. Here Michael, I should say bye now. Love you, Baby."

"Love you," I say somewhat shyly. Not because I'm not proud to say it, but because I'm still in awe I get to say that to him whenever I want now.

"Here he is."

"Hey Pumpkin, what's going on?"

I tell him about the interaction I just had with my uncle, and how I responded. "Do you think… do you think it's the Modlenol?"

"Some, yes I do. I've told you before, and I stand by it, the Modlenol has always affected you even though you prefer to deny it." I do. "I've watched it work on Dean, you, Jake, and now the twins. It seems to break open that vulnerable part within, the place where innocence is kept. Before with Lucifer, you weren't given the freedom to be you, sweetpea. Now you are, and you know it. Gabriel is strict, but you know he loves you, and wants what's best for you. So it's a combination of the Modlenol allowing you to be vulnerable, maybe without you even realizing it, and Gabriel providing the right structure for your inner child to feel safe."

"What about the just obeying him part? Shouldn't I feel safe to question his judgment, especially when I think he's being ridiculous?"

"Lordy be, Michael. You do question him plenty if his conversations with Cas are anything to go by. But that aside, think about what happened another way, you didn't fight back this time, because somewhere inside you trusted he's making the right decision for you."

"Are you sure it's not just because I'm avoiding consequences?"

"You definitely are, but it's more than just that."

"But I don't understand his reasoning."

"No, I don't suppose you do, but as a parent, I do. Gabriel's come up against something he's uncomfortable with, whether it makes full rational sense, or not. We get to not make sense sometimes. I've been through similar instances with Dean. Sometimes a parent has to do things in baby steps too. He only just became your parent, and yes I know he's looked after you a long time, but it's different when you're fully responsible for someone. You worry everyday you'll fudge it up somehow. And Michael, while sometimes yes, it's important for a child to understand his parents actions, sometimes a child might just have to do as they’re told, and understand later when they have kids."

"So what you're saying is, this is my uncle's parenting style, and I'm going to have to live with it."

He laughs. "I doubt you'll simply live with it, you're you my boy, but I am saying Gabriel's going to do what he feels is best in each situation, whether you like it, or not, whether you understand or not."

"In that case, if my 'inner child', as you say, trusts him so much, why would I question him at all?"

"That's part of trust, another way of chasing it. You're seeing if he'll stick to what he's said."

Ugh. I hate that he's making so much sense. "What would you recommend I do? Talk to him about this, or just obey him?"

"Is it really bothering you? Or are you just upset you don't get to go out this weekend?"

"The latter," I admit. I just want out to see Dean.

"Then I think you have your answer. When are Tom and Gabriel leaving?"


"I admit it, I do wish he'd let you come stay with us while he's gone, but I respect his parental choices. I just don't want you to be lonely."

"I won't be lonely. I've got a house full of angels to keep me company."

"If you say so, sweetheart, but know you can call me anytime."

I thank him for the chat, and after saying goodbye, get back to my homework, which Uncle Gabriel will check on before he goes. I do manage to get my homework done, but Daddy Winchester gave me a lot to contemplate.

"Did you complete your homework?" is the first thing Uncle Gabriel asks me when I'm down at the table for dinner.

I'm glad I did my homework. "Yes, sir."

"Thank you, my boy. I appreciate that, and will leave you the rest of your weekend free."

"I mean, I'm not exactly, free." Dammit. I didn't mean to say it, it just came out. It makes even less sense than the last thing did. I was beaming at his praise, and then I say something snarky. I would never have done that with Lucifer. Never.

To my surprise, Gabriel laughs and rolls his eyes. "I'm going to have to start calling you drama queen. I make you miss two days with your boyfriend, and it's the end of the world."

He's not, mad?

"If he wasn't grounded, I'd allow you to invite him over, you know."

"You would?"


Somehow that makes it better. "Thank you, Uncle." I enjoy my dinner after that, and when it comes time for them to leave, I'm regretful.

"We hope to be back Monday morning, sooner if we can."

I nod, feeling way too much of that vulnerability Daddy Winchester was talking about, and by the way they're both giving me the once over, I probably look a lot younger too. "Awwwww, c'mere kid. We'll be back," Uncle Gabriel says as he pulls me to him for am awkward hug.

I scowl. "I'm fine."

He refuses to release me. I… let myself enjoy it for a second. "Behave yourself," he says in my ear.


That weekend I was well-behaved. Sam, Dallas, and Jake stopped by on Saturday evening, accosting me with polish, claiming I had to match them and Dean for Sunday dinner. I was home in plenty of time for curfew on Sunday. But as things became more comfortable, so did my behavior.


"There you are Michael. I've already warmed my coffee up twice waiting for you," Uncle Gabriel says.

"Sorry, was having a GIF war with Dean," I say laughing. "You should see the one he just sent, I have to get him back. Could we just skip it? I'm not in the mood for breakfast."

Gabriel crosses his arms; this version of arms crossed is not favorable for me. "Give me that," he says.

"My phone?"

"Yes, your phone. I'll return it after breakfast, which you're coming down for now."

I push myself off the bed. "All right, all right. I'm coming."

There is still plenty of time before school, but I grab my blazer off the chair anyway to bring down with me. I slap my phone into his hand, and walk out since I can't fly. I expect him to, but I suppose out of some misguided courtesy for me (I would have flown could I) he follows behind me.

He's still displeased when we're seated, and I wonder if maybe I should have been a touch more respectful? "What's the deal? Are you angry with me?"

He looks at me curiously. "Of course I am. I told you we would be meeting for breakfast, not only is it rude to keep me waiting, breakfast wasn't optional."

I shrug. "My mistake. I apologize." I help myself to a muffin, and coffee.

His arms are still crossed. "Perhaps I was unclear. You're being disrespectful, Michael. A little more contrition seems appropriate."

"I said I was sorry, and I'm eating a muffin." What more does he want?

His crossed arms relax some and his eyes squint to study me. "Do you even realize how you're acting? It's like you've slowly become an angry teen over night."

Have I? Okay, yeah I have. It is how I feel. I'm not admitting to it. "Just because I don't want to do this every morning?"

"It was no secret you didn't before, yet your reaction was much more adult."

He's right, but I'm not backing down. "You're the one who wanted me to be a kid, so here I am."

"You have the capacity to be a well-behaved child, I've seen it. Whether you realize it, or not, the end result is going to be the same for you. Straight home, after school please," he says.

"What? But I didn't do anything."

He pays no mind to my protests. "Finish your muffin, and some eggs," he says waving some onto my plate with a touch of grace.

This is ridiculous! I don't need to eat, but I start eating, as Uncle Gabriel sips his coffee, not wanting to get in anymore trouble. I'm probably pushing it, as it is. I hear my phone going off in his pocket, and I get agitated thinking that it's likely Dean, and how I would like to be responding to him. "May I please have my phone back?" I ask when I'm done.

"In a minute. Michael, I don't do this to torture you. If you'd only participate, give things a try…"

Something about the way he says that gets me. I know he's trying to do good things, but these stupid teenage hormones. "Yes, I… I really am sorry."

"S'okay, kid. We're both finding our way. I don't expect this to be easy."

"Not easy, but it could be easier. I'm being difficult," I admit.

"You are," he says, but his eyes are soft, a touch of amusement playing there. "I wouldn't have it any other way though. I will earn your respect. In the meantime, your social life might take a hit."

"I'd respect you a whole lot more if you'd let me do what I want."

That makes him laugh a laugh I haven't heard from him in a long time. "No you wouldn't. Besides, not my style, and you know it."

I do my best not to let on, but his happiness is catching, and a little knot inside me lets go.


The angels have always been hesitant to hang around with me. When Lucifer was around, they were afraid Lucifer would decide one of them breathed the wrong way around me, and punish them accordingly.

Gabriel's more rational than Lucifer, but I'm still 'the boss's son', and Gabriel is protective – everyone's caught onto this.

I must also be terrifying in my own right having killed Lucifer, the one previously thought to be unbeatable.

Now, with spending a lot more time in the manor than I had, even I can only hang around this place for so long without talking to others besides Gabriel and Tom. I blame the Winchesters for making me used to having connection.

I was able to befriend some of the younger angels, but the two that seem to like me the most, are two Gabriel is not fond of: Stephan and Rick.

The first time I brushed off my curfew, it was one hundred percent Dean's fault, he distracted me with his penis, but the second time I have no one, but myself to blame. I was finally ungrounded, but Dean still was. Rick and Stephan, invited me out with them. Not only was it late at night and well past my curfew already, but both Gabriel, and Tom were away on separate assignments. I somehow thought I'd completely gotten away with it, but I should have known better than that.


THEN: In the New Manor

I'm with Stephan, Rick, and a handful of the other angels, who are willing to brave hanging out with me, hanging out in one of the living rooms, T.V. on in the background, Stephan regaling us with a tale of when he did some kind of cool angel-style take down on a demon hideout. I'm only mildly paying attention, thinking about what Dean said he was going to do to me when we finally get the chance to be alone.

The flap of wings distracts me, and I look up to see an angry Gabriel. Yes his arms are crossed, this time in a way that makes my stomach flip-flop. "Michael, I would like a word with you in my office." He doesn't give me time to respond, and he's gone again.

"Whoa. Dude! Someone's in trouble," moronic Rick says.

"Daddy gonna spank you?" Stephan says.

Befriending them was a mistake. I let the blue of my graces shine behind my eyes, and flick my wrist, sending them into the wall, knocking over everything in their path. "Clean that up," I say, as I storm away.

I head to Gabriel's office, knowing he's got to have found out about my excursion, and dread what the outcome is, and realize I'm having the same kind of paranoia Dean gets when he has a reprimand coming from his father.

I didn't feel quite this way with Lucifer. Sure things happened, and I'd get in trouble for them. Lucifer often dealt with my deliberate disobedience with Modlenol, so I tended to avoid doing so, thus it's been a long while, since I deliberately disobeyed him, and got this feeling.

Even still, it's a lot different with Gabriel. Much as I hate to admit it, I loved Lucifer, but I did not respect him. I love and respect Gabriel a great deal. It's more than just facing a consequence, I have to face up to that I did not display the respect I have for him. Oh god that look will be there! the one that states in no uncertain terms how disappointed he will be, how hurt! Why did I do what I did? Why? It seemed like a good idea at the time.

I take a breath I don't need before knocking on the double doors to his office. "Come in, Michael," he says assuming it's me.

And the look. It's there, it's already there to start. This is going to go badly.

"Have a seat, Michael."

I do, hoping I look as contrite as I feel.

"Something has been brought to my attention, would you like to take a guess as to what that might be?" Yes his arms are crossed, if you were wondering.

I feel them come, and it pisses me off – the tears. Stupid tears. Angels aren't supposed to fucking cry. You would have thought that maybe the whole me crying thing was attached to my lack of grace for forever, but no. I still cry. It's the signature of my humanity, the humanity I've somehow grown. "I'm sorry, Uncle Gabriel," I say as I wipe them away. "I… Yeah I went out with Stephan and Rick after curfew, and while you, and Tom were both gone."

He softens, but only marginally. He's still a scary, parent-archangel. My tears have had effect on him, even though I did not do it on purpose. "Why Michael? I want to trust you, but this makes it difficult."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I just… I was really angry at the time. It doesn't feel fair that I have a curfew and restrictions, and the others don't."

"Michael, we've been through this. I've not been given charge of them like I have you. Truth be told, I care about you more than I do them. I constantly worry about you, because while you say you're fine after millennia of abuse from Lucifer, I know that isn't true. Sure, you're not affected like a human would be, but you've got too much humanity to have not been affected… perhaps more like an angel, but still." He's frustrated. "Oh, come here, Michael."

He pulls me up from the chair, as I cry like an idiot. "I'm sorry," I say for the hundredth time. "I won't do it again."

"No, you won't," he says hugging me tight, and rubbing my back. Has this been Gabriel all along? He's kind of a natural at this parent thing. Or, is it the influence of the Winchesters? I know he spends an awful lot of time either with them, or chatting with them by phone. "I knew things weren't going to be easy, but I was shocked to learn you'd disobeyed me in such a blatant manner. I do thank you for coming clean. Castiel says some leniency should be given with such actions."

Papa Winchester does say that, but I'm pretty sure he means it for when said child comes to the parent with the confession, not after being dragged into the parent's office, with no choice but to admit it. I'm not going to correct him though. He gives me a final squeeze, and then ruffles my hair, which earns him a glare from me, which must look a sight between my sniffles. "Here kid," he says pulling out his handkerchief. Only Gabriel would carry around a handkerchief like they did in old times.

I accept it though; wipe my face, and blow my nose. All unnecessary when we both have grace, but ugh, Daddy Winchester is in both our heads now.

He gets an angry look on his face, one not directed at me. "I don't care for Stephan and Rick. They're a bad influence. I should send them to the angel headquarters in Timbuktu."

"What? That's unfair. I made the decision to go with them. They didn't force me," I say, suddenly feeling the need to defend them even though moments ago I was throwing them into walls, and regretting my choice in friends.

He sighs again, and the crossed arms are back. "Sam… said this might be an issue. Michael, I don't think you realize how much the Modlenol has affected you, maybe more so this time than any other time – it is a bit of a wild card, which makes one wonder why it's been approved for human use…? Point is, you've become vulnerable to influence. Tell me they didn’t egg you on, even a little?"

Kind of mercilessly. I'm not telling him that. "There was some egging on, but it was still my choice."

"It was, and you will be punished for your part." The way he says that makes my stomach flip a little. "But you're less likely to make such choices without badgering from imbeciles."

I leave it. Nothing I say will help their fate, and will only have Gabriel more upset with me.

"I won't send them away this time, on your counsel," he continues, and I can't help the lift I feel inside knowing he took my advisement. "But they are on notice."

"I think that's fair, sir."

"We shall see. As for you," oh god here it comes. "You're getting a spanking."

"What?" My cheeks must be every shade of pink right now. I wasn't expecting that. No it's not the first time Gabriel has decided to spank me, but so far he's been more prone to other kinds of punishments.

"It works well for you does it not?"

I bite my lip. "Well…"

"Ah, you're biting your lip. Sam mentioned that. Yes, it's the right choice for this infraction. Let's get on with it, so we can spend some time together doing more pleasant things," he says, using his grace to bring one of the dining chairs into the room from across the new manor.

"But, but, couldn't I be grounded or something instead?"

"Afraid not. Besides, like you're ever really grounded. You know I have a soft spot for you, and Dean. I know it's not wise to keep Profound Bonds apart for too long."

Uuuuuuuugh! Not happy about it, I follow him to the chair, as he removes his blazer, and begins rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. This whole process, the all of it, feels different than any other instance of its kind; even when I've been spanked by Castiel, or Sam… or even the Cowboy, there was not nearly the sensation in my vessel as there is when Gabriel's about to spank me. Humans call it butterflies.

But I did break the rules, and worse, I did so belligerently. It's a good thing Uncle has not requested my inner dialogue for the moments leading up to my foolish decision. Still, I'm standing at his side, as he sits on the chair, sharply rolling up his sleeves, with my fists balled, like Daddy Winchester, but not for the same reason he does it. Sam often balls his fists when he's frustrated with Cas, and on occasion Dean, I'm doing it because I'm frustrated with myself. It wasn't hard not to disobey Lucifer, but with Gabriel, I seem to. With Lucifer I wanted to, with Gabriel, I don't. None of it makes any sense.

"Remove your blazer. Pants and boxers down, please," he says as he finishes rolling up the second sleeve.

I do as asked hoping there'll be a point the red phone is called, and this whole spanking will be called off, but that doesn't happen, and I'm guided over his lap. I've yet to see a true display of his greater strength. I've seen hints and inklings, but no true blue example. When I'm over his lap like this, it's another one of those inklings—I'm not seeing his full strength, but I can tell it's there. It's unlike being over any human's lap, I feel that slight edge of powerlessness.

There's also intense care. Uncle Gabriel's always cared about me, intensely.

When I'm barred, and over his lap, he continues his lecture. "I'm not pleased my rules were disobeyed, Michael. Do I need to leave you with a babysitter?"

"No, sir. Please don't do that."

"Do this again, and I will." I feel him push my shirt up my back. He starts in with a few whacks to my poor bum, all out and vulnerable. And, ouch! does not begin to describe. "When I'm gone, you will follow the rules of the house, my rules," he reiterates, while smacking away. "What time is your curfew?"

"Midnight on the weekends, and ten-thirty on school nights, sir," I say between wallops that make talking hard. It hurts! He spanks hard!

"Yet you were out past that time, in fact, you left well after you should have been in for the night, correct?"

Ahh, man. He's going to spank harder when I answer that, isn't he? "Y-Yes, sir."

Yep. Yes. He spanks a lot harder. Gabriel's hands may not be nearly the size of Sam's, but they pack a lot of power, and unlike a spanking from any of the humans, I'm squirming and kicking a lot sooner. My ass is heating up, and the discomfort is near unbearable. "You will follow curfew one way, or the other, my boy. I'm happy to spank the rules into you if need be. Am I making myself clear?"

"Y-Yes, sir." And I do not want a repeat of this. I'm never breaking curfew again. "Ahhh, ow. Ow! Uncle I'm sorry-sorr-ow!" The spanking gets more intense, and Uncle Gabriel has to lock my legs down I'm squirming so much. Worse, I'm sure the whole house can hear me – an extra sidebar to being spanked in a house full of angels.

When he finally stops, I feel exhausted in a way I didn't know I could be. He rubs my back and gives me some time before he helps me up, and helps me pull up my pants and adjust my clothes. "In the corner please, one hour – and no rubbing."

"An hour? Sam always does according to age, sir." As much as I always complain that I am not the age the Modlenol makes me look, and seem, it is handy for things like corner time.

"I am aware. I think he is rather lenient. I want you standing, thinking for one hour."

Of course I get the strict helicopter parent, but I'm in no position to argue, because I'm not going back over for more of that spanking. I make my way to said corner. "Hands on your head, please."

Ugh! But I suppose a punishment is supposed to be unpleasant, as I would tell Dean, to deter the punishee from disobeying again. It's a long hour, and my backside stings for most of it. I do think, and I do want to do better, but stuff just happens. I don't even want it to. I hadn't planned on leaving with Stephan, and Rick, but there I was leaving with Stephan and Rick.

"All right Michael, you may come out now," Uncle Gabriel says. "Come back here, and sit. Not quite done with you yet."

I sit, a little gingerly. Gabriel's spankings last longer than Castiel's.

"You took that well, son, thank you. I trust you will respect the rules in future, otherwise you will be grounded, in addition to me assigning you a babysitter when I'm gone, and the spanking you got today will be a holiday."

"Yes, sir. I understand, and I really am sorry."

He looks skyward in a 'what will I do with you' manner. "I suppose teens are prone to mischief, you wouldn't be a teen if you didn't get up to something."

I know I was the one suggesting to Dean we get up to our own brand of mischief, and we do, but it's different when I'm deciding to do it, versus it just happening. Oh Father, I am a teen now aren't I? and I already see Gabriel, as a father figure, like he said, don't I?

It snuck up on me. There must be a way to fight this.

But for now, there are rules about spanking, and I believe I'm owed some… affection. Gabriel seemed to know what he was supposed to do the last time, but does he know he's to do it every time?

"Okay, I think you are sufficiently chastised. You are dismissed, wait," here it comes, "is your homework done?"

Oh. I try not to look disappointed. "It is, sir."

"Okay, dismissed then. I'll finish up what I need to here, and then perhaps we'll go visit the Winchesters together?"

I nod. That sounds good, there's no place I'd rather be than with Dean, but, but, he hasn't… you know what? After-spanking-hugs is just a stupid Winchester thing. We're angels. We don't need that nonsense. Hugging is stupid.

I get up to leave; Uncle clears his throat. "Aren't we forgetting something?" he says.

I don't think about it, I operate on instinct, and I slam into him, colliding with his torso, burying my head into his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me.


If all of that weren't enough to drive me mad, there was the night my angel-brand OCD kicked into high gear for seemingly no apparent reason.


~THEN: Late in the Night, Or Early Morning; whatever way you see it~

It's late, after curfew late, so I decide that since I can't go anywhere physically, perhaps I will with a book, mentally. I lay on the couch in the library, and lose myself into a world of pirates, and mayhem. For no reason I can think of, I start to feel agitated. Stupid teenage hormones. I start tapping my foot on the ground, and I try to focus on the words.

Gabriel walks in, and looks me over. "Michael, are you all right?"

"I'm fine; just reading."

"I came to retrieve a book," he says walking past me, and to the shelves.

I don't pay him much attention, as the agitation I'm feeling is intensifies, the room feels six sizes too small, and I'm hit with the sudden urge to clean something.

"Michael?" Gabriel's beside me. "Sit up, sit up."

I do, dropping the book, and gripping the couch tight enough my knuckles turn white, feeling too tight for the skin.

"Fine, hey?" he says.

"Okay, not fine," I say closing my eyes.

I can feel his gaze on me. "Come with me, kid."

I swallow, and nod, and allow him to lead me out of the library, and through to the kitchen where Tom is drinking tea, and eating biscuits and jam from Daddy Winchester, which; why is the Winchester Way of life infiltrating my angel house? This is an angel house!

"Tom, do you know what to do about this?"

Tom is full of concern, but solid with the knowledge of what to do, having dealt with me like this before. With a wave of grace, he moves the table and chairs out of the way, and buckets with the distinct scent of Pine-Sol appear. Tom removes his blazer, and begins rolling up his sleeves, Gabriel follows suit. When I don't, Gabriel gently tugs on my blazer, removing it for me, and they each roll up one of my sleeves.

Together, in our nice slacks, and shirts, we wash the floor several times on our hands and knees, changing the water the human way (even if the buckets were originally filled the angel way), and both Tom and Uncle checking in with me until finally they see I'm okay, and I want to go another round to appease my perfectionist nature versus my anxious one. "That's enough now, Michael," Tom says. He gets rid of the buckets and rags with a wave of his hand, and I take a deep breath I don't need physically, perhaps just mentally. "Sit."

I take a seat opposite to where he was sipping tea, reading a magazine.

"Gabe, do you mind if I…?" Tom says.

"But… yeah, okay. Come find me after you talk to Tom – I mean it Michael," he says squeezing my shoulder.

"I will, sir."

I can barely look at Tom, feeling like a weak idiot. I'm an angel, and yet I have all of these human afflictions. Was this the real reason Father put Gabriel in charge of me?

"I know you're freaking out, and feeling all kinds of things, Michael—"

"—I'm fine."

He studies me, and I can tell he doesn’t like my snappish attitude, but he doesn't mention it. "I know I'm not Daddy Winchester, but will you have tea with me?" Of all the! "Please?"

"If I must."

He doesn't delve into the heavier topics right away, instead asking about school, and Dean. I indulge him, answering his questions. He eventually wades back into deeper waters. "How are your chats with, Dallas?"

That cowboy somehow gets me to talk about everything. He's like a therapeutic wizard. "They are good."

Tom nods, and leans back into his chair. "I've watched you grow up many times, Michael. Each time, we've grown a little closer, at least I like to think so. Of course we couldn't show much affection toward the other. I was meant to be your lap dog, slash babysitter, slash protector, slash keeper, but well, I hoped this time we could be something more."

"You know I already have a boyfriend, yes?" I say with a smirk. I can't resist. Especially when I totally heard him making out with my uncle the other day when they thought the coast was clear.

"Cheeky," he says. "No, not boyfriend." He rolls his eyes. "Perhaps something of an uncle, or older angel brother type person. I want to be there for you too better than I was before now that I can be."

I want to be a snarky little so-and-so, as Daddy Winchester would say, but he's so damn heartfelt I can't. What is happening to my angel family? Are we being Winchester-infested? Winchesterfested? "I accept your gesture. Does that mean I am to refer to you as… Uncle Tom?" I say.

Aw fuck. He's beaming way too brightly. "I, well that is, I would like that Michael, but it's not required. Perhaps when, if you are ready to do such a thing."

I nod. Perhaps not today.

"And I would like for us to talk more, like this. Well maybe not just like this, I know this is yours and Daddy Winchester's thing, but I'll find us another thing to—"

"—binge-watching sitcoms. That's our thing."

"But how will we talk if we're watching? Is this you trying to get out of talking?"

"Perhaps not while we're watching a sitcom for the first time, but there are ones we've watched multiple times we can have running in the background." I don't bring up that I have done this now and again with Daddy Winchester too, but it's just a thing he and I do sometimes, Tom's spent whole Julys with me in front of the T.V., it's more our thing if it's to be 'a thing'.

"Okay then. Sitcoms it is. You'd better go see your uncle now, before he has a conniption. I can hear him pacing."

Oh. That's never good. I get up to race off, but I don't get away without Tom pulling me into a hug.

Yep. Winchesterfested.

~NOW: On the Couch, Watching Queer Eye~

"So are you two going to have a human wedding, since we're apparently into so many human traditions these days?" I ask. Yes I'm being cheeky. If they're going to make me sit between them like this, that's what they get. They should know better.

I'm the one who gets the surprise though. "Actually, we were talking about it," Uncle Gabriel says.

"You two would really do a human wedding?"

"Not quite. We'll do an angel bonding, but we thought perhaps the Winchesters would hold a quasi-human ceremony for us – we all know how much Sam likes to plan weddings," Tom says.

He really does. "Why bother with the human bit though?"

"For you, kid," Uncle Gabriel says, ruffling my hair, making me scowl.

Of all the—! "Unnecessary," I say.

"I think we'll decide what's necessary for you, thanks," Tom says.

God dammit. "Fine—wait! This is all an elaborate scheme so I'll have to call you Uncle Tom, isn't it?" I say.

They both laugh. "You caught me, Michael," Tom says. "This whole time."

It's my turn to cross my arms at them. Tom pulls me into his side; I let him, softening a bit. "So, did it work?" He winks.

"All right, all right, Uncle Tom." I was working up the courage to do it anyway. "But this better mean you talk him into increasing my curfew."

"Increase? I voted for an eleven pm curfew. He's the softie, kid," Tom says.

"Are you both going to call me that?"

"No. I think I've decided on nephew. I've never had one before. Or, huh, maybe Nephew Michael – I reserve the right to change my nickname, or add them at any time. And another thing, I think you should have a babysitter when we're gone. I just don't feel comfortable with you here alone…"

As he continues I look to Gabriel for help, but I get none, as he shrugs and winces.


So I've ended up with two helicopter parents, instead of just one, but they're my angel family, and it probably takes two of them to deal with me, truth be told. And if we're telling truths here well, I'll say this one time, and one time only; I like it. It's specially for me.

I didn't want it at first, I won't surrender easy, I'm sure we'll have some monumental disagreements, ones I'll lose and they'll win because they're the dads, and they want to do what's best for me, and we'll make it work, and…


…I let Tom continue to hold me to his side, allowing myself the comfort of being comforted.

Of being home.

Chapter Text

Dean: Sunday Morning

"I still can't fucking believe it – Tom and Gabriel, having a human wedding?" I'm driving us back from church. Michael broke the news to us this morning when he brought Baby back. Daddy can't wait to plan a wedding.

"It's ridiculous."

"Oh c'mon Michael, it's sweet."

"I suppose."

I can tell Michael likes it though, he just feels weird about it being for him. "You gonna be the ring bearer?" I can't help myself.

"I swear to Father Dean, I'm not in the mood, so unless you want to end up over my knee for a spanking we'll both regret later, zip it on the wedding talk. Please."

Okay, touchy. He's allowed though. I take Daddy's lead and beware the cranky Top. "So, uh, you allowed over?" I ask, and wince. It's still a sensitive thing to ask, but I have to know if I'm dropping him off, or bringing him to my place.

"I haven't asked, but would it be okay if you took me home? I'll be there for dinner." He takes my hand, kisses it, and I understand, but it breaks my heart a little. Michael always wants to be with me if he can.

It is kinda sweet he said to take him home. He's calling it his home now, and that's a big step. "Yeah, Baby. We'll have fun later. I've gotta spank two twin asses anyway."

I pull into the Manor, and marvel at its size for a minute. Michael leans over to kiss me. "This has nothing to do with me not wanting to be with you Dean, you know that right?"

"Mostly," I say honestly. "But I'm sure you'll make it up to me later."

I wink at him, and he does a double take. "I will."

When I get to my house, everyone's cars are in the driveway except Papa's, meaning the rest are home from church. I head into the kitchen where it's a lot quieter than it's been of late. Daddy's sipping tea at the table. "Where is everyone?" I ask.

"The twins are in their room, Papa's orders. Chris, and Dal went to put Jake down for a snooze, and then I think they'll be snoozing themselves. Papa went over to see Gabriel."

"Gabriel? I was just there. Didn't see his car."

"You just missed him sweetheart, he probably wasn't there yet. You need him for something?"

I have to hold back laughing. Michael needed time to himself, and now my father is at his house. I bet Uncle Tom, and Uncle Gabriel will make him sit for coffee with Papa. Poor baby. I know just how to console him later. "Was actually hoping I could have my chat with the twins, now. You think that would be okay, Daddy?"

"I think it's perfect timing. Papa's promised them he'd be dealing with them when he got back. You need me to help, Dean Bean?"

"I think I got it, Daddy."

"Okay, if you're sure."

I am. I head upstairs. I already know what I want to say; been thinking about it all morning. Yes while I was supposed to be listening in church, but sue me, it was on my mind. I knock on their door. "Uh, who is it?" Jared says.

"Not Papa," I say.

"Is that better?" I hear Jared say to Jensen. "We're in trouble with him too."

"Not by much," Jensen says.

"I think I have to let him in though," Jared says.

"I'm coming in guys, hope you're decent."

With confidence, I stride through the door. "Hey, we could have been doing anything."

"With one another in the room? Doubt it. You know why I'm here, what say we get this over with, huh?" I gesture for them to sit on Jared's bed.

"Yeah, I guess so," Jensen says.

I wait until they're seated, and then I stand, no I loom, it's part of it. "Do you have any idea why I was so pissed last night?"

"Because you got in trouble, which I think we could have all safely avoided," Jen says.

"No Jen. You broke the brother code man. I didn’t agree to that sort of trouble, and I wouldn't have. Doing stuff like that dishonors any amount of trust we've built."

"What, so you're never trusting us again?" Jensen says.

"I didn't say that, but if you continue to act like you did last night, it will make it hard to, can you understand that?"

They both hang their heads. "Yeah," Jared says for them both. "We're sorry, Dean."

I look to Jensen, but he's not as quick with the apology. "You two haven't been here long, but I know you know this rule. I have to know you're going to think about this in the next instance. This time it was just a little weed, but next time, it could be something else. And while I got in trouble for my own act of irresponsibility, I was operating under the assumption you two were mature enough to make decisions that wouldn't put my ass under fire too, and I don't just mean with our parents."

"Okay, Dean. We get it, and I am sorry, but do you have to spank us? I know that's what you came here to do," Jensen says.

"'Fraid so, cowboy. C'mon, you know I'm gonna go easier on you than Papa will."

"He's right, Jen. I'll go first Dean," Jared offers sliding off the bed. "Where do you want me?"

Jensen's having none of it, and pouts on Jared's bed, while I sit on his to take care of Jared. "He's just being a brat, Dean," Jared says quietly, picking up on that I do feel just the teensiest amount bad for what I've got to do, but I do have to do this. "He'll come around."

I know that too. Jared's helpful, and pulls down his pants for me, and hops over my lap. Now, one might think I've only ever been on the receiving end of this, but not so. I have spanked my fair share of Colt cousins. However, giving a Colt spanking, and a Winchester spanking are two different things, unless your name is Dallas Colt Winchester – he's the exception, not the rule.

This doesn't mean a Colt spanking is any joke. A spanking from Daddy is never a fun day. Though, I don't think I can say he leans one hundred percent Colt anymore, even if his spankings have a totally different feel for me than a Winchester one. This leads me to believe that as I develop my style, I'm likely to have a mix of the two. For now though, I'm channeling as much Winchester as I can. "Look man, I don’t want to be spanking you, but I will if that's what you need. Not cool what you did last night."

Jared nods. "We knew what we were doing, and did it anyway, we were hoping you'd help us not get caught. We didn't even consider that you weren't involved in that decision. Sorry, Dean."

Man, this is a little harder when your spankee is so remorseful. "Thanks Jared. You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

I don't start in hard. I do a good warm up for him, even though with the trouble they get into, they're getting pretty seasoned. While this may not be my first, I'm not as practiced, as the rest of my family, and I don’t want to fuck this up. Better to be cautious. It's like adding salt to soup – I can always get more intense with my technique, but if I start out too intensely, it's real hard to go back. I keep a good eye on him, while I remain stern like a Winchester does, and make sure I lay down a good pink base for what's to come. He's not yelping, but I can still tell it hurts some. I take a breath. "Okay, Jare. I'm going in."

He nods and grabs onto the bed sheets. Using a steady rhythm, I spank harder, not giving him a break, varying where my hand lands. No one tells you how much it hurts your hand when you spank someone – how does Papa get through four of us? that man is a machine.

Having been spanked a time, or a million myself, I know exactly what this kind of rhythm will feel like, keeping in mind we all react differently to various rhythms and intensities. I give him a little break when he starts to cry out, and his legs kick a bit. "How you doin', Jare?"

"Not gonna lie, that fucking hurts, but I'm fine."

"Thank you. We're almost done." I'd already planned to go pretty easy on them. Not only is Papa gonna roast them later, it's my first time with them. It's just a plain good idea. I give him ten more solid whacks that are worse than what I'd already been giving him, and that does it.


I stand him up. "I hope I got through to you, Sur. No going behind my back and doing shit, understand?"

"Yeah, Dean," he says rubbing the last place my hand was. I did whack him pretty good.

"I believe it's yes sir when you're being disciplined." Even a Colt will make you say that, definitely a Winchester.

His cheeks heat a little. "Yes sir, big brother Dean."

If that doesn't warm my heart all kinds of ways. I help him with his pants, and let him rub – guess my way is being a bit of a softie – and make sure to stand up and hug him properly. I kiss his crown. "Be a good boy."

"Yes, sir. You want me in the corner?"

"Nah, the bed's fine. I still need to talk to y'all about a couple other things." I hate the corner. I'll save that for when they really piss me off, and then they can know it. "Your turn, Jen."

"This is stupid," Jensen says, still not in the mood to cooperate.

I cross my arms and give him the look which is easy for me to pull up, having had it given to me, so many times. Plus, these two just bring out the Toppy side in me. I know how much brat I am, I'm like my uncle Chris that way, but he can turn on his Top meter when he needs to. The secret is, we all can under the right circumstances and with the right energy dancing with us, we just have preferences of where we like to lean, and that's how we ultimately choose our life partner. Learned that from Papa and Daddy.

"Do I have to come get you, Jen? Because I will." We all know what that means in this house.

"No," he huffs, and plods his way over like he's being dragged.

"Lordy be, Jen. You saw what I did to Jared, and he lived."

He looks at me with big eyes and fuck that makes this harder. "But it's you," he says.

Oh god, oh god! Maybe I should have got Daddy to help me…? Pull it the fuck together, Winchester. This is exactly when I need to be the strongest. "Jensen, we're going to get through this together." I get what he's worried about. I was old enough I can remember first spankings from some, hell, even when it's Uncle Dal, I sometimes go to that feeling Jen's feeling now, the one where you've let down your friend, slash hero.

Jensen looks up to me, me spanking him tells him exactly how disappointed I am, even though he also knows that this is one of the ways we let things go in our family. I understand. You do get a bit of that, he's gonna hate me forever now sensation.

Nothing I say's working to dissipate his anger at me. The anger protects him from his feelings of disappointment with himself. It's important I let him have it, and spank him anyway. I've had spankings too where I go into them angry; hell, I've had spankings I've come out of angry, 'specially when I was his age. Just the way it is sometimes. "You can be angry with me all you want, but you're getting this spanking, Jen."

He doesn't help me like his twin did. I have to do the whole rig-ma-roll with him, pulling down his pants and his boxers, setting him over my lap. I have to remind myself how settled he'll feel after, because he will – I fight it too, but I always feel good after even if I don't admit it right away. I center myself. "I know you already heard this, but I'm going to say it again. When I'm in charge, you need to follow the rules, just like you would for Papa and Daddy," I say. "I'm gonna hold you to it, little brother, understand?"


Okay I get it now, that's a terrible statement at this juncture. I see why Papa hates it. I don't bother correcting him. I'm not likely to get through to him right now, he'll just get himself into more trouble, and I'd rather not go there the first time I spank him. Instead I just start in, warming him up like I did Jared. Unlike Jared though, Jensen's breathing is hitched a bit, like maybe he's trying not to cry already. I know it's not because of how hard I'm spanking him, I've seen him spanked harder than this, it's because this is emotional for him, because it's me like he said. Sometimes the first one's like that, a breaking the seal of sorts. "Jen, buddy? Gimme your hand, okay?"

He nods into the sheets and passes me his hand. I hold it, rather than holding it down, giving it a little squeeze to remind him we'll get through this together.

It's harder than you'd think, knowing you've got to go harder for his benefit, when he's already so upset, but I remind myself how necessary this is. I turn up the heat, and he's faster to squirming than Jared was. "Jen, hold still."

"Ow! No, that hurts!"

I'm tempted to hold his legs down, but I think I can finish this without this time. We already all know I'm not gonna be nearly as strict as Papa. Sometimes I think no one is, not even Grampa – least not with me. However, I will do it if I feel it necessary.

I have to chase his little bum around, but I find my target easily – I think I can thank hockey for that – and by the time I'm done, we're both exhausted. Lordy be he's a wiggler. I rub his back, and stand him up. His face is red, but he doesn't seem to be crying. He is shielding his true emotions with anger though. "Can I give you a hug, Jen?"


Gosh he's dramatic sometimes. I get it though. I'm not always ready to hug my spanker right away. Occasionally, it takes time for a spanking to work its magic. Fuck does it sting though. Now I know how Papa feels when I've refused him. "Okay Jenny, but please go to someone, okay? A little help, Jare?" I say when he doesn't answer me.

"I'll make sure he does, Dean."

Jensen won't even let me help him with his pants, and when he's fully dressed again, he stomps over to his twin's side not hugging him either. "Now that's done, I've got something to say to you two, I owe you an apology as well. I should have looked after you better, and I'm sorry I didn't. That won't happen again."

"Um, Dean?"

"Yeah, Jare?"

"As much as we do appreciate your apology, kids think it's kinda awesome when their older brothers, or parents aren't paying so much attention to them."

