The Generation of 1954

A Supernatural/Miracles Cross-over
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

Chapters: Epilogue
Dates: Written July-August 2007
Fandom: Supernatural/Miracles cross-over, set very pre-series for both. Alternate Universe.
Universe: Plastic Dashboard Jesus
Word Count: 23,877
Rating: Rated Adult for violence, language, brief non-con, and gore
Summary: Did you notice that John and Mary Winchester were both born in 1954? The Yellow-Eyed Demon did.
Prompt: Written for spn_xx prompt #15 A past or future generation of the Yellow-Eyed Demon's "Special Children."
Beta: No beta for this chapter.
Author's Notes: This fic answers the following Alternate Universe questions:
What if John and Mary had been part of a past generation of Psychic Children? What about Theresa Callan?
What if Paul Callan was not a medium, but something much more sinister?
The last question cannot be disclosed until the end of the story because it would spoil the ending otherwise.

Thoughts are in italics while telepathic conversations are in quotes and italics. This will, hopefully, help distinguish between them.

Other notes can be found at the end of the story.

Epilogue: Plastic Dashboard Jesus

ONE YEAR LATER

Nuns and other church volunteers were hanging lanterns around the perimeter of St. Jerome's when John and Mary Winchester walked into the church, hand in hand. Their ring fingers both sparkled with gold, hers also sporting a diamond engagement ring. The last year had been very eventful for the couple, and the wedding rings weren't all they had to show for it - Mary looked all of her four months of pregnancy, much to her delight and chagrin. The two of them couldn't stop smiling as they approached one of the nuns, who was cleaning the glass of the lantern in her hand.

"Hi, can we talk to you for a minute?" Mary asked.

The nun smiled and set the lantern on one of the pews. "Of course. I'm Sister Elizabeth." She extended a hand to them.

Mary shook her hand, then John. "Hi Sis," he said, making Mary giggle.

"How can I help you?" the nun asked.

"Well, we're John and Mary Winchester, and we're friends with one of your parishioners. You probably know her; Theresa Callan?"

The nun's smile faltered. John saw it, but Mary just kept going. "We've been trying to get in touch with her to let her know that we were coming to visit, but she doesn't seem to live at the address that we have for her anymore. Do you know where she's gone?"

Sister Elizabeth put a hand on Mary's upper arm. "Dear, maybe you'd better sit down."

Biting her bottom lip, Mary asked, "Why?" Her voice shook a little.

"Well, you're pregnant, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Gesturing toward the pew, Sister Elizabeth said, "The news isn't good."

Mary sat down. John stood behind her and massaged her shoulders. "We talked to her in February, and she told us about the cancer," John put in.

Mary added, "But she said she beat it. She was going to beat it for Paul." She looked up at Sister Elizabeth with desperation in her eyes. "Theresa's okay, isn't she?"

The nun shook her head. "I'm sorry. Theresa passed in May."

They both winced. Her face in her hands, Mary began to cry. "We hadn't heard."

Sister Elizabeth nodded. "Theresa was well loved by all of us. We saw her through in her last few days. I assure you, we made her as comfortable as possible."

Suddenly looking up, Mary sobbed, "Paul... where's Paul?"

The nun took them to the child. Paul, now five, resided at the orphanage next door. His mother's love and warmth stolen from him, Paul sat by himself with a picture book open on his lap, staring forlornly into space. When he saw John and Mary approaching, there was instant recognition.

"You're John and Mary," Paul said. "I remember you."

Taking a seat on a nearby stone bench, Mary nodded at him. "Hi Paul."

He looked at her stomach. "Are you going to have a baby?"

Mary laughed lightly. "Yeah, I am." She struggled for what to say to him.

"Oh, good. I asked a lady that one time and turns out she was just fat."

John snickered. "Bet she got mad, huh?"

Paul nodded. "A little."

Fighting not to start crying again, Mary said to him, "Honey, I'm so sorry about your mommy. We just heard." She stroked his hair, trying to be soothing.

The little boy looked up at her and burst into tears. "You said she wouldn't die," Paul said accusingly. "You promised!"

Mary couldn't hold it in after that. She opened her arms to Paul and he climbed right in, and they cried together. "I'm sorry, Paul. I'm sorry, baby... I didn't know."

Twenty minutes later and Mary was still crying as John tried to get her to leave so she could go lie down at the hotel. "Hon, you're pregnant. You can't upset yourself too much right now."

"But, the poor little boy," she cried, wringing a tissue in her hands. "All alone in the world. His father doesn't want him, and now he's lost the only person in the world who loves him. I can't bear the thought."

"I know it's sad. It kills me too; he's a good kid. But you should go lie down at the hotel and try to stop thinking about it." John hugged her close.

"I - I - can't," she stammered. "John... he needs a loving home. Paul needs someone to adopt him."

"And someone probably will, someday. He's a cute kid."

"But..." Mary paused a long time. "Why don't we adopt him?"

In reaction, John missed a step and tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. He stared at Mary with wide eyes. "Mary, you can't be serious."

"We can give him a loving home. You just said yourself he was a great kid."

"But Mary, we've got a baby of our own on the way! Are we ready to take care of someone else's kid?! He's five!" John said incredulously.

"That will just make him easier to take care of. Paul already knows how to do many things for himself."