Yeah, I know that and it's true. "Even still. I'm sorry. Which brings me to, I don't want you two hanging around with Hank, he's bad news."

Jensen's furious with my proclamation. Even Jared's pissed. "You can't tell us who to hang out with, Dean," Jared says.

"Actually, I can. And I believe I just did."

"He's our friend," Jensen says.

"Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole. You both keep telling me you think I have good instincts, because of my hunter genes, I've got a hunch about him. Will you just, obey me on this one?"

"Do we have a choice?" Jared asks.

"No." Huh. Guess I have spoken. "Look, if it turns out I'm wrong about this, you both can go nuts on my ass, implement of choice." My ass can take a beating. I wear that as a badge of pride.

Even Jensen can't completely stop himself smiling. Jared softens. "If you're that sure, Dean."

"I am. I'm also sure that if I catch either of you fraternizing with him, I'll be using an implement of my choice on whoever's brazen enough to." Only Daddy's wooden spoon, but they don't have to know that, they can let their imaginations go wild. "Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Jared says even though he's not one hundred percent convinced of my hunch.

"Whatever," Jensen says.

"Jensen," I warn.

"I'm not saying yes sir. You can forget it, Dean."

The little--!

Ugh, do I make him? Or don't I? Timing is everything. Because I'm unsure, I let it go for now, I'll ask around about that later. "Regardless, you know the rule now. Okay, I'll be around guys, if you need me. Text and I'll come right up. Jen?" I check again, just incase he wants that hug.

"Leave, please."

Ouch. That kinda hurts. A lot.

When I open the door and see Daddy standing there, I'm not even upset that he was likely eavesdropping, and I just go to him, let go, and cry. He wraps his arms around me. "Oh honey, come with me."

He brings me to the kitchen where he lets me squeeze him for a bit, and then gets us settled with tea. "I'm sorry I listened in, baby boy. I did trust you to do a good job, but sometimes we're all a little overconfident, and I wanted you to have the sense you were doing it on your own, but that I could come in if things went really awry. Those two can be difficult. It was too important – forgive me?"

"I'm not even mad, Daddy. I'm glad to know you were there, but why didn't you come in? Clearly I messed everything up with Jensen."

Daddy shakes his head. "I didn't because, oh honey, you were perfect. I was in awe of how naturally everything came to you. I'm so fucking proud of you."

Did Daddy just say…?

"You heard me. And that's what I am."

"Jensen hates me."

"Jensen's being a brat, and he's testing you. You'll serve him best by not giving in, you'll see. Come this time tomorrow, he'll be looking at you with even more reverence than he usually does."

"That's not why I did it, Daddy."

"I know, but doesn't make it any less true. You know how it is sometimes with spanking; you got to process. He'll come around."

"If you say so, Daddy." His words do make me feel a helluva lot better though.

"You were brave to add that bit at the end about Hank, is it?"

"Couldn't help it, Daddy. I don't trust him. I don't like their other friend, Joey, either, but that's just because he's kind of an idiot. Hank seems dangerous."

"Good enough for me, sweetheart. I think you should talk to Papa about him though."

"I will."

"You feel better now?"

"I do, but I have a question. Should I have made Jensen address me with more respect? I felt I should have, but I wasn't sure."

"Definitely," Daddy says. "But since you were unsure, you made the right call to wait. Always best to get counsel where you don’t know if you don't have to act, and try again next time."

"God Daddy, you're like magic, how do you always make me feel so good?"

"Practice," he says. "Now I'd better go up there and make sure Jen's not chewing himself to bits. Where you gonna be? Not with Michael?"

"He uh, he wanted some alone time," I say in a way that at least attempts not to show how broken my heart is about that. Michael already explained it had nothing to do with me.

"Michael's going through a lot."

"Yeah, and I just want to be there for him, Daddy."

"I know, but sometimes we have to figure things out for ourselves. He probably knew he was about to hurt you in the process. Am I right?"

I remember the last thing Michael said before he decided on his alone time, and yeah, it was basically to be quiet or he was going to put me over his knee for a spanking we'd both regret. Not gonna lie though, the reckless side of me kinda wants to see what one of those spankings is like. "You're right, Daddy."

"Why don't you go see, Hannah? You haven't hung with her much since…"

…since the happenings. Yeah, I haven't, but only because Papa gets real agitated at the mention of her name. "You sure that's a good idea, Daddy?"

"It'll be fine. Papa doesn't mean to be so Winchester-y about it, it's just his nature to be. Go'on, and have fun. You need it."

"Okay, Daddy. I'll see if she's free."


Hannah was not free, but we made some plans for another date. Instead, I spent some time working on Baby. A cool trick I've noticed, if I just let go when I'm around my car, I can do stuff. This seems to teach my brain, and then I know. It's a fucking odd thing, but I don't question it. I know it's old Dean – not there, but not gone – and I just enjoy being able to do it.

I'm still out working on her, when suddenly Tom and Michael are before me. Guess he still hasn't got his keys back yet. I think he's just being dropped off by his newest angel dad, but then I notice Tom's got some kind of casserole in hand. "Hello Dean," Tom says. Tom used to be so ridged and quiet, but more often now, he's almost sunny.

"Hey Tom," I say and do my high-five thing with him. Michael's hard face softens a little.

"I'd like to get this to Sam. Dean, I'm staying for dinner," he says happily. "Your father invited me. Michael, please be along shortly, I'd like your help with the casserole I brought."

"Yes, Uncle," Michael says, but I know there's a retort on the tip of his brain, and when Tom's out of angel earshot, he says it. "What possible help could one need with a casserole? He already made me suffer through chatting with him while he put it together, reading him the directions, all that's left is serving it up, which is a one person job."

"He started it with you, he probably wants to finish it with you," I say.

But he's more interested in my current state of dress. "Look at you, you're filthy."

"I was working on my car, sir," I say. I can see it now, all the things Daddy's been trying to tell me for years, Michael needs to exert his Top energy now. And to be honest, I could use some topping. I can do both, I can Top when needed like with my brothers, but it takes energy away from me, rather than giving to me if I spend too much time there like it does with Daddy.

Topping fills Michael up, gives him energy; he needs that right now. "Dean, I can't look at all this grease on you right now. Are you almost done?"

"I am. I'll just put my tools away, and you can use your mojo to clean me?"

"Please," he says. I can feel the pain of it.

I'm fast, and when he does his thing, I can feel his relief. "How you doing, Baby?"

"I'm fine, Dean. But your father came by, and I was forced to have coffee with everyone, when I just wanted to go listen to loud music in my room."

Ha! He has turned into such a teenager. "Was Papa awful to you?" Father can be kind of hard on him.

"That's just it, Dean. Even he was all…not as firm with me as usual. It was weird for me. Do you think the cowboy's responsible?"

"Likely." I bite my lip. "Everyone's worried about you, Baby."

"Why? Because of Lucifer?"


"Lucifer's gone."

"Yeah but, not all the way." He's still in Michael's head is what I mean.

"Not you too," he groans.

I'm going to be honest with him though. "Yeah me too. Like Uncle Dal says, it's hard to notice our own patterns. Something's off, Michael."

He rests his head on top of mine, which is a little less easy to do, I think I'm having my final growth spurt. "I'm trying, Duck."

"Surrender, Baby. Let us help you."

But he's still too stubborn. "We should go in before Tom comes out to get me."

I laugh, because that's kind of adorable. "Yeah, c'mon."


I can tell Jensen's still pissed at me through dinner, but Michael seems to have calmed down. He gets quiet, actually, and not in a bad way. He seems to enjoy watching his newest uncle, slash angel dad, interact with my family. "I'm sorry Gabriel couldn't make it," Daddy says to Tom.

"He would have loved to, but angel business. Michael kinda has been my angel business this whole time," he says super proud of that fact. "Which is why I'm usually available. Originally we tried to slot me into places within the operation, but then we agreed it's better for Michael I'm available like I always have been."

God that's fucking sweet, but of course Michael suffers the mild embarrassment of having a parent say he's available to dote on him. Even still, I know it does good things to his insides, like Daddy would say.

After dinner, we think we're racing off to my room, but Tom stops us. "Where do you two think you're going?"

"Uh, off to be teens?" I say, laying on the charm, which apparently does not work on Tom when he means business.

"I don't think so, you have guests Dean, and Michael you are a guest. We came to visit."

Jeez he's a militant visitor, not to mention, so very angel about things. It's like he's just understanding the concept of 'guest', and is attempting to embody it. I suppose he is correct, it's just Michael hasn't technically been a 'guest' in our house in about a million years. None of this matters of course. Tom has spoken.

At the end of 'visiting', it's clear Tom's taking Michael with him. "At least I'm being dropped off here for school tomorrow," Michael says.

"Still no jeep, eh?"


"See you in the morning then." I get a chaste kiss goodnight, and they're gone, but y'know? that felt like a real good visit. I like hanging out with Tom, even if he's a huge cockblocker.

Since Jensen still won't talk to me, and they're both feeling the need to stay close to Papa ever since he reprimanded them – which, go figure, he spanks them they want to be near him, I do and it's freeze out city – I set myself up on the floor with Jake.

"Deeean!" he says reaching his arms up. Soon as he's in my arms he's smooshing his tired face into my shoulder.

"Poor little guy's been rubbing his eyes the past half hour," Uncle Dal tells me. "I'd put him to bed if I thought he'd stay asleep. Was trying to hold off long as I could."

"Want me to try, Uncle Dal? I could use some Jake cuddles tonight."

"The twins were rough on you, hey?"

"A little, but nothing I can't handle." I stand up and sway Jake. He's so tired, he's starting to do that thing babies do where they're not quite crying, but not quite saying words either. "But yeah, I'll try putting this one to sleep."

"Okay, I'll be up in a few minutes. I think we're gonna pack it in too," Uncle Dal says meaning him and Uncle Chris.

"We are?" Chris says in a way that's clearly complaining.

"We are," Uncle Dal confirms Uncle Chris doesn't argue back. He must get from Uncle Dal's eyes that he's not in the mood.

Jake sleeps with Uncle Dal and Uncle Chris, so I take him, and a bottle up to their room where they've got a rocking chair set up.

"Deeee-eeean," Jake says, unhappily.

"I know cowboy. You're tired, aren't you?"

He's rubbing his eyes, and looking so cute in his baby ghosts onsie. "How 'bout a song? I know I'm not as good as your daddy, but I do a pretty mean Winnie-the-Pooh theme." He knows. I sing it to him all the time, but you talk out loud to babies—just happens.

Jake's out like a light, too fast even, and I can't help thinking to myself that maybe what the twins say is true, maybe the hunter in me does connect with the hunter in them, and makes them all sleep easier? Don't know. In any case I enjoy my Jake snuggles before he's turning me away like Jensen, feeling like I got one win for the day.

Sunday night, early Monday morning ~ whatever way you look at it

"Dean, Dean?" I hear the quiet voice, and am being shook awake at the same time.

I open my eyes to see Jared. "What's up?" I say leaning over to check the time. It's the middle of the night. "You two have another nightmare?"

"Yeah, but Jensen won't come, and I know he should too," Jared says.

Jensen's still pissed at me, for spanking him. "Yeah, okay," I say pushing my covers aside, and plunking my bare feet onto the floor enjoying the plushness of the carpet for a second, before standing, and plodding my way down the hall with Jared.

Jensen is there with the light on reading, in other words not sleeping, which is not on. Too many nights of no sleep, and it will start affecting him. "C'mon Jen, let's go."

He glares at me. "You spanked me."

Even half asleep, I remember what Daddy said about staying firm. "I did, and I'd do it again. You deserved it. C'mon dude. You know you want to."

He challenges me with his eyes, and I challenge him right back with mine saying, I got you brother, and I love you, even if you are a shithead sometimes.

Eventually, he softens, and gets up quickly scrambling to hug me. "It was, it was… why's it so fucking scary, Dean?"

I get what he means. They've faced scarier things, some things they still remember, why's he so scared of the things his mind makes up? "C'mon. Let's go back to my room."

The three of us return to my room, and pile into the bed, a twin on either side. "Dean, I'm sorry for ignoring you, and not hugging you, and bein' an all around dick."

I laugh, quietly. "You were kind of a dick, but you're not obligated to hug me after a spanking. Sometimes I don't want to hug my spanker either."

"You don't?" Jared says.

"Yeah, I don't and it's okay, just don't ignore me all right? Ask for space if you need it, but ignoring me's not on. That hurt."

"Okay," Jensen says. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, and I… I just hated we let you down. When you were saying all that stuff, it sunk in how much we fucked up, and I didn't want you to think less of me."

"And the spanking made the idea real? Like if I went through with it that would mean I'd think less of you, but if you could talk me out of it I'd change my mind about what it meant for me?"

"Ye-Yeah! Exactly that. How are you so smart?"

He says that like a young kid would, and I'm reminded about Modlenol. Because they still know enough about demons and angels, it's easy to forget how much they've forgotten and how much they've deaged. "Just been spanked a lot," I tell them, which makes them both laugh.

"Shhhhh, okay now, not so loud or we'll wake someone we don't want to," but they can't stop giggling, they just giggle quieter. "Is me being spanked really that funny?"

They stuff their faces into pillows and laugh some more. Guess so. "I didn't even get to tell you when Papa, fuck, Cas—"

"How 'bout this Jen, if you're not comfortable to do it with him, how about just around me for now?"

"It's just, my head Dean."

"I know. So how 'bout it? Around me, it can be cool. A brother thing."

"Yeah, I'd like that. So Papa he…"

The two of them tell me all about their meeting with Papa, yes we turn on the light quickly so they can show me, but after that the two of them are yawning and I make them close their eyes.

All of us are out in seconds, snuggled warm under the blankets.

Chapter Text


It's a morning like any other in the Winchester house. I should say, it's a morning like any of our new mornings. Gone are the days where it was five of us, Cas, Dal, Dean, Michael, and I. We thought it was loud then, we knew nothing. For the most part, I love our new normal, but every now and then, I wouldn't mind a Delorian ride back to the past.

It's chaos right now, but not chaos I can't handle. I'm setting a large tray of muffins on the table – I've made… a few, and hoping that 'few' get eaten before Cas finds out how 'few' I've made – as my 'first born' son walks in the room in… huh? "Dean, what the? Where are your pants, Sur?"

Dean struts into the kitchen dressed in his school blazer, shirt, tie, and pair of boxers. "I don't know, but I'm gonna kill a twin," he says snatching a slice of buttered toast off the plate where at least twenty other slices are stacked, and sitting down at a bar stool at the counter.

"Lordy be, Dean Daniel you'd better—" but I don't get to finish that sentence in walks Jensen with a smirk on his face.

"There you are, you little," Dean says, his mouth full of toast, getting up to lunge at Jensen.

"Whoa there, Dean. You want your pants back, you'd better be nice to me."

Dean halts his lunging to grab another piece of toast, and chew on it while glaring daggers at Jensen, sitting back down at the counter. "Well I'm your ride to school, and if I have to drive pant-less, maybe you fall out of the car while it's moving."

"Dean Winchester." But that's as much scolding as he gets from me. I know he doesn't mean it, and Jensen deserved some kind of retaliation, so long as it doesn't escalate, but I'll stop it well before then.

Next is Jake, toddling into the room, also half-naked, just a t-shirt and his cute little diapered bum, nearly tripping on his still unsteady legs. Dean snatches him up, and sits him on his lap. "Hey escapee."

"Deeean," he coos at one of his favorite people. Jake was very pleased when he could finally say Dean's name. Dean breaks off a piece of toast and gives it to Jake to suck on.

"Where's…? Oh you got him, Dean. Thanks," Chris says running in, also half-naked, but thankfully only from the waist up, just his black pajama pants on, hanging loose around his hips. "Was changin' his diaper in the other room, I turned for a second and he was gone. Gosh you're fast, cowboy," he says ruffling Jake's head as he heads over to help himself to coffee.

All I know is right now, it's a recipe brewing for someone to get spanked this morning. Cas is going to have a thing, or two to say about all the dress code of choice.

Okay, I need to intervene. I'm about to tell Jensen to go get Dean's pants, and also his brother, when the sliding glass door to the kitchen is thrown open with too much force, and Gabriel, Tom, and Michael file in. Gabriel, the door-opener, looks ticked, Tom is concerned, but more irritated, and Michael has his usual glare set to atom bomb. "You sit there," Gabriel says to Michael.

"Fine. Punish me for having an opinion," Michael says taking a seat where Gabriel said to, slouching in it like the sulky teen he has become, and crossing his arms, choosing a spot to set his glare on.

"Sam, where is Castiel? I must speak with him," Gabriel says.

"In his office."

"Thank you. You, don't move," he says to Michael. Wow, what on Earth did he do?

"Y-Yes, sir," Michael says. Gabriel looks like he's a hair away from taking Michael over his knee here in the kitchen, and Michael's finally catching onto that. Satisfied Michael's going to do as told, he storms off toward Cas.

"Sam? Do you have some of that coffee around?" Tom asks. "I think I need some. These two this morning; driving me crazy."

It's so odd to have the angel request a human drink like that. "Uh, sure Tom. Right over there," I say pointing to the pot Chris is still standing by. Chris helps him get a cup.

I feel like I should help Michael out, but no one is dressed properly, and Cas is going to come out here and chop heads. Though Dally just might take the lead on this if he gets here first.

I'm indecisive about the whole ordeal, and before I can come to a conclusion, Jared strolls into the kitchen, wearing pajama pants, his school shirt, tie, and blazer, no socks. He heads straight to the table, as I try to figure out what his game is. "Jared, dare I ask?"

"Dean took all my underwear, and I'm not putting my junk into my clean school pants without them."

"What about your socks?" I ask.

"I spent so much time look for underwear, I got hungry," he says reaching for bacon.

"Couldn't you have just used a pair of Jensen's underwear?" They're close to the same size.

"Dean took those too."

I look over to Jensen. "Yep that's right, I'm goin' commando," Jensen tells me. "Unbothered." He grabs a muffin. Yes, eat the muffins.

Dear lord. "Dean, what's the big idea?" I ask him. He failed to mention this when he announced the thing about his pants.

"I told you, Jensen took my pants," he says as though that should explain everything.

I'm trying real hard not to give Dean the old, 'you're the eldest and I expect more from you' lecture, but let me tell you it's on the tip of my tongue and Cas is gonna do it anyway. I see why parents give it now. "Why would you take Jared's underwear if it was Jensen who took your pants?" Yeah I know, wrong question, but I'm so curious how the three work sometimes.

"To blackmail Jensen into giving my pants back, when that didn't work, I took Jensen's for the heck of it."

Okay, yeah that tracks. I'm gonna let that one lie for a bit. I find with these three, their chaos peaks to a high and then often resolves; I can't involve myself in every little spat, or I'll go crazy. If it doesn't resolve, I'll step in, but they'd better hope they figure it out before Cas gets in here; he will not wait out their nonsense.

I work on Michael instead. I grab him a coffee, and walk over with it. "Here, Cornbread," I say.

"While I appreciate the gesture Mr. Winchester, I am an angel. An archangel in fact. I do not need coffee. Or food," he says over in Tom's direction.

Michael loves coffee. I look over at Tom, as if to say, 'oh, we're here are we?' to which he responds with an exhausted nod. I didn't think angels with all their grace got tired, but Tom looks tired. "That the opinion you were having this morning?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fine, no coffee. But why am I 'Mr. Winchester' this morning?"

"I'm just a child, aren't I? Shouldn't children respect their elders by referring to them with formal monikers?"

"Lordy be, Michael." I look around at everyone kinda, sorta munching on food here and there, but no one making a plate, all of us waiting for Cas. "Help yourselves to muffins, boys," I say pushing the muffins.

Despite whatever wild disagreement they're having, it doesn't extend to passing muffins. "Toss me a muffin, Jen?" Dean asks.

"Sure, bro."

"Do not throw that muffin, Sur," I say.

"How else am I supposed to give it to him?"

"Get off your non-underweared tookus and pass it to him." Jeez these teens.

"Ugh. Fine."

As he's doing that, a big presence fills the room, when my younger brother Dallas enters it. Although there is tired behind his eyes, he's looking a lot brighter these days. He's freshly showered, and clean-shaven and somehow, Dallas looks younger. "Good morning everyone. Ah, there he is, you come with me Sur," he says looking at Michael.

Michael pales. "Me? What did I do?"

"Nothing I'm going to punish you for; I just want to chat real quick. Come." Dallas walks off toward the living room, expecting Michael to follow.

Michael is furious, looking like a prickly cactus come to life, and storms after Dal. Dean looks a concerned eye to him. "Don't worry sweetheart, he'll be fine," I assure him. "But you three won't be if you don't figure this out before Papa gets here." I gesture between them.

"It'll all be figured out, soon as he gives me my pants back," Dean says, bouncing Jake on his knee, munching on a muffin and giving Jake bites. Maybe Jake needs his own muffin?

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but curiosity's got me; why did you take Dean's pants in the first place?" Christian asks Jensen.

"He's still mad at me for spanking him, I bet," Dean says for him.

"Why would I care about that? You spank like someone who's had pneumonia for six weeks."

"Then why were you squirming like frying bacon?"

It's hard for people to get under Jensen's skin, but for some reason that does it for him. "Screw you, Dean!"

Dean's more sensitive, and that hurts him. He doesn't respond, realizing they've gone beyond their usual, brotherly banter somehow, and he bites his lip focusing on Jake.

"Jensen Colt Winchester, if I hear you talking to your brother like that again, you can sit on the naughty step." I care not that a 'naughty step' is typically for younger children. They want to be immature, I'll treat them as such.

"Yes, sir." He has the wherewithal to look chagrined.

Dallas returns with a much more relaxed looking Michael. Cas and I have started calling him the Michael Whisperer, he's so good with him. Dallas rubs Michael's arm, and Michael nods, the two of them having a private agreement without words. Michael heads over to Dean, and Jake reaches for him – Jake's taken to Michael, they spend a lot of time together by default, since Jake is often with Dean, and Dean is often with Michael – and Michael takes him and places Jake on his hip. I can't help staring at the pair when Michael leans into rub noses with Dean, and then takes Dean's hand and kisses it, smiling. He's a totally different Michael from the one who blazed in here this morning.

"Gabriel said I could release him, if I could get him to calm down," Dal says taking a seat beside me.

"Good job. Here, you get a coffee," I say handing him the one Michael rejected.

"Thanks, Sammy. Also, what in tarnation is goin' on in this kitchen – you boys know Cas is coming this way soon, yeah? He's gonna tan hides."

"I'll get dressed soon as I get my pants back, Uncle Dal," Dean says. "Otherwise how can I get dressed?"

Dean does have a point.

"Jenny?" Dal says.

"I'll take my chances with Papa Cas."

"Lordy be. Sammy, there are a lot of muffins around here," he says.

"You mind your business, Sur."

He puts his hands up in supplication. "I'll let Cas talk to you about that. You," he says to Chris. "You I'm more concerned about. What you doin' down here half-naked, Cowboy?" It is odd. Of all the people in the house who drone on about dress code, it's the full-blooded Winchesters that do the most.

"Yeah, I know. But I needed coffee, stat. I'll go change," he says taking the final sip of said coffee.

"Wait. C'mere," Dal says.

Chris wanders over with a lazy smile on his face. Dal pulls him in for a kiss, and they also rub noses.

First my kitchen is the scene of some kinda clothing crime, now it's filled with love sickness.

The hair on the back of my neck tingles. Ah fudge. I turn to where I know he's standing, my husband, with Gabriel close behind him. I sit back and watch him – I'm not in trouble, well much trouble, yet – because one of my favorite things in the whole world is my Toppy Cas in action.

It's always been said that Cas has a solid feel to him. As he surveys the room, analyzing the level of mayhem, I can feel that solidness even from where I sit. Age has not dimmed his presence, only strengthened it. His Winchester-blue eyes, blue like sapphire with flecks of silver, deepen, and squint, his brow frowns slowly setting to velociraptor. His mouth pulls into a thin line, and his stance says he's prepared for battle.

I love the power coming off him.

"Can someone tell me why I have half-naked people in my kitchen, oddly dressed people, and a sulky teenaged-archangel? Sam?!"

I turn to look for Sam. Oh right, that's me. Instead of frightened by his tone, I'm turned on. Like, really turned on. "Um, some kind of a twin-Dean fight over spanking—"

"—we never concluded that," Jensen says.

I continue. "Chris needed coffee, and I think Michael's mostly sorted now, he just needs to make up with his daddy, and he'll be fine."

"Parental figure," Michael insists.

"Dean?" Cas says to his son, resident apple of his eye.

"Jensen's pissed at me, and I have no pants. That's about all I'm sure of."

"And I have no underwear," Jared adds, raising his hand.

"Neither do I," Jensen says, proudly.

"We don't have time for this. I'll deal with the lot of you after school. Dean give them back their underwear. Jensen give Dean back his pants."

"No," Jensen says. "Spank me all you want."

Cas's squint gets squintier when Jensen has the audacity to tell him no, and to say 'spank me all you want.' Cas doesn't need an invitation to do that; he will. As it is though, we are starting to run low on time, and everyone needs to be properly fed. "Dean, can't you just wear another pair of pants for now?" Cas says.

"I would, but he took all of my pants – sweats, pajama, everything."

"Everyone start eating then, Jensen come with me," Cas says.

"Actually, Papa? Can I try something? I think this is on me."

Cas is confused, but also willing to let Dean take the lead on this one, honoring his promise to give Dean more adult responsibilities. "All right, but if this is not resolved in the next five minutes, we do it my way."

Dean nods. Kisses said sulky archangel, and hops off the stool at the counter. Cas looks to Chris. "I was just on my way upstairs, Castiel."

Cas takes in Chris's disheveled appearance. "You're someone who could use a spanking."

"What? What did I do?"

"Nothing, yet. I'd like to keep it that way."

"A guy can't just casually get coffee around here," Chris complains.

"Go get dressed," Dal says sending him off with a tap to his bum. "I'll come up and sort you out in a minute."

"Yes, sir," he says, totally pouting.

"Michael," Cas prompts.

Michael has been eyeing Gabriel wearily, embarrassed by his behavior, and probably wondering if he's about to be spanked, lectured, or both in the middle of my kitchen. Michael's still got Jake, who's started playing with Michael's tie, and Michael's not even done anything to stop him. Michael clears his throat. "Um, Uncle Gabriel, sir? I was horrible this morning. I'm sorry."

Gabriel's not giving an inch. Just what did he do? "And to Tom."

"Uncle Tom? I'm sorry I used my grace to throw the omelet you made me at Uncle Gabriel's head."

Oh my god, and Michael lived?

"You have a date with me after school, kid," Gabriel says.

"Yes, sir," Michael says clearly embarrassed.

"But try not to broad over it all day. I'm not mad anymore."

"You kind of look mad," Michael says looking all of seven years old. "Slightly terrifying, actually."

"Sorry, kid. I'll tone the scary archangel Dad look down a bit. I'm not actually mad, perhaps still a bit irritated. I will cool off. You did throw an omelet at my head."

I kind of want to laugh, but I know that won't help matters. We'll all laugh about it later, I'm sure.

"Fair," Michaels says looking a world better.

Gabriel squeezes his shoulder, and ruffles his hair. "Don't look like that, I get a free one," Gabriel says when Michael's features etch to darkness having his hair ruffled.

"I thought you wanted me to look presentable for school?"

"I'll brush your hair for you, corn muffin," I offer.

"Oh goody, now see what you've done?" Michael says, but there's not even a little fire behind it.

"Looks like you're in good hands here, kid. We'll see you after school. Straight home."

Tom runs a hand through Michael's hair, fixing what Gabriel destroyed a little, leaving some for me. "Be a good boy, Nephew," he says and winks.

Michael rolls his eyes when Tom turns away.

"Castiel, do you mind if we…?"

"By all means," Cas says.

Gabriel grabs Tom's hand and they fly away.

When they're gone, Dean and Jensen have returned, Dean has pants on, and well, I assume Jensen's got underwear – I trust Dean to have told him – but he looks a world better, beaming up at Dean like I'm used to seeing. "Underwear's back, Jare."

"Jared, go change. Then, I want to see everyone eating breakfast and out of here on time," Cas says. "I'll deal with this nonsense later."

The house feels so empty when everyone has gone. All the boys left for school in Dean's car. Chris, and Cas went to work, and Dallas took Jake to a Daddy and me play date. I can't help it, I love the chaos no matter what it brings, and I hate when it's gone. I better somehow get a house full of grandkids – I'll never be ready to let it go.

I'm deciding what I'll do with my day when the doorbell rings. Odd. I'm not expecting anyone. I look through the peephole, fill with giddiness, and then open the door. Leaned up against it in his khaki trench coat, facial features set to smoldering, is Cas. "Cassy? I thought you had work?"

"Not Cassy," he says striding in the entryway such that I have to back up quickly unless I want to get trampled, and shutting the door behind him. "Sir."

Oh sweet Jesus what that does to me. I can barely speak, but I know what I need to do for Sir. I do a graceful drop to my knees, and go pliant when he threads a hand through my hair, tightening his grip on my skull. He turns my face, so my eyes look up at him; they are filled with pure surrender. "Sir," I greet.

"Have you been a well-behaved boy?"

Normally I can answer this with a yes. Ugh, but Cas knows darn well I can't today, well, not with the way we set up our rules. "Mostly," I try.

"It's a yes, or a no, isn't it, Samuel?"

"I've not been well-behaved, Sir."

"That's better. We'll take care of that first. Come."

I wait until he gets ahead of me, and then I crawl behind him to our bedroom.

Well-behaved for me means something different than what it means for our son. I am well-behaved, and I know it, but Cas and I prefer strict rules for me. It's what works for us both. When I'm kneeling, naked at his bare feet, he runs a hand through my hair. "What do I have to punish you for today, pet?" Cas has also removed his jacket, and blazer, so he's standing before me in his black slacks and long-sleeved button-up shirt.

"I made a few muffins, sir."

"Muffins? There's no rule against you making a few muffins."

"I made fifty dozen batches, Sir," I say with a heavy sigh.

"Samuel!" That's almost a raise in his voice. As we all know, Winchesters don't need to raise their voices to get a point across, so they don't. Cas knew something was up with me, but not exactly what.

I wince. I'm in trouble.

"And where did these muffins get to? The twins eat a lot of muffins, but not even they could make it through fifty dozen." Cas is this odd mixture of amused, and unimpressed. He does not like to be disobeyed, like really not especially when it's a rule for my sake. We all know this of course, but over time, even he's let loose some about the antics that go on in the family. I like to believe the Colt has rubbed into him, however small.

"The freezer, Sir."

"How many muffins are in fifty dozen, Samuel?"

Cas has proficient math skills, he knows, he just wants me to say it. "Six hundred, Sir."

"Maybe that's how many days you should wear a cock cage for, hmmmm?"

I whimper, because please no. "If that's what would please you, sir."

If you think that's too harsh for a few muffins, of course it is. Cas is a sadist – we may have forgotten. Sadists love to find any excuse to do something they'd like to torture you for. This is our 'other' side of us, separate to the us that's the domestic-discipline-Winchester-Way us, in which Cas operates under different rules.

Of course, it gets pretty complicated with us, because there's some amount of crossover, and there's also the fact that some of my things the things I deal with, can require an intense level of subbing, but with others, intense spanking. Some people don't view BDSM, and domestic discipline, as different, but for us it can be. It feels like a different kind of thing at times, and in those times it is to us. I just need the strictness, the intensity; I need the overlord Cas, as well as my strong Head of House. Knowing he could and would do anything he pleases to me, gives me the feeling I forever chase, and Cas is good at giving it to me.

"Lucky for you that's not the kind of mood I'm in. Tell Sir, what's going on for you, to have to bake so many muffins?"

This time it's not anything wild. By wild I of course mean angels and demons, and associated affects that whole nonsense had on me. Cas was really worried, and we had some regular sessions, until I was back to my usual self. This muffin binge was nothing more than my usual brand nostalgia that comes on when I think about Dean growing up, but this time it's five times as strong with five boys in the house to grow up and move out. "Nostalgia, Sir."

We've dealt with this before, he knows what that means. He cups my face in his hand, and I feel the security of my husband catching me. "Why didn't you come to me for a spanking, Samuel?"

Good question. I'm the first to tell anyone the merits of this, but sometimes you just don't. You think to yourself, 'nah, I got this, one more batch is fine. I'm okay, really,' no matter how many batches get made. "I'm sorry, sir. I tried to handle it myself. That didn't work out so well."

Truth be told, sometimes behaviors that aren't good for you feel good, like eating a pint of ice cream. Baking the muffins felt good, and I could deny that I was spinning. Short term this isn't a problem, but left too long, and things like depression and anxiety rear up. It becomes a health issue. Simply letting myself spiral without even trying to come for help is not on for Cas.

So while you might say, just for baking a bunch of muffins it's much bigger than that, or well can be if Cas lets it, which he won't. And especially when it's at a non-serious level, like now, Cas can have a little fun.

"Well, now I'm handling it. We're doing bedtime spankings until I'm satisfied this has passed, understood?"

"Yes, sir," I say, and do my best not to wince. I'm always fine for two nights of that, but Cas spanks me hard and I'm usually begging for a reprieve pretty good after night three. Spoiler alert, Cas does not give reprieves, and I'm going to have a very sore bum for awhile. He knows me well though, and it will help.

"For now, you're going to be my pretty toy. I'm going to collar you, tie you up nice and fuck your mouth. You'll service me today and several times this week – no coming privileges for you."

Lordy be, will that be hard, but man does that turn me on. Knowing Cas as I do, I get his angle, it's a deep submission thing, me suffering for him. I get the freedom of surrender, and he gets the power of control. Opposing things we want in an extreme way. Cas and I knew earlier on this was us, but that doesn’t mean it went together smoothly. "I look forward to serving you, sir," I say and I'm already there, dropping like a rock into subspace.

"Okay, Samuel. Let's get you tied, and plugged up how I want you."

Cas grabs some bamboo rope, lube, one of the larger butt plugs, and my collar, which he secures around my neck first. I have a few collars by this point, we don't always use them, but today he's pulled out the black one that's got a tag saying Cas's on it. "Bend over, and touch your ankles, Baby," he says putting me into one of my least favorite positions off the hop. Cas doesn't waste anytime squeezing a generous amount of lube into my ass – saliva is not enough for something as large as he's putting in there, otherwise he'd be using his tongue – and fucks the butt plug into my ass slowly.

Once it's seated inside, I can feel the weight of it, making me uncomfortable, and my cock harder at the same time. He's quick with his knot work making a design down my arms I know well, a criss-cross pattern of triangles that bind my arms together behind my back from my shoulders, down to my wrists. I've taken yoga for years now, and can easily maintain such a position. "Kneel, Baby." I'm able to easily, even without the use of my arms, and get into one of Cas's favorite positions; my toes are tucked, and my legs spread, so Cas can enjoy my hard cock, the one that's not getting used, or pleasured today. "That's it boy, let me see you. All of you."

That's my signal to spread even wider. Cas admires me while he loosens his tie, and unzips his pants, not taking them down, just his boxers enough to pull his long, hard cock out, and stoke it a few times. His lack of nakedness serves to highlight my nakedness, and I feel another little, subby zing. "Only well-behaved boys get to come, don't they Samuel," he says.

"Yes, sir."

"Today, you'll take my cock, and then maybe I'll play with your penis for awhile. After all, you're mine to play with. I shouldn't suffer for your misdemeanor, should I?"

I can't hide my groan that time, which makes him smile, sadistically. I'm already hard and wanting, him playing with my penis is going to be difficult. It will feel awful in the best way. Cas grabs my head, and shoves his cock inside my waiting mouth. I know it's hot and wet in there, and from the way Cas throws his head back, it must feel divine. He starts with gentle strokes, giving me time to adjust, as I lathe my tongue over and over the head and then the shaft.

He increases the frequency of thrusts and I have to deep throat his cock, something I'm good at, his cock almost touching the back of my throat. It makes it harder to do much with my tongue, instead I open wide as I can, so his cock only just grazes my teeth. "Mmmmm, Baby yeah that's it. Good boy."

Fudge. Even after all this time good boy still gives me the good feels. I sink even deeper into my happy, float-y space. Cas moans above me, losing himself to the rhythm, enjoying the soft choking sounds I make when his thrusts get deeper and he inevitably does hit the back of my throat. Then I feel hot come, and swallow, swallow, swallow, making sure none of it hits the ground – there are consequences for that.

Cas is blissed out too, when he leans down to kiss my lips, still fresh with the taste of his come. "Good job, Baby. I'm pleased. So fucking pleased, but you know what would please me more?"

I know, but he knows I like to hear his gravelly voice say it, so I wait.

"You, screaming in agony."

I shiver the best shiver. And I don't know I'll ever be able to explain it to anyone, who doesn't have this desire in them, but it is true agony when Cas says it will be agony. None of this 'pleasure' stuff. Sure, pleasure can follow, and there is pleasure to be had, but not when I suffer for Cas. I'm truly suffering for him; it's uncomfortable, and sometimes down right painful, but I still love it. I don't love the pain at the level we're talking right now, but I love that I can do this to please my dominant, and it's that bit, right there that turns me on the most; the pleasing, rather than the pain.

So yeah, it's terrible, and wonderful at the same time. It's also a challenge, every time, to see if I can get through the torture Cas has in mind.

When I see what he pulls out, my eyes go big, and I come up from subspace a little. "Oh God, Cas. No."

"Cas? and no? Reeeeally?"

Whenever he gets it in his sadistic little mind to do this to me, I suddenly turn into a rookie, because you do not, I repeat do not tell the resident sadist what you hate the most. That becomes the thing they want to do forevermore. Cas already knows this is that thing, but my reaction has ensured it will be the thing to get used. I do like knowing this will please him even though I broke a rule by calling him Cas rather than Sir, especially because I broke a rule. Now he gets to punish me.

Cas smiles fiendishly. "Forward, Samuel. Ass up, while I retrieve my cane." He sets the evil items down, and heads off to the toy chest for one of our canes.

Thankfully, I have fantastic core stability, and I can gracefully lower my chest to the ground, even with my arms secured behind my back as they are. I display my bottom for him, as prettily as I can, spreading wide, knowing he gets a good view of my balls hanging down.

Even though I can get into the position as I am well, and maintain it, it's not the most comfortable of positions, which delights Cas even more. I feel the cold cane when he rubs it against my exposed cheeks. "You're going to get four. Two for your incorrect appellation, and two because you look pretty like this, and I want to. Count."

Groan. "Yes, Sir."

Cas is practiced and precise. The first whip-crack of the cane is across the meat of my bum, and he is not nice with it enjoying how painful it is for me. I can hear his sharp inhale of breath, followed by contented exhale. He's expressed to me many times how good that feels for him. He used to struggle with that, but not anymore.

On my end, getting whacked with a cane that hard is no easy feat, but I am no amateur sub. I accept the pain, and I'm good at breathing into it. Cas likes to challenge me of course, seeing if he can get me to cry out. It's not always about intensity, sometimes it's about location. If I'm just gonna give away opportunities for him to cane me with something like a Cas vs. a Sir, he's going to catch me on it. Happily. Painfully.

In our domestic discipline, Winchester Way lives, Cas works to make the punishment fit the crime. Not so if we also choose to deal with things here. I follow protocol, and rules or Cas gets to do what he pleases with me. There is some level of hierarchy in terms of severity, but the punishment doesn't always match the crime, usually Cas's mood. His mood is set to super sadist today.

I manage not to cry out, or break form, as per our protocol. I'm not giving Cas an excuse to give me another one of those cane marks beyond the four. Of course, he will if he wants to; I’ll accept it, but I won't earn it.

I take the strokes, and I count, and I'm perfect, which has pride swirling up in my stomach. My bum is on fire, but it's spread across my nerves in an even way that fills me with a buzz. "That was excellent, Samuel. I will reward you for your grace, by not giving you the extra I want to." Ha! I knew it.

Now for the real trick, getting back up, hands free. Once again, can be done, but takes significant core strength, which I have. Added to that, is the ability to make the movement fluid, which comes from my yoga practice. "Wow. I'm so lucky to have a sub with so much grace. Sadly for you it's only going to bring you more torture. Stand up."

Yeah, I know. I stand up, which is easy for me with my excellent balance and lower body strength.

He begins undoing the rope, after he's watched me get up without the use of my arms for balance, of course. "I hope I'm not going to get any more protests, am I?"

So not true. He loves my protests. "No, sir. I'll behave."

Once the ropes are undone and off, he spends some time massaging them. "How are your arms, Baby?"

"They feel, great, Sir."

"And your, ass?" he says knowing the answer, but wanting me to say it.

"It fudging hurts." I let my lip pout.

He smiles. "But still not swearing yet. I bet I can make you swear."

With dread, I watch as he begins attaching the evil item to my poor balls. It's a humbler, but a 'special' one. It's got wrist attachments on either side, so unlike the more standard humblers, my balls are trapped, and on display forward versus behind me. With my wrists attached to either side, movement is limited unless I want to seriously yank on my balls. I know from experience. This is one of Cas's favorites. I genuinely hate the thing, but because he loves it so much, this results in me wanting to do it for him more. The more I hate it, the more he loves it, the more he loves it, the more I want to do it for him. Sigh.

"Oh c'mon don't pout. You always do beautifully no matter what challenge I give you," he says kissing my lips.

"You're horrible, Sir."

"I believe that's why you married me," he says. "Besides, we've got a rare moment in time where no one is home, which means I can pull the best noises from you."

Can make me scream he means.

He picks up the crop, and begins fondling my balls with it, which feels nice. I moan. The humbler has them pulled tight, and very sensitive. His ministrations have me lifting to my toes. It's a softer crop – we have a wide selection – and something that won't kill my nuts too terribly, but they are sensitive, and already strained, it's not going to take much to have me crying out.

"Spread your legs for me," he says. "I want you presenting those balls for me, so I can torture them properly. Don't you want me to have fun?"

"I-I do, Sir," I say with hitched breath as he moves the flap of the crop under my nuts. My cock is leaking, loving how much I don't like this, which might sound odd, but it's how my kink works. I love how much he loves it. I do a better job of presenting my nuts in a vice for him.

When the first whack comes, I'm not surprised, but that doesn't make any difference. It's only a soft flick, a quick snap of the wrist, but it's the first time I do move, and therefore tug my already uncomfortable nuts. "Mmmmaaaahhggg! Fucker."

"That didn't take long," Cas says, as I narrow my eyes. "C'mon Baby, back in position. You're doing excellent, so gorgeous."

I'm a sucker for his praise, and man, I'm getting all floaty again. Floaty, doesn't always mean gone for me, I'm still here, just more open focused than narrowed.

From there, Cas is mean and terrible. He alternates between nice and down right evil, making my poor balls wish they could disappear. But I know what he wants today, he's wants some tears, and to get there, we have to go deep. To go deep, means to give more, to submit more of me. "Pl-please, Sir. No more. Please."

"And yet, please no more sir is not your word for ending this."

Yeah, but I try. My cock is hard and begging to come after another several rounds of torture Sam's balls. Between that and all the cooing from Cas, I'm going deep, deep, deep. Of course, it's becoming harder not to come, and harder not to yank on my balls. I'm swearing like a sailor. "Mother Fuck! Owww…! Mmmmmm, joooowww! Please, Sir. I can't, I can't. May I come—ow, fuck!"

"No you may not. C'mon baby, just a little more, you can do this."

The further we go, the harder it gets, is what finally brings on the tears. I sob. "Ssssssir, please."

"My pretty boy, with the pretty tears there they are. But we don't stop when you want to, do we? We stop when I do, and there's still one more thing before this comes off." Cas throws the crop aside, and I'm more horrified than before as I watch him get down to his knees. He smiles. "Remember, no coming."

Uuuuuuuuuuuugh. "Yes, sir."

Cas swallows my cock, and I want to die. It feels amazing, better than amazing. This sensitive, and with as much as he's teased and tortured? I'm so close to coming, and even as advanced as I am, I'm not going to be able to hold back. I know Cas knows this, which means, fuck, yep. He pops his mouth off, just as sensation is building to the point of no return, without the continued stimulation, my cock dribbles come forth rather than spewing, but it's not a good sensation. Ruined orgasms do not feel good. It's like dropping your birthday cake in a pool. I'm still horny, frustrated and hard, with none of the pleasure.

"You're evil, Sir," I say. I'm pouting yet more, but I'm also smiling.

"I am. But I'm also very pleased," he says standing up. "Look at what you do to me." Cas pulls his cock from his pants stroking it, hard again, and leaking.

I'm glad, but can't help glaring at the humbler once it's off. I'll have to wash it later, wouldn't that be a shame if it got lost? I'm not a brat though, so I won't do it, but I can't help the thought crossing my mind. "I'm going to fuck you so good, Baby."

Cas lays me on the bed, and removes the plug he put there earlier. It's slick with lube, and he's able just to crawl over top of me, and slide in. Cas is so aroused, it doesn't take him long, just some slow, sensual pumps, and he comes inside me.

He reaches over to where we've always got a glass bottle of water filled with filtered tap water – we only use reusable bottles in this house, no throwaway, or plastic here! – and makes sure we're both hydrated. Then we lay together for sometime as he takes care of me, drawing figure eights on my skin like I like, pressing gentle kisses into my skin, and playing with my hair. All the worship type things I love, until I'm back to planet Earth. "Thank you, for your submission Baby. I needed that, and you were gorgeous. I'm so fucking lucky," he says, unbuckling my collar, and putting it to the side.

"Me too. That was perfect Cassy." He's Cas again. "Today was a challenge."

"A good one?"

"Yeah. I feel like a million sunrises," I tell him.

"I thought you might break there for a second when I went after your cock with my mouth."

I whack him playfully. "That was mean."

"You loved it."

"I did."

We get another hour of snuggling and playful banter, and sharing a homemade power bar from the reusable glass 'Tupperware' in a drawer in our bedside table. "We need more of this Baby. With the added people in the house, we need to take more time and go away. We have a young adult to help out, and he should."

Cas has forgiven Dean for the Happenings completely, but he's resolved to be a different kind of harder on him. Everything that happened scared the life out of him, and he still feels there was more he could have done to have open communication, and a Dean that made more mature choices.

"In fact, I'm taking you away this weekend. Dean's in charge."

"Right after the weed, incident, Cassy?"

"Are you questioning my judgment, Sam?"

"I'm not, I'm just surprised."

"Our boy's not foolish enough to mess up in the same way twice. He needs an opportunity to prove himself."

I agree with Cas. Dean does need these opportunities, even if we're a bit late to the gate on it. I nod. "Where we gonna go, Cas?" I say ready to daydream with him. I could really use some time away.

"I'll fly you across the border to Whistler. It's beautiful there this time of year."

Okay, I'm fudging excited about that. It rains, but I love the rain mixed with all the fall colors. "And oysters at Barefoot Bistro?"

"As many as you want."

We have to put our trip planning on hold for a moment, when my phone rings. "Shoot, Cas. It's Jensen." He nods for me to take it. Jensen spews out a whole story I don't catch the half of. "Uh-huh. Okay, we'll be right there baby boy. Go find, Dean, okay?" I look to Cas. "I have to go to the school, Jared's been punched in the face."

"What?" Cas is already up, and putting on his boxers and pants.

"Yeah. Sounds like he's okay, but Jensen's freaking out. I told him to find Dean."

"Good call. You all right, Sam? I can go to the school for you."

"More than Cas." I've got some sore places, but I feel fantastic.

"All right then, but we're going together."

~Back to Earlier this Morning: Dean~

"Actually, Papa? Can I try something? I think this is on me."

Papa's not so sure, but let's me for reasons beyond me. "All right, but if this is not resolved in the next five minutes, we do it my way."

I nod. "Be right back," I whisper in Michael's ear, kiss my hot boyfriend, and hop off the stool at the counter. "Will you please come with me, Jenny?"

He's reluctant, but he comes easy when I tug him by the hand. I pull him into the living room. "It was because of this morning, wasn't it? and not the spanking," I say. I originally assumed it was the spanking, 'cause that's what he was on about yesterday through to last night.

"Yeah. I deserved that spanking, I was just being a brat."

"Not just a brat, but some. You were this morning, one hundred percent. You were trying to get my attention, by being a brat. But I went all brother, when I should have gone big brother."

He nods, looking at me with big eyes.

"You don't have to act like that to get my attention, you know."

"Well it's embarrassing. Why am I feeling like this, Dean?"

"You're supposed to feel like a big, bad hunter?"


"That's how Modlenol works. Even though you two didn't de-age to Jake's age, you must have had a lot in your system to get from where you were to this young."

"I know you say it's okay, and normal, and all that, but waking up curled around you as my 'big' brother is still sometimes weird for me. Sometimes it is the most normal thing in the world, like I've always done it. Other days I remember who I, well who I was and it freaks me out."

I nod. "I get it, and today was one of those days, huh?" Daddy says it's a whole new experience having kids who can talk after being de-aged. When it happened to me, they only had a bit of time while I was growing down to hear what I had to say. After that, it was a guessing game, as to what was going on in my head. They could tell I still had big thoughts, and emotions at times, with little thoughts and emotions at others, but it was anyone's guess as to how that went on, and for how long. Same for Jake. With the twins, they can articulate it some, just like this. It's helping us understand Jake a bit better too.

"Yeah I kinda freaked, and I needed, I dunno, something."

"So you acted out by stealing my pants, as a really odd kind of cry for structure," I explain; it's a mentality I know well.

"Yeah, that tracks."

"Anyway you could try to get my attention in a way that's less likely to drive our parents crazy?"

"I make no promises," he says.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Both for taking all the underwear, and for not catching onto what you were going through this morning. I'll do a better job, next time."

"And I'm sorry I took all your pants, even if it was hilarious," he says, laughing.

"Lordy be. C'mon you. Let's get my pants and your underwear. We need to eat and get to school," I say placing my hand to the back of his neck, leading him back upstairs.

"You think Daddy would let me stay commando? Love how breezy this is."

I don't mean to freeze, especially not after the talk we just had, but I'm shocked, so I do.

Jensen realizes what he did. "Oh god, see like that. Sammy. Sammy, not Daddy. He's my actual brother for crying out loud."

I get him walking again. "He's already told you that's fine."

"But isn't it weird?"

"Not if it's how you look at him. I once had a friend in Sunday School who was raised by his brother. He called his older brother Daddy. Also, I'm technically your nephew, yet you seem to have no trouble calling me brother."

"Huh, yeah guess that's true."

"And the answer's no, Daddy's not gonna let you shoot the breeze like that."

"You hid the underwear in Jake's room?" he says when I stop in front.

"Yep." Not like Jake's ever in the room much.

We head back to the twin's room with a pile of underwear each. When he sets the underwear down on his bed and his arms are free, he circles them around me. I squeeze him back. "Dean? Thanks."

"All in a big brother's day's work. Now, bring me to my pants before I hang you from the ceiling by your ankles."


"What's this?" he says grazing his hand across the scruff that's there.

It's lunchtime and Michael and I have stolen off to a hill in the schoolyard, where we can lie on our backs together, and stare at the sky. It's early autumn, the sky is still peaking through wispy clouds, the burnt orange, and lemon yellow leaves dressing the trees in the background, the air still warm, but the summer heat long gone.

"An on purpose five o'clock shadow."


"Yeah. To make me look a bit older."

"And this is okay with Papa Winchester?"

"Yup. I ran it by him. He said so long as I keep it groomed and don't look like a hooligan. You like?"

He leans in and nuzzles his cheek against it. "I do. Fuck it makes my dick hard, and something else. Almost like a memory, but not quite. Maybe the feeling of a memory."

I know exactly what he means. It's like that for me, and Old Dean memories. A lot of them are by feel, even though for me, I still have the odd random one in my head.

He slams his head back into the grass. "These teenage hormones will be the death of me."

"That's not fair I thought I got to be the death of you," I say smiling. "I'll take that as a you like it though?"

"I think I like it too much."

"Not to worry. Soon we shall have a place where we can fornicate at will," I say doing my best Michael impression.

"Do you really think it's going to be that easy?"

"Papa wasn't lying."

"Yes, but there are a lot of people there now, plus all of Uncle's rules."

"We'll figure it out I'm sure."

"In the meantime, you're getting a bit too close for what's deemed appropriate on school grounds. While you may have a penchant for recklessness, if my scary angel dad gets a phone call that I'm fornicating at school, or anything close to it, I will never see the light of another day. Ugh. As is, he's going to spank me when I get home today."

I know that feeling well. "Do you really find him that scary?"

"On occasion, but I'm mostly being dramatic," he admits.

"All right, all right. I'll back off. You think Gabriel would let me come over? We should have sex in your bedroom."

"Sorry, I doubt it, and I probably shouldn't ask."

He's right. "Yeah, I guess."

"I think I need to workout," he says randomly.


"Yeah, my arms are so skinny. Yours are bigger than mine, from all the hockey."

His arms did get pretty thin after the Modlenol. All of him did. "Michael, you're like, a billion, million times stronger than me. What does it matter how you look?"

That's as far as we get in that conversation, though. Jensen's running up to us, out of breath, looking like he's sprinted here. "J-J-Jared… in the school's … school's infirmary."

"What?" Both Michael and I are up grabbing our school jackets. Jensen talks as we follow him.

"I think he had a panic attack, or something…? The Dads have already been called, they told me to come find you, and Jared wanted you anyway."

"Dude, why didn't you just call me?"

"I… oh my god I didn't think of it."

And he would have had to have been just on his phone talking to probably Daddy since he would get the call from school first. He must be frazzled too. "Slow down, Jenny. We'll get there. Deep breaths."

He nods, and slows, and sticks close to me.

When we get there, Jared's laying on a bed looking totally fine except for his eye. "You left the part out where he was punched in the eye," I say to Jensen, and head over to his twin, who's not super thrilled with me grabbing his jaw in my hand and twisting it to look at the damage, but he lets me.

Like a few moments ago with Michael, I get the ghost of a memory, seeing the ghastly bruise. A memory I can't see, only feel. "What happened, Jare?"

"Randy Carter," he says. "And I'm glad you're here, you need to beat the shit out of him for me."

"I'm not beating the shit out of anyone," I say. "Jensen said you had a panic attack."

"Yeah. That idiot grabbed me by the back of my jacket – which is ruined by the way – and that's when it happened, I had a memory, flash of one and the two sensations together… anyway, he slammed me into the locker and punched me in the face."

"While you were having a panic attack?"

"Pretty much," he says not nearly, as concerned as I am about that bit as he is on seeking revenge, but I get it now.

"I've changed my mind. I'm gonna rip that guy's lung out."

Michael's too quiet. As much as the twins annoy him, he's grown fond of them, they're his family too. I might have to get in line.

"I pulled the guy off of him," Jen says. "And that's when a couple of teachers showed up."

"Any idea why this guy would come after Jared like that?"

My question doesn't get answered though. In rushes Daddy, and (to my surprise – thought he went to work?) Papa. "Dean? Oh good, you're with him," Papa says.

Daddy sits on the other side of the bed, fussing over Jared like I just did; he likes it just as much. "We need to get some ice, and arnica on that."

"I don't want to leave school, though," Jared complains. He instantly loved school.

"If he's leaving, so am I," Jensen says.

"Well unfortunately you are," Papa says to Jared. "And you're not," he says to Jensen.

Jensen doesn't talk back, but he's pissed. I stand up and pull him to my side. "I'll look after this one," I tell my parents.

"Thank you, Dean Bean. C'mon Jared. Don't worry, I'll let you do your homework at home."


After I drop Michael off – he leans into kiss me, and makes sure to rub his cheek along my scruff, which gets me a smile out of him – I'm alone in the car with Jensen who hops into shotgun. He's long since cooled off from not being allowed to go home with Jared, he realized what a long shot that was. "You wanna tell me what happened with Randy Carter?"

"Jared made a move on Randy's girlfriend."

"Lordy be, you two. Did Jared know she was already dating Randy?"


God dammit.

"Still, Randy punched him what he was vulnerable."

"Which is still horrible, but what Jared did also wasn't great. A lot less than great."

"All's fair in love and war, Dean."

"Pretty sure, not what that means." I'm going to have to talk to Jared, and to the kid who punched my little brother.

We head through the entryway and to the kitchen where Daddy's got snacks for us as usual set up at the table – there are a lot of freaking muffins – where Jared's working on his homework drinking chocolate milk. "Hey, he gets chocolate milk?" I say sitting down next to him. I don't forget he asked for me, and I didn't get the chance to comfort him. Sure he probably more wanted me there so he could form a revenge plan, but I know it was more than that.

"You can all have chocolate milk, Dean," Daddy says

"You're such a nerd doing homework when you got to come home Jare," Jensen says sitting on the other side of him, pulling out his books.

Daddy brings over chocolate milk for Jensen and I, and we thank him. "What's uh, what's the verdict here, Daddy?"

I want to know what's going on.

"He's fine, but his eye's going to look bad tomorrow, so we said he's staying home, and he's ticked."

"I don't see why I'm being punished for getting my eye punched," Jared says.

"As Cas already explained, you're not being punished. You can't go to school with that. I want to watch it a day or two."

"Don't worry, Jare, I'll make sure and get all your homework for you," I tell him. "You can even do mine if you want."

That gets a small smile out of him. "Thanks, Dean. Still blows though."

"I don't know why you wouldn't relish in the freebee, bro. I volunteer to stay home with him," Jensen says.

"You already know the answer to that. Do your homework," Daddy says. "And don't bother Papa with that kind of nonsense, he's not in the mood." Even Daddy calls Papa, Papa to them. It's only a matter of time before it just becomes canon.

"Is Papa ever in the mood for nonsense, though?" I say pulling out my books.

"True," Daddy says.

"You two are weird," Jensen adds.

"Yeah, and you're stuck with us," Daddy says piling yet more muffins onto the plate in the middle of the table. Did something happen with muffins, I missed?

Eventually, during our homework party, Papa walks in. "This is a nice scene, and so quiet, I can barely believe it," Papa says snatching a muffin, and then snatching a Daddy laying a kiss on him. "I'm taking you out for dinner, Baby," he says to Daddy. "Go get ready." He smacks Daddy's ass, and Daddy blushes a little, before doing as told. "Dean?"

"No problem, Papa. I can hold the fort. Can Michael come over, if he's allowed out that is?"

"If he's allowed out. Make sure everyone finishes their homework, eats, and is in bed on time."

"Yes, sir." I am not fucking this up this time. It feels nice to be trusted.

"Your uncles are home if you need them, and while I have you three here, if I come into a kitchen like I did this morning, I'm taking off my belt, and the three of you can remember about how to behave all day long while you sit on sore behinds at school, understood?"

"Yes, sir," all three of us say. Holy shit. Papa can still take my breath away.

"Good. Your uncles are home if you need them, Dean. All of you, behave."

Chapter Text


C'mon. You can do this Michael. It's just a spanking. But it's not, because if I could just go in there, receive said spanking, and be on my merry little way, I wouldn't have these god damn butterflies.

It's more than. It's having to face Gabriel, with the prior understanding of the line, and how much I crossed it. The truth is, I regret my behavior, and deserve to be raked over the coals. The spanking itself will feel like relief.

The breakfast rule, while annoying, is created out of love, as the Cowboy pointed out. But once again I argued over it. The argument escalated, and I was just, sigh I was awful, in effort to be right – but I really wasn't.

Me losing my temper, and throwing things, is not only immature, but disrespectful, and I do respect Uncle Gabriel. Dallas also seems to think, that while I'm not someone prone boundary pushing, that's what I have been doing due to the sharp shift from abusive guardian, to loving guardian – if a little overprotective.

Consciously this all makes sense to me. It would stand to reason that if I understand the reason I would stop aforementioned behaviors, but the Cowboy was certain it doesn't work like that. He's stuck on this whole inner child thing, and that I have to appease that inner child's need to know his boundaries, and therefore just how loved I am.

Additionally, none of this understanding is relevant in the moments I act out. I feel righteous. My ego can't see past its righteousness, and I act defensively, even though there is no true need and I'm left wondering at my actions afterward.

Like the coward I am, I slink off to my room. I have homework. Lots of it. This is what I'll say when I'm asked why I didn't seek either parent out. It's not like I was told to find either one. Straight home is all Uncle Gabriel had said, not straight to me. Big difference.

I make it to my room, but the butterflies are not gone. Ugh. Why oh why did I have to throw the omelet? Maybe I should seek one of them out and get this over with. Maybe Tom will do it? He's got to have a less severe lecturing voice than Uncle Gabriel, right? Or what if he's worse?

How does Dean do this? Get lectured by his parents? I don't care for lectures from any of the adults, but I am learning the parent ones are The. Worst.

It's something to do with, because they're mine. I'm not sure I fully get that yet, but I am starting to. Feeling the feeling of letting them down is just, well, fucking butterfly-inducing.

I do my homework, not even answering any of Dean's texts, as if trying to compensate for what I did this morning with extra good behavior – not allowing myself to be distracted while doing my homework.

But my homework runs out, and I'm surprised no one's come to look for me yet. Maybe they forgot? Or maybe they got over it? Or, maybe they're cooking up something worse? If I have to sit through another Supernatural Dudes marathon…

I jump when I hear whoever's just flown to my door. Both Tom and Gabriel are getting better about knocking. "Come in," I say, when one of them knocks.

It's Tom. "Oh, you are home, Nephew. You didn't come find one of us like you usually do," he says disappointed.

Do I usually do that now? I suppose I have taken to afternoon coffee with him. "I had a lot of homework, Uncle." Fuck, I’m biting my damn lip. How in the name of Father did I pick up that habit?

"Have you finished? Gabriel would like to speak with you now."

"Yeah, I'm done," I say, put out. "He couldn't come get me himself? Had to send you to retrieve me?"

"It wasn't like that, Michael. I offered, since he had a phone call to make."

Oh my god, what am I doing? "I apologize. It's fine. Shall I come down now?" Dammit. I think there is still too much snark in my tone.

Yep. Tom's demeanor shifts from cool as a cucumber, happy to see his new nephew to unimpressed, angel parent. Instead of crossing his arms, Tom folds one hand into his elbow crease and holds his chin in between the thumb and pointer finger of the other. "You're not going down there until you cool off, Michael."

"Up here might be preferable," I say completely serious.

"I'm confident you'll miss your boyfriend eventually."

"Joke's on you two for making me go to school." I know Tom had a hand in that. "I'll see him there."

"You could just lose the attitude, Michael."

"I am trying, but I just, I threw an omelet at his head, he's going to kill me. My attitude is my only defense." That makes him smile. "I'm glad my impending doom amuses you."

"It's not that. You're kind of adorable."

"Not helping."

"He's not going to kill you, Michael."

"He's going to give me a horrible lecture, but I already know what I did was inappropriate. Can't you tell him to skip that part and go straight to the spanking?"

"He is pretty unimpressed, and he's going to let you know it, but then it will all be over."

The butterflies up their fucking acrobatics.

"C'mon. I'll stay with you. He'll say his bit, and you won't throw anything at him." That's Tom's version of, ye who throws my special breakfast omelets pays the consequences.

Even I have to admit Tom has been something of a security blanket for me, all these years, I'm not turning down his offer no matter how stoic I want to pretend to be. "Would you?"

He smiles. "Yes, Nephew. Now come, your impending doom awaits."

I groan. "Not funny." But I follow him.


Tom by my side calms the butterflies somewhat, but as we approach his office, they act up again. Tom opens the door with his grace and my uncle is there on the phone. He gestures for me to sit, Tom stands behind me.

"Yeah, yes. Okay. I want it done by Friday—not next Friday, this Friday. Better." He hangs up, and I realize how much more archangel he puts into those conversations – the business ones – than he does with me. He's far more gentle with me, even if it might not seem so at times. But he's still stern, and unimpressed with his delinquent 'kid.'


The stomach of my vessels swoops. "Sir."

"Sir, is it? I see you've had some time to think about things."

"I have."

"I did appreciate your apology this morning, but we've already been over this a few too many times. I'm going to need a little more from you, son, and I'm going to be more rigorous this time. It's an almost every morning ritual."

It occurs to me that Gabriel jumped right into this, as soon as God spoke to him, and told him I would be his now. He's always referred to me, as son, or kid, or my child, always fondly, even when I'm frustrating and he must want to strangle me. He's been all in this whole time. Something about that makes me feel good even through the butterflies. I must ask the cowboy about this.

"Yes, sir. If it helps, after chatting with the Cowboy, I understand the environment you are trying to foster for me," I say. "I'm really not opposed. It has taken some getting used to, maybe more yet. Regardless, my behavior has been atrocious. Not just this morning, but most mornings."

"Increasingly so. I'm glad we can agree. I won't tolerate it, Michael. You speak freely to me, something that's considered a privilege to others. I don't appreciate you've been taking advantage of my leniency."

This is where an angel home differs from a human one. We've been raised to be soldiers. You don't speak back to your superiors. You do as ordered period. This is how it was with Lucifer.

Gabriel made it clear from the start that I am allowed to speak my mind, but of course with extreme respect; respect I haven't been giving him.

I nod. The butterflies acting up again. "I-It was not my intent, sir, to take advantage, but I have been." I can feel the tears burning behind my eyes; Tom squeezes my shoulder.

Gabriel does soften some, but I think he's resolved to stay firm on this matter; an omelet to the head his breaking point. "I'm going to hold you to better, kid. I'm also going to be honest with you, I wanted to revoke the privilege I extend to you, to speak freely, since it's not being used respectfully."

I tense up in a way I don't expect, and reach for Tom's hand on my shoulder; he squeezes mine. I need to be able to speak freely.

"Not to worry, Michael. This is not a consequence on the table for you. Castiel and Dallas talked me off that ledge. Not only would it be a huge step backward, in your case it's not a privilege but a need. You've grown humanity, such that you require this." I can't deny it. I have. It's not something angels need with the more militant way we are created, and molded from the beginning of our existences. "But mark me, son, you're going to speak respectfully to me, and you're going to learn to control your temper."

"Yes, sir." That makes for an interesting sensation in my vessel. It's one thing if I were to disagree with him on a point, but I agree. I'm embarrassed I lost my temper and behaved, so poorly. I'm also feeling relief though, and I let go the tension I was holding.

"Instead, this will be the new rule. If you misbehave and throw tantrums, you don't get to go out for the rest of the day. No exceptions. We can speak about whatever you'd like, but it will happen with mature discourse. However, I make the final decisions, and you will do as you're told, am I understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I believe you are suitably chastised, but you are getting a spanking, and you're grounded to your room for the evening. Any questions?"

I shake my head. "No sir." I haven't even been spanked yet, but already the butterflies are subsiding. Gabriel was fair. I expected him to be, of course, but the experience of it is still just as comforting now that that horrible lecture is complete. I already feel forgiven.

"Let's finish this up, so you can report back to the Winchesters you're still alive. Sam looked like he thought I was going to kill you."

Gabriel seems to prefer the over the knee technique, which reminds me of Sam. I've had different kinds of spankings from Castiel, but he seems to like the over the desk position, which is better for wielding a strap. Gabriel is an extra strong Archangel, he doesn't need any particular position to make his bite sting more.

He sits on a chair he's used his grace to bring in from the dining room, and pulls down my school pants, and boxers for me, before he helps me over his lap. "List for me the reasons you're getting this spanking, Michael?"

Ugh! "For poor behavior, and disrespect, sir."

"Yes," he says starting in with sharp swats. "And to let you know I'm not pleased with much of your behavior of late. This morning was the culmination," he continues, still swatting away at a steady rhythm that's already building intensity. "I've been too lenient if you feel comfortable enough to act like that."

The spanking is only just reaching a point of discomfort, but already I have tears pricking my eyes. They've been sitting there, wanting to come out. "I can do better, sir."

"I know you can. I have faith in you, Michael. We all need reminders, sometimes."

This reminder hurts.

As his smacks to my bare backside increase in intensity, I can't help, but start kicking in an attempt to release some of the pain. I kick so much, he has to pin my legs down with his leg. As I continue to release tears and make every promise under the sun to him – including my first born child if he'll just stop spanking me – he continues to give me a spanking I wouldn't forget even if I was human.

It's not near what he gave me for blatantly disregarding his curfew rule, but it's up there, and by the time he's finally done, I know just how much he enjoys lippy 'teenaged' angels. It's about zero, by the way.

I'm not sitting 'till this heals, which thankfully will be quick, but until then I'm laying on my stomach. Once I'm all back to rights, Gabriel pulls me to him, and I realize I'm still crying. "I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry."

"Shhhhh, kid. It's okay."

For the first time I feel like what Dean might when he's holding onto Castiel. Someone solid. A caring parent, who's just for me. I hold him tighter.

"Do I get my turn for a hug?" Tom says.

"In a minute, the kid's actually not complaining, I'm savoring this."

I laugh. "I'm not one of Sam's muffins." Gabriel likes those.

He smoothes my hair down, and leans back to look at me. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. But could – and I'm not complaining, or arguing about your punishment, it's fair, even if I don't look forward to it – could Tom come up later I…?" I don't really know how to finish that, it feels stupid to ask for comfort.

"You need him. Of course. Anything you need, my willful child," he says, fondly. "Anything at all. See? I'm not unreasonable."

He releases me and Tom's falling on top of me pulling me to him. "Gah! What are you…?"

"I believe this is the appropriate after spanking protocol," Tom says.

"You're not supposed to tackle me," I say, but I can't find it in me to give the usual level of snark.

He ignores me anyway. "Gabriel, get in here. I'm sure I've seen Sam and Dallas do it this way."

"What? No. No group hugs. We are not a group hugging house," I say.

"C'mon, Michael. Please?" Tom says.

"Uhhh, fine. This once," I say, though I'm no fool, this is the hugging gateway. But when Gabriel encircles us both, reminding me once again just how fucking solid he is, I can't bring myself to care.


"What do you imbeciles think you're doing?" Michael says.

In news that surprised no one, he wasn't allowed over, so I've got him on Facetime. He's facing me, and not the twins who are pushing all the furniture back, but he can hear ruckus. "It's the WWWE," Jen explains, overhearing Michael as he pushes the coffee table by. "Winchester World Wrestling Entertainment."

"Dean," Michael says looking more unimpressed by the second.

I shrug. "Daddy lets us."

"Is Papa Winchester home when he does this?"

I laugh, because that's crazy. "No way."

"Just as I thought. Colt Mischief. No Dean." Michael crosses his skinny arms, which are easy to see now that he wears t-shirts. Okay yeah, I see what he means. And come to think of it, his legs could use some beefing up too. Though I was more than happy to get to watch him change out of his school clothes, and into his t-shirt and jeans. I'm really digging his more relaxed look. I like his arms fine just the way they are.

"Oh c'mon, Michael. It's just a little brotherly fun. It's how we bond."

"You could get hurt, or break the furniture."

"On the off chance that happens, I've got you to heal me tomorrow before school, and if we break something, well, we'll get in trouble, but it's worth the risk. Besides, next time you can wrestle me," I say and add a wink.

That wink seems to unravel Michael; he actually smiles. He's been dealing with a lot, I think he wants the stress release as much as we do. "All right, but I want to watch."

It's not long before Michael's right into it, and all of us are making bets on who will take whom. All is good until Uncle Dal comes into the living room with Jake, we all freeze for a moment, thinking it's over. "WWWE?" he says coming to sit on the couch, bouncing Jake on his knee. "I want in on the Dean, Jared." Oh right, Uncle Dal is a Colt. I forget sometimes with how Toppy he is these days. "And then I want a go with Dean."

Sometime later, we're broken up by Uncle Chris who is not happy, and has his hand wrapped in a towel. He's bleeding. A lot. "Shoot Chris."

"Yeah, someone," he looks to Jensen, "left their bike on the ground by where I park my car. Didn't see it and took a nasty fall, onto someone's," he looks at me, "ice skate. Pretty sure it needs stitches."

"Lordy be Dean, Jen," Uncle Dal says.

"I didn't leave my bike out," Jensen says.

"And I didn't leave my skates out," I say. That's fucking weird.

"We'll have to figure it out later, boys. Dean, I'm going to have to take him to the emergency, you'll have to watch Jake."

Michael clears his throat. "If I may? That looks terrible and you'll be waiting, why not come here, and one of us will heal it?" We've still got him on Facetime.

"If no one would mind?" Uncle Dal says. "That would be great."

"I will notify my uncles," Michael says.

"Thanks, Michael. Your parents should be home pretty soon anyway, half pint. "

I get a Jake, and they rush off. "Dean, I'm going to go tell my parents your uncles are on the way. I'll phone you back in a bit, if I can."

"Okay, Baby." I hang up with Michael, but wait, the way he said parents. He just sounded so settled about it.

"I didn't leave my bike out," Jensen repeats when Michael's gone.

"And I didn't leave my skates out, are you kidding me? I still haven't lived down that time I left my bag out, and Pala tracked equipment all over the house."

"We should investigate," Jared says.

No one wants to be the one who inadvertently sliced Uncle Chris's hand open. I can tell Jensen feels awful, he's got tears behind his eyes. I pull him to my Jake-free side. "Let's figure this out. I'm sure there's an explanation. How 'bout we put the room back to rights real quick, first?"

They slide everything to where it should be, while I pick up pillows and cushions one-handed with Jake. Jensen's pissed though and putting stuff back aggressively. "Dude. It's gonna get figured out, you can't toss the furniture around like that."

"They think we're responsible for cutting Chris's hand like that. I don't want them to think that."

"I mean, it's fair they think it. You do often leave your bike out, what wouldn't be fair is if they kept thinking it after you tell them you didn't."

"Yeah, but without proof, they'll blame us in their minds."

Since there's no talking him out of it at this moment in time, I begin corralling them to the garage. "C'mon, we'll find proof then."

The light in the garage is still on, and what's left of the sun is shining in the window. Right away I notice more things that are not how I left them, which, Uncle Chris must have missed on account his hand was sliced open. A lot of stuff is out of place, in addition to my equipment, which is scattered around. I see the freshly sharpened skate hanging off a hook, in the right place for Uncle Chris to grab to break his fall. Jen's bike is still on the ground below his BMW hybrid. Poor Uncle Chris didn't stand a chance.

"This is fucking bizarre," Jared says. "Dean, I remember you putting your gear away."

"And I remember where Jensen's bike was when I did, not to mention, I always put my skate guards on after practice."

I can see the relief flooding through Jensen. "What happened here?" Jensen asks, mostly to himself.

We are suddenly aware that all four of us are the ex-hunters in the family. They still remember enough, even though they have forgotten a lot. Daddy says with me the forgetting seemed to happen over time, and that the twins are likely to forget more and more. What they do end up retaining is anyone's guess. They also have their journal they'd been keeping since just after they were spiked.

For me, I've got the hunter parts of me that never left – ones I didn’t know were there until this summer – and parts left to me by my old consciousness, also recently. When God remade me, almost from scratch, he left everything I'd been through, everything that had been set into motion, so I could pick up where I'd left off before the giant Dean Bean Stalk.

Then there's Jake. We all know Jake's a baby, but I know it's not been long enough for all his Big Jake to go away, even if he's very little. I know he's taking in what we're saying. Would be really cool to know what he's thinking right now.

Everyone looks to me though. "Someone, or something was in here," I say voicing my thought allowed.

"Something, Dean?" Jensen says.

Right. Something could be anything to us. "I mean like an animal."

"An animal's gonna hang your hockey skate like that?" Jared says taking a closer look.

"Okay, no. Maybe someone then, which means we shouldn't be down here." Not only will our parents be upset, but Michael's probably going to freak about this whole thing, which is not going to make it easy for him to stay out of trouble. He's already in a mountain of it, by the sound of it – Gabriel totally laid it down for him earlier.

We leave the scene as is, so we can show Papa when he gets home. I pull out my phone to call him. I hate ruining their date night, but they'll want to know about this sooner, now that we know it's not just a simple accident that could have been taken care of without them.


In the hour between me calling Papa and Daddy, and us waiting for them to come home, things are hectic. I want to get everyone in, or at least ready for bed; they have other ideas. "They're getting the check and are gonna come straight home. You two go get ready for bed."

"It's nine o'clock Dean," Jensen argues.

"Don't care, Jen. I know how this house works. Papa's gonna want everything wrapped up in a bow. Both of you go, while I change Jake. Jared, bring the arnica, so I can put it on your eye."

"This is a lousy, fucking night. For the record," Jensen says.

"I don't like your attitude, for the record," I say.

"Whatever, Dean." I could strangle him if he uses that again. "You're not the boss of me."

"Am right now. Jared, can you take him?" I don't have time for his nonsense. Jake who needs changing is starting to get cranky.

"I'm with him." Oh for the love of—! "It's too early to get ready for bed. Sam never makes us till at least nine-thirty."

"Fine. In thirty fucking minutes, get your pajamas on, and brush your teeth and all that. I'll be putting Jake to bed, so I'm trusting you." I love them, but lord do they get on my nerves sometimes.

Still no one moves, and Jake starts really crying, as opposed to the whiney cry he had going on before. He wants me a lot of the time, but of course he chooses now to want his parents. "Da, da, daaaaaa! Pa, pa, paaaaaa!" he cries over and over.

"I know, Jakey. They'll be home soon."

"Oh my god that's loud," Jen says covering his ears.

"I'm taking him away. C'mon Jakey." As I move they come with me. I spin around bouncing a tired, cranky, Jake. "Okay, what's the deal you two?"

"Nothing. Can't we come with you?" Jared says.

Oh. Ooooh. Sometimes I'm a bit slow. These are things Daddy would pick up on right away – he's good at deciphering between nonsense and something else going on – but I'm still learning. "Of course you can, but why do you want to come near the screaming baby?"

"Because he's where you are, okay? Jesus," Jensen says.

"Are you two scared?"

"Yes," they both say at the same time, not even bothering to hide it now I've figured them out.

"Lordy be. Whoever was in the garage isn't now. Nothing says they came into the house."

"You don't know that though," Jared says.

He's right. Sigh. I want to look after them too, but I've got a screaming Jake. "Best offer I've got for you, is go get your stuff – your pajamas – and you can come hang with me while I look after Jake."

"Or you could come with us to get our stuff? Please?" Jensen says.

But Jake is not quieting. Not at all. I'm not sure what the right thing to do here is, but I know standing in the hallway isn't it. "Okay. Let's go quickly because …" I let Jake speak for himself with a huge wail.

We stop by their room, which is out of the way of Chateau Chally, and they grab pajamas, pillows and blankets, the whole time poor Jake's screaming for his dads, and me trying to hush him. They are quick though, and we head back the other way and down the hall.

"Will you two please get ready for bed?" I try as I start changing poor Jake. "And will one of you grab me some pajamas from Uncle Chris's drawers?" My legs are bigger from hockey, but still not the size of Uncle Dal's, giant, horse-riding thighs.


"On it, Dean."

I manage to change Jake, despite his kicking and struggling. Poor boy though, his tears are so real, streaming down his face. When Jared is pajama'd, he heads over with a pair of Uncle Chris's. "I'm gonna need you to hold him for a sec," I tell him.


"How else am I supposed to get changed?" Papa will like to see me all ready for bed too.

"Fine, give him here."

Jake was upset while I held him, but when I pass him off to Jared, he screams bloody murder, and I realize he wasn't so bad. I move quick as lightening, dressing myself in the black pajama pants, leaving my black Metallica t-shirt on. "Fuck, I forgot a bottle. Any chance either of you will go get one?"

"Are you crazy, Dean?" Jensen says. "No way either of us are going down there alone."

"You two are ex-hunters, even if there is someone, which there's not, I think you'll be fine." They stare at me like I'm a fucking moron. "Fine, I'll go, will you watch Jake?"

"You're not getting it Dean. Where you go, we go," Jared explains.

Lordy be. "All right, let's go." It's probably for the better. I don't think I can let go Jake again, till one of his parents are home. We all trudge down the stairs together, cranky baby in tow. Thankfully there are a few premade, glass bottles in the fridge, and all I have to do is warm it up in a pot of boiling water filled half way – we don't use microwaves around here!

When I make it to the rocking chair, with a Jake all cozied up in his aqua-blue onsie, he calms down, happy to have his bottle, and his own version of Mr. Blankenstein, who Uncle Dal calls Softie McBee. Don't ask me how they come up with these names. They're Colts; enough said. The twins are laying at my feet, on their pillows, wrapped in blankets, as I continue to rock Jake who's so tired he's overtired, which means he's not drifting off to sleep yet.

"You two, okay?" I ask.

"We're fine, now," Jared says, yawning.

I'm surprised they haven't salted the place. "Fine enough to go lie down in your own beds?" It's now approaching ten. People should be home soon, and other people should be in bed.

"We're staying here with you, Dean," Jen informs me.

"All right, all right. Lordy be. Thought you two were hunters," I tease.

"Were. I… you know Dean? I remember all that stuff we said weeks ago about jumping back in the hunting life, I remember enjoying the hunting life even, but that desire's just falling away," Jensen says.

"It is?" I say.

"Yeah," Jared finishes for him. "Don't get us wrong, we like having the skills, we'll use what we remember if we have to," like for helping out with whatever's going on, if there's even anything going on he means, "but we're kinda digging this gig."

"What? You two complain about something every five minutes," I say.

"We're teens that's what we do," Jensen says, like it should be self-explanatory. "But it's nice here. I remember it being nice with Mama and Daddy Colt too, but something about here—it's grown on me."

Huh, Papa was right. They do enjoy the structure. "I'll remember that next time you're in line for a spanking, which FYI, Papa's got his spanking eyes on you."

"Ugh, how could you know that? You're always right about it though, and it's fucking annoying by the way."

"Mostly experience, but also because you said he could, 'spank you all he wants.' That's an engraved invitation that says to Papa, time to spank Jensen, on it." It was so hard not to fall on the floor laughing when he said that no matter what was going on at the time. Cuz, that's just plain foolish.

He groans. "I know. What was I thinking?"

Jared laughs. "You weren't."

Jake pops his mouth off his bottle. "Deeeean?" he says finally happy to be with Dean again.

"Yup. It's Dean, cowboy." He goes back to happily sucking on his bottle. "Hey Jare? You want to pass me that arnica? We should be some more on that bruise before you fall asleep."

"Not tired," he says yawning for like the fourth time. "We can do it later."

I roll my eyes. "Now, please." I make my tone like Daddy's when he means business.

"Fine." He gets up and grabs the arnica. I have to stop rocking Jake for a bit, and hold the bottle and Jake with one hand, but I'm able to use the other to put the arnica on like Daddy showed, Jared kneeling down beside the chair.

"I can't remember – what's that stuff do?" Jensen asks.

"It helps with the pain of bruising and reduces healing," I tell him, as I apply it gently as I can. "That okay, Jare?"

"Hurts just a little with you pressing, but it always feels good after."

"Yeah sorry, some pain is unavoidable, unless you're Daddy applying it – he's such a pro at this kinda stuff. All right, lay down," I say when I'm all done.

Jared's happy to be back in his makeshift floor-bed. I know he's fucking tired, no matter what he says. It's been a big day for him. I start rocking Jake again, and I end up humming him a tune, which puts everyone, but me to sleep. When Uncle Dal finds us, the twins are out cold at my feet. Huh, the only time they actually look like angels.

"I'll take that one from you," he says quietly, and peeling Jake from me. "Your parents are home, they want to talk to you for a minute."

I knew they would. "What about these guys?"

"Them sleeping on a floor is not ideal, but they'll live for the night. Either I'll end up waking them for school, or Jake will wake them at some point in the night, and I'll send them back to their room."

I head down the stairs, and to my surprise Michael's there. I ignore everyone else, and run to him. Feels like I haven't seen him in ages. "Hey Baby, what you doing here?" I squeeze him.

"We all heard about the potential break in, and you can guess how well that went over with him," Tom says. "But we understood he needed to see you," he adds, proud of his Michael deductions.

"Where's Papa and Uncle Chris?" I ask Daddy.

"They went with Gabriel to the garage to check things out."

"Not gonna lie, it's weird Daddy. And if there's a break in, it's the weirdest break in, in history."

"Everyone okay, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, they're fine. Just scared."

Papa, Uncle Chris and Gabriel return. "We found our villain," Papa says. "It's a young kid."

"A kid?" Daddy says.

"Yeah, and unfortunately was me who let him in," Uncle Chris says. "Looks like he snuck in when I was leaving for work this morning. He goofed around in the garage, and then ran out when I returned home, late. Didn't notice him either time."

"That means he was here when Cas and I left to grab the kids. We took Cas's car, and left the Tesla in the garage, or we might have seen him," Daddy says.

Papa often parks in the driveway, rather than the garage, which I've always liked, so I can see if he's home or not.

"Did you get a good look at him?" Tom asks.

"Was kinda scruffy looking," Gabriel says. "Wearing clothes too big for him."

"Poor thing, maybe he's lost," Daddy says.

"We looked around for him," Papa says. "No sign."

"And it's definitely not anything, Supernatural?" I ask. "The twins are gonna wanna know."

"Definitely not, just some kid," Gabriel assures me.

"We should call someone about this, Cas," Daddy says. "It doesn't sound like he's from this neighborhood."

"Already on it," he says pulling Daddy to him. Looks like they had a good night despite all this. "I'll call first thing."

"How's the hand, Uncle Chris?"

"Good as new," he says, looking a lot more like the Uncle Chris I know, rather than an angry Winchester, flexing his hand for me. "Your boyfriend fixed it for me."

"You did?" I ask.

He nods, proudly. "They let me." He indicates his parents, which I have not forgotten he called his parents.

"Thank you, Baby." We rub noses, and Michael catches a bit of my scruff on purpose, because we're sappy and gross now.

"Castiel, if you have no further need of us tonight, we're going to go," Gabriel says grabbing onto Tom's hand.

"You know, Michael has to be here for school in the morning anyway, he should just stay the night," I suggest.

"Michael is coming home with us," Gabriel says. "But nice try, Dean. Kiss your boyfriend goodnight Michael, and then let's go."

God, he really is strict. I knew it was a long shot, since Michael is technically grounded, but still. "Goodnight, Dean," Michael says. "I'll text you something fun in a bit," he adds lowly in my ear. Sometimes Michael sends me sexy pictures. Fuck I love technology.

When the angels leave, it's Daddy, Papa, Uncle Chris and I at the table. "Thanks, Kiddo," Papa says. "I'm real proud of you. You did good tonight, and it’s time you're officially off probation."

"Really?" Praise like that from Papa is better than winning the Nobel Prize. I've never won a Nobel Prize, but I think it's safe to say.

"Yep, and seeing as tonight went so well, I feel more confident leaving you alone for the weekend with the twins."

"The weekend?"

"Just for two nights. We'll be home Sunday. I want to take your daddy away for a much needed holiday."

Wow. This is big. Papa trusting me home alone? Shit though. Michael and I were supposed to have a date this weekend. "Um, of course Papa," though I don't think he's asking. "But, Michael was supposed to take me on a date this Saturday."

"Dean," Papa says, sternly. "Your whole lives are one big long date."

He has a point. "Yeah, I know." Plus family responsibility. That's big on both the Colt and Winchester sides. "Could he at least come over?"

"I trust you to have him over," he says. "I also trust you not to have sleepovers."

"Yes, sir." I don’t argue, but I do wonder what the big deal is when he already basically okayed us having sex.

"We really appreciate it, Dean Bean. I love you boys, but it's good for Papa and I to connect. Alone."

"We'll be here all weekend, anyway," Uncle Chris says. "So you can rely on us just in case." He winks. "And nice pants by the way."

"Thanks for the loan. I had a screaming baby, and two rattled ex-hunters on my hands."

"Anytime, Dean."

"Speaking of pajamas, and therefore bed, you need sleep, my boy."

Knew that was coming. I may be growing up, but I don't think my parents will ever stop telling me when I need to go to bed, and eat my veggies. I remember Michael's going to send me dirty pictures. I say goodnight to all, and head up. But on my way up, I get a text from Michael that's not sexy pictures. Sorry, Duck. They want me to watch Queer Eye with them.

I'm disappointed, but I get it. Not only is family time important, Michael was stuck in his room all night and he's happy to get out. I want this for Michael, but dammit, if we don't have sex soon I might die. It's been at least two days.

When I hit my room, I immediately notice the two bodies in my bed. Before I can head in, Uncle Dal is there. He waves me away from the door and into the hallway. "How are those two doing?" he asks.

"Other than that I've become their new teddy bear? Good. It's like I'm helping them with their transition to childhood, or something."

He nods. "That’s mighty big brotherly of you. And how are you?"

"Never better, Uncle Dal."

He looks me over, skeptically. "I'm sure you think that's true. When's the last time Michael spanked you?"

"What? Uncle Dal, I don't need a spanking. I just had one on Saturday night and let me tell you, that one was a decent dose to last me from now until forever."

"That was an entirely different matter and therefore different spanking, and you know it, Half Pint. I do find it interesting you won't answer the question."

Because I don't want to admit it to myself. "About a month ago," I say. I already know how well that's going to go over.

"Dean, why didn't you come to someone?"

See? "Because I'm fine," I insist.

"Is it because you can't ask, you won't, or is there something else going on?"

"I… I don't know…?"

"Hmmmm, maybe all of the above. Dean, you and Michael need to talk about this."

"Things are good though. I promise. Maybe he hasn't spanked me, because I've been an angel, ever think of that?"

"Honestly? No."

"Hey!" I whisper yell. "I'll have you know, Papa just gave me the Nobel Prize for being a great big brother, and son.”

Uncle Dal smiles his smile of sunshine he's known for. "You deserve it and more, Half Pint. You're a great big brother, son, and nephew, and I'm proud of you too, also grateful for all your help with Jake. But I know you Dean Winchester, you're a brat to someone, somewhere on a good day. No chance you've been an angel of perfection for Michael, or in the least not been wound up in a way a good spanking can't release, before it gets you into trouble. I see it coming Dean, you're like your daddy that way."

"I've been spanked plenty by everyone else, and I'm totally awesome, Uncle Dal. Promise."

He won't budge. "None of this changes how much you need a spanking like the kind I'm talking, the kind you know well, from Michael."

I know he's right. I want to live in my denial. No true brat goes chasing after a spanking, well, other than by being a brat. "I'll talk with him about it. Happy?" He narrows his eyes at my snippiness. "Sorry, Uncle Dal." Aaaaaaand I've just proved his point, haven't I? "I'm just tired."

"I know, sweetheart," he says pulling me into a hug. "And you have 'till Friday to bring it up with him."

Dammit. "Yes, sir."

"Guess I should let you go to bed, huh? You going to be able to sleep with those two? I couldn't get them to sleep in their own bed."

"Couldn't?" I arch my brow at him.

"They double teamed me with their eyes, and look of terror. I didn't know the outcome of the garage investigation, and they said they needed to sleep with an ‘Experienced Hunter’ in case."

I roll my eyes. "Lordy be. I'm not a hunter."

Uncle Dal doesn't agree with me. "In any case, I couldn't say no – guess I'm a Top softie sometimes."

Or he agrees with them. "No way, Uncle Dal. You just know your audience. I don't mind, and it's not Supernatural, by the way. Get this, apparently it was some kid."

"A kid?"


That doesn't sit well with him. "All right you go climb in. I'm gonna go retrieve my husband, and get the story from him."

I squeeze Uncle Dal. "Night."

"Night, sweetheart. Sleep tight."

I try not to disturb the twins, but it's a lost cause, and they're awake asking me about everything. I tell them what I know. "A kid? If I ever find that kid I'm gonna—"

"—you're not doing nothin’. Now go the fuck to sleep." I swear to Christ there's too much fucking excitement in here for one night.

"Dickface," Jensen says.


Jensen punches me in the arm. "Ow!"

I punch him back. "Fuck off, Dean."

"You punched me first."

Jared punches us both.

"What the fuck Jared?" Jen says.

"Yeah, what the fuck?"

"Someone’s gonna come in here, not to mention all your guys' punching is jostling my eye."

Oh right. "Sorry," we both say.

Jensen yawns, and worms his way into my side. Jared moves his head to lay on my pillow, and grabs my hand. We're an interesting trio I tell ya, but it won't last forever, and it's kinda nice, so I enjoy.

Dean's… out.

Chapter Text

Dean NOW: Late Saturday Morning

With Jake on my hip, I stride over to the door to answer it. Daddy said there would be some workers coming to the house today to begin construction on the new suite downstairs. How Papa gets people to work on a Saturday, I'll never know, but I know I wouldn't say no to him, and he probably pays them a-fucking-lot.

Of course, since Papa and Daddy aren't here, the twins are close by. They're pretending like they're not trying to be near me, but I've caught onto the fact that I'm their hunter security blanket. I told them they could have friends over again tonight, even though last night was a bit of a fiasco, and I'm gonna take everyone to the family tennis and recreation club for some lunch and other fun after I let the contractor in.

Speaking of blankets, Jake's got his Softie McBee, and is snuggled into it about ready to go down for a nap. His hair's a bit wild right now, in need of a good brushing, but he looks so cute like how he is. That mixed with his baby scent makes me want to squish him to death. I really should get him to sleep in his crib, but I'll probably just let him sleep on me. I told Uncle Dal I'd put him down if he wanted to go take a shower, or get anything else done before Uncle Chris gets home tomorrow, so he’s off doing that. It’s not really hard keeping an eye out for the twins when they’re behaving.

But back to answering the door – that's what I'm on my way to do, with all my ducklings nearby. I open the door, expecting Mike Giancola, the gruff, Italian contractor, but I don't see anyone at first. Instead I hear a sound my subconscious knows well, the sound of chambering a round – a bullet has slid into the chamber, and it's ready to shoot at Jake and me.

I have to look down to see where it's coming from. It's a little boy, dressed in clothes that are clearly too big for him. He's got a Sig Sauer p220 pointed directly at us, and while it looks odd in his tiny hands, it's clear he knows how to fucking use it.

"I've been looking for you, Dean Winchester."

DEAN: THEN: Thursday Morning

"Remember, we've got yoga tonight," Daddy reminds Michael and I. Daddy goes to yoga like, four or five days a week. While I was grounded for so long, Michael and I started going with him – he kinda made us, but also, I was willing to do anything to get out of the house and wouldn’t have gone without being ordered to. Uncle Dal made Michael go as part of his therapy.

Daddy liked us coming so much, Michael and I decided we couldn't drop it all together but when school started, we couldn't go as often. I kept on with the one a week, but Uncle Dal only let Michael cut down to twice per week. Michael can pick whichever days he wants for his second class, but our Thursday date is fairly consistent.

Michael, who is a lot more relaxed today, and in fact has been since Monday when the whole omelet fiasco happed, leans back in his chair – in the way Daddy's not fond of – and smiles, actually fucking smiles. "We'll be there, Daddy Winchester."

What in the hell? Man, is this the effect having the right parents, has on my disagreeable boyfriend? He hated the yoga at first.

"Good," Daddy says putting some muffins out. There have been so many damn muffins around here that I pass on them, but the twins can't seem to get enough of them. “And sit back in that chair, Sur. I don’t care if you can fix you and the chair with your grace.”

Michael lets the chair back down to the floor. “Sorry, sir.”

"Can I please go to school today?" Jared asks, even though he's already asked and has been shut down.

"No, Jared. This is part of why I didn't want to let Michael heal your eye. You can go to school on Monday," Daddy says.

We do need to be careful about looking normal. No one but us knew about Uncle Chris's hand, so that was straightforward. Jared's eye was more complicated. Of course no one wanted him to be in pain, but a lot of people knew about it, and so when Michael offered to heal his eye the next morning, Daddy allowed it, so long as Jared remained home the rest of the week. He couldn't very well go to school with a magically healed eye.

Jared was happy to make the deal at the time, but he's getting pretty tired of being home from school.

The other reason Daddy is hesitant about healing and gracing away all our problems is, long term it's not practical. We've got unlimited access now, but that might not always be the case. For some of the less urgent things, Daddy and Papa feel we should live through them for good life experience.

Of course this all makes sense, and we would all agree most of the time, except for when common sense is inconvenient.

Jared pouts, and grabs a muffin.

"I don't get why you care so much, Jare. I would love a break from school, maybe I should get myself punched in the eye?" Jensen says.

"Maybe you should be thinking more about focusing on school. If you don't get your grades up, Papa's going to intervene."

We all know 'intervene' often means spanking around these parts, which is why Jensen's mind jumps right to that. "He just spanked me, and I still feel it," he complains.

"You did tell him to spank you all he wanted," I say with a shrug. Yeah, nobody's letting him live that one down. We've all gotten one in about it, because how foolish? You don't say that to Papa. Jeez.

Even Jared laughs. "Still can't believe you said that."

"It seemed important at the time," Jensen says grabbing a second muffin.

No one notices just how wistfully Daddy's looking at us, but I do. "What's up, Daddy?" I say.

"Good things, sweetheart. I love everyone's nonsense. Can I keep you all just like this forever?" he says. I swear I see tears threatening to burst. Daddy is prone to fits of nostalgia, and Papa has to help him with that. Pretty sure Papa has been, because Daddy's been standing a lot more than usual, but sometimes he needs extra help. Yeah, this weekend is much needed.

Daddy doesn’t see Jensen's eyes when he throws the muffin at Michael's head, but I do. He likes Daddy crying about as much as I do. Michael catches on, and knows he needs to respond accordingly. He doesn't disappoint sliding from his chair with angel speed for dramatic effect, and a muffin is thrown at Jensen by an unseen force.

It's a good thing we have so many muffins.

Daddy jumps to action, officially distracted. "Lordy be you two. Michael, clean that up by hand, Jensen to the corner. I know there are a lot of them, but that’s a waste."

They both smile at each other when Daddy huffs off to grab a broom for Michael. Mischief Managed.


So yeah, it's fucking Thursday, and Uncle Dal's set me to talk to Michael about the current elephant in our relationship, but of course, I fucking can't. There are things I should do, like ask for help, but do I do that? No. Dean Winchester thy name is fool. This results in Michael and I getting into a big stupid teenaged fight.


Without his twin, Jensen's always a little more subdued. It's like they're not a whole person without the other. "Why don't you come have lunch with Michael and I?" I suggest. It's only been two days without Jared, but still.

"I have my own friends, Dean. I don't need you giving me pity lunch dates."

Jesus Christ. "Fine. Sorry I asked."

He storms off. "You need to spank him more," Michael says.

Fired up as I am from that lovely little interaction, Michael's words cut more than they normally would. I respond in kind. "You're one to talk. Keep your 'helpful' advice to yourself. I'll deal with him, I've been dealing with him this whole time, and doin’ just fine thanks."

Michael's hurt, I know it soon as I say anything, but instead of telling me he's hurt, his ego gets riled defensively. "It sounds like someone else needs a spanking," he says.

I'm about one thousand percent sure that when Uncle Dal told me to talk to Michael about spanking me, he didn't mean 'brat' my way into a spanking, but that bratty part of me who will always exist – no matter how many Winchester children I help look after – perks up at the opportunity just hanging there. It's in the wrong kinda way though, the mean kinda way, and even I have to admit that right now I'm part brat, part asshole, but I just don't fucking care. "Why don't you fucking do it then?" Now see, that could be said in fun, if my tone was playful, but there's no playfulness in my tone, just challenge, and sass.

"No problem," Michael says.

And it isn't. Michael easily pulls me over his lap no matter how much I struggle (and I do), and he uses enough force to make a point with smarting smacks to my ass. And fuck I, fuck. Why does this make me feel so calm inside? I don't know if I'll ever stop being amazed at how much spanking connects to my insides and brings me the overwhelming peace that's just sometimes harder for me to get to on my own on occasion.

None of this changes my indigence over being spanked in the school parking lot. Knowing Michael, and his keen sense of sight and sound, I don't doubt he took gauge of who was around, but that doesn't mean someone being around would stop him. I might care a little, but he doesn't, just like Papa doesn’t. Which oh god, that he’ll do it, spank me anywhere, anytime, gets me inside too, in a good way, but still; I wish it didn't.

It's short, but I am going to feel it for a good couple of classes, and it's good. Very good.

I'm a bit disheveled when he lets me up, staring at him like he's the secret to life, and I want more of that, that feeling.

Cue Dean Winchester the fucking Brat. "What the fuck, Michael?"

"You know I don't tolerate lippiness. I like it about as much as Uncle Gabriel does." Sigh. It's there again. The feeling. "And you're not doing such a great job displaying that you've learned your lesson," he says getting out of the Impala.

But wait. If he leaves the car, there's no chance he'll spank me again, a little voice says. The feeling is quickly dissipating like smoke, and I need it. Maybe this is where I should talk to him about what Uncle Dal said? But he did spank me, maybe that means we're back on track? I'm not sure, which I know means, no we're not back on track. Perhaps it's enough to let me live in denial for a bit longer? Ugh, except for the fact that Uncle Dal is not going to let me live in denial, because I have to at least bring it up in conversation by tomorrow.

I scramble out of the car with my book bag, trying to dream up a response that will pull that Michael out again, the raging dominant. We used to be able to do that naturally, but with all the changes, well that's changed too, and what if we've lost it? I can't think of anything by the time I reach him, and say something desperate and a lot meaner than I was looking for. "You know, I was thinking about having lunch with my friends today. We spend more than enough time together.” I hope, no I want him to tell me, 'no you're not Dean Winchester, you're having lunch with me' but he doesn't.

Michael flinches, and then narrows his eyes at me. "Agreed. I was going to start using the school gym for working out anyway. Today at lunch seems like a great time to start. Have fun with your friends."

I started it, but now I feel hurt for reasons I cannot begin to understand. We walk in silence, and neither one of us initiates handholding. I'm kinda pissed, if you wanna know. When we get to our shared locker, I was the genius behind that one, I have trouble getting one of my books out. "There are too many god damn books in here."

"There aren't too many books, you're disorganized, and messy. I've told you time and time again not to just throw them in there. The corners of my math text are bent because of you, not to mention the Slurpee you stuck in there one day to drip all over my science text resulting in a lecture from my uncle about taking better care of my things, which I sat through not blaming you for."

"Sounds like you're blaming me now."

"Because it was you."

"I didn't know that cup was leaky."

"We had a rule about no liquids in our locker."

"No, you did."

"Exactly, which you were supposed to obey," he says quieter, grabbing his books once I've finally got the ones I need.

This would be the perfect time to say something like, "yeah, which you didn't even bother to spank me for, which could open the door for a conversation like the one Uncle Dal was telling me to have, but I don't say it. Instead I say nothing and glare at him fuming. We thankfully don't have our first class together. "See you next block he says."

Neither of us leans in to kiss the other. "See ya." I walk away.


When we inevitably meet back at our locker in between periods, we're both still pissed off and thus unable to see past anything, but our own anger. "Why are you still mad at me?" I say. Aren't I supposed to be the one mad at him?

"You're the one who stormed off on me last period."

"I walked off, Michael."

"Stormed. And you always kiss me goodbye, if you weren't mad, why didn't you kiss me?"

"What? You're the one who didn’t kiss me."

We stand at an impasse, shooting daggers at the other. "Have fun at lunch," I finally say, and slam our locker shut, knowing he still needs to swap out books. This time I do storm off. Fuck you, Michael. Our next class is together, but I don't wait for him, and head to class by myself.

I sit in a different spot near the window, one amidst some of the friends from my grade, where there aren't any more seats available for Michael.

I can feel his energy when he enters the classroom. He looks over to see where I am, and that's it's pretty clear I don't want to sit near him, which I can only pull off with my anger to fuel me. I kick it into full gear, purposefully ignoring him, half hoping he'll come pull me out of my chair and drag me to sit with him.

He chooses a spot next to a girl from our grade, and she – the brave soul – strikes up a conversation with him – making out like he's actually enjoying her company – until the teacher arrives while I fume.

When the lunch bell rings, once again, I don't wait for him, and he doesn't come after me.

I have made some friends in my own grade, and I also still keep in touch with friends who moved ahead of me, like Hannah, who I haven't hung out with in sometime because I always hang out with stupid Michael. We've made mutual friends as well – Michael doesn't care much about making human friends, but for the sake of 'blending in' – but I want to see people who have nothing to do with Michael, well not really. Michael knows Hannah, and they are friends by default, but I consider her mine.

"Yeah, let's totally have lunch together," she says. "I've been meaning to catch up with you Dean. I miss my favorite ex-hunter."

"Hannah, not so loud," I say.

She laughs, and rolls her eyes. "Don't worry, no one would believe me."

"What's that supposed to mean? I totally look like a hunter, and I have a cool hunter car."

"No one knows about the kind of hunter I'm talking about. Maybe you and your family hunt deer," she says shrugging.

Okay, points to Hannah. We have fun, and catch up, but halfway through that kid, Randy Carter I've been meaning to talk to walks by. "Hey, Randy. Why don't you come'on over here, so I can have a chat with you?"

I expect him to be mad and say something idiotic back, but he doesn't. He leaves his friends and sits down. "What's up, Winchester?"

"I oughta punch the shit out of you," I begin with.

"Yeah, I deserve that." I'm surprised again. Randy's big for his age. He plays a lot of sports, including hockey, which I've heard he's good at. He's younger than me – the twin's age – so we don't play against each other. He's also on the football team. You can't get higher up on the list of high-school-desirable as this guy, especially with that gorgeous quaff of hair, and bright eyes. He reminds me a little of Zac Efron. "I've been waiting for him to get back to school, so I could apologize. He doing okay?"

That's, pretty decent of him, actually. "Look, I know why you went after him, it was shitty of him to hit on your girlfriend, but you don't get anymore freebies. Don't touch him again."

"Hit on my girlfriend? I don't have girlfriend. I like boys, Dean." He winks at me and fuck is he ever cute in all his fourteen-year-old glory.

"Okay, something better start making sense here."

"If I may, Dean?" he says. I am starting to pick up on his arrogance. He might be beautiful, and reasonable, but he's an arrogant fuck too.


"I was going to ask Jeremy to the upcoming dance. Jared beat the shit out of him. I approached Jared to ask what the fuck his problem was, things escalated, I wasn't planning on punching him, but I did. If it helps, I've been serving detention all week for that."

That does help, yes. "But, Jen said he was walking away from you, and you grabbed him by the back of the jacket – it's ripped," I add to say there's the proof.

"Yes, that's right. Jensen came upon us at that exact moment, and look, I had no idea he was having a panic attack. I just grabbed and punched. I know that doesn't make it better, but well it's a little bit better."

"Where are the teachers? If Jared did what you said, why wasn't Jared given detention or something?"

"Because he's crazy smart. It wasn't a traditional beating. It was during a rugby match in gym class. Jared made it look like it was all part of the game, but poor Jeremy was beat to shit, and before you say it, nobody's telling on anyone. We're keeping this between us."

"Yeah, because you guys are doing such a good fucking job. Wait, Jared beat up Jeremy, because you were going to ask Jeremy out?"

"Yeah, why do you think that is, genius?"

"Okay, yeah I get it you lippy little shit, you think Jared likes you. But I'm still not sold, maybe he's just really good at rugby, and Jeremy's a pussy." I also know Jared's still got hunter skills hanging around in his body, and that it is something he would do, but he's my brother, and I'm not giving this guy the impression I'm going to believe him over Jared easily.

"Look, you going to retaliate in some way? Because either do it, or don't. I'd like to get on with my lunch before the bell rings. I understand doing your brotherly duty. I've got brothers too."

Man would I like to punch this kid. "Just, don't do it again, or I will." I've already gotten the sense this kid isn't afraid of me, but if he touches Jared again, I will beat on him.

He smiles a cocky smile. "No problem."

But I have a problem, and wouldn't you know it there he goes walking by, not to long after Randy leaves. "Sorry, baby girl. I'd better go deal with this," I say to Hannah.

"No problem, Dean. Great catch up. Let's plan a date soon."

"Jensen," I call in a gruff voice across the hall. He perks his head up. "We need to talk."

His eyes go wide, because he can tell from my tone I have a bone to pick. "Um, here Dean? The bell's going to ring soon and—"

"—we've got time enough for this, come." I put my arm around him, and lead him outside.

"Is there any chance you left anything out when telling me about Randy Carter?"

"Maybe a few minor details."

"Jen, how could you lie about something like this?"

"It was complicated."

"As in, you were afraid I'd tell the parents complicated?"

"That’s the kind.”

The bell rings. "You're telling all in the car ride home from school, dude, and I'll decide if we need to tell our parents. Jesus, Jen."

"Look, I'm sorry."

I know he hates me mad at him, but when they do stupid shit like this, it's aggravating. Plus Michael. The stupid fight we're having is stupid. Fuck all this nonsense. "Come on," I say heading back toward the school.

"Dean, please. Fuck, don't hate me, okay?" he says running to catch up with my long strides.

"I don't hate you, but not gonna lie, this is irritating. If I'm going to go after the bad guys for you, you need to fucking tell me the truth about the bad guys. It doesn't make us seem like a unit to them, and that's what we need to be."

"I know it's just, Jared and I have been a team for so long, it's hard to remember not to try to take care of shit on our own."

"Look, we'll sort it out after school, okay?"

He nods, chewing on his lip, but he heads off. I go to my shared fucking locker with Michael, hoping that since I'm late, he's already been. I don't need his bullshit right now. But then when I figure out he has been (I can tell by which books are here and which are not) and therefore didn't wait for me like he normally would, I'm mad about that. This day sucks.

Of course it gets worse. A hand slams beside my head on the locker next to mine. I turn to see who it is. "Ugh, fuck off Brad." Yeah, that guy's still around. I was hoping he'd transfer to some academy under the sea, or something, but no such luck.

"Watch that pretty little mouth of yours, Winchester."

"I'm not having the best day okay? You don't help." Not to mention, no matter how mad Michael is at me, if he sees Brad this close, he will kill him. The mood I'm in, I might enjoy watching.

"Lucky for you, I'm just here to talk to you about one of my guys."

Ah fuck. Stupid football solidarity. Randy's on the junior team, and Brad on the senior, but as Brad told me all the time when we dated, they're a football family. "Your guy punched my brother in the eye,” I say.

"Word on the street is, he deserved it."

"Your point?"

"My point is, regardless of any prior relations we may have had, or may have in the future, Randy's protected by the team. I've come to tell you, you can't threaten him like you did again."

Brad and I have seen each other since we last did, but it's always been in passing, whether it be church, or walking the halls of school, and thankfully it's his graduating year. But we haven't really talked since. Sure there's been the odd time we've had innocuous chats, chats in which I definitely got the impression he still has the hots for me, but he has no idea what's happened to me over the summer, and I'm not going into detail with him about my life unless necessary.

I'm Dean, but different. What's come back in me, isn't going away again. In other words, I'm not scared of his fucking football team.

I slam my locker closed and with all the slamming of things today, I'm surprised no teachers have come out to scold us. "No, you listen to me, Bradley. If Randy, or anyone else touches either of my brothers ever again, they'll be eating through a straw."

I don't stick around for his response, with the mood I'm in, I'm liable to pulverize him onsite.

The school day finally ends with Michael and I not really talking to each other. "You're late," Michael says when I get to the car. "I've got to get home and have my homework done, before yoga, or Uncle is going to be displeased."

"I had to grab Jared's homework, and the teacher's all took their damn time. Not my fault. Also, what a dumb rule. Can't you just get your homework done at night?"

"No, I can't. That's not what the rule is."

"Are you two having a nothing fight?" Jensen asks.

"Thanks for reminding me you're there, dude. Get in the car; we have shit to discuss. I'll get you home on time, Michael." Yeesh.

Hence, I can't deal with anything Michael and I, because I'm driving such that Michael's almost ready to tell me to pull over, while listening to Jensen explain himself.

"Some of it I can't tell you Dean – it's Jared's to tell – but yeah okay? What I left out was the part where Jared Rugby-beat Jeremy."

"Because Randy was gonna ask him to the dance?" I ask.

"Dean, slow down. If I'm late, my uncle will accept that you had to get your brother's homework, as an excuse."

"That's needs to know, Michael."

"Well now you know."

Jesus Christ. "Jen? Continue."

"It wasn't because Randy wasn't going to ask him, that's Randy's stupid synopsis. Okay look fine, I'll tell you this part, because I think Jared would be okay with it—"

"—Jared's gonna have to be at this point. I've got Bradley fucking Football Head breathing down my neck."

"What?" Michael says. "You didn't tell me that."

"Because we haven't been speaking all day."

"Anyway, Jared and Randy made out,” Jensen says.

"What? Jesus Christ, at school?"

"I doubt you've been an angel at school, Dean."

"No, but doesn't mean it was a good idea. Look, just tell the story."

"So they made out, things were heating up, and Jared thought they were gonna start dating, or something. Then, this Jeremy guy's all up in Jared's face, saying he's going to be the one at the dance with Randy."

"I know he's dreamy, but why does Jared like this guy so much anyway? He sounds like an asshole."

"He's arrogant, yeah, and I think we should pulverize him for what he did to Jared, but well I was making out with this cheerleader today and—"

"—really Jen?"

"Yeah, Dean. She told me that yeah, Randy was gonna go with Jeremy, but only because he chickened out asking Jared. He does like Jared, but it was making him fucking nervous being around Jared. Guys like Randy don’t like doubting themselves for a fucking second."

"Then why the hell did he attack, Jared?" This is the dumbest story of teenaged nonsense I've ever heard.

"Because of the whole football family solidarity thing. Jeremy's on the football team."

"Jesus fucking Christ." What is it with that?

"Does Jared still like Randy?"

Jensen sighs. "He says he doesn't, buuuuuuut he does."

No one knows Jared better than Jensen. "Why on Earth?"

"Haven't you ever loved someone you shouldn't?" Jensen says, and that, that's something pulled from the 'bigger' part of Jensen. It's wise beyond his fourteen Modlenol years.

"Whoa, wait, love?"

"Well I don't know it's love, but it's a pretty big crush and Jeremy was fucking taunting him. With what Jared can still do, he's lucky that's all he got."

"Can you two please just not do that shit."

"Not what, Dean? Have crushes?"

"Not punch the shit out of people. You two are former hunters for Christ's sake, it's not fair." I pull into Michael's driveway. "Are you still not talking to me?"

"I never wasn't talking to you. I was, however, waiting for an apology, but I guess that's not happening." He storms off.

Lordy be. "Jen, can you wait here a second?"

"Yeah, no problem." He gets into the front seat, and pulls out his phone.

By the time I catch up with him, he's almost in the house, but I know he hears me. He heads in the door opening it with his grace, leaving it open for me. "Why would you be waiting for an apology from me?" I say too loudly.

"Because you're the one who's doing all the things that need apologizing for."

Gabriel and Tom appear almost instantly with all the yelling. "What is going on you two?" Gabriel says.

"He started it!" we both say pointing at the other. God dammit. I love the Angel Dads, but they are just learning about this stuff, and will get way too involved. My parents only do when necessary. Daddy is used to Michael and I fighting after twenty-five years.

"Come to my office, you two," Gabriel says disappearing with Tom.

"Great, now you've done it," Michael says heading that way. I follow.

"Me? You're the one being a huge dick, sorry, but there's no other word."

There's a weird feeling between us right now, one I'm not sure I've, we've felt before. Or maybe I have, but just didn't see it for what it was until this very moment. Michael is legit kinda done with my antics, and his focus is elsewhere. "I don't think you understand, Dean. You have riled the angel Gabriel. I know Papa Winchester comes close, but it's not the same thing, at least not to me."

I roll my eyes. "We'll be fine, Michael."

"Fine, yes. But he's not pleased. You'll see."

Michael knocks on the door when we reach it, and Gabriel admits us. When we enter, I start to see what Michael means from the mood that awaits us. Gabriel is intense, all five foot ten of him. He might be shorter than both Michael and I, but that doesn’t make him any less intense – and yeah, I know he's got his angel mojo and all that, but I'm talking even if he didn’t.

Before Gabriel can say anything, Tom is there to remind him that parenting is not always about bringing the hammer down. "How was school, boys?" he asks.

"It was okay, Uncle Tom," Michael says, and yeah that's not a lie, but it's not the truth either.

As much as Tom and Gabriel are learning how to parent, I think Michael needs to learn how to 'child'. "Not great. My boyfriend and I are having a nothing fight, about nothing."

"Oh?" Tom says.

"Yeah. We barely talked all day, and when we did we argued." I don't say anymore, now they can parent away at will.

"Michael, why did you tell us everything was okay?" That's Gabriel. "It doesn't seem so."

"Because, sir. It's really not something we need help with, we're sorting it out. Dean was just leaving."

"It would seem to me, you should sort it out before he leaves," Tom says.

"I've tried, but he won't apologize," Michael says.

"I have nothing to apologize for – you spanked me!"

"You deserved it."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Enough," Gabriel says. His voice is low, and there's something underneath it that says 'disobey me at your own risk'. How was it that Michael threw an omelet at his head? "You are both behaving like children, I expect better."

"We are teenagers, sir. This is pretty normal for us," I tell him since Michael can't seem to dredge up words.

"Really?" Gabriel says.

"Oh yeah. Ask Daddy next you see him. This is us. He usually ignores us, unless we get on his nerves."

"You two seem unusually irate," Gabriel says.

I laugh. "No way. This is our 'usually'. We'll work it out."

"Michael seems unusually distressed, Dean," Tom says. "We like to make sure his distress level is low."

"I agree with Tom," Gabriel says.

"I am not unusually distressed, I'm usually distressed," Michael says, and because I know him so well, I can tell he's trying to keep the snarkiness out of his voice, but he's only half-managing it.

Gabriel gives him a reproving look before he continues. "Dean, I hope you can understand, our number one priority is the health, safety, and happiness, of Michael. He is our child."

"I do, sir. My parents would feel the same way."

"That is why we are concerned with your argument. It is upsetting him more than he is letting on."

"Uncle," Michael says.

"It is, Michael," Gabriel insists.

"Is it, Michael?" I look him over again, and yeah they're right. Something's different. Michael has always been older than me. Technically, he still is if we're talking in the sense of chronological age, the whole, 'he's millennia old' thing, but Modlenol by design is meant to fuck with the age you feel inside. I've still been carrying on as if he's 'older', but he's not. We're the same age.

And the other thing I began feeling when we walked in here, I know what that is now, it's how I feel when I'm about to get told by my father. That knowing I've done something he's going to disapprove of, and having all your energy pulled to that one focal point, anxious about it, until it's resolved. For once, Michael's concern was pulled away from me, and to someone else; his parents.

The realization hits me and I feel awful, and happy at the same time. Awful, because I've put him in this position with his parents, happy because this means Michael's starting to feel more like he's got someone who's just for him.

Also fuck, this means we're in trouble doesn't it?

Michael bites his lip. "Yes. It is."

"I'm sorry, Michael," I say giving him the apology I should have hours ago. Oh god. Uncle Dal is right. We have so much to talk about. "Okay, I think we can take it from here, sir," I try, feeling the scary angel dad presence surrounding me, but I know there's no chance we're getting off easily.

"I don't think so, Dean. Have a seat," Gabriel says.

I take the only open seat, which is next to Michael, and am reminded too much of sitting before my father when I'm in trouble. Ugh, and what's worse? it's not like I haven't had this lecture before. I could give it for as many times as I've heard it.

"This is the precise reason Father gave Michael to me to watch over. When you two get into your nothing fights, as you called them Dean, passion rules reason. I am disappointed to hear you were fighting through the hallways of your school – a very prestigious school others would kill to go to as I understand it – and that neither of you could control your tempers."

"Sorry, sir," we both mumble, because we can barely face him after that. Wow, he is good at giving a dressing down. It's like, a verbal spanking. Holy shit, wait. Michael looks up to Gabriel a fucking lot. Michael will learn from Gabriel. Dean Winchester this is your future isn't it? I am momentarily distracted by how hot and how terrible that's going to be at the same time.

"Dean, you still with us?" Gabriel says.

I clear my throat. "Yes, sir. Sorry."

"I'm afraid I can't let this go. Dean, I'm going to have to speak with your parents about this."

Knew that was coming. "Yes, sir. I'm happy to save you the trouble if you like." That's always the best way.

"All right. I will allow that, but I am going to check, Mr. Winchester," Gabriel says.

"Yes, sir. I'll have Daddy call you to verify."

He nods. "As for you son, you're grounded for the weekend, starting today."

Michael is pissed about that, and deserves a medal for his restraint. "But Sir, the yoga, and my appointment with the Cowboy tomorrow night."

"Those are therapies, and are of course not cancelled. I am, however, going to ask Dallas if he can come here rather than you going over there. You two need a cool off period." Gabriel's face is like stone, but like stone that could turn into a cuddly blanket at any moment. “Either way, you will get to attend your therapies.”

"Thank you, sir," Michael says.

For my part, I am never fucking with Gabriel, ever. And now I know why people think I'm insane when I talk back to Papa, because that's what I'm thinking of right now about Michael – how does he ever talk back to this guy?

"I won't punish you this time, Dean. I haven't talked with your parents about that, and I'm sure your father will take care of you to that end once you tell him."

Tell Papa? Right. As if not telling him, and only telling Daddy is ever A Thing, but boy am I glad I'm not being punished by Gabriel! "He most certainly will, sir."

"All right, my passionate child, show Mr. Winchester to the door," Gabriel says, and I detect notes of fondness this time both in the Mr. Winchester and my child. "And then, homework."

"Yes, sir."

We leave with the air of 'by the skin of our teeth' surrounding us. "Holy shit, dude you weren't kidding. He's some kind of force," I say when I hope we're far enough away Gabriel's stopped paying attention to us.

Michael raises his eyebrows. "I told you."

"Look Baby, I'm sorry. I was being—"

"—a brat."

"You knew?"

"I figured it out, while we were in there getting out ears figuratively boxed." He takes my hands.

"It was an asshole-brat cross, which is not cool. But yeah I was, you know that feeling?"

He smiles. "I do."

"I was chasing it, and well, Uncle Dal said I'm supposed to talk to you about the fact we haven't," I say trailing off, because I can't find the words. "But I didn't know how to bring it up."

"I know and, I know what you’re talking about even if you can’t say it. We definitely need to talk about that, I haven't found the words either."

"Preferably by tomorrow, so I don't get spanked by a less than pleased cowboy Uncle…?"

"Tomorrow at lunch, how about?"

"Sounds good, and I'm sorry I got you grounded. I was looking forward to you being at the house this weekend. Now I'm all alone with the twins, and oh God, poor Jensen's in the car." I remember I have that situation to deal with too, in addition to my own nonsense.

"Serves you right," he says kissing my lips. "But I got myself grounded. Uncle's right, none of that behavior is appropriate in a school setting."

Huh, that never stopped him before. He'd show up at my school all the time, and we would engage in all kinds of inappropriate. "I suppose." I kiss him really not wanting to leave – I didn't see him all day! "Hey though, you did spank me, and it was pretty rad," I say all breathy. Not that I'm inviting that sort of thing, but I also wouldn't mind if it happened again. I'm complicated.

"You liked that, did you?"

I blush not wanting to admit it. "Can still feel your hand on my ass."

"Weren't you embarrassed, getting a spanking at school like that?"

"One hundred percent, which oh God, Michael? I think I have to go."

"Oh I see, you think you're going to take care of this," he says grabbing my dick.

I groan. "Why do I get the impression I'm not?"

"Because bratty boys do not get to masturbate."

"Oh sweet Jesus. Is that a thing now? We do that?" He knows what I mean – sexual sorts of punishment. It's not exactly the first time, but it's never really been official.

"I'd like it on the table. You?"

"Fuck, yeah. I mean wait, no! You're gonna say I can't masturbate all weekend, and that sucks."

His smile is really fucking devious. "For you, yes."

"Ugh, Michael. How about just for like, a day?"


"Fine, I can do it."

"Fine, I can do it? You know better than that. Maybe you don't want to masturbate next weekend either?"

"Yes, sir," I say as I'm thinking about sticking my dick into ice water to calm it down.

"There does that help?" Michael asks, pulling me to him.

Do I feel the feeling is what he's asking. I press my body to his feeling very fucking content. "Mmmmhmmm. Thanks, Baby."

"All right, you'd better go. I'll see you at yoga."

Chapter Text

I run out to the Impala, like I've left a dog in there with the windows up – which I would never do for the record. "Hey man, sorry. We had a run in with Gabriel, and he chewed us out."

"S'okay. I'm in no hurry to get home."

"I'm not telling the parents."

"You're not?"

"Not exactly. I'm instituting Colt rules here. We can solve this ourselves, if you two are honest with me. I think it's an easy fix." It's also a little bit Winchester rules. Now that I'm the eldest one, I can sign on to fix this, but that makes me responsible. If one of them fall, we all fall, me falling the hardest.

"Really, Dean? That would be the best."

"Wait until you hear my plan before you say that. You might not like it. We'll talk about it, the three of us this weekend."

I drive us home, and we head into the house. The kitchen's busy with Uncle Dal, and Jake and Daddy. "Any chance Papa's home yet?" I might as well get this over with though yoga is going to suck with a sore ass.

"Not yet. What did you, Sur?" Uncle Dal says. He's already suspicious of me.

"Michael and I got into a huge fight at school – don't worry we began our talk, and we're gonna have it tomorrow – but the fight continued on into Michael's house, and Gabriel was not pleased."

"I don't imagine he would be, Half Pint. That's like, the reason God put Michael in his care. He's going to take that kind of stuff seriously."

"Lordy be Dean Daniel. Papa's not going to be pleased either," Daddy says. "Lucky for you he's working late, and you can tell him after yoga."

Well that is a turn of good fortune.


Even though Michael is strong, yoga is something he had to work at. Of course, it takes him one sixteenth of the time to learn yoga than it does anybody else, but it was kinda fun to see him work at it. For me, it's a struggle. I've got hockey muscles, which are often tight, however the yoga has helped my hockey performance.

My other challenge tonight is I'm fucking horny as hell, especially when Michael takes off his shirt. Daddy's not allowed, and I have no such rule, but I usually keep my tank on. I have to watching him, contorting himself like Gumby, all the while knowing there will be no relief for my cock later.

Daddy is a fucking yoga star. He can do all the moves, and flow gracefully between each. I get a bit distracted watching him with awe, proud he's my daddy. It's a good thing Papa's not here, there are a few people watching him in a much different way than I am he would not like.

After, Daddy always takes us to one of his health-nut places for a protein smoothie. "Wow, that was a good class," Daddy says. "Michael, you're really getting the flow. Dean. you're tight."


"Well you are. You really ought to come a few times a week. It would help with your hockey. Cheers," he says holding up his protein smoothie. We clink our bio-degradable cups with paper straws together. I enjoy these moments with just the three of us. It used to always be just the three of us, so much has changed.

"Speaking of hockey, I can't believe Papa won't let me quit school and join the farm team that wants me."

Daddy laughs. "You do hear yourself, right?"

"Yeah, I do." Even though Michael said hockey could be back on the table, Papa was a firm no, and Papa's opinion is the one that matters right now. He was all, you're finishing high school and getting a degree Mr. Winchester. Bleh!

Michael squeezes my hand. "Isn't your first game next weekend?" he says.

"Yeah. You gonna be able to come?"

"I certainly hope so. Working on it."

"Yes I heard about you two," Daddy says.

"I started it, Daddy," I finally admit.

"Why am I not surprised?"


"Hay is for horses, Dean Winchester. I've been watching you two for the past twenty-five years, I know exactly how you two work is all."

"Yeah, okay that tracks." I take another sip of the turmeric, ginger, banana protein smoothie. "But can't you tell Gabriel it's just part of us? Maybe he'll ease off."

Daddy shakes his head. "Acting like fools is part of who you were as kids, and I handled things a certain way then, but it's time to consider how you want to grow together as adults. I'm not saying you can't have antics within your relationship, of course you can, but when you two go off, you often aren't conscious about how you're affecting others, each other, and yourselves. Not to mention, one of Gabriel's roles in Michael's life is to help with you two, sorry Dean, but I'm letting him. Maybe he'll succeed in getting you two to stop and breathe when you storm around school."

All I can do is sip my smoothie and think about that. Daddy’s right, but it’s a lot to chew on, and then something occurs to me. “Papa’s going to give the okay for Gabriel to punish me, isn’t he?”

Daddy rolls his eyes. “Of course your mind jumps there. I don’t know, but I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

That makes Michael laugh. “Not funny, Michael.”

Michael sips his smoothie. “Not funny, hilarious.

“All I know is, if you two want to have a social life this year, you’d better sort yourselves out.” Daddy has spoken.

“We’ll work on it, Daddy,” I say grabbing Michael’s hand. He smiles at me, but there’s a flash of sadness there, which isn’t about me. I squeeze his hand harder. “We’ll work on all of it.”

~Dean: THEN: Friday Morning~

All is normal the next day at school, and lunch comes quickly. Michael and I find a semi-private spot on the grass (which I sit down on gingerly after that spanking from Papa this morning), and I pull out my Deanwich Club Daddy made for me, paired with some Jennilicious fruit salad, and Jarawesome pudding. Daddy had to make things named after them too.

Michael has a lunch too, so he looks like a normal human. Some people know we're Moddlers, but not that Michael is an archangel. That's something we like to keep undercover. Tom makes his lunch now, and I often eat some of it for him. Though we've discovered Tom makes a mean pretzel bun, and it's hard to get Michael to part from those. Often he'll send one for me too.

"Dean, I should have had this conversation when I began feeling like I do, but it's complicated. It didn't happen all at once, and it's not all the time. I didn’t understand it at first; it did begin after the Modlenol, and it's happening still as I adjust."

"What happened, Baby?"

"I'm a teenager now, Dean."

If this wasn't so serious, I'd laugh, but I can already tell how hard it is for him to admit that. I nod.

"Somehow, I feel younger this time more than any other time, I really do feel like a teenager. I believe it's to do with my parental figures."

I can see all of that. Both from watching the twins, and that interaction with Gabriel yesterday (seriously holy fuck), I can see how the two intertwined would make for such a shift in perception.

"Some days, I just can't pull the Toppiness out at the level I did when I was older."

For a moment, my heart beats a little faster. "Are you changing inside?" I say kinda fucking worried, because that would be a huge problem.

Michael yanks me on top of him, and stares up at me with some seriously 'Toppy' eyes. "Not in the way you're implying," he says. "I still want to spank your ass when you misbehave. It's just, you see, your cowboy uncle describes it as healing. Apparently I'm healing, and things are mending back together in a different and better way. I’m like a Teen Top versus an adult one, or so he assures me."

"That I can understand, but why does it result in you not feeling Toppy at times?"

"I think because I feel too much like a child. Another thing your uncle explains better than I can. It's part of inner child healing, he says. I argued for many of our sessions that it was nonsense, because angels don’t have an inner child. Naturally he replied in his infuriatingly calm way that maybe angels don't, but that I did. Over time, well I don't know how it's even possible, but I believe him. And it’s not exactly that I don’t feel Toppy, I just am a Top at my core, it’s like it needs to re-mature, along with the healing process. On days when I feel really good, that Top energy crackles through me like lightning,” he explains taking a breath he doesn't need. "It's inconsistent."

"Will it become more consistent?"

"Dallas feels confident it will, as I grow up. He believes it will be better than before, which means better for us, and I like the sound of that, so I hope he's right."

"You don't think so?" I ask.

"Please understand, Dean, I'm working on things, lots of things, but faith is the hardest one. I want to believe, and I think so, but I'm not as confident as your uncle."

I, on the other hand, have every faith in both my cowboy uncle's opinion (though I'm probably gonna ask him some things) and Michael. "You know what? No, I see it. When it does come out, like the yesterday in the car, you're so sure, and it's like fucking wow. Not that before wasn't good, this is just another level."

"Thank you, Dean." He moves the hair out of my face. "While I may have gotten younger, you've grown up some. I'd say it's balanced us there, made us similar in age."

"I still feel younger than you," I tell him.

"Not surprising. Even though I've had all that Modlenol fucking around with my psyche and hormones, I still have the benefit of at least remembering my experiences from thousands of years."

"What do we do about it?"

"I have been assured that this is where the Winchester Way shines. We have a family full of avid spankers to choose from."

"Then why's Uncle Dal telling me to get one from you?"

"I think, so we'd have this conversation, but also so that I'd do it when I could."

Wow, he is learning a lot.

"I'd really like to approach things in a new way, one that's more grown up. We've kind of been all over the place."

"I get all of this, and I get we've got to work together on it, but one thing I want to put forth, I kinda love our wildness. I can totally see you chasing me around the house someday. Whatever new way we do, I'll follow your lead, but I'd really like to keep some of that." I remember the way he tossed me over his knee in the car. Unngh.

Michael blows on my neck and starts idly nibbling, which is making my already aching dick that much achier. "Me too. But by then we'll be more practiced, and it will be our own home where we're not disrupting anyone else around us."


"Not to mention, if we fight like that at school again, my uncle is never going to let me out. I need to lay low for awhile."

"Well not that I'm complaining, but maybe nibbling on my neck out here ain't such a great idea."

He throws himself back on the grass. "Yeah, I know, but uuuuuuggh, I'm so horny Dean. This is always my least favorite part of being a teenager."

"In good news, Papa's got people coming by this weekend to start on the suite downstairs. You think there's any chance Gabriel will let you stay over sometimes?"

"If I behave, which is proving a lot harder than you'd think. The snark just comes out, no matter how much I try. Even Uncle Tom has his eyes on me."

"It's the teenager," I tell him like I’m some sage monk on a mountain top.

"That's surprisingly helpful. Maybe you could do that for me? Be my guide to teenage-hood?"

"I have been a teenager for a long time. I can do that, but I warn you, I end up in a lot of trouble."

"Oh, I know, which is why I plan to cherry pick from your advice."


Unable to help himself, Michael starts kissing my neck again, and then nuzzles my scruff, a new thing he's taken to doing.

"I thought you were worried about getting in trouble?"

"Eh. Worth it. Dean? I love you." My god, his eyes are sparkling.

"Fuck. I Love you too, Baby."

~Dean: Friday after school~

When I get home from school with Jensen, the house is utter madness, as Papa and Daddy try to make their way out of it. Their suitcases are by the front door, and Daddy is kind of a mess. He knows he needs this, but he hates leaving us.

I'm doing the best I can to help out, but no one's cooperating. "Jensen, Jensen! Daddy said to come down to say goodbye," I shout to the empty hallway. Where the hell is he? He pops his head out of my room. "What are you doing in my room? It's strictly off limits unless you're coming in the middle of the night."

"I'm looking for that shirt of yours, that black button up one. I've got a facetime call with someone," he says.

"You have your own shirts." Jeez, it's not like we can't afford it. "Ask Daddy to get you one."

"But I don't have this kind of one now Dean. C'mon, please."

Good Lord. I head over to my closet and pull it out. "Here, keep it. S'abit small on me now anyway, but next time, ask."

"Thanks, Dean."

"And downstairs. Where's your brother?"

"I dunno. Text him."

My phone is downstairs on the kitchen counter charging, though. "Jare. Jared!" I call down the hall.

"Yeah?" he sticks his head out from Chally's room.

"Daddy wants us."

"Oh good. That mean someone will take him?"

By him, I assume he means Jake. I walk over to peek inside the room. Jared's got his homework books splayed out while Jake sucks his soother, and smashes a wood block at another wood block on the bed. "He's gonna fall off there, dude. Jesus."

"Nah, I'd catch him."

"Where's Uncle Dal?"

"Had to take a call from Uncle Chris, who I think has to work late, or something…? Don't know, didn't really pay attention."

"Yeah, just like you're not paying attention to him now. Close your books, and grab him, and come down."

"Can't you just take him?"

I have no problems doing that, I love me some Jake, but he needs to learn to watch him if he's told to. "No. Bring him down, and if I catch you leaving him in a dangerous position like that again, not paying attention to him like you're supposed to, you can take a trip over my knee, Sur."

He scowls at me, and slams his books shut, but he moves toward grabbing Jake. When I'm back into the hallway, I can hear Daddy calling for me. "Dean! Dean, where are you? We have to go."

I'm about to head downstairs, when I almost bump into Jensen, now dressed in my shirt – the one I gave him – talking on my phone, which means he was already downstairs, since he'd have to of gone down to the kitchen to get it. He's on a facetime call.

"Jensen," I say grabbing my phone from his hand as he walks by.

"Hey, give that back."

There's a girl there, a very cute girl from the cheerleading team. "Jensen will have to call you back from his phone, if he's allowed to later," I tell her keeping the phone just out of his reach, as he jumps to try and grab it from me. I hang it up.

"Not fucking cool, Dean."

"What's not going to be cool, is your ass if you don't get downstairs immediately. How did you get into my phone?"

"Maybe you shouldn't make your password stupid, sappy shit like the numbers that spell, DMWFVR, Dean, Michael Winchester forever." He makes kissing faces and sounds.

I ignore him. "Use your own phone."

"Yours has the better camera."

I turn him around. "Get downstairs."

As he storms off, I realize I haven't seen Jared with Jake yet. "Ugggggh, brothers!" I say to the empty hall, and turn around to head back, and hear the crying before I reach them. "What happened?"

"I took his block away, so I could bring him down, and he's screaming bloody murder."

Poor Jake's reaching for me, and crying. "Deeeeaaan. Deeeean!"

I gotta take him now. I pull him out of Jared's arms. "C'mon cowpoke," I say trying to sound like his papa. "Where's his block?"

Jared fishes it out from the bed covers, and gives it to him.

"Why'd you take it?"

"I thought those had to stay up here?"

Do they? I don't care. Jake's getting the block. "Go," I say pointing with my free hand.

The four of us finally make it down the stairs, Daddy's not pleased with me. "What's the big idea Dean? We've been waiting. I told you to grab your brothers twenty minutes ago."

I don't bother getting into the ins and outs of corralling them. "Sorry, Daddy. Where's Papa?"

Papa strides out from the kitchen, and all our eyes go to him. He's still dressed from work, having just come home to grab Daddy and their luggage. His long, khaki trench coat sways as he takes sure strides toward us, his brow in a frown. This one isn't upset, though you would have to have spent at least as much time, as I have around him to know it. He's serious, going over in his head what he wants to go over with us before he leaves.

His shoes are polished a shiny black, and he hasn't loosened his blue tie yet. "Dean," he greets pulling Jake from me for a snuggle. Jake enjoys hanging out with Papa, which Daddy said is because babies like something solid. "Why was he crying?" Papa smoothes a hand through his hair, and wipes the tears away with his thumb.

I look to Jared, who's submitting a plea bargain with his eyes for me to answer. "He lost his block for a minute. He's all good now," I say.

Papa nods. "We'll be home in time for Sunday dinner. I expect you boys to be in church, Sunday morning."

"Yes, sir," we all say.

"Dean is in charge. Of course you have Uncle Dal, and Uncle Chris if you need them, but boys, if you want to have people over, or do anything, that's up to Dean. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," the twins say.

I expect a whole list of extra rules for me, but he goes a whole other route. "Dean, I know you'll make good choices for everyone, you know the house rules. Don't hesitate to call if you need us. And Daddy gave you all the info for the contractor who's stopping by Saturday?"

"Yes, sir."

Daddy's crying. "Cas, I don't want to leave them, can't we take them with us?"

"C'mon, Baby. They'll be fine, say goodbye."

We all clamber to Daddy hugging him to death. Daddy takes Jake for a baby snuggle goodbye, and the three of us get a squeeze from Papa. "Behave, boys," he says.

Before they leave, Uncle Dal races in from the parlor. "Oh good, I didn't miss yah. Have fun you two." He hugs each of them.

"Everything okay?" Papa asks.

"Yeah, but Chris has to take a surprise trip to Texas. I have to bring him his work luggage. Here I'll take that guy for a ride with me. C'mon Jakey, we'll go bring Papa his stuff."

"Noh, Da, da, da," Jake says as he goes to his daddy. "Dem," he says pointing.

Jake only has a few words, but he seems to know how to use them. "You want to stay with them?" Uncle Dal says.


"You mind, Half Pint?"

"C'mere, Jake," I say. He likes hanging out with his brothers, never wanting to be left out of our fun.

"We'd better go," Papa says. "We'll see you in a couple days." Papa has to drag Daddy away.

"I'm gonna run and grab Chris's stuff, and head out so I can get back and take him off your hands, or at least hang out with y'all."

When he leaves it's the four of us. Jensen's still pouting. "Can I call Lana back?"

"Go for it."

"Can I please use your phone? I want her to see my best angle."

Lordy be. "What's wrong with your computer?"

"I want to be able to walk around, show her the place. You know, impress her."

I roll my eyes. "Fine, here. But bring it back right after."

"What you gonna do, Jare?"

"Can I invite Charles over? We'll just watch movies."

"Yeah that's fine, but after dinner and make sure he's gone by curfew."

Jared wrinkles his nose. "You not gonna let us do anything against the rules?"

"Nope. Now go call your friend before I change my mind."

Since it's nearing dinnertime, I get Jake set up at his highchair with some snacks, and start putting together some of the prepared food Daddy had done up for us from one of his healthy food prep companies he's subscribed to. He wanted to make everything easy for me the first time I'm in charge. They’re a very environmentally friendly company. All the containers are biodegradable, and we can put them directly in our compost, but they can also be washed and reused if necessary.

Dinner doesn't take long to put together, but then I have to go looking for people again, because Jensen has my damn phone. "C'mon Jake, we're going on an adventure."

I find Jared finishing his homework. "Dinner's ready. You call your friend?"

"Uh, yeah. And there's going to be a couple of us. Hope that's okay."

I think about what Papa would say. I don't think so. I said yes, to one friend young man. You ask if you want a whole lot here. Pick one. It's one, or none.

I think about what Daddy would say. That's fine this time, but next time you ask, Sur.

I'm not sure, which to go with, but I have to change Jake before we eat. "I really wish you'd asked, but fine. It's just movies right?"

"Just movies, and y'know there are a couple Pokémon around here we'll grab, but after that just movies."

"Yeah, okay. Come downstairs."

Great, now there's going to be a bunch of wily teens in our house. Perfect. And yes, I say this knowing that I too am a teen, but I’m in charge, so it’s different.

I find Jen giving what looks like a tour, on my phone when I'm heading toward Jake's nursery to change him.

"Yeah, I'm still going down the hallway – that's how huge this house is!" he says like he's Mr. Cool.

"Hey, Mr. Cool. Time to get off the phone, we're having dinner."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he says.

"Lordy be, they're silly Jakey," I tell him when we're on our way back to the kitchen. "Least I got you to be reasonable."

I'm proud of myself for getting them to the table with dinner. We're halfway through when Uncle Dal returns. "Thanks Dean, how's things?"

"Things are good," I say serving him up a plate.

"Yeah, Dean said I could have a couple of friends over to watch movies," Jared tells him.

"He did?" Uncle Dal looks skeptical.

"That okay, Uncle Dal?" I ask.

"Not my call half pint. If you feel you're ready for a challenge like that, your papa’s put you in the position to decide. I was supposed to go over to Angel Manor for Michael's session, but I think I'll get Michael to come here just in case, so I'll be around. I already had to postpone his chat with me, so I could bring Chris his stuff, which means I need one of you to watch him for an hour and a bit,” he says gesturing to Jake.

"Jenny, and I will do it, won't we Jen?"

"No can do, Dean. I'm watching movies with our friends." He puts an arm around Jared.

"He'll need to be put to bed, which is a better job for you, anyway half pint."

"Do I at least get a kiss from Michael out of this deal?"

"I think I can arrange something," Uncle Dal says. "I'll take Jake to have his bath, and get him all ready for bed, while I call Gabriel to see if someone can drop Michael off."

"Da, da, da," Jake coos happily as he's carted off.

"What time do the drones arrive?" I ask Jared.

"In thirty minutes," he says. "Can you make us popcorn?"

"Yeah, with lotsa butter," Jen says. "And salt!"

"Yeah, yeah." Is this what Daddy feels like? No. He lives for this. I, on the other hand have given up my Friday night, and am not living for being their servants. "But you're on your own for other stuff." I'm going to have phone sex with my boyfriend – after he chats with Uncle Dal, and gets back home of course.

Sure enough, in thirty minutes the doorbell starts ringing. First we get Charles who's dropped off by his hot mom. I do the responsible thing and let her know I'm in charge for the night, but that our uncle will be in the house as well. "Is your uncle the one who wears the ripped jeans, and cowboy hats?" she asks.

"That would be him," I say. "And his husband is the one with the cowboy hat and non-ripped jeans." I don’t add the part about him being a Winchester, which is important, but people here don’t really get what that means like they do where Grampa Clyde lives.

That does not deter her. "Well you tell them both I say hi. What time should I be back to pick Charles up?"

The doorbell rings again, and again, and again, each time bringing a new fourteen-year-old boy and his parent. Wait a minute, that's four boys, six including the twins. I storm into the living room, where they haven't even started the movie yet, still chatting, and looking for Pokémon with their phones. "Jared? A word please," I say.

"Oh c'mon—"


I head to the kitchen, and put one hand on my hip a lot like Daddy does when he's pissed. "Jared Colt Winchester."

"What are you three-naming me for? We're behaving."

"I authorized one friend, one, not four teenaged hooligans." That’s straight up Papa coming out of me.

"There might be five."

"No there isn't."

"Jensen will be pissed if you don't let his friend come, when I've got four of mine."

"You two said they were all both your friends."

"Well yeah, but they're my invites Dean, he gets some invites too that's how it works."

That’s so not how it works. They get the invites I allow, but it’s my first time being in charge, and I do want to be somewhat the cool older brother about things. "Fine, but no more after that, or I'm shutting this down. You're not even watching a movie."

"Well yeah, because you haven't made us our popcorn yet, Dean."

Ugh. "Yeah, just get the movie on. I'll make the popcorn right now."

He heads back, just as the sliding glass door opens. "I can't believe this thing is unlocked at this time of the night Dean," Michael says. "Irresponsible."

"Not in the moo—hi Gabriel!"

"Hello Dean, I'm here to bring Michael for his session with your uncle, and I have to agree – you should really lock that."

"I'll lock it already.”

"I don't appreciate your tone, young man." That's Gabriel, to me.

I've already pissed him off once this week. "Sorry, sir. I will lock it."

"Dallas will contact me when you are finished, behave yourself," Gabriel says brushing invisible dirt from Michael's red t-shirt. “Either myself, or Tom will come pick you up.”

"Yes, sir," Michael says.

"Michael, there you are," Uncle Dal says coming in with a freshly washed Jake on his hip. "Hello Gabriel."

"Hello Dallas. I can't thank you enough. You're doing God's work with our son; he's doing very well."

While they talk about Michael like he's not there, as parents do, we slowly inch our way closer, seeing if we can make it to touching before they end their conversation, but we don't. "Well then, I must be off. I'll see you at home, Michael."

When Gabriel's gone, I quickly acquire a Jake. I pull him close and sway him back and forth, enjoying his baby-shampooed-head. "He's a bit cranky. I'd put him to bed soon if I was you. C'mon Michael. Let's get started. We'll use Cas's office."

"Dean! Popcorn!" Jensen pokes his head in to shout.

Demanding little so-and-so's! I'm going to strangle me a couple of twins. “Shoot. You mind hanging onto him just a few more minutes while I get them settled with popcorn, Uncle Dal?” Normally I’d just put him down, he loves roaming around the kitchen, but he’s in a clingy mood, and while I could make popcorn with Jake on my hip, stove top popcorn’s a little easier with two hands.

“No problem half pint, give him here. I’ll get Michael settled, while we wait for you to come grab this one.”

I’m sure Michael has an opinion about how the twins are behaving, but he keeps quiet, giving my hand a quick squeeze as he walks by.

By the time I've got the popcorn buttered and salted, I'm setting it down on the coffee table of an empty room. "Jared! Jensen!" I'm going to kill them both.

Just then I hear the doorbell ring. Ugh. Probably the fifth kid and since that means a fifth parent, I figure I might as well go to the door. “Jared!” I’m holding him responsible for this. He is in so much trouble. I open the door, but there’s no one there. In the darkness the empty porch is really fucking eerie, like I’ve opened the door to a creepy-ass-horror-flick.

I look around and scan the front yard, but there’s no one anywhere. My heart starts to beat wildly and the hair on the back of my neck tingles. “Hello?” I’m about to turn on the lights, when I hear rancorous laughter just around the corner from the porch. “Jared!” Idiots. “Quit playing around, you were supposed to be watching a movie. What you doing out here?”

“I told you we had a few Pokémon to catch.”

“I thought you meant in the house. No one's playing around outside in the dark.”

“But Dean—"

“—no, inside now.”

“C’mon guys,” Jared says.

“What’s up with him?” One of them says.

“Must be in a bad mood,” Jared says.

Jeez, you'd think I was being unreasonable. “Think what you want, so long as you’re thinking it inside the house,” I call after them. As I watch them file into the house, I can’t shake the eerie feeling. I take a final look into the darkness. Nothing there, Winchester. But my other senses, ones that seem to be dusted off and running from being turned on in the summer say otherwise. Paranoid. You’re bein’ paranoid. Yeah, that’s it, because nothing is out here. I head into the house, shutting the door and locking it tight.


“Like I said earlier, he’s all ready for bed, Half Pint and I think he’ll go down easy tonight even though he’s cranky. He’s had a big day.”

I hand my baby son over to Dean, so proud of how much Dean’s stepped up. He helps out with Jake nearly, as much as I did with him when I moved in here. “It’s no problem Uncle Dal. I’m sure he’ll go to sleep fine.”

“Deeeean,” Jake says pointing and showing him to me. He loves hanging out with big brother Dean.

“How are the boys downstairs? I’m hearing the doorbell a lot.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “A few more got invited than was talked about, but they’re settled with popcorn, watching a movie now.”

I don’t like the sound of that, and I get the impression there were some tellings off he had to give. “You know you can kick everyone out at any time, yeah?”

“Yeah, I know Uncle Dal. I wished they’d asked, but it doesn’t bother me so much, as long as they’re not playing with the doorbell and hunting for Pokémon.”

I twist my lips, but I don’t step in, yet. This is Dean’s gig. Sometimes you have to make a mistake to learn from it, and at this point it's hard to say the outcome. "All right, well come back in about an hour and a half and you can get your kiss from Michael."

"Hot dog," Dean says winking at Michael, making him blush. Dean's the only one, can make him blush in that particular way.

Dean leaves, and Michael's uncharacteristically shy. "Um, Michael?"

He clears his throat, and adjusts his pants. "Sorry, he just…"

"Makes your heart pitter patter?" I expect Michael Brand sarcasm, but he surprises me by biting his lip and nodding. "Awww, honey." Watching them's been intriguing. If I didn't know better, I'd think they just met, and they were falling in love for the first time the way they've started flirting and gettin' all shy with each other.

If only Dean knew how hard Michael's been working at making progress for Dean, he wouldn't get nearly, so tetchy with him, but it's not something Dean'll get just by being told, he's going to have to see it.

I run a hand through my mid-neck-length, blonde hair, grateful Cas lets me keep it so long, with how much my husband likes it, and look Michael over proudly. It's a sharp contrast from the Michael he was just over a month ago, it's even different than the last time Michael grew up from teendom.

I know these changes are a lot to do with Michael having two proper parents in his life, ones he knows care, even if he's forever complaining about all the different kinds of rules he’s got to abide. He's free to be himself, his true self. He doesn't have to keep such a tight hold on his personality in case it might come out when he doesn't want it to. Michael is prone to emotional outbursts. I've noticed angels are. He would have had to maintain a particularly high level of perfection for Lucifer, so it’s all just comin’ out now in fits and spurts.

"All right you, make yourself comfortable," I tell him as I pull out my notes, and clipboard, prepared to write down the things that come to mind as he talks. Some nights I don't take any notes, I do want to keep things casual, but other nights he says things that make me think, and other nights he says things I want to remember to keep my eye out for. I also want to track his progress.

When we first began doing this, Michael sat in a chair, stiffly, across from me. I had to prod answers out of him, and since he's not a professional patient, but family, I’ve used some spanking therapy on him.

Originally, he was dragged here almost literally kicking and screaming by Gabriel, and I have got stories to tell there! But eventually he enjoyed coming, even began seeking me out. He's much more comfortable when he gets here, often taking a seat on the floor, so he can lie back against something, or a relaxed position on an armchair.

Tonight, I brought a bunch of pillows, and a duvet comforter into Cas's office, and have left them on Cas's black leather couch (the one Dean calls his spanking couch), and am looking forward to seeing how he chooses to settle in.

Michael spies the stuff, and strolls over to it. He's still maintained his Michael glide post-Modlenol, but it's got a younger feel to it, especially with his arms bare like that, with him having ditched wearing blazers, and other formal dress, unless required.

Michael chooses the duvet even though he doesn't get cold. Duvets are cozy, even to churlish teenaged archangels. He wraps it around him, and sits on the floor with his head laid back against the leather couch. Once he's chosen his sitting position, then I do. I take different stances depending. Sometimes I sit beside him, so he can lean against me if he needs to – things can get pretty intense on the nights we talk Lucifer – but other nights I'll sit across from him.

Tonight I pull up one of Cas's brown leather chairs, and sit where I'll be looking down at him, but also across from him, so he can look in my eyes if need be. I don't get the feeling tonight will be too intense, I think it's going to be a bit of a venting session, truth be told, and perhaps something about my dear nephew, but it's hard to say. Sometimes it starts light, and takes a turn to the dark.

"So, what's on your mind, peach pudding?"

"What isn't on my mind?"

"I heard you and Dean had a rough interaction with your uncle," I prompt.

"Yeah, he was really not pleased. I've heard about it several times since. It so happens to be the reason Father set things up as he did," Michael explains. “He’s particularly cantankerous about that one.”

"I told Dean as much. How do you feel about the interaction?"

"As much as I'm truly tired of being grounded, I see his point, especially if I’m considering it from his point of view. If I had a son behaving the way I did, I would be just as unimpressed with him, and proceed to impress upon him better manners."

"Those are very big thoughts."

"Yes, but it doesn't stop me from having a teenaged attitude in the moment. Why?"

"Ego, sweetpea. Our egos are a powerful source of protection, and they come out to do so even when we don't know why, and often when we don't want them to, but they also uncover our traumas. Every time you feel overly snarky – because I honestly believe some of it's just your charm – ask yourself what you're protecting. When you find out what it is, you can heal it, like we have been." We do a great inner child exercise.

"I do remember you saying this before, but it feels nice when you say it – you don't mind repeating, do you?"

"I'll repeat whatever you like, as much as you like, honey bun."

"Thank you." He pulls the blanket around him tighter.

"It does sound like your home life is smoothing out," I say.

"I feel, less tense. Other than when I'm in trouble. Things feel more, and more homey there, as time passes."

"Tell me about that, being in trouble."

"There are butterflies, but not because I'm scared – I know everything's going to be okay – because knowing you've let down your parents is the worst and that's where the tension lives."

"I'd say that's pretty normal."

He nods, his head still resting against the couch.

"Something looks like it's hurting your brain, Michael."

"I like it," he says. "I realized that yesterday when Uncle was chewing us out."

"You liked being in trouble?"

"No, just the part where he corrected us."

"Ah, I get it. Because someone cared enough to tell you what you did wasn't going to serve you, and proceeded to steer you toward a path they genuinely thought would. We need 'no' people in our lives telling us when what we're going isn't okay, but they've got to be someone we know loves us for us."


"Does that relax you?"

"Yes, it makes the tension go away, after the lecture part."

I smile. "That's good, Michael. That's very good. Why does it hurt your brain?"

"I feel like I'm not supposed to like any of it."

"You used the words again." We've talked about what it means when the words 'supposed to' come up, and how he could look at them.

"I know, I feel what I feel, it's just weird I guess."

"It does take some getting used to. What happens after you're in trouble? How do you feel then?"

"They've adopted the Winchester strategy of hugging, and then often Uncle Tom wants to hang out – I think he's the good cop. I feel, calm."

"What else have you got on your mind?"

"Can we go through the Dean thing again? I think I've got it mostly figured out, but Dean and I talked about it, and well I just want to go over it again."

"Of course, sugar plum. Why don't you tell me what you feel solid about?"

"I accept how much younger I've become, and that I've begun looking up to my parents. I've come to see the benefit of allowing them to take care of me. I've already changed inside – I've had far less anxiety."

"You have. Anxiety is about control. It begins when self-esteem is low, which gets worse with increasing lack of self-care, this prevents constructing and maintaining boundaries. For you, there was no option to have boundaries with Lucifer. He was the quintessential narcissist. All of this equates to lack of control in a situation that violated the boundaries you would have constructed to serve your needs could you have."

"Yes, and with Uncle Gabriel and Uncle Tom they respect my needs. Annoyingly, they seem to know what they are before I do."

I can't help chuckling at that. "That's what good parents do, best they can. No parent's gonna get it perfect every time, but we aim to try."

Michael nods. "Yeah, so I get all of that, and have felt the benefit, but shouldn't this make me better able to be a Top for Dean?"

"Well, while there isn’t really a should or shouldn’t,” I remind him. “It is."

"Then why do I hesitate?"

"You've entered a new paradigm, Michael, and you're questioning your beliefs, as you grow up again."

"Beliefs I can't seem to let go of."

"Like the idea you're not good enough for Dean?"

"How did you…?"

"You're textbook there, corn muffin."

"Fine, if it's so obvious, I might as well talk about it. I know how destructive that thought is, but like it, or not it's the source of my hesitation."

I nod.

"I remember being so sure of us before I was Modliffied, I remember telling him as much, and then it began falling away."

"Your new environment, healthy as it is, has still spawned new self-evaluation, which means you're unsure of yourself, and that begins the break in the circle to letting go."

"It's not all the time, I, I was able to flip Dean over my knee in the car yesterday." He smiles fondly at the memory.

"See? When you're sure, you have no problems with it. Your inclination to Top Dean is not gone, it’s transforming with you, and needs to be rebuilt in some places."

"I'm starting to believe that, but I'm still conflicted about being a kid. Looking out for Dean in the way I'm suppose—ugh, that word! Looking out for Dean feels like an adult thing, but I'm a kid. And I'm enjoying being a kid truth be told. At first I hated it, but I'm starting to feel the relief of it."

"Dean looks after Jake, which is a grown up thing, and still manages to be a kid."

"Don't I have to be the perfect example of perfection? It feels hypocritical to spank Dean for things I've just gotten in trouble for."

"You are accountable to your superiors, and Dean to his, you being one of them. You don't have to hold Dean to every standard you are by your parents, or even Dean by his parents, and it is enough that you try to obey the rules. You'll mess it up sometimes, but you'll use it for deeper learning for you to pass onto Dean, but also for yourself, so you behave better for your parents. Dean is no less responsible for his rules because you made a mistake."

"Good points," he acknowledges.

"And Michael, feel free to be a teen and mess up, and learn. It doesn't make you a bad person. That's what your parents want for you."

"They seem to want strict obedience," he argues.

I look down at him and raise both brows. "As I understand it, your uncle laid down the law after a series of instances culminating to an omelet thrown at his head."

He has the wisdom to look chagrined. "Okay, so maybe they weren't being so unreasonable, but being grounded is the worst. Hey, maybe you recommend more spanking-type punishments."

"Nice try. Besides, I think your uncle has already figured out that while it's not something you look forward to, and that it does work for you in some instances, spanking doesn't have quite the same effect on you, as someone like Dean." He can't deny it. "Do you have anything else about Dean you want to talk about?"

"Just insight on how I could approach things, which, I know that's not what these chats are for, so perhaps another time, but it is another thing I want to talk about regarding Dean." Michael gets quiet. "I missed him the other day. I felt so stupid."

I didn't expect Michael to go here tonight. I set my clipboard aside, and hop down on the ground beside him. Michael leans into me all on his own. "That's not stupid at all. You love him."

"He was horrible."

"Yes, but he was also your big brother. A special place goes to big brother. What do you miss about him?"

"He was a good fighter, he taught me how to fight."

I let Michael gush to me about Lucifer for a bit, until he cries on my shoulder. I hold him, let him get it all out, and reassure him with tools for the future.

"So how many?" I ask when he's done.

"Eight," sniffle, "eight different food names," he says.

I laugh. "Was it that many?" When we first started doing this, Michael would complain that I call him by too many endearments, especially ones involving food. We decided I get four freebees, but if I surpass that, he gets to leave these sessions a few minutes early, with the stipulation that we're not in the middle of a serious thought, because his therapy comes first. "All right, guess you can go early. I think we're done. Will give you a few extra Dean minutes."

As if on cue, there's a nephew knocking at the door. "Come in."

"Jake's asleep, twins and their friends are still watching the movie," Dean says.

"C'mon in, Half pint. We're all done," I say giving Michael a final squeeze, and standing up.

"What did you do to my boyfriend, Uncle Dal?" Dean says diving at him and snuggling in. Michael’s still got wet tear tracks.

"He needs a Dean snuggle. I promised Gabriel I'd contact him soon as we were done. I'll give you to five minutes and then I expect you in the kitchen."

"Yes, sir."

In the meantime, I'm gonna go check on the twins.


At eleven pm sharp, all the teenagers are gone apart from my two, who are pissed at me for (how dare I?) following the rules. I cared not and reminded them had it been a school night their friends would have been gone even earlier.

“Why you so strict?” Jared says.

“Because, I’m a Winchester at heart. Go brush your teeth, it’s bedtime.”

“Dean!” Jensen complains.

Huh. Guess I am being strict. Now I know how Daddy feels when Papa goes away, when he goes all Captain of the ship Colt. But dammit, I want everyone snuggled in safe and sound. “And pajamas, let’s go!”

They grumble, but they do head off to do as bid. I’m not surprised when they show up in my room with blankets, and extra pillows. I didn’t imagine they were sleeping alone without Papa home. Much as they say they need the hunter in me, they need Papa’s solidness just as much.

Michael kyboshed the phone sex anyway, and it was probably for the best since Michael insists on being a fucking sadist with this Dean can’t orgasm thing. Yes I was totally gonna try.

I realize how tired I am when my head hits the pillow, and I want to sleep, but the twins want to talk. “What we doing tomorrow, Dean?”

“Well, I’ll make breakfast, and we can maybe go to the family club and swim? Or play tennis? Something? I have to be here for noon-ish to let the contractor in, so maybe sometime after that?”

“I kinda want to have my girl over,” Jensen says. Oh, it’s ‘his girl’ now, is it?

"And I wouldn't mind having Charles over again," Jared says.

I'm kinda hurt they don't wanna hang with me. "What am I, just a giant teddy bear to you?"

"Mostly," they both say together, snuggling in.

"How about we hang together 'till the afternoon, and then you have friends over in the evening. I'll even let you have more than one each," I bribe them.

"Deal," Jensen says for them both. "But I only need the one friend."

He's making out with her in my tree house, isn't he?

"I will take you up on that offer. I wouldn't mind having the guys over again," Jared says.

I yawn. "Fine. Now that's settled, wouldja go to sleep already?"

They laugh, but they do go to sleep.

~NOW:DEAN: Saturday Afternoon~

Yeah, so I got Jake on my hip, the twins in my six, and a Sig Sauer pointed at me by a tiny hooligan. Papa was so right about hooligans.

It's the kid from the garage, which no shocker there, but what is, is how does he get around in clothes like that? They're at least three sizes too big, he must trip all over the place. His hair is a messy mop of dark brown, and he's got a few freckles that might make him look like a freaking cherub, but for his shocking green eyes.

Sure they're large, and with how cute he is, I'll bet he can make you melt, but they're also dangerous, and old. This kid was a hunter. If it wasn't written there in his eyes, it's in the way he holds his firearm, like someone who's done it all his life, and under all kinds of pressure, no shaking at all, solid as oak.

Someone who will fucking shoot if he needs to.

"Whoa, hey kid. Easy. I'm Dean Winchester."

Jared and Jensen can't move, and they know it. He's a wound-up hunter, which is a wild thing, and all like wild things any small movement could set off his predatory instincts causing him to pull the trigger. But I know Jen and Jare have kicked into gear on the inside, going on high alert, and ready to do what they need to back me up. It's been said before, and proved this summer, the hunter in you doesn't go away completely. It's a reflex burned into the nervous system. I'm counting on that.

"Good then you're coming with me. Put the baby down."

"Okay, okay, okay. Will do, but look man," I say trying to stall while I think of something. "I can I just—"

Bam! A bullet flies, deliberately shooting a specific point on the stairwell to show us that he's a good shot. "Jesus Christ, let me give the baby to someone."

Jake is not down with that idea, and screams the moment I pass him off to Jensen. "You're here with me, Dean," the kid says. "You two, in front."

"What, they're coming?"

"Yeah, them tailing us after we leave is all I need."

"Look, can we leave the baby here?" No I wouldn't normally leave Jake down here by himself, but that's better than being taken away at gunpoint.

"The baby will be fine," the kid says.

"Excuse me if I don't believe you." Little shit.

"Move," he says tapping the gun to my low back, glaring at Jen and Jared.

They look to me as to what we should do, but until I figure that out, I nod that we should do what he says. I have no idea what this kid's angle is, and if he really will shoot me.

We walk out the door, with him set up behind me, poking me in the fucking back with the head of his firearm. "Will you watch it with that?" Jake is still screaming. "If you were bringing us all along for this fun little hike, why can't I hold the baby?"

"Cause you're gonna need your hands free, and also, don't want him this close to the gun."

"You fucking, shot a bullet in our damn house." He makes no sense. I wonder if this is the Modlenol making him have such weird-ass logic? He seems pretty in the know on using his firearm still though, how the fuck is that with him regressed to so little? He also seems in-the-know in general.

"You talk too much," he says, making his point by whacking me with the fucking gun again.

And now I want to kick the crap out of a little kid.

We have to walk quite a ways. Leaving our property, the road is a long one, with houses lining one side – spaced far apart – and forest on the other. About a thirty-minute walk from our house, are some hiking trails. The kid leads us in there, and we walk some more. There are off-the-beaten-paths, paths within the area, and of course, that's the direction he takes us.

Jake finally stops crying, after a ton of soothing from Jen, but I can see him looking woefully at me, breaking my fucking heart. He's not even dressed properly to be out here, none of us are, including the psychopath, ex-hunter, kid. How is he not cold?

Eventually, we get to a place way into the brush, and tracks lead to a car that looks pretty beat up now, but was once a, "holy shit, is that a Buick Riviera?" I say. I don't know how the fuck I know that.

The kid, who I'm realizing is in fact more kid-like than he came across brandishing a firearm at my face, finally lets up on the gun at my back, actually distracted by my commenting on his car. "Yeah, she's—"

I don't think about it, I let the need run through me, and my body responds with quick movements it knows better than I do. Before the kid can think, I've got his hand wrenched behind his back, and the gun clatters to somewhere among the flora I don't see.

"Sorry, Jakey," I hear Jensen say as both him and Jared come to help me, after Jen stands Jake up beside the car. Jake can walk, but not on this kind of heavily encumbered, terrain.

I'm holding the kid down best I can, but he struggles, and gets a good kick in on my shin, which results in me automatically, releasing him. "Jesus Fuck! Jen, gun!"

Both Jen and the kid dive for the area it landed, and Jared reaches in to pull the kid away from by the back of his shirt. The kid's one helluva fighter, clawing his way at the ground, as Jared has to work at another attempt to yank him backward.

I recover from getting my shin fucking torpedoed, and Jensen comes up with the Sig. "Aha!"

I pull the kid up to his feet. "Stop it. Stop all the nonsense. What in the aw hell is goin' on?"

His lip wobbles, and I think he's gonna cry, but he takes a breath instead, huffing an exhale. "I need your help, Dean."

"Why the fuck," I say grabbing up Jake who's banging on the car, and hoping one of his new words isn’t ‘fuck’ because of me, "wouldn't you just ask me in the first place instead of risking someone getting shot, with you waving that thing around like a damn fool?

Jake's happy to be back in my arms, and happy in general. There's no way he doesn't realize something's happening, maybe he likes the excitement a little. That's so Jake.

"I didn't think you'd help me. What I got's a lot to ask."

"So you thought you'd hold me at gun point, and make me?"

He shrugs. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Deeeeean. Deeeean!" Jake says pointing to the window of the car. "Dat. Dat!"

What the? Slowly I reach out and pull the car door on the passenger side open.

"Ho. Lee. Shit."

Chapter Text

Just after the 'prequel' Time Stamp: Teenaged Castiel Winchester

When little Dallas is in his stroller we walk, and Sam follows my lead.

“So, where we going?”

He’s never seen me this anxious. Sam knows me better than anyone, and his simple question with soft words is meant to help calm me. You’re being ridiculous, Castiel. You’re a Winchester, buck up. That’s what Father would say. I straighten my posture, puffing my chest up, imagining this is Sam and I with our child, and I’m head of our family. I don’t know I’ll ever be able to harness one fifth of the Topiness Clyde Winchester can, but hell, I’ll keep trying. “To the park. He can play, we can talk.”

“Right.” My large energy seems to affect Sam. His eyes analyze me carefully.

When we get to the park, Sam spreads out a blanket for Dallas. “He often prefers toys to the playground unless you go with him,” Sam explains. “Uh, hope that’s okay?”

The awkward’s already starting. I knew this would happen. The moment I get a bit strict-sounding, it makes Sam unsure. “Of course,” I say.

Sam gets little Dallas’s toys set up in front of him and he starts playing, happy to be here. Dallas is the easiest of all Sam’s wild Colt siblings. He’d make a good Winchester someday. “So, how does it all work Cas?”

I’m supposed to lead this conversation, not him, but I let it go. I’ve been living this way my whole life, I just told Sam last night. I can’t help that it irks me though. “I’ve been talking with my father, and he’s given me some good advice on how to approach this.”

“You mean like, about us?”

“Not us per se, but about how domestic discipline relationships work.”

“Okay, but Cas, and I mean I know nothing about this, but I remember you saying it was a need you had. Shouldn’t we, you know, start there? Did you ask him about that?”

I did say that though I wish I hadn’t. We were riled up, and it came out, and it’s true, but I prefer not to focus on that aspect, so much. It’s there, and it’s undeniable, but I still have hope it might fade at least some with age, and once Sam and I get the Domestic Discipline aspect going. I’m certain it’s because he’s so Colt-wild there’s any issue at all. Once we have rules in place, I’ll feel a lot calmer and my ‘need’ will go down. My eyes get hard. “Some, but it’s not just about me, it’s about us. We need to have rules. He said we should start small, and it’s good we figure it out now before marry.”

Sam backs down, not wanting to rile my temper. “And when is that?” He’s got a bit of a wry smile about him.

“When we’re twenty-one. That’s the earliest Father will approve. I’d like us to get married as soon as possible after that.”

“I see. So which rule do you want to start with?”

That softens, and relaxes me. Sam, my Sam. Of course he’s sensing my anxiety over this, and doing what he can to make it easier for me. “Why are you making this so easy for me?”

“Because you need it, Cassy.”

That makes me angry. I don’t want to need it, and I wish he’d stop pointing it out. However, if he wants to go down that road, fine then, I will. “So do you.”

He laughs. “Cas, I haven’t followed a rule in years. I make the rules for all my siblings. I doubt I need this, but I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you, so I’m all in.”

Now that right there, that’s fucking horseshit. It’s also sassiness in my books. I’m not fond of sassiness. “You’ve never experienced what it’s like to let go, because you can’t possibly with the way things are for you at home. You can’t know you don’t need this.”

“You’re crazy, Castiel Grace.”

“I know you, Sam. You’re all I’ve focused on for eleven years. I’ve watched you, learned you in ways no one else has cared to, not even you. It’s why I even dared to hope we could make this work between us enough to ask you.”

“You’re sounding a lot like a stalker,” he says laughing some more. I know he’s making a joke, but it’s the wrong time. I already feel touchy about the whole thing.

“You know what? Forget it. If you’re not going to take this seriously, it’s not gonna work, Sammy.” I lie back. Yeah I’m pouting, which is not very Winchester-y of me, but at least I’m not storming off like I wanna. He makes me so mad. Father was not pleased to hear about why I have bruises all over my face, and he told me so this morning in his office with his strap, so I’m trying to stick this out, but it’s hard.

“I’m sorry, Cas. Look, why don’t you tell me what rule you have in mind?”

I pull myself out of my sulk, resolved to try again. “This.” I pull a cellphone out of my pocket. “It drives me crazy you won’t get one.”

“I don’t need one, Cas.”

Sam’s got something against cell phones. I’m so done with him arguing with me. “Well you have one now, and you’re to use it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

All of that gets under my skin. I take a breath. “It’s set up, all you have to do is keep it charged and turned on.”

“So that’s the rule? Use it?”

“The rule is, keep it charged, and turned on, so your family members and I can get a hold of you, or you’ll be punished Sam.” God that feels good to say. It’s relieving.

“Punished?” he says. “Right. Domestic discipline. How? Like, like your daddy does your mama?”

Discipline isn’t just about spanking, even if it’s a lot about spanking. There’s more to it, but it’s a lot, and there’s no way I’m going to explain the whole thing in one afternoon. “Yes,” I say for now. Lord, I’d like to spank him right now.

He bites his lip, and nods. “I, yeah. I can keep it charged, and be available.”

“To something like that, the appropriate response would be, yes sir.”

“Right. Sir. Yes, sir.”

Whoa. That’s a good rush. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of that from Sam. “How does, how does all that make you feel?” I say all wispy-like.

“Y’know, Cas? I’m really, oh god I don’t wanna say.”

“We have to be honest with each other, Sam, especially with our feelings about this, or it ain’t gonna work.”

“You’re right, it’s just kinda embarrassing.”

“It’s only me, Cowboy,” I say smiling at him.

He checks on Dallas, who’s still playing with his toys nicely and then leans over to whisper in my ear. “I’m really fudging turned on. Is that weird?”

Suddenly, at least half my anticipation about this whole thing blowing up in my face, goes down by half. If this turns Sam on, it’s for sure a thing that’s an integral part of him. It bolsters my confidence. “Not weird. Not even a little bit. Feel this,” I say putting his hand on my dick over my jeans, forgetting we’re so not there yet. But my heart just says we’ve been together a thousand years already.

“Cas!” He whacks me hard in the arm. “Not in front of Dallas. Cool your teenage hormones, Sur.”

Yeah I deserved that, but he should not be scolding me. I don’t think. Mother would never scold Father, would she? “Sorry,” I say, and I mean it, but I’m scowling.

“All right, what did I do?” he asks. Sam’s highly perceptive.

“You’re not supposed to talk to your head of house like that.”

“Then how do I tell you what I don’t like?”

“Respectfully. You can’t scold me Sam. I scold you. That’s how it works.”

He nods. Scolding is something Sam understands. He does a lot of it. “I can do that. Since we’re on the topic of sex though, we don’t have to wait until we’re married to have sex, do we?”

“No. I mean, once we’re engaged, I expect us to hold off before the wedding, but that’s years away.”

“All this time, and I did not know that about you – you’re kinda old-fashioned, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Even still, I’d really like to have sex with you Sam, and soon.” I feel like it will make him officially mine.

“Me too,” he says reaching out to grab my hand, which feels nice. Always wanted him to reach out and hold my hand like this. It’s happened on accident, sure, but not with us deciding to be together. “I’ve never before, h-have you?”

“No. I saved myself for my someone special,” I tell him.

“Really? I thought you would have with—”

“—no one, Sam. I promise.” I don’t want anyone else in this conversation. This one is just for Sam and me.

“When you say things like that, my heart flutters wildly, Cas.” We stare into each other’s eyes. I wanna kiss him, but my dick is so hard, I don’t know I can control myself to only kiss him.

“Sammy, I gotta pee,” Dallas notifies his big brother, breaking up our moment.

Sam laughs. “Okay Dally. Let’s go find you somewhere. Um Cas do I gotta like, ask your permission to uh, leave you?”

Does he? “No. Just keep your cell phone handy.”

His nose wrinkles. “The cell phone. Yeah. Got it.”

We’re going to have issue with that at some point, aren’t we? But then I’ll get to spank him, and spanking Sam, unnnngh. I shouldn’t like that thought so much. I lay back again, as they walk off to find a washroom they can use, or a bush if they can’t, but this time I’m more settled. Maybe this will work out after all.

Later, we take Dallas back to the house, and Georgia insists she take care of everyone releasing Sam to be with me. I take his hand this time, keeping a firm grip on it, whisking him away.

His eyes worry under the brim of his cowboy hat. “What’s the matter?” I ask.

“I don’t think I should leave them too long, Cas.”

“You know I understand family responsibility Sam, but right now, could you focus on me? I won’t keep you away long.”

“I’m sorry, Cas. You’re right. Besides, we should talk about more things I bet.”

“There are a few things I have to talk with you about, but then I’d just like to enjoy you as my boyfriend. We haven’t done any of that yet.” It’s been all business, so far. We had one amazing kiss after he beat the shit out of me, and then it was him back to Colt-sitting, while I went home to get lamb-basted.

“I’d like that too, Cas.”

I take him in the direction of town. It’s a decent walk, but I’d like to buy him lunch or something. It’s not the first date I wanted to take him on, but it’s better than no date at all. As we walk, I talk. “There’s a rule, a strict Winchester one, you need to come to Sunday dinners Sam. No exceptions. My father will talk this one over with you, and if you agree, he will punish you if you miss without his permission.” I get nervous waiting for his answer. It’s hard to get Sam alone for a short afternoon, let alone every Sunday for the foreseeable future.

“Why your father?” He’s genuinely interested.

“We’re a Domestic Discipline family. My father is the head of my branch of the Winchester family,” I say proudly. “When Grandfather passes away, my father will be head of the entire family. Each head of house is responsible to the head of family, but we would most immediately be held accountable by my father. If you, or I disobey a blanket Winchester Way rule, he’d punish you for that as things are now.”

“I see. I have to be honest Cas, that one’s going to be hard, but I’ll talk to the family, and we’ll work it out. I may just have to accept that I will get, um punished for that one now and again.” Sam hands out punishment sometimes daily to his siblings, I’ve never seen him blush over the mention of it, but he is now. Interesting.

Logically I know this whole thing’s a process, but I just want to be grown up with Sam in a house of our own, with him obeying my rules and not telling me how he can’t fulfill them, which really agitates me.

He frowns. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’m doing my best.”

“I know you are, and everything will be fine. I’m just being impatient.”

“A bit. Anything else you need to discuss with me, um, sir?”

That brings a beautiful blush to his face again, and makes my cock strain. I feast on him with his eyes. “Very good, Sam. See? It’s all going to be fine.” I’m kinda saying that more for me. Of course Sam will be fine no matter what, but I’ll never forgive myself if I fuck this up with him. I squeeze his hand. “Just one more thing. I need to make you a curfew.”

That seems to be his breaking point. “I’ve never had a curfew, Cas. What’s the point in a curfew for me?”

I take a deep breath. “I know it must seem irrelevant to you, but it’s a submission thing.”

“Like, kinky stuff?”

“Under the belt of Winchester Way? No. It’s more militant. A submission to authority kind of thing. I submit to my father for example, to his authority. Having a curfew is a way of reminding your subconscious you answer to someone.”

“All right, lay it on me. What’s my curfew?” he asks and he’s kinda pouting. It’s a new look on Sam.

“Eleven pm, for weekends. Nine-thirty for school nights.”

“Cas! That’s not even as late as yours.”

“It can’t be the same as mine. I’m supposed to be your superior.”

“I feel like I’m giving a lot here, without some flexibility, Cas.”

We’re both quiet for several minutes, stewing. Why can’t he just obey me? “I would change it once we move into our own home,” I try.

“Gee, thanks Cas.”

“You’re getting real lippy.”

“The same as you Cas, or no deal,” Sam says.

“It’s not a negotiation, Sam. I make the rules and you follow them.”

He glares at me, and I think he’s deciding whether, or not I need to be punched in the face again. “A good leader garners his subordinates through respect. I’m willing to embark on this path with you, because I love you, and I can already see you need a lot of control Cas, but it’s not happening overnight. I’m willing to give you that – you make the rules and I follow them – but you can earn it from me some, and you can give me a little time to get used to things.”

I have nothing to say to that. He’s right of course, Sam usually is, but I’m no less frustrated. I don’t mean to be so quiet, but I spend most of our ‘romantic’ walk calming myself down. I really should be the one to say something next, but I can’t find the right words.

“I’m sorry for being harsh, Cassy. But look, between what you said earlier about me needing this, and feeling turned on by, you know, plus hearing about Winchester Way, and what’s expected of me, it’s a bit of a mountain to climb. I’m learning some things about me too here, and it feels big. Can you have some patience with me?”

Man, I’m an asshole and he should just leave me now. I’m not telling him that though. The thought of someone else with Sam drives me crazier than any of it. I stop us, so I can look into his eyes. “I can have patience. You’re not asking for anything unreasonable, and you’re right, Father says it all the time about leaders and respect. I’m being impatient, because of how I feel inside. I’m crazy about you, Sam.”

He smiles. “Patience goes both ways. Thank you for having patience with me. I can have equal patience with you.”

“I’m too overbearing. I know.”

“Lucky for you, I do know too and…”

“And what, Sam?”

“I like it. Yeah, I freaked out a bit, but I also, well there was this cool feeling inside I don’t quite know how to explain.”

I nod. “Yeah. I feel it too whenever I uh, whenever I’m overbearing,” I say a bit sheepish. He stares at me, oddly. “What?”

“That’s a need, Cas. It’s part of who you are, what you need.”

I wish he’d stop saying that. “I can be less overbearing. Know what? I concede your request, which is one hundred percent legal in the realm of Winchester Way. Your curfew’s the same as mine. How’s that for less overbearing?” I don’t tell him the part about how it grates on my nerves to make a concession like that.

He cocks his head to the side, considering me. “You sure, Cas?”

“Sure.” Bravely, I kiss his forehead. Knowing I get to kiss Sam as my boyfriend is fucking exciting, yet all I’ve been able to do is kiss him the once for real, and a peck on the forehead. Real smooth, Winchester.

“You’re a bad liar, Cas. What happened to the honesty thing?”

I’m already fucking this up. I put my head on his chest. “The truth is no, I don’t like it, okay? But you’re right, we need to work up to stuff, so I’m just going to have to chill the fuck out.”

“Right, because that sounds like you. Chill.”

“I could learn to be chill.”

“And a cactus could learn to be less prickly, but then it wouldn’t be a cactus. Look, Cas, I’m signing on for you, not who I want you to be. I want the full force of you. All of it. I think I’ve shown you I can’t be pushed around. Just give it to me straight, and we’ll work through it, okay?”

“Okay, but Sam what if you don’t like it, and leave me?”

“It’s too soon for me to make promises like I won’t leave you, but remember, I’m doing this knowing who you are, and I want to keep knowing who you are. That’s only fair.”

I nod.

“Unfortunately though, yeah, I need us to go just a little slower, okay? Look, got my cell phone,” he says pulling it from his pocket to show me. “I think I’ve got a plan worked out for coming to Sunday dinners, with the odd few I might have to ask your father permission to skip, and I’ll adhere strictly to my curfew, which is the same as yours. Can we work with that for now?”

“You’re forgetting something,” I remind him.

“Right. Can we work with that for now, sir?”

I smile and drum up the confidence to go in for a real kiss. His lips are buttery soft. “I’m amendable.”

“C’mon,” he says pulling on the brim of my hat. “I believe you promised me lunch, I’m hungry, and you’re buying me whatever I want.”

Sam starts off without me, and I take a moment to realize how fucking lucky I am. “Hey, hold up, Sam. No running off on me like that.”

He laughs, and I chase him into the diner thinking about how much I’d like to swat his ass for that.

Back to Present days. CAS: Thursday

When I return home from late work, I'm told Sam, Dean and Michael have already left for yoga. Jared and Jensen are playing on the floor with Jake, Christian on the floor with them flipping through the channels.

"Did everyone finish their homework?" I say.

"Ages ago," Jared says.

Jensen's quiet. "Jensen?"

"Not all of it, okay?"

"I seem to recall your grades slipping."

"They're not that bad."

"Is there something you're struggling with, son?"

"I needed a break."

I'm not surprised by his response. Jensen is intelligent, where he needs help is focusing his time. "It is not my wish to micro-manage you, but I will if necessary. Upstairs, working on your homework. Now."

He's not happy about it, but he slugs himself off the floor. "And I had better come up to find you working, or I'll be using your invitation to, what was it? Spank you all I want?" I can't resist. If you're going to say something like that around me…

Jared and Chris laugh. "How about I give this one a bath?" I say referring to Jake, "and you go take a breather with your husband?" I suggest.

"You wouldn't mind, Cas?" Even my younger brother's taken to calling me Cas on occasion these days. I wonder if I’m getting too soft.

"Not at all," I say scooping Jake up, who squeals. "You've been working hard, Christian. Lots of travel."

"Yeah, it's damn near killin' me Cas, and I miss that guy," he says referring to Jake.

"Can you take a little time off?"

"Yeah, Dallas and I talked about that. Big push this coming week, but by next, I can work from home a little, take some days off."

"Good, you do that. I'll bring him to you when he's bathed."

"Since Jensen's stuck doing homework, can I have a friend over?" Jared asks.

"It's nearly eight o'clock, that’s a pretty short visit. Not tonight. Why don't you phone them instead?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Don't kids prefer texting these days? I head off to the bath with Jake. "Can you say, Cas yet Jake? Caaaass?" I ask him while I run the bath, and undress him.

He tries, but it still sounds a lot like 'Cah" with a snake hissing after it. It's pretty adorable. I set him in the bath with toys, and roll up my sleeves. I'm still in my black work slacks, but removed my tie when I got home, undoing a couple of the top buttons.

This scene reminds me of when Dean was little, and I would come home late after work and give him baths. Jake is littler than Dean was, so I can't put as much water in the tub, but he can sit up well, and I can pour water on him and help him play with his toys. "What does the duck say?" I ask him, poking the plastic beak at his belly, getting him to peal with laughter. "Quack, quack, quack, quack!"

When he's all clean, I re-diaper him, and dress him in a soft, yellow onsie, which is when he starts rubbing his eyes. "I've got a tired little boy, haven't I?" I ask him.

He responds by laying his head down on my shoulder. I cart him off to Dallas and Christian's room. "He looks like a tired boy," Dallas says when I return him.

"Guess that make two tired boys for you."

"It does. I sent the other one to bed. He really is gonna take some time off, Cas. He promised me after this coming week."

If he lasts that long. "See to it he does."

When my son and husband stroll in the door, I've had the chance to change into some evening attire, trading out my slacks for a dark pair of jeans, and a polo shirt. "Hello husband, hello son," I say with a big smile, I missed them both today.

Sam lays a big kiss on me, looking blissed-out from his yoga class. Dean looks a little nervous. "Hey Papa," he says hugging me.

"Is something the matter?"

"Not the matter but, uh, well," he sighs. "Michael and I fought at school today, and on the way home, and into Angel Manor where we pissed off Gabriel, and he roasted us for being disruptive at school."

This isn't a newsflash to me, just like rain is wet, and the sun is hot, Michael and Dean fight. I have long since been working to guide them in my way.

I'm willing to be more lenient when they are home, but they must learn to conduct themselves appropriately when around others, especially at school. "And let me guess, Gabriel put you up to reporting to me?"

"Yeah, wow you're real smart, Papa."

"And you're real charming, but that's not going to save you."

"All right, all right. How do you want me?"

On occasion, my son sees fit to attempt to prescribe his own punishment. I know in part it's because he thinks he knows how I will punish him and is trying to help, and often he does, but regardless, he's supposed to wait until I tell him his fate. "In my office at eight am."

"What? Before school?"

"It seems to me that if you're going to misbehave in school, a before school reminder would be the perfect deterrent."


"—I'm going to stop you right there. You know how much I arbor arguing with punishment once it's handed out." That I'm reminding him of a rule he knows, speaks to my good mood. "So run along and enjoy your night Mr. Winchester, before you get a spanking now and before school."

"Yes, sir."

"Wise move," I say allowing the smile to return to my features. "C'mere troublemaker." I give him another squeeze. "Otherwise, I'm proud of you Dean. You're really pitching in for the family, and I notice your efforts."

"All in a Dean's Day's work," he says.

When he leaves, I pull Sam into my lap, which I've always been able to manage, even though he's so large. "We did good, Baby," I say.

"You're in a pleasant mood. I would expect far more tisking from you over our son's most recent escapades."

"I'm not concerned. Dean's showing maturity overall, we all muck up at times."

"Who are you?" Sam says.

"Do not misunderstand, that boy is getting a good spanking in the morning, but I do want to make sure I recognize him. The Winchester Way isn't just about spanking even if it's seemed to happen to him often."

"I know, Cassy. I'm teasing." He nuzzles his nose into my neck.

"What say you, we go up to bed early, get an early start on our vacation tomorrow?"

"I'm not fooled, you just need to spank someone."

"Course I do," I don't deny it, as I stand him up and tug on his hand. "Besides, you need it Baby."

Sam groans, but he follows where I lead, which is our bedroom. "Change into your pajama pants and get ready for bed," I tell him, as I do the same.

It's heading toward nine, which is not late, but I intend to pull at the last threads of our endurance. I've worked late, and he was just at yoga. I'm ready for him when he meets me at the bed. I've pulled out a simple wooden paddle. It's one I often reserve for when I want to be quick but efficient. These spankings aren't meant to be long, just firm reminders to his nervous system. In order to do that for Sam, it has to hurt a certain amount.

An amount of pain Sam doesn't like so much. He winces at the sight of the paddle. "Come," I demand.

"Cassy, my bum is sore. I could feel it all through yoga."

"Not sore enough if you're calling me Cassy right now."

"Sorry, Sir," he says upset with himself for forgetting.

I tug down his pants, and pull him over my lap to admire the redness and bruising there. He shivers delightfully when I run a hand over his tender cheeks. "I find I am in such a good mood, while it won't buy you out of extra for the lapse in appellation, if you can be my good boy for your spanking tonight, I'll give you a nice orgasm."

"I'll behave, Sir," he says.

Even after all these years those words from Sam make my hard cock jump. "This is going to hurt, my Sam, but it will be over quickly." I use the unforgiving wood to light up his tender backside, enjoying his yelps, and whimpers, which I know are for my benefit. Sam can be quiet when I want him to be, but more often I like to hear him, so he lets out what he might otherwise stifle.

I love watching the minor flinches and squeezes. Sam is well-practiced, but it's difficult for even him to hold still after so many spankings this week.

"Mother Fudge," he says after the final swat with my paddle, and I can't help laughing, as I pull him up. His eyes are alight with happiness, and he looks even more relaxed than he did after yoga. "I already can't sit, Cas." He's pouting, and it's adorable.

"Maybe I'll let you use a pillow," I say as arrange him on the bed, so his ass is up, and his pajama pants are just low enough to expose his red ass for me. I kneel behind him, and lick my tongue between his cheeks.

"Unnngggh, Cassy. Please," he says trying to spread his cheeks wider, but the pajama pants will only let him so far.

I circle his hole with my tongue, and then suck, alternating between the two until Sam's panting and desperate. "Cassy, please will you stick your cock in me?"

"That can be arranged, but first lube." I slide a lubed finger into his ass. "Fuck my finger, Baby," I tell him. Sam, ever aiming to please makes a show of sitting back then pulling forward. I help by pushing in and down, twisting, as he gets into it with desperate moans.

I line up my cock with his ass, and sink in, taking a moment to let him feel the full weight of me inside him – it's one of Sam's favorite things – before I slide out and then in again.

Sam clutches the bed sheets for dear life as I fuck him sweetly. "Ahhh, oh God, Cas. Please, yes. Yes, yes, yes!"

Even without seeing his face, Sam's beautiful when he climaxes. I feel a bit like a clumsy lion having taken my lioness, and my orgasm appears to have taken all of my reserve energy. I collapse beside him, panting.

"Oh my God, Cas, that was… I needed that."

I stare at him in awe. I don't know what I did to deserve this man, but I'm glad I did, and as am ever grateful for our beautiful life together. I find his hand and intertwine mine with his large one. "I love you, Sam."

"Love you too, ya big lion."

We laugh. "If you're going to be so appetizing, I'm gonna eat." As I'm kissing him, already thinking about a round two, there's a knock on the door. With more children in the house, there are more knocks on the door than before. We realize we had it easy with just Dean. "Can we pretend we're not here?" I say.

"I'll answer," he says pushing at my shoulder, and pulling up his pajama bottoms gently. I lay back and admire the view of the 'V' of his pelvis dipping into his low slung pants. Sam has great abs, and his muscles have remained long and lean with all the yoga he does.

He opens the door, and it's our son. "Dean?"

"Daddy, the twins won't go to bed, and I'm not dealing with them tired in the car tomorrow."

"Did you threaten to spank them?" Sam says.

"Not this time, but I have!" he says quickly. "Before, I mean. I just – every time Daddy?"

"You have to be consistent, sweetheart. You want my help?"

"No, I – I think I got this. Papa busy?"

I'm not, and I always have time for my son, but Dean you need to learn your parents are humans too, at some point. But when I see his face I, well not tonight I suppose. "What ails you my dear son?"

"Are you mad at me? For the Michael thing? I feel unsettled, Papa."

Because I haven't spanked him yet, but that spanking will do far more for him when I give it to him in the morning. "Come here my boy." I've long since pulled up my pajama bottoms, but I spread the duvet comforter down, so he can lay on something clean. “Are you exhausted with them?"

"Just a bit. I love them, but they're getting on my last nerve."

"I can understand that."


I laugh, and pull him to me. "I love you too. I can go get them into bed for you. That's not actually your job." It's my job, and under ordinary circumstances, I would already be racing across the house to tell them where their butts better be, but I know my son is trying to make me proud, stepping up any way he can, learning his way through.

"I know, Papa. Could I try one more time before you come do your thing? I can do it, I just needed a little confidence boost, and a time out. Besides, if I can't do it now, what about when you're not here?"

"As usual, you make valid points, Mr. Winchester. All right, but you're to come get me if the mission fails."

"I will, sir. Meanwhile, Papa? Can you give me one of those hugs? You know the one."

I do. My family has come to depend on me for a particular kind of comfort, a kind I'm proud to provide for them. It's solidness, wrapped in safety. He's already made himself comfortable curled into my side, so I pull him to me tighter, and squeeze. I rest my lips on his crown and enjoy the hug too. Maybe he'll reach a day he won't need me for them anymore.

"Thanks, Papa," he says. "I'm good now."

When he leaves, Sam's staring after him, his lips twisting a bit. "What's the matter, darling?"

"Do you see what I see, or am I crazy?"

Sam and I have known each other for a million years, we've been together almost since we began our lives. As a result, we don't always need to say everything to know what the other is thinking. "You're not crazy. I see it too. He talks like him now, just a hint of it, enough that it's the perfect blend not to make my heart ache for the loss of him." Him is Old Dean.

Sam turns around, he smiles with tears in his eyes. "Mine too. I think they did blend some, Cassy."

"C'mere, Baby." Sam needs one of my special hugs. "No more children tonight," I say when he's in my arms.

He laughs. "As if that's something we can control, Cas."

No, it isn't, but if I say it out loud, I hope the universe will obey me. "Maybe not, but if they do, they'd better knock. I'm planning on having my cock deep inside you again, Baby." I wipe at his tears with my thumb. Some of us aren't completely over the events that happened over the summer. I start by sucking on his neck, which he loves.

"Cas," Sam says starting to pant already.

I smile at him devilishly. "Be still my love, while I feast on you again."

~CAS: Friday Morning~

"Come in."

Dean is prompt, which bodes well for him. His eyes move to the wooden paddle I have on my desk. It's the shape of a small Ping-Pong paddle. "Please have a seat, son."

Dean sits, crossing the ankle of his right foot, onto the knee of his left leg. His eyes are big, with a touch of worry in them. He interlaces his fingers and sets his hands on top of his foot. "You can relax, Dean. I am spanking you, but you're not in a lot of trouble."

"But that thing—"

"—is sharp and stingy?"

"Yeah." His worry shifts to disgruntled.

"Yes I know, which means it will be a good reminder for you. Speaking of which, remind me why I'm reminding you." I cross my arms and lean against my desk in front of him. I haven't forgotten, but Dean's had the night to think about it, and he knows by now I will ask. Include the lecture from Gabriel, and Lord, I hope Dean gets why his and Michael's behavior was inappropriate by now.

He sighs. "We were super immature throughout the halls of our school, which isn't cool. I am sorry, Papa. I wasn't thinking of anyone really, just us. Michael and I do have that bad habit, I suppose."

"It's okay to be wrapped up in your partner, but you do have to be conscientious of those around you. In general, you two need to learn a more emotionally intelligent way to have explosive fits of passion. You two often say particularly cutting things to the other, I'm getting the impression this time was no different?"

I can tell he's not proud of the answer he has to give. "No, sir. We weren’t nice to the other, me more so than Michael. Actually, me the most. I was, ugh, I can't believe I have to say this out loud. I was trying to brat my way into a spanking, but I came out as part asshole. It's a whole thing Michael and I have to talk about today."

I nod. "I'm glad to hear you'll be talking about that." We all noticed, but Dallas asked to be the one to get to say something. “For now, with me Mr. Winchester.”

“Ohhh! Are you sure you want to do this?” he says following me to the long black leather couch. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

“You learn nothing without it being drilled into via something to your bare bottom, Dean Winchester.” The only reason I’m not scolding him for trying to wheedle his way out of this spanking, is because I know he doesn’t really mean it. Dean knows he needs this spanking, just as much as I do.

He opens his pants for me, and I pull them down along with his boxers. Once he’s over my knee, I lock his legs in place with one of my legs over both of his. “Papa!” he complains. He knows what’s coming, and from all the protesting, I know he needs a little more.

I give him a hard whack with my hand to tell him what I think about his protesting. “You need to start showing a little decorum young man,” I say sounding way too much like my father. Having Dean has shown me why he says stuff like that. I swear, I give the boy an inch, he takes a mile. I start in with some more from my hand, giving him a more grown up spanking, which is less forgiving on the bottom than the kind of less grown up spanking I’d give the twins. “You’re growing up, I expect you to start acting like an adult Dean. That means in public and in this house too. I’m proud of your efforts, but disapprove of this kind of behavior. When you’ve misbehaved, you accept the consequences that’s always been non-negotiable in this house.”

His cheeks are quickly getting red, and I can feel the tension in his legs. “Y-yes, sir.” He’s already sniffling some, he hates when I’m this put out with him, but if it will help him learn, so be it.

I pick up my paddle, and give him a nice, hefty, whack. “Tell me about how you’re going to conduct yourself at school in future?”

There are tears, and a couple of breathless moments, while Dean tells me about how he plans to conduct himself in future, and I do a good job impressing upon him with my paddle that he had better; by the end of it, Dean is thoroughly chastised. “D-Do you want me in the corner, sir?” he says with a sniffle, pulling up his pants.

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you for asking.” I stand and pull him to me.

“That was some spanking Papa, but yeah, I both deserved and needed it,” he admits, squeezing me.

That brings a tear to my eye, and I get a wave of Sam Brand nostalgia. It wasn’t so very long ago, Dean was a pouty boy about spankings, a lot like Jensen can be now. He’s growing up and it will always be too fast for me, but he needs too. “All right, you’d better go in time to get some breakfast, or I’ll be hearing about it from Daddy.”

“Yes, sir.”

I pretend I have something to do, but I don’t, not really. I walk over to the shelf where my ‘Werld’s Greatest Papa’ mug still sits, and pick it up. If only we could go back for just a day here and there. But we can’t, so I settle for remembering a mischievous little boy, who looked up to his papa like he was Hero of the World.

~Friday Night in Whistler, Canada~

By the time Sam and I arrive, he’s looking forward to being away. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” he admits.

“I did.”

“It is your job to know these things,” he teases.

I pull him in for a kiss. I’ve brought him to the Fairmont Hotel in the upper village, the fanciest hotel in Whistler in my opinion. We’re a few weeks early for the first of ski season, but the air is still crisp with the smell of Winter on the horizon. It’s late, but the restaurants are still open at least long enough to feed us a quick meal. “Let’s get up to our room, and change, I’ve got reservations at Umberrto’s.”

Sam is beautiful. I can’t help my jealousy with all the eyes on him as we are seated in the restaurant, but I get it, he really steals the room with both his good looks, and charisma. I order us a nice bottle of red from the warm Australian server. “Wow, Cassy. That’s a really nice bottle.”

I smile. “We’re celebrating, tonight.”

“What we celebrating?”

“Us, of course. And our new life. The summer was hard, we made it, and we’re a couple months into yet a new chapter of our lives.”

“It’s been interesting. My younger brothers our sons,” he says smiling.

“Is it ever, weird for you?”

“I thought it would be, but it’s not. You know how much I took care of them before anyway, and the Modlenol seems to have made them even younger than before somehow. It’s like they need me more. I can’t help it, Cas, I like it. A lot. I’m not ready to have an empty nest.”

“Things worked out as they should have then.”

“What about you? Is it weird for you?”


He laughs. “I should know better. You just see chaos that needs sorting and you dive in, doesn’t matter who it is.”

“Yes.” I’m a full-on kind of guy. I adopt you as my son, you’re my son. I don’t muck around in the grey areas of that.

“And Dean. He’s really stepping up. He wants your approval so badly.”

“Dean always gets my approval,” I say as the server gets me to taste the wine. I do, and give him the signal to pour. I order for us; I know what Sam likes, he loves it when I order for him.

“He does, but it’s like he’s worried he’ll lose it.”

“He never would overall, but I do disapprove of some of his behaviors,” I say holding up my glass to cheers with Sam, and taking a sip. “I also don’t approve of—”

Sam’s laughter cuts me off. “You always love him, you sometimes disapprove of him Cas.”

I twist my lips. “You’re right, but I’m his father.”

“You are. Someone has to disapprove of us all sometimes. You’re his ‘no’ person, Cas. It’s good for him. We can’t grow only being surrounded by ‘yes’ people,” he reminds me. “There’s no one better than you, and he counts on you for that.”

“There’s a price to being the bad cop,” I point out.

“True, but you don’t mind. Greater reward I think,” he says sipping his wine.

He’s right, I don’t mind. I love my role. It suits me.

“Everything you’ve done has made Dean thrive. You’re doing the same with Jensen,” he says. “I’ve noticed. Mama and Daddy, they’re phenomenal parents, but they were always two that could have used more structure in my opinion. I’m pretty sure Jensen squeaked by in high school the first time, and Jared wasn’t nearly the bookworm he is now. Not saying that’s everything to being a success in life, it just shows how different they are this time, and how structure’s affected them.”

“I would like for them to go to a good school, and get a good job. You know I will require it.”

“And if they run off to be hunters?”

“I have a new policy on that.”


“Hunt at your own risk. Papa will spank you for it.” This summer was the last my heart could take.

“I am more than fine with that policy,” he says brushing hair out of his eyes. “I just think our house full of hunter children will disagree at some point.”

“Let them. I know the rest of Team Adult agree with me.”

“Team Adult? I see you’ve caught onto Dean’s terminology.”

“It’s apt.”

He reaches across to grab my hand smiling at me as our salads arrive. “I love you, so darn much Cas, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says.

I shake my head. “No. It’s me that wouldn’t know what to do without you, Baby. I am saved by the fact you exist.”


When we make it back to the hotel room, it’s later than late, but I’m still taking my husband. When he’s undressed, and in his white hotel robe, I pounce him, tackling him to the bed. “Do you know you’re mine, pretty boy?” When Sam and I were younger I said that a lot.

He laughs. “I think you’d better show me, Stud.”

I’m naked, I open up his robe to reveal him, and trace my fingers over his hard body. Somehow, it’s always like the first time with Sam. “Remember when we were kids?”


“You used to make me so nervous,” I tell him.

“I know, and I’ll never understand it. We spent every day together, not to mention, you didn’t seem nervous.”

“My tough guy act,” I say kissing down his body. “I knew you needed a strong character to wrangle you.” I kiss my way into the crevice of his groin, one of Sam’s sensitive spots. You want to make Sam a needy boy, you play here for a while.

“You gonna make me beg for it, Cassy?”

I can hear the alcohol in his voice. “Don’t I always?” I suck a nice hickey and enjoy his moaning as I mark him. “Tell me a story, about when we were younger,” I say as I continue my dirty work.

“Evil fudging, Sadist,” he mutters.

“Excuse me?” I arch a brow at him.

“Actually, there is a time I was thinking about tonight. Remember when… mmmmm, remember when I was in college, and Luca Bryant couldn’t get it through his thick skull I was married?”

I’m not exactly proud of what I did, but I can’t say I would have done things differently could I go back in time. “In my defense, I did try talking to him initially.”

Sam giggles. “I know. I think he deserved that punch in the face.”

“He did, but maybe not the other punches that came later.”

“Maybe not.”

“Why you telling me this story, Baby? You trying to make me jealous?”

“And if I am?”

“It’s working.” It’s taken me a long time to get to a place where I respond and not react when it comes to people doing stuff to Sam, which is why I’m so hard on Dean for his outrageous behaviors, I don’t want him suffering the same consequences I’ve had to because of mine.

“I just, it’s kinda hot when you go all caveman.”

“You know well that if we were cavemen, I would have no issues dragging you by your hair into my cave, take you, and then never let you out again.” I start sucking on his perineum.

“Cas, please.”

“Begging so soon, my love?”

“Please,” he moans again.

“Unfortunately for you, you won’t be coming until tomorrow. I’ve got something special planned.”


“Complain all you like. You’re for me tonight, and you’ll give yourself to me.” Sam complains, but he fucking loves when I make him suffer for me.


“Yeah, Baby?”

“What would you do to me, if we were Cave People, and you had me back at your cave, huh?”

“Well tonight is for me fucking this beautiful ass of yours as many times as I want, which I suppose counts in that, but tomorrow, I’ll show you.”

Sam is a good boy as I take him over and over again, edging him, and then finally milking his prostate, so he’ll have more for me in the morning. He’s floating like a cloud by the time I’m done with him, and have him wrapped in my arms ready for sleep.


I order us room service for breakfast, the whole while Sam’s smiling with smirk of an idea. He doesn’t want to say it though. When the room service comes, I head over to receive it, since I’ve ordered Sam naked. When I push the cart in, Sam is draped across the bed, playing with the sheets. “All right Sam, out with it.”

“I want to make you jealous.”

Sam ducks his head after the look I give him. “That is a bad idea, Samuel.”

“Maybe… maybe in past, Cas. But I think you could handle it now, and that it would be so hot.”

“How do you know I won’t kill someone?”

“You have too many children at home who depend on you not to go to jail. Besides, the angle I’m going for it, um, it’s misbehaved husband. It would be me who takes the fall, not anyone else involved.”


“Yeah, look. I know we don’t scene like this, but I’d never do something like this without you being on board, and I know even if you do say yes, which it’s not looking like, it’s more a yes, but with a dare to actually follow through, because you don’t like it. I know the trouble I’d get into would be real, but because you’re onto it, it won’t wound you like if I just went ahead and did it. Plus, the sex would be legendary.” He can’t look me in the eyes.

“Are you saying you want to brat?”

“Yeah? I think so? Sorta? You said you wanted to bring me up here for me, and look if you really can’t do this, I’ll accept that like I always do. Whatever you have planned will work for me too, it always does, and I trust in that, but I, Cas I want you to just—”

“—lose control?”

“Yeah,” he breathes and he’s really fucking turned on. If I couldn’t already see his cock, I’d still know it. “I think it would be good for you too. Remember the sex we had after Luca Bryant? It was terrifying.”

“Sam no, that even scared me.”

“I want that Cas, and I know you’d never even consider it, which is why I’m bringing it up at all.”

I consider everything he’s saying, and combine it with what’s been going on with him. He needs to lose some control to get some control, to feel controlled by me. “How do you know I won’t simply consider this an act of disobedience, and whip nice lines onto the back of your legs?” Sam hates that.

“You might, and I considered that. I’ll accept punishment for it like I would anything else, but I hope that will show you how much I had to ask that I’m willing to risk a punishment I really hate.”

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you Baby?” I lay in front of him, on the bed.

He bites his lip and nods his head quickly. I take his hand. I’m going to regret this aren’t I? Lord help me, I can’t deny him much of anything. “I’m not going to give my hearty consent, but I’m also not going to forbid it. You do so at your own risk. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, but he doesn’t look at apprehensive about it as I feel he should be.

“For now, I think you should get to work thanking me for such generosity. I have breakfast to eat, if you do a good job sucking my cock, perhaps I’ll save something for you.”


I take Sam to Scandinave Spa. It’s a quiet place where you’re not allowed to talk, so we bring books. There are cold pools, saunas, hot pools and hammocks. The idea is you plunge yourself in a cold pool, and then a hot one. This form of hydrotherapy is an age-old Finnish tradition, dating back thousands of years releasing tension in your body and mind, even activating lymph to help detox. I figured Sam would love it, and he does getting stoked all the way over in the rental car.

“Cas, Cas, Cas! People don’t realize how much they actually do need to help their liver with detox, especially since estrogens are a problem for both men and women. This is perfect. Thank you, so much!” He’s giddy.

Good. Hopefully he’ll forget all about his make-me-jealous nonsense. He wants me to be a caveman, I’m sure I could pull it off without the antics. With Sam, I’m pretty much a caveman all the time.

When we’re in the spa, we head over to the first pool, and I slip out of my robe. “Good idea,” Sam says. I’m shocked to discover, Sam’s not wearing a shirt. I give him my darkest glare, the one that tells him he’s in so much trouble, but Sam’s non-pulsed, leaving his robe on a hook, book on the bench, and jumps into the pool.

The pool covers him for the most part, but it’s too late, people are staring at him. Sam tends to draw attention, because he’s the most divine thing most people will ever see. I hop in the pool and wade over beside him. “Sam,” I hiss.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to talk,” Sam says pointing to the sign. Yes, he’s being cheeky.

I will spank him in this spa.

In the end I don’t speak up about Sam’s misbehavior, because Sam’s doing this make me-jealous-thing, and while I am riled, it’s not to the level he was talking. I do want this to be worth his while, so I wait to see what he’ll do to make me caveman-level-jealous.

He remains half-naked for the hot pool, but when he tries to remain half-naked on the long lounge chair by the fire to read his book, I hand him his robe with an expectant glare that clearly says, put this on now. Sheepishly, he takes it and puts it on as I tie my robe up, and continue to give him what Dean calls my spanking eyes.

When Sam hides behind his book, I see that he’s right. This is fun. I do like a chastised Sam. He’s not as bold when he wants to go off to the pools again. He leans over. “Um, sir? I was going to go back in the pool,” he whispers.

“I see, and you think you’re getting my permission like that do you?”

“No,” he sighs.

He’ll have to go without it, which he does, but I can tell it’s not easy for him. Sam and I have been at this a long time. By this point, disobeying for someone like Sam is probably harder than being a good boy. He heads off, while I watch him from afar for a bit. He’s less confident taking off his robe than he was the first time, now that he knows while I’ve given him a longer leash, it’s not that much longer.

When I get tired of other men and women oogling him, I join him to in the least, stake my claim. Sam doesn’t even try to engage in the rest area without his robe this time, and I interlace my hand in his, as he closes his eyes to rest.

“That was naughty, Samuel,” I say when we get back to the car a little while later.

“But was it enough to elicit Caveman Cas?” he says. He knows it wasn’t.

“No. Let’s go for lunch,” and see what other torture he has planned for me. “I thought I was the sadist here?”

“Believe me, you are, Cassy. Scary too. I thought you were going to spank me in the spa.”

“There were a few close calls,” I admit.

I take him to Barefoot Bistro, for some afternoon oysters, and some drinks of the non-alcoholic variety. For what I have planned for him later, he needs all his wits about him. Sam excuses himself to use the washroom, seeming like my well-behaved boy again. When he returns, he takes a sip of his Pellegrino, looking too happy. What is my boy up to? I don’t have long to wait.

The server is handsome, and like just about everyone who works in Whistler, has an accent. This guy’s tall, and very Scottish. “Well, who have we got here?” he says right to Sam.

“I’m Sam, and this is my husband, Cas.”

“Husband? You’re too pretty to be married, darlin’. What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a martini,” Sam says.

I interrupt. “No martinis, we’re good with the sparkling water. A dozen oysters please, and we’ll each have the steak, medium rare.”

Now I’m a little more riled, and staring directly at my husband, who’s starting to get uncomfortable – he’s very turned on – and trying not to smile. Tension is building, and I feel that thing inside me, the one I try to keep a tight lid on being fueled like gasoline on a fire.

“Drink your water, and be quiet, Samuel,” I snap quietly when the server leaves.

He lets his smile break free, and does as told, mostly. He drinks his water, but he is not quiet. “You know I love when you take control like that.”

Something occurs to me. “Have I not been?”

“You do Cas. Always, but understandably your attention has been on the kids, and adjusting to a much larger household. There hasn’t been quite enough to scratch my itch.”

“And here I thought I was being so strict with you,” I say.

“Recently,” he says. “And that’s been good, but I needed to release—”

“—misbehave,” I correct him.

“I need to misbehave some. This is fun, even if I’m going to pay for it later.”

“We’ll see how fun you think it is when I have you tied up uncomfortably.”

He shivers. “You’re not quite how I want you yet, but you’re getting there.”

My eyes darken. What more does he want? At this rate, he won’t be leaving my sight a good long while. I may even tie him up every night when we’re home. “I’m starting to think I’m no longer in charge. Something I intend to correct.”

“Warmer, but not quite.”

“You’re really crusin’, Sam.”

He laughs. Laughs! He won’t laugh later. You don’t taunt a sadist. Sam knows better. When the server returns, I think I might kill them both. In addition to being tall he’s broad shouldered, and his Scottish accent leans to Highlander, all things that are Sam’s type. I know all about his crush on Sam Hueghan. Smoothly, he smiles at Sam in a suggestive way. “So, where you from?” Sam asks. Flirtatiously.

What the fuck, Sam? Okay, okay fine. He wants me to sit back and let him do this. He wants to play? I can play. I let the caveman settle into me, but it’s not exactly a caveman, it’s more like an otherworldly creature. It doesn’t feel like the lion that often comes out when I claim him, in fact, it’s not an animal at all. I feel like what it might be like to be an angel of the lord.

I’ve spent enough time with angels to know they’re not the sweet, harp-strumming visions they’re made out to be, and actually, if you pay enough attention to the bible, the bible doesn’t make them out to be such creatures either. They are missionaries from God. Soldiers.

That’s what this part of me is. A righteous darkness, too lush and delicious to enjoy all the time, but right now? I descend.

I lean back and assess the situation from new eyes. Sam was right. I can control this, until I decide to let it go, and I will, on him. I won’t maul the beautiful server, but I am going to maul Sam later, and lock him up tight until he understands he’s never going anywhere, because that’s what he’s doing right now, straying. I start letting him know he’s mine now though. Owning someone in what Sam and I do, isn’t just a physical thing. It’s something embodied that you can feel deep down to your core. It’s a look, a word, a sensation rather than just me having Sam locked up on a leash by my side.

It also has to be maintained, and I can see I’ve been lax in my duties. I deserve this as a reminder, so I take the lesson sipping in each breath of Sam’s flirtations with another man, letting it be the gasoline that fuels me. I also put the pressure on Sam with my confidence alone. Confidence is threatening in and of itself, without meaning to be. So that’s all I do, exude confidence with an edge of danger to signal to Sam he’s got what he wanted. I lean back, cross my ankle onto my thigh, and interlace my hands under my chin, elbows resting on my knee, and observe.

Sam notices, and falters while talking to the server.

When the server leaves, winking at my husband, Sam’s nervous and can’t look back to the server, or me for that matter once the server is gone. “Uh, um, maybe we should take our food to go?” he says.

I shake my head. “No. We’re going to eat here, and I think you should keep talking to… what was his name?”

He swallows. “Rupert.”

“Yes, keep talking to Rupert, boy.”

That’s enough to ruffle his feathers, and so he does talk to Rupert every time Rupert returns to bring us this, or that, but it takes every ounce of his courage to do so. Sam forgot. He forgot that once he’s turned this on, he loses any input into the situation I might have offered previously. We do this my way.

Rupert leaves again to help some of his other guests. “Uh, really Cas. We can go now.”

“Cas? No, we’re not ready yet.” My boy would never call me Cas.

“Um, so I’m going to go to the um, the uh, the washroom?” he states more like a question.

I shake my head. “Ask me. With manners, or you can hold it ‘till we get back.”

It’s hard to make Sam blush after all these years – the things I’ve made him do – but that does it. “May I go pee, sir?” he whispers.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” I say letting my sadist run. “You’ll have to say it a little louder.”

Of course I’m not suggesting he shout it, I wouldn’t lecture Dean on being disruptive in public, only to do the same myself on purpose, but even Sam saying it at a regular decibel will be enough. Someone might hear him, but it’s unlikely. He struggles with that one, and my itch is scratched. He has to look around, and gather some courage. “May I go pee, sir?”

I answer with a curt nod, and smile satisfied as I watch him walk away.

When Sam returns, he seems to have new defiance about him. “What’s with the smile, Samuel?”

“Bumped into Rupert on the way out of the washroom. Know what he thinks? He thinks I’m the hottest thing he’s ever seen.”

“Rupert is correct, you are the hottest thing he’s ever seen.” I speak smoothly, each of my words lined with promise of what’s to come. I think I’m reaching my limit of all I can hear or see about Rupert.

When Rupert returns, this time he leans a little too closely into Sam, and Sam reaches out to touch him while he laughs at one of Rupert’s jokes. That’s what finally breaks me. I shell some money out of my wallet. “That ought to cover our bill. Sam,” I say reaching across the table to make a barrier between him and Rupert, and simultaneously yank him up. Rupert jumps back, and Sam turns to wave and wink at him as I drag him out of the restaurant.

Nobody dares get in our way with the look on my face, and power coming off me. I’ve still got a bruising grip on Sam’s wrist, and even with his long legs, he has to walk fast to keep up to me. I storm through the Lower Village with him, making our way to Upper Village and our hotel. When we are in our in the privacy of our hotel room, I slam him into the wall, at the same time I’m slamming the door shut. “You’re going to pay for all of that, Samuel,” I say and leave him to remove my jacket and throw it on the bed.

Sam knows better than to move, so he remains where I’ve left him as I heave over to the closet to gather the bag of items I brought. I noticed the bulge in his pants though, he might be a little scared, but he’s more turned on. Just what he wanted. “I don’t have to ask you if you know what I do to boys who misbehave as egregiously as you have today, do I? You know the rules.”

“You don’t have to ask me sir, I know the rules.” He’s having a hard time looking at me.

“Take off your clothes, everything. I want you kneeling, and wondering what I’m going to do to you.” Even though I know it was a farce in that Sam would never leave me for beefy Rupert, his flirtations were real. I admit to my jealousy. It’s one of the weaker points of my character. Winchester jealousy is legendary. I can’t handle anyone looking at Sam, let alone touching him. It makes me want to lock him away and throw away the key. That’s what my irrational mind says anyway.

Sam is quick shedding his clothes. His beautiful body, the one that belongs to me is on display, his hard cock proud and bobbing while he kneels for me by the door in the perfect way he does. His hands are clasped behind his back, arms straight, which is no easy feat if you have tight shoulders, but Sam’s are mobile from all of his yoga. This lifts his chest as proud as his cock, into the air. Each of his ten toe pads touch the ground, and his knees are spread open. I lay some things on the bed, and then I bring a collar over to him, attaching it around his neck.

Then I grab him by the hair and lift his head aggressively, so his eyes meet mine. “You were right, Sam, this is going to be fun there’s something I’ve been wanting to do to you a long while, but you’re always such a good boy. You weren’t good today though, were you?”

“N-No, sir.”

“No. To the bed.”

Sam crawls to the bed, and kneels before it. His eyes go wide when he sees what I’ve got for him. “Originally, I was going to make sure you had plentiful orgasms, but I can see that is not what you need. What you need to is to be mine.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stand up, Samuel. Spread your legs as wide as you can, hands stay behind your back, clasp wrists.” From there I take some pretty purple rope, the hemp kind, which is coarser, and itchier than nylon (when Sam complains I’ll simply remind him of how much better it is for the environment) and tie his wrists together. I take the long end of the rope, bring it up his back and bring it across his chest to his opposite arm pit.

When I’m done, Sam’s got rope that crosses just under the base of his neck and across and under each arm pit. It’s then looped over top of the crease of his biceps, securing his arms tightly to his torso. The rope is then circled both around the base of his ribs three times, making a band there, and above to include his arms.

Sam’s hard and leaking by the time I’ve finished that much of it. “I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere now, will you?”

“No, sir.”

Sam’s legs are still spread wide, which was mostly for my viewing pleasure, but I also have plans. “Keep your legs spread, and show me your hole, Baby.”

It’s tiring to stand in such a position, and it’s an exposing one. Sam’s got a lot of endurance though, and I plan to run him through his paces. I open a bottle of lube, and generously apply it to his pretty pucker, slipping my finger inside. “Oh god, sir. Please.”

“So soon? You’re in big trouble if that’s the case, Samuel.” I don’t get to tie him up like this often anymore. I use simpler techniques, ones easier to get out of, or to cut out of should a kid knock on the door.

I enjoy the feel of slick and skin, as I slide my finger into his ass, and then out teasing the sensitive skin of his perineum, with enough pressure his prostate can enjoy the massage. I have him moaning, and whimpering, and I’ve barely done anything. “This is going to be agony, Baby.”

Sam lets go a pitiful moan, feeling somewhat sorry for himself. “It already is, sir.”

“Don’t want that. Let’s make it hurt, shall we?”

Keeping him in position, I move him, do his chest can line on the bed. “Close your legs tight. Wouldn’t want anything to catch on my strap, now would we?”

I think I hear him grumble something about evil sadists, but I pretend not to hear him for now. “This is going to hurt, Sam,” I warn him picking up my heavy strap from beside him where I’ve placed it on the bed. “Use your best breathing, Baby.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Getting the backs of his thighs strapped is one of the things Sam likes the least, which is why it’s one of his punishments. “I told you it would be a bad idea to test my patience when it came to making me jealous,” I say rubbing his still marked backside.

“I think you did well, sir. Rupert was more my type than Luca.”

“Really?” I give him five unforgiving whacks from my leather strap.

“Ah! Ow! Ahhh-owwwww! Ahhh! Ahhhhhrrrrgggh!”

“Not acceptable, Sam. None of it. You want to feel my wrath? You got it.”

Sam cries miserably as I draw gorgeous lines all the way down his legs, even to his ankles. I take breaks to soothe him, coo at him, and tell him what a good job he’s doing for me. I also get him to spread his legs as I play some more with his hole, and make him cry in a different way. When I get him to close his legs again that’s when the begging starts. music to a sadist’s ears.

“Sir, please. Please! No more. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“I don’t think you understand. You let the entire spa see you mostly naked, and you paraded around like you were an unowned boy, probably enjoying the looks you were getting.”

“I… I—”

“—the truth, Sam, or I can do this aaaaalllll day.” I really can. My cock is hard, and weeping in my pants. I love every flinch, every cry, every mark my strap leaves. I’m sweating, so hard I’ve had to remove my shirt.

“I did enjoy misbehaving, sir, well until now and that, that thing! But the only eyes I’ll ever really enjoy on me, are yours, sir.”

It’s a little hard for me to be a mean, evil, sadist when he says stuff like that. Only a little though, and under usual circumstances. Not this time. The creature side of me wins. “I do appreciate your sentiments, but your misbehavior’s going to cost you more than a mild strapping. You want to play like that, fine. You had your fun, now it’s my turn. Close. Your. Legs.”

“Oooh!” But that’s all the complaining he does. He closes his legs tightly, and endures several more rounds of strapping, and me fondling him. By the time I throw the strap down, he’s a mixture of horny and painful, and flying pretty high.

“When’s the next time you plan to do what you did today?” I ask him.

“Ugh, how about never, sir? Never.” He’s got beautiful tears streaming down his face, but somehow manages relaxed and content.

“You’re starting to sound like my good boy, but I’m not done with you.”

“No please. No more of that thing, sir. I never want to see that thing again.”

“That depends entirely on your behavior. If I even see you look at Rupert again, I’m adding to what you have now, but for today, that’s the last you’ll see of my strap. I have something else in mind.”

“Thank the good lord,” he says under his breath, but I hear him.

I pick up the next item beside his head and some more rope. The hook has a larger bulb on the end than is comfortable for Sam. It’s not what he’s used to, and it won’t be comfortable for him, especially not with burning thighs. I loop the rope into the eye hole at the top of the hook, and then tie it into the D-ring at the back of his collar. I only leave just enough slack so it will reach his entrance.

He’s nice and open for me after having spent a good long while with fingers and some thick toys up there over the past hour, and it will slide in with a little guidance, but I’ll need Sam’s help. “Arch your back, Baby.”

He does with a whimper, as I pull on the rope and gently guide the bulbous part into his ass. Knowing Sam as I do, I know he mega turned on right now, and aching with need, even though this is uncomfortable for him. When it’s finally seated inside of him how I want it, I know any amount of movement from him will move the bulb against his prostate, making it increasingly harder for him to hold his orgasm back, which he’s not allowed. Movement will also increase the discomfort. There’s enough rope left over for me to thread it underneath him, and tie it around his arms and torso, so that him moving his arms will also affect the bulb in his ass.

“Comfortable, Baby?”

“Not even a little bit, sir,” he says in a strained voice.

“Perfect. I’m just going to suck on your nuts, you don’t mind, do you?”

“Noooo! No! Sir, please. Nooooo.”

“God I love your begging.” I kneel down in front of his freshly strapped legs. “Spread’em, Samuel.”

Even careful as he is, he jostles the bulb inside of him. “Mmmmhhhh, ah!”

Sam might be begging, but he’s not swearing yet, so as much as he is suffering, it could be more, and with where my tastes are right now, there’s a level of desperation I’m going to have to pull from him before I even think about fucking him. I lick at his balls, sucking them into my mouth, and he can’t hold still, which means he disrupts the bondage. “Please, please, I’m gonna come sir… I’m gonna… ahhhhh!”

“Why didn’t you say? No coming allowed for you. I’ll help you, sweetheart.” I pinch his sore thighs.

“Mother fucking, fuck! Jesus H. Christ.”

I almost laugh. That’s a damn good string of profanities from my purist husband. Rare. I reward him with some softer touches to his sensitive backside, one of his favorite things. He gets a moment of relief before I’m at him again, enjoying his sounds of suffering, and strings of uncharacteristic curses.

Because I know his body well, I know I’ve brought him to the edge several times. When I’m done with this little game, ready to move onto the next, I pull out my cock, which has been fighting with my pants, and use some of the nearby lube to help me jack off onto Sam’s gorgeously beaten thighs, marking him mine yet another way.

He’s grateful and thanking me when I remove the hook, but realizes his comfort is short-lived when take the remaining bit of rope I have, and begin tying a knotted pattern up each leg, securing his calves to thighs. “That sore, Baby?”

“Very sir,” he says voice strained. His breathing is good, but he’s had to slow it down to a meditation. This is pushing him, but I know he likes a good challenge. This is what he wanted.

“You’re doing good, so, so, good. I want you to spend some time thinking. Reflect on your behavior, who you belong to, and whether, or not you really deserve my cock and my come inside of you, or if I should masturbate in front of you making you wish you could have my cock.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

He’s struggling. I grab him by his sweaty hair, pull his head back, and use my gravelliest voice in his ear. “C’mon, Baby. You got this. You can do it, Sammy.”

I check the rope everywhere, he’ll be sore, but it’s not cutting off circulation anywhere. While he has his thinking time, I remove the rest of my clothes. When I return, I had planned on a complete interrogation about Rupert and if he should get my cock, or not, but I’m not in the mood for holding back. I just want to take him now that I’ve marked and restricted every inch of his body.

With the amount of testosterone flooding thorough me right now, my refractory period is a personal best, I’m already hard and ready to take him. I yank him to me by the bend of his knees, the bed is the perfect height for me to ram my cock into him. His cock rubs the sheets from beneath him that plus my cock against his prostate has him pleading with me to come, but I’m not in the mood to let him, I want to own that too. My second orgasm has a nice slow build to it, especially with all of Sam’s cries and pleads.

I come inside him, and grab the last item on the bed, a small, dome-shaped, silicone plug. Sam is done. I make quick work untying him, and arrange him comfortably on the bed, while I race off to run a bath. It’s an extra-large jacuzzi tub, big enough to fit us both.

I’m strong, but Sam is huge, and I can’t carry him to the bath. I do help him to it, and in, and then sit behind him. “Jesus, C-Cas. That was fucking amazing.”

“I’m telling Dean, Daddy swore.” I laugh. “I didn’t break you?”

“No. I mean, that was some strapping, and you were really pushing at the edges of me, but the sex was wow, and I feel so… I feel so yours. Not that I didn’t before, but it’s renewed.”

“I get it. I feel the same. You were right like you always are. I needed that too.” I’m not down from my possession either. I still want to lock him up somehow. Cuffs. Soft ones, and a cock cage once I milk him. For now, I spend some time washing him, massaging him, and taking good care of him. When I’ve got him dried, out of the tub, and restrained more comfortably (the cuffs are attached at the wrist, but nowhere else, and I’ve left his ankle cuffs free for now; later I’ll attach them all to his cock cage and have more predicament bondage fun) I nibble at his neck and hold him to me. “I still can’t believe that Rupert guy, Sam. I should have that guy fired.”

“Confession time? I paid him.”

“What? Samuel. I should spank you again.”

“When I went to the washroom, I bumped into him. He was already giving me the eyes. I told him I was married, and asked him if he wanted to make a few extra bucks. He was grateful for the money. It’s expensive to live here.”

That is true. “Fine, I won’t complain to management about him, but you’re grounded.” I can’t even remember the last time I grounded Sam. “Even if you did pay him, I say his flirting was real. It just gave him license.”

“Oh, it was real,” he says regretting nothing. He yawns.

“Sleep my love. You’ve earned it, even if you did manage ‘brat’ today.”

Sam’s beat, literally and figuratively. He doesn’t need much convincing. He crashes so hard, he doesn’t hear my phone ring. I check the phone, it’s home. I’ve got to take this. I leave him sleep, and go into the living room to answer.

“Hello? What?! Okay yeah, just give me a sec and I’ll call back and we can do this on a videocall.” When I get off the phone, I don’t delay, dressing quickly, and donning my long trench coat.

Chapter Text

DEAN: Now: Still Saturday

Laying across the front seat, wrapped crudely in what was once a powder blue blanket is a tiny boy. His hair is so blonde it's almost white, and I think if it were washed, there might be soft curls where his hair bends and crimps. He’s barely breathing.

"Can you help my brother?" the kid says. I recognize the bravery thrumming through his body somewhere within my soul where the hunter lives.

"Fuck kid," I say as I wipe at tears. I swing the door open, and reach in, carefully scooping out the small body. He's a lot warmer than I expect, which probably means he has a fever. When I've got him cradled in my arms, I start barking orders. "Jen, I need to you to call Uncle Dal and tell him we've got a situation. Jare, I'm gonna need you to carry Jake back. Can you manage?"

Jake isn't super heavy, but with a walk this far, it's not easy. Jensen did it, but we had adrenaline coursing through us like crazy. Of course, still might be the case now. "Yes, sir," Jared says.

At first I'm a little surprised by the sir, that was something I insisted on when I was spanking his ass, because it's good protocol there. Then I realize we're in a dire situation, a kid who's well… we don't fucking know, but probably dying, we're surrounded by the chilling air of hunting, and we can all feel it.

Jensen and Jared had a different beginning than many hunters, and more family support than most hunters ever have, but that doesn't change that the life of a hunter is a grueling one. It's never knowing if you'll live, or die. When you're involved in a hunt, sometimes you take direction from your partner, especially if you think they're the one in the know.

We're cloaked in it now, and both of them are ready to take direction from me.

I clutch the boy to me. "J-Jude?" he says. "Jude you big again?"

Even though the boy is small, he's bigger and older than Jake. Maybe three or four-looking…? He can talk, but he sounds so little. Much younger than his older brother, Jude…? A quick look over his body, and I can see he's got a nasty gash on his leg, one festering with infection. "He needs a hospital, this looks like sepsis," I say remembering the symptoms Daddy's drilled into my head.

"No! That's on of the reasons I found you. I don't want to bring him to a hospital. I know how this Modlenol thing works. We'll be given to the state, and put up for adoption. We could be separated. Don't you have a way to heal him, without a hospital?"

Actually, I do. Three someones. I nod. But there's one thing he's not gonna like. Soon as someone in my family sets eyes on this one, ain't no way they're not gonna suck him right into the family. Hell I want him. He's so gosh darned adorable. "I got a way, but if we don't get him there soon, we're not gonna get the chance. Jen, reach into my pocket, and call Michael. We're going to need Gabriel." I don’t add on that no one is going to allow two little boys to trounce off on their own, but we can cross that bridge when we come to it.

"Whoa wait, like angels?" the kid who still knows too much says.

"You want to save your brother, or not?"

"Yeah," he says not liking it, crossing his arms.

"Michael wants to talk to you," Jensen says.

Oh for the love of—! "My hands are full, you'll have to put him on speaker."

"Dean, what the hell is going on?" Michael says.

"It's a long story, which I will tell you in its entirety, but we've a dying kid here, and we could use some help."

“Dean you’ve got to give me something more than that. Is everyone all right?”

“Everyone, but the kid. Rest of us are fine.”

"Tom is home. He can come get you."

"That's a bit of a problem. Hard to say exactly where we are, can he wait for us outside the hiking trail? Should take us maybe an hour and a half?" It only took us near to an hour to hike in here, but we've got more load, and I suspect some tiredness from this crew.

"Dean, why must you insist on giving me a fucking heart attack?"

We all know angels can't get heart attacks, but I get what he means. "Not my fault this time, Baby. We're all fine, I promise. See you soon."

"Baby? What are you like, dating an angel?"

"Yeah, and you can count your lucky stars, because if not, I don't know this little guy would make it. Now c'mon, we need to get a move on, Jude is it?"

"Yeah, it's Jude."

"And what's this guy's name?"

"Jack. That's my little brother, Jack."


It's just as difficult to make it through the back woods, and Jude insists on taking a few things from his car, but we make it to Tom who's got concern embossed into every feature of his vessel. "Dean, what in heaven's name is—"

I’ve never been so fucking happy to see Tom. Tom with the turquoise blue eyes that are so turquoise they don’t seem real. His broad shoulders, and thickly muscled physique lend strength and power to all of us. Even his dark tousled-hair that dusts across his forehead is a comfort, a thing familiar that adds to his firm composure. Huh. Never noticed how much Tom looks like Tom Welling, but with his large profile in front of us when I’m so grateful for help, he’s giving serious Superman vibes. "—I'll explain everything, but first can you fix this kid?"

Tom opens the blanket, Jude is there, holding out his fucking Sig again. "Jesus, fucking Christ. How did he get that? Jare?"

"On it!"

We know now he's no threat, so all Jared has to do is give him a look, hold his hand out for the weapon, and Jude hands it over. "He's my brother, all of you would do the same."

Yeah, we would.

"Look, he's gonna be fine. You have my word," I tell him, as Tom continues to prod at Jack. I can't help gasping when I see the large gash on his leg again, it's open with pus, festering.

Tom sighs, a very human trait he's picked up. "This is no ordinary wound. It's poisoned with powerful magic. We need an archangel. Thankfully we have two at home. Preferably Gabriel though, this is his specialty." He closes the blanket. "We will take everyone to the Manor. Michael is there losing his mind, which is why I wouldn’t allow him to come, your uncle is there with him."

Ugh, I'm going to have a Michael to deal with. At the same time, I get to see Michael! I nod.

"Everyone grab onto some part of me, and I'll take you all at once."


When we arrive to Angel Manor (though I suppose it should be Windsor Manor, but no one calls it that), Michael is on his knees, washing floors, with Uncle Dal right beside him and I feel like shit about that – Michael hasn't had nearly as much anxiety as was his usual. This is the first time I've seen him like this in weeks, even if I've heard tale of him Pine-Sol-ling.

He’s in his new clothes, a black t-shirt, and a pair of jeans; I see for a moment how young Team Adult keeps saying he looks to them. Just for a moment, and then he's all Lordly Archangel again. He stands, sponge in hand, furious. "I'd better get some answers, and I'd better—"

"Michael," Tom warns. "Everyone is fine except this one," he says indicating Jack in my arms.

Michael tosses the sponge into the bucket and wipes his hands on his pants. Yeah, wipes his hands on his pants, you heard that right. Wish I had a camera – after all the times he's fucking scolded me for that. But what it really means is Michael's out of his mind, so I tread carefully. He's still an archangel, and he still has a shit ton of grace to harness should he lose control. Michael makes his way over to me, and is pissed at me. It's rage rooted in concern, but still.

Michael opens the blanket to analyze the wound. "Put him down this instant, fucking Christ Dean! This is contagious."

"What? Then why don't I have it?" Jude asks.

"It needs an open wound," Michael explains.

"I don't have any open wounds, Michael," I say carefully. This is not the time to piss him off. Well, piss him off more.

"Put him down," Michael says his eyes lighting blue. “Now.

"O-Oh-kay, Michael. I'm going to give him to Tom," I say.

And that's exactly what I do even though I want to coddle the poor thing. "Juuuudy!" Jack says, as Tom takes him, probably jostling his wound too much, but it's hard not to, at least some. The whole time, Jude is on the ledge of his sanity. I get him, I totally get him, and I'm starting to forgive his all his nonsense – holding us at gunpoint – but we're having a fucking talk when this is all over.

Michael, eyes still blazing with grace, checks me over everywhere. "Thank Fuck," he says pulling me to him.

"Michael the kid, can you save him?" I would give him more time to come down from his anxiety-induced-angel-rage, but I think the kid needs help pretty quick.

"It's very complicated. I think Gabriel should work on it," he says keeping me tight to him.

"When will Gabriel be back?" I say.

"Soon," Tom says. "I called and spoke with him, just after Michael spoke with you. We didn’t realize we’d need him specifically. He knows to meet us here, and will arrive soon.”

Uncle Dal takes Jake from Jared, and Jake starts crying, not because he's taken from Jared, but because he's got his daddy now. Sometimes Jake can still do some pretty ‘big’ things, but it's only for a period of time. Uncle Dal coos at him. "S'okay, darlin'. Daddy's got'chu. What in the H, E double hockey sticks is goin’ on half pint?" I taught him that one.

"Yes, we'd all like to know," Michael says.

Since we're waiting on Gabriel, I launch into the story, which Jude isn't proud of, but not sorry for either. Uncle Dal's eyeing up Jude in a way that I knew he would. The, I need to get that boy outta those clothes, and into something that says someone loves him, kinda way. He hasn't really seen Jack yet, because he's in Tom's arms, wrapped in that filthy blanket, which I want to replace. "Can we get the kid a blanket?" I say when I'm done. "And throw that one in the fire?"

"I can't believe you were shooting a gun around the house, Sur," Uncle Dal says to Jude, as if Jude's lived there before, and knows the rules. I mean, shooting a gun around the house is a general something-not-to-do, but it's more the way Uncle Dal's talking to him, like he already belongs to us. We all know where this is going.

"I needed help, sue me," he says.

God he's a fucking brat.

Uncle Dal is not in the mood for his sass. "How long do we have Tom?" he asks still staring at Jude.

"Maybe a half hour?"

"Perfect. Jared, here," he says passing Jake off. "You're with me," he says to Jude.

"What? I'm not fucking leaving my brother."

"First of all, your brother is as good as he's gonna be 'till Gabe gets here. Second, mind your mouth, or you're gonna be eating soap, Sur."

Jude doesn't know what to make of Uncle Dal, he does clamp his mouth shut.

"You're coming with me, and I'm cleaning yah up, y'hear?" Uncle Dal’s accent descends into full Colt, and he doesn't wait for a response. In long strides, he's over to Jude, and picking him up under his arms, carting him off up the stairs kicking and complaining.

"You let me go!" he says.

"Jus' soon as you're fixed up. You're not walkin' 'round like no one loves you."

Called that one. I’m not surprised by any of it. Daddy’s told me story after story of how they were with me when I was still growing down, a wily hunter child, and they just went on caring for me from the first moment like they always had. My family’s like that.

"No one does love me! And I like that fine!" Jude shouts as he’s carted off.

They get quieter, 'till I can't hear them anymore, and all that's left is the low hum of Michael's grace, not gone. Tom is holding Jack, but has his eyes trained on Michael not sure to do about him, which neither do I.

Jared and Jensen are looking to me as well, but for a different reason. Jake looks tired, and is almost asleep on Jared, as he rocks him. "Hey Jenny, why don't you call Papa. They need to know about this." Much as I don't want to ruin their vacation, we do need to call them, but mostly I want the twins to hear his voice.

Jensen looks warily at Michael. "I dunno, maybe we should let Dally call him?"

I get what he means. Look at Michael, the only ways Papa will react differently, is that he'll be slightly more rational. He’ll probably charter a plane home pronto. We're all safe – all the teens, and babies in his current brood – and Uncle Dal will know how to talk to him to calm him down some.

"Yeah, okay. We'll let Uncle Dal do that,” I say. Michael holds me tighter.

When Uncle Dal emerges with a pop'n'fresh Jude, he's clean as a whistle, and actually looks nearly as adorable as his counterpart, Jack. Uncle Dal has him wrapped in a towel, and I can see he's clutching clothes in his hand. "Tom, you think you can shrink these to his size? It's all I could find."

"Those are mine," Michael says in a real fucking scary way, his eyes still blue.

Tom ignores Michael's protest and places a hand over them when Uncle Dal brings them up to Tom, carting Jude along with him.

Jude is furious, and it's hilarious, because he's really fucking adorable with this big green eyes, and dark hair, now clean and drying, but still sticking out every place.

Uncle Dal gives Michael a look that actually manages to calm the blue from Michael momentarily, which also gives me relief from the crushing hold he's got on me. I know it's leaving bruises, which he'll be mad at himself for later, and I'll have to deal with later, but one thing at a time.

Tom maintains hold on Jack with one arm, and reaches out to shrink the clothes for Jack. "I'm not freaking wearing those," he says.

Interesting. His language has cleaned up some.

"You're not the first hunter child, I've wrangled Judy bun. These appropriate-sized clothes are going on your body. Or do we need to have another discussion?"

Aaaaaand the kid's already got his first nickname, and had his first discussion which means at least as swat, or two in this family. It's over for him, I hope he's figured that out.

"No. I'll wear them. But I'm putting them on myself."

"Go nuts," Uncle Dal says handing them to him.

Jude snatches them away in a very grown-up manner. Apparently he has no shame, and lets his towel drop, debuting everything to the world, most notably his tiny, wang. He dons the black pajama pants and t-shirt. "There, happy?"

"You behave yourself, mister."

I'm about to laugh, because that shit's funny, but Jack lets out a blood-curdling scream. He's flailing his little arms and legs, and Tom's having a hard time holding him in a way he won't get hurt, so he places him on the ground, gently as he can.

Barefooted-Jude runs over to his brother, as I'm left to watch on, since Michael still won't let me the fuck go, especially now. Jude kneels beside him. "Somebody, do something!"

Tom kneels with Jude. "Dear Gabriel, who art in South America, we—"

"—praying? Are you fucking, kidding me?" Jude says.

"It’s faster than—"

Suddenly Gabriel is there. "Tom, praying? What in the…? Oh. Oh shit." He kneels with the other two, Jude eyeing him like you would a hungry tiger, but also trying to tell said tiger he will roast him like a pig if he fucks up his brother. "What the hell have you two been playing with?" Gabriel says to Jude, as he runs a hand over Jack. “Why didn’t you tell me to get here sooner?” he booms toward both Michael and Tom.

Jude’s the only one brave enough to speak up. "C-Can you fix him?"

"This time. But keep playing with dangerously cursed objects, and there might come a time I can't." It takes Gabriel all of twenty seconds. In a flash of blue and white light, Jack's shrieking stops, and the wound closes up. He's breathing softly. "He'll sleep for a while," Gabriel says picking him up off the floor. "And then we'll … what are we doing with him?"

"Nothing. He's mine. Where he goes, I go,” Jude says.

"I think first, we need a story, Mr. Jude," Uncle Dal says.

"Normally I'd agree with you, Dallas, but Dean you need to fix that," Gabriel says referring to Michael. "You'll be far more effective. Take him to his room where you two can be alone. We'll get this guy washed up."

"Uncle Dal? What about my parents?" I ask.

"I think it's best we have the whole story, and then we'll skype call and tell them everything."


Michael and I head to his room, and when we get there he slams the door, and shoves me toward the bed. Then begins to pace. “Dean things like this cannot happen, I’m not ready, not with what happened over the summer. You died,” he hisses too low for anyone to hear.

“It’s not like I had any control over this. Maybe it’s true, maybe there is a hunter curse,” I say, which is so the wrong thing to say right now. Michael’s eyes are blue again. I close my eyes for a moment and channel the best Daddy I can muster. Papa may not be an archangel thrumming with grace, but I know Daddy’s had to do his thing to calm him down. “Michael, Michael, I’m here. W-will you come hold me?”

Michael is fucking terrifying when he’s like this, but at the same time, it’s reeeeaaaally hot. I know he’d never hurt me, but the force coming off him is powerful. His eyes crackle like lightning, but he does settle us on the bed together, his arms around my tight.

After lying together for some time, I eventually feel his power wind down and then, “Michael are you crying?”

He sniffles. “Yeah.” I’m even more surprised he’s admitting to it.

“Look Baby, what do you need? I can give it. Whatever you need.”

“You handcuffed to me for all of eternity.”

I laugh.

“Not kidding, Dean.”

“I know, but I was picturing it. You’d be done with that in less than twenty-four hours.”

“I could will myself to do it if that meant me keeping you safe.”

“I think the handcuffs are just a bad idea, but I’ll do it if that’s what you really need.”

“No, you’re right, but I do need to keep you close.”

“That I can do. We’ll figure something out.”

“Ugh, but I have to get my uncle’s permission. I’m still grounded – I hate this.”

Maybe in the moment, the inconvenience of what he’d like to do and what his uncle will allow, but he doesn’t hate this. “Speaking of your uncle, when Tom prayed like that, it was pretty fucking cool. That mean I can pray to you? Cell phones are rather cumbersome,” I say trying to do an impression of him to make him laugh.

He does. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but praying to me is not an option. For some reason that doesn’t work.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, and neither does Gabriel. It should work, or so we thought. So either Father has barred me from that ability too, or it’s connected to flying in a way we never knew.”

“Sorry, Baby.”

“Don’t be. We don’t use it much these days with cell phones, except for emergencies like today. Gabriel has a strict Emergencies Only policy with praying.”

“He does? I didn’t think I’d see the day an angel would choose human technology, over angel powers.”

He smirks. “Astute, but part of it is strategy. If an angel on the field is praying, we know to get there pretty quick.

“Huh. That’s good to know in a pinch though. So they can just fly to wherever we are?”

“You need to tell them where you are, but yes.”

“Like today when we had to give Tom a locale.”

“Yes. Don’t abuse it though, or Gabriel will use you for potions ingredients.”

“Did you just Harry Potter reference?”

“Unfortunately. Tom and I were having his much desired Harry Potter marathon before you called.”

I laugh. That’s so domestic and adorable. “You okay now, Baby?”

“Yes. Mostly. I’m holding you to your promise to stay close.”

“You know I do anyway, Michael.”

He squeezes me close and nuzzles my neck, taking a moment to scratch his face against my scruff. I remember he’s not adult-Michael going through this, which was challenging, it’s teenaged-Michael, who seems to be finding calm a little sooner. “Yeah, I do.”

“You know, Gabriel said to fix you, he didn’t say what we could, or couldn’t do.”

“Which will make little difference to him.”

“Fine, but they are distracted.”

“Works for me,” Michael says reaching for my pants.

We don’t know what the rules on sex are here, and no way we’re asking. It’s not on the list of things teenagers want to talk to their parents about. Also, Gabriel is terrifying.

It’s fast, have-sex-before-a-parent-discovers-us sex, but it’s good. Michael using his grace to lube me up, sliding his cock in quickly. My pants and boxers hang off one ankle, as Michael maneuvers inhibited by his jeans which are only pulled down enough to reach underneath his ass cheeks.

He grabs my right leg, scissoring me open, and pulls his hips back, pounding them forward. His lips tug at mine and his breath is hot in my ear. As my cock gets harder and my orgasm builds I remember something terrible. “Are you going to let me come, sir?” I say to sweeten the deal.

“I shouldn’t, but fuck Dean, I want to see you come, so bad.”

“Well I’m close.” I’ve held back since fucking Thursday.

“Besides, I think you’ve learned your lesson, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nods. “Wait for me.”

How long Michael and I been at this? A long time. I’m not just referring to sex either. We’ve been us a long time, at least two human lifetimes. We’re connected in ways most don’t get to be. Sure, my subconscious can detect subtle signs in his expression, changes that say he’s about to come, but it’s more so a sixth sense. We both feel it and let go.

“That was fucking great,” I say collapsing.

“You were right. That helped.”

I look him over; he is a tad more relaxed. Naturally, someone knocks on the door. Michael and I freeze. There’s no way to make it look like we weren’t just doing it. “Yeah?” Michael says.

“You okay now Michael? We’re gonna call Cas.” It’s Uncle Dal—thank fuck it’s Uncle Dal. Would have been better if it was Jare or Jen, but I’ll take Uncle Dal. Both Michael and I visibly relax.

“I’m better. Be down in a sec," Michael says.

We wait till he’s gone and then burst into laughter. “You think he knows?” I ask.

“Judging by the fact he didn’t come in? I’d say yes.”

“Think he’ll tell on us?”

“No, but he will make us talk to my parents ourselves,” Michael says.

“Yeah. Such an Uncle Dal thing to do.”

“Let’s get downstairs before he does send Uncle up here.”


"Can someone repeat that for me?" Papa says.

All of us, which is a fucking lot of us now, start talking at once. "All right, all right enough," Papa says. "Dallas?"

We are gathered in the living room at Angel Manor, with my phone hooked up to the TV, so we can have Papa on a larger screen. Gabriel has the technology in his office as well, but we've got two sleeping little boys who no one wanted to leave alone, twins who are getting restless and in need of comfort, three parents who want everyone in their sight, and a teenaged archangel who's only recently come out of his angel rage mode. We’ve been regaling the tale of what happened Papa, but I think he’s in shock not sure where to start.

He hasn’t told Daddy yet – he’s sleeping – and I bet Papa’s picturing how that’s gonna go. He’s going to freak, and the vacation was supposed to be about Daddy relaxing.

Everything’s gone fucking sideways, and I was the one who was in charge when all of this went down, so naturally, I feel the need to stand tall and report to Papa.

"The boys were held at gunpoint, by this guy, who also happened to be our Garage Ruckus Maker,” Uncle Dal says. “He also fired a shot in the house, endangering everyone.”

Jude scowls at Papa.

"What do you have to say for yourself, young man?" Papa says.

"I'm not sorry. This led to my brother being saved. Do with me what you will, just please spare my brother Jack, sir."

"Am I to conclude all hunter children are prone to self-sacrifice?" Papa asks. That seems to exhaust him somehow.

"Um, sir? Is that a yes on the Jack thing?" Jude says.

"We'll talk about that when I'm back, for now you both will stay with us."

“He will?” Jensen says. “Papa, did you not hear the part where he fired shot into the house.”

Father sighs. “He has been disarmed, and now there will be several eyes on him. We also handled Jake who was Hunter Jake when we met him.”

I get why Jensen’s surprised by Papa’s decision, but I’m not. I know exactly who Jude reminds Papa of. There’s a particular look in his eyes when he appraises Jude.

“If that’s the decision, Dean is staying here," Michael says suddenly finding all his Top mojo.

And while he is fucking hot as hell, I have a responsibility I'm not willing to let go of. "But, I'm looking after the twins."

"You're speaking out of turn, son," Gabriel says to Michael reminding him he's telling my father what to do.

"I'm sorry, but Uncle, I can’t… if this is the way it will be, I know I'm still grounded, but may I please spend the night at the Winchester’s? At least until we know for sure these two aren't a threat?"

Gabriel thinks about it. "Would this be amendable to you, Castiel? Michael's concern is sound."

"I'm not gonna do anything, Jesus Christ," Jude says.

Uncle Dal grabs his hand, and pulls him into his side. "That'll be enough, Sur."

"What does that even mean? Is that some kinda weird play off of, sir?"

"It's amendable. But Michael, hear this well, when you are told it's time to go home, you will go home, understood?" Papa says.

In other words, he doesn't want a replay of after the Happenings when he refused to go home and Gabriel had to come collect him. "Yes, sir," Michael huffs. He's pissed though, and I'm gonna hear all about it later.

"Cas? I do think we're okay. No need to rush home. Chris'll be home in the morning, and between Dean, Michael and I, we got this."

I nod. "Yeah, Papa. I can handle the likes of Jude."

"Whatever. It took three of you to put me down,” Jude says.

“Not helping, dude,” I say.

"That's quite enough," Papa says. "Dean, I expect you to remain the adult 'till we're back."

"Yes, sir."

"Jared, Jensen? How are you two holding up?"

"W-Will you, what time will you be home tomorrow, Papa?" Jensen says, not even hiding how much he wants Papa home in his voice, or the Papa itself. It's not said paired with Cas. He's not being a sarcastic so-and-so.

"C'mere, Jenny," I say opening my arms for him. He comes to me readily.

"We'll leave first thing in the morning, and be home by late afternoon, okay my boy?" Papa says.

Jensen nods into my chest. Papa winces. That must tug at him. His job is to make us feel safe and grounded, which is hard to do right now. Jared may not be running to me, but he needs some seeing after, as well, and Papa can tell.

"You boys go on in and sleep with Dean tonight, no matter what Michael says," Papa instructs them. "We'll be home soon as possible." His eyes wince, but he signs off once we’ve all said goodbye.

Uncle Dal takes that as his cue. "All right everyone, I've got the van but there are only two car seats."

"If you're referring to me, I don't need a freaking car seat," Jude says.

"We'll see about that, it's height and weight dependent, and also the law. For now, you'll have to go without, you can sit between the twins." Uncle Dal runs a hand through Jude’s hair, and you know what? With the way he leans into Dallas, contrary to his bratty behavior, I think Jude wants a family. He just wants one where they'll take him and his brother. I think he's exhausted doing this on his own, being scared as hell all the time. That’s too much for a little boy.

Plus, big as he acts at times, no way he's not having little thoughts and emotions. That's how Modlenol works whether any of us like it or not. It's there. I see it in the way he sinks into Uncle Dal's side when he thinks no one but Uncle Dal's paying attention.

"Michael," Gabriel says. "I'd like to speak with you in private before you go."

Leaving me to go chat with Gabriel is about the last thing Michael wants to do right now, but there's nothing for it. He plants a chaste kiss on my lips and heads off behind Gabriel.


The car ride home is interesting. I'm between the two babes, who are still out cold, which means guess who's gonna be up all night? Michael's shotgun, with the twins and Jude in the very back. "Quit kicking your legs," Jen complains. Did I mention? No one's in a good mood.

"I'm not kickin'."

"Yes you are, stop it."

"Do I need to come back there? Knock it off you two," I say. Jeez Louise.

When we get home, I hand off babies. Uncle Dal gets Jake, and Michael gets Jack, who he's not weary of like he is Jude, and okay with now that Gabriel's healed him. "You're with me Jude,” I say.

"What? Why? I can look after myself."

"Because I said so," I tell him. "And because we need to talk about some stuff," I say quietly.

"What do I do with this?" Michael asks as we walk into the house.

"You mind holding him for a bit? We need to feed everyone," I say heading toward the kitchen. It's nearing dinnertime, and Michael’s the only one with enough endurance, and without the requirement to eat.

"I'm gonna go lay Jake down, Half Pint. Can't believe he's still out. I'll come back to check on everyone, and eat with y'all," he says.

Michael sways with Jack, who's been asleep since Gabriel worked on him. "Thanks Baby. What did Gabriel want?" I ask as I start pulling out food from the stock of stuff Daddy had pre-prepared for me by his health-nut food company.

"Mostly to make sure I was all right, but also to impress upon me the importance of speaking respectfully to superiors, and remind me coming here was a privilege, not a right. Blah, blah, blah."

I can't even stop myself laughing. How did I miss how teenager Michael is now? That's totally 'I'm a teenager oppressed,' right there.

"You want help, Dean?" Jared offers.

"Love some, and Jen you can set the table," I tell him. "Jude, you're gonna talk some more."

"Talk? What else you want me to say? Already told you everything when we were talking to the scary guy."

The scary guy is Papa, but we all knew that.

Jude did tell us a lot. He told us all about how several weeks ago – right around the time we were fighting Lucifer – he and his brother were spiked. From that point forward, they'd been looking for a cure for Modlenol. That's how Jack got hurt, one of their attempts with a cursed object. He already had the wound, which is how this particular curse got in, and then the wound never closed properly. Fuck I felt bad for them most especially at that point. I could only imagine what it must have been like, terrified everyday for your brother, him inching closer to death, a gaping wound you tried to piecemeal together every morning.

Jude heard about me through the hunter grapevine, so they made their way here after weeks of trying to find a way to reverse the Modlenol, barely staying hidden. When they were getting too little to drive, they stashed the car in the bush, and lived there while Jude devised a plan to get me to help. God it's a fucking heart-breaking story.

"Yeah, I know what you told us, but I wanna know some things you didn’t tell us, like why me?"

"I did tell you that. You're the world's most legendary hunter. If anyone cold help us, it was you."

I have to roll my eyes at that. Legendary Hunter. Yeesh. "Fine, but for a little guy, you still seem too old. What's going on there?"

That he doesn't want to answer. He gets pouty just like a little boy would, as I work on melting butter in the pan. I stare at him for eons, adding onions, mixing them around, until he breaks. "It's called a mind partition Dean, ever heard of it?"

"I have in fact. Wait. If you knew about mind partitions, that means—"

"—it means we were also looking for the stairway to heaven and fucking Lucifer."

None of this makes Michael anymore comfortable with Jude.

"We hunted with our mama, until she got what she felt was too old, and actually made it to retiring from the life, well, as much as any hunter retires. But then she was killed by an overdose of the stuff – the Modlenol – and we set off to solve the mystery."

That sends a chill up my spine. Sure Crowley had his genius idea to Spike hunters, and keep them around for later, but how many fuck ups happened by a stupid demon, who didn't care? How many hunters did they decide they didn't need, like Jake, and simply kill?

Could have been anyone of the people I love, like with Jude, and Jack's mama.

"We knew we'd need a safeguard lest this happened to us, so see? Not fucking five, or six, or however old this makes me look. I'm forty-nine."

I laugh. "Yeah, see how far that gets you 'round here," I say adding the chopped veggies to my stir-fry. I'm onto him. I saw the eyes he was making at Uncle Dal. Even Old Dean had to admit he was affected by the Modlenol no matter how 'big' his thoughts were at times.

"Anyway, pretty sure I have lost a good chunk of my memory, but I remember enough."

"What about Jack?" We haven't heard much from him yet, but he seems a whole lot younger.

Jude tears up. "Jack's… Jack doesn't remember much. It's been like tugging a kid around for a good long while. I'm just glad he finally stopped Moddlifying."

"But, he didn't partition his mind too?"

"He did, but it depends on triggers. I haven't been able to trigger anything. I've tried."

I leave it at that for now. He may not think he's regressed, but it's easy to see he has. He's a little boy who's scared, tired, and hungry. “Wait,” Jensen says suddenly. “I know you. I know who you and your brother are.”

No yah don’t,” Jude says in a way that makes me think Jude knows them too.

“Yeah, I do. Took me ‘till now to dredge up anything, but you’re Jude and Jack Kline.”

“Jude, is that true?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s true.” He crosses his arms.

“If you knew them, and you were forty-nine you say, did you know Dean?” He knows the Dean I mean.

“Not well. We were in our early twenties when we met you, uh or Dean?”

“We call him Old Dean around here,” I tell him.

“Why? How come you don’t just use his—”

“—we call him Old Dean, okay?”

“Whatever, this family’s weird.”

“How to you know them?” I ask Jensen. Obviously hunting, but he knows what I mean. Were you guys on good terms?

“I don’t remember much, but the Kline brothers had a good reputation. Sorry about Kelly,” Jensen adds. “She was a great hunter too.”

Jude bites his lip trying to keep it from wobbling. Everything’s still fresh for him, and it must feel like he’s lost a mama and a brother with Jack being so young. Plus, now he’s little with no idea how to handle all the big-little whiplash he must be going through. I’d grab him and pull him up on my hip, but I don’t know he’d welcome that right now, so I decide to leave him be instead.

At least I can see the news relaxes Michael some, not all the way, but some. While Jensen may often get on his last nerve, Michael knows Jensen’s as protective of the family as he is. If Jensen says good things about Jude and Jack he’ll take that under consideration. “This mean you’re gonna ease off Jude, Jenny?” I ask.

“I’ve got my eyes on him, but yeah, I think he’s fine.”

When I'm almost ready to plate up, Uncle Dal strolls into the kitchen. "Jake's out cold. Doubt he'll stay that way through the night, but he needs to sleep, or he'll just be a cranky hellion. Meanwhile, gimme the little guy Michael."

I was waiting for this to happen. When Uncle Dal takes Jack from Michael, some kinda magic starts happening. Uncle Dal – sunshine bringing Uncle Dal – shines several watts brighter, kinda like how it happened when he first met Jake. He lifts Jack to him like he's sacred, and stares at him in awe. "Hi there pretty boy," Uncle Dal says holding him tight to his chest, and swaying him back and forth.

Jack, his tufts of white blonde sticking every which way, grabs onto Uncle Dal's shirt in his sleep.

Jude watches on, and it's an odd reaction. He's clearly happy his brother's getting all the Uncle Dal love, but it feels like his gut is clenching at the same time. "Does anyone get fed around here?" he complains, but I know he's just distracting himself from whatever he's feeling.

I shove a plate in front of him, and help him with his own distraction. "Here. You need a highchair and bib? Or are you all right with chopsticks?"

"Fuck you, Dean."

I laugh, but Uncle Dal is not impressed. "What did I tell you about language, Sur?"

"I-I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"You did mean to… Dean, you mind? I've got my hands full here."

"No problem Uncle Dal." Before Jude really knows what I'm doing, I pull him up to stand on the bench and lay a decent swat to his ass.


"Better than soap," I tell him. "Trust me."

He rubs his ass, the cheeks of his face rosy with embarrassment. "Sorry," he says.

"Forgiven little boy. I know you'll try harder, won't you Judy?" Uncle Dal says.

Jude nods carefully still not sure what to make of all of us. I ruffle his mop of dark hair, and I swear his eyes soften. "Eat."


When we get to the nighttime of this strange fucking day, it's weird, but so very us.


Michael isn't pleased about the sleeping arrangements, but since he's allowed to lay with us, he's not complaining too much. Uncle Dal carted off Jude, still holding Jack, who no one seems to want to leave alone. He hasn't woken yet, which Gabriel assured us after a worried phone call, was still fine. Jake, who we woke up after our early dinner, was already brought back to bed around eleven pm. It's late, and well past little boy, and even teenaged bedtimes, but the mood was still a bit tense after that eerie day, so we made a giant Colt-Winchester-camp-out-set-up in the living room with lots of pillows and blankets, and watched movies. The twins volunteered cancelling their plans in favor of, which is good, because I was going to make them anyway.

"We sleep near Dean, Michael, so move over," Jen tells him in no uncertain terms crawling over top of him, to which Michael responds with his mouth gaping.

"Dean?" Michael says.

I shrug, as Jensen sets up camp beside me, Jared not even bothering to have the argument, making his way to the other side of me.

"Fine," Michael says pushing off the bed altogether, so done with hunters, and this day, and what he considers to be nonsense. "I should really guard the house anyway."

"C'mon Michael, there's room." Now I'm pouting.

"I'll come back," he promises with a kiss to my cheek that's right above Jensen's ear.

"Yuck, you two!"

Michael heads off to do his angel-y duty, and we try to sleep, which doesn't go so well. "Do we still have to go to church tomorrow?" Jared asks.

"Yes. Everyone's fine, I don’t see why we wouldn't."

"Emotional trauma?" Jen says.

"Are you experiencing emotional trauma?"

"No, well, not enough to not go to church," he admits. "But Dean, this is kinda scary. We're not equipped for hunting anymore, and the hunting life does seem to come after you. Now we've got six of us, that's six times the hunter life to return."

"We've also got an army of angels pretty much at our beck and call. I'm not worried. Plus, how old you think Dean was, when he was hunting?" Sometimes I still talk about Dean like he was another person, but he's still both to me; me, and another person. The hunting life feels like it was a million years ago to me, but I know Dean hunted young.

"Papa, and Sammy aren't gonna let us do hunting stuff, Dean," Jared says.

"Maybe not, but you're old enough I bet they'd let you practice the skills you still remember, and relearn what you've forgotten."

"They didn't let you."

"No they didn't, but they've realized, as much as they would have liked for me to stay one hundred percent out of all things hunting, it wasn't practical. Either way, no use worrying about it. Papa will decide what’s best, and that will be that."

Jen nods into my chest.

We finally doze off, only to be woken by Michael pouncing on Jude. "I knew it! Got you, you little thief."

"Whhhhaaaa…? Michael?"

He holds Jude up by the scruff of his shirt like a naughty kitten. "Caught him trying to sneak in here," Michael says.

"Almost didn't," Jude says proud of himself.

"Put him down Michael. What's the deal, man?" I ask Jude.

"I wanted to talk to you, alone, but I knew your boyfriend here wouldn't allow that," Jude says glaring at him.

"You're damn right he won’t," Michael says.

Sigh. I crawl out of bed, jostling the twins who are already awake too with all the commotion. "What gives, Dean?" Jen says.

"Yeah, watch it," Jared says.

Ugh. "You two, go to sleep. I'll be back."

I grab Michael's hand. "Michael Baby, please let me talk to him for five minutes? We'll stay just outside the door. We can get this done, so we can go to sleep, which everyone needs, or church will be hell tomorrow." I know Michael will be able to hear us outside the door, but it will give the illusion of privacy.

"Five minutes," Michael says. "And then I'm coming out there."

I drag Jude out the door by the hand and shut the door behind me. "What are you doing out of bed, Sur?"

"I couldn't sleep, because I need to talk to you about something," he says.

"Okay. Shoot."

"I need you to do something else for me."

"You don't ask for much, kid, do yah?"

He scowls at my use of kid. "I already know this is a good place. Sure you have too many damn nicknames that are often food related, strict rules, and over protective archangels, but there's a lot of love here, and everything a kid needs to grow up right." He takes a big breath. "I was hell bent on Jack and I staying together, but after this, him almost dying, I realize the most important thing is that he's taken care of by people who can, and who will love him. That ridiculously good looking cowboy guy's already in love with him, I can tell, and Jack hasn't even opened his eyes around him, so what I'm asking is, can you convince whoever you have to convince – probably that scary looking trench-coat-guy – to keep Jack?"

During his plea, he's choked up, and tears are streaming down his face, and while he might act real big in some ways, he's a lot little boy right now, tired from a long day, but also a long, exhausting hunting life. Jude needs this retirement, as much as any of us did.

Y'know? Crowley's intent may have been nefarious, but this Modlenol thing's actually a real reward for Hunters after a terrifying life on the road.

I kneel down, and take his hand rubbing the back of it with my thumbs. "Judy? I don't have to do a thing. Neither of you are going anywhere, okay?"

He doesn't look so sure.

"C'mon," I say lifting him under his armpits, pulling him to my torso like I’ve wanted to all night, and he actually lets me. "You're coming in here with us," I say opening the door. The bedside light is on and no one is doing what I told them to do. I give them all the look.

"I was just about to come out there," Michael says.

"Well I'm back now, and if you want you can text Uncle Dal and tell him I've got Jude. You two, go to sleep."

"Dean," Michael growls.

"He needs sleep Michael, and I think that's only going to be with me tonight." I'm starting to think I'm going to have to open a Dean Winchester Home for Ex-Hunter Children with how many are in my bed right now. "I've got you to stand guard, Baby," I say kissing his lips.

Michael nods. "I will."

"You two, lights off. Eyes closed. Sleep."

"It's not our fault there's so much ruckus," Jensen says shutting the light off.

"Yeah, and besides, we were waiting for you," Jared adds.

"Well make room for one more," I tell them. I get Jude settled in with us, cocooning around him to make him feel safe as possible. I think he's all out of tough for tonight. Jared settles in behind me, and Jensen grabs my hand octopusing his leg on mine. "Everyone go the fuck to sleep."

And we do.