Unable to believe what she was suggesting, John replied, "No, Mary. It's crazy. I know you feel bad for him, but we can't just take on that kind of responsibility when we've got our first baby on the way."

Mary began to cry so hard that John could hardly understand her. "I can't just leave him here," she sobbed. "I lost my mom and I know what it feels like not to have one. I can't do that to him. He's such a sweet little boy."

John, hugging her to him, stroked Mary's hair. "Shh, shhh, calm down. Calm down. We'll talk about it, okay? We'll talk about it."

*****

1979

"Okay, come in again, Mary. Make it look like you're just walking in from the hospital," John instructed from behind the camera.

With an amused and proud smile, Mary walked in through the front door with a bundle in her arms. "How many times are you going to make Dean and I come through this door, John?"

He snapped off a few pictures. "Until I feel like we have enough photos to plaster the whole wall with 'em."

"Oh, but there are so many other things we can take pictures of. Like Paul with his new baby brother." Looking at the boy sitting on the couch, Mary turned to him and grinned. "Paul, do you still want to hold the baby?"

Paul had been very shy about holding Dean when John first suggested it. It was almost as if he didn't feel he had the right to hold the baby. But John had talked to him about it, about how Paul was a member of this family now even if they were still dealing with the paperwork and he was just in Kansas on a trial visit. Once the boy realized that John and Mary really did want him to hold Dean, he had gotten very excited about it.

As Mary stood before him with the bundle, Paul looked up at her, grinning so hard it seemed his face might burst, and bounced up and down. A little pink fist popped up out of the blanket and waved. "Yes, I want to hold the baby! I want to hold Dean!"

"Alright, now be careful. Support his head." Mary gently laid Dean in Paul's lap. He supported the baby's head just like Mary showed him. "John, you got that camera - "

As she turned, John took a picture, the flash going off right in her eyes. "Great, now I'm blind."

John couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, babe." He smiled proudly down at the scene of Paul holding his firstborn son. Although John cared very much for the little boy, Paul was still someone else's child for now. It would take time before he could refer to Paul as his son. He imagined Paul felt the same, as he still called them John and Mary.

Mary was the only one who wasn't having trouble.

But it was like Father Calero from St. Jerome's had said - these things take time, a period of adjustment. Paul always looked forward to Father Calero's phone calls, but he hardly noticed that they were being spaced further and further apart.

"How you doin' there, Paul?" John asked, and took another picture.

Dean had a strong hold on Paul's finger. The small baby with a head of fine blond hair kicked his legs under the blanket and burbled, blowing a spit bubble. Paul laughed. "He's got my finger."

"Now you'll never get it back," John joked.

Paul looked up at him with a worried expression.

Children... they could take things so literally. "I'm just kidding, Paul. You'll get your finger back."

Mary went into the kitchen and came back with a fresh bottle. She'd been warming it up while John made her come in the front door again. "You want to feed him?"

Paul looked up at her in disbelief. "Can I?"

"Yes, honey. This is just the right temperature." Mary sat on the couch next to Dean's head and handed Paul the bottle, ready to supervise.

"Are you hungry, Dean?" Paul asked.

Dean seemed to know the bottle was coming; he started to shake his little fists and fuss for it. With wide eyes, Paul popped the nipple into his mouth. Dean immediately stopped fussing and began to suck greedily. The baby looked up at Paul with a beautiful set of hazel green eyes that sparkled in the light of the camera flash.

"Wow, can he eat!" Paul exclaimed.

John and Mary both chuckled. "What do you think of your brother, Paul?" she asked.

That shyness crept into his eyes for a moment. Then Paul smiled up at her and replied, "He's really neat."

*****

2005
Las Vegas, NV

"Dean, what the heck were you doing in that souvenir shop for a whole hour?" asked Paul as Dean sprinted out to the Impala.

Dean opened the driver's side door. "Got you something." He pointed to the cigarette in Paul's hand. "Put that thing out and get in."

Paul knew his younger adopted brother didn't like anyone smoking in his car, but he had tried to quit three times over the last ten years and had always gone back to the cigs. They were his crutch when things got tough and nerve-wracking. The late afternoon sunlight glinted off the silver crucifix around his neck as he turned and flicked the cigarette across the gravel parking lot, then slid into the passenger seat. "Ooh, what'd you bring me, what'd you bring me?" Paul said in mock-excitement.

Dean brought a plastic Jesus figure with a suction cup on the bottom out of the paper bag and slapped it onto the dashboard, where the suction cup stuck fast. Jesus bobbled to and fro.

Laughing, Paul said, "Plastic dashboard Jesus. You found one."

"They do exist," Dean affirmed, and added, "And, in case he gets lonely..." Dean pulled a similar Virgin Mary from the bag and put her on the dashboard next to Jesus.

Paul laughed so hard he slapped his knee, then poked the Virgin Mary figure to make her wiggle back and forth. "So how long are you going to let me keep these here?"

"As long as you want."

"You're kidding. You, the atheist, with two religious figures in plain sight in your car? Your baby?" Paul leaned toward the dashboard Jesus and Mary. "Don't get comfortable."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I can deal with 'em. It's important to you. And I want you to be happy." He poked both figures and sent them bobbing. "I love you, man."

Staring at Dean for a few seconds, Paul finally replied, "What is it you want? You want first choice of beds tonight? What?"

Dean feigned offense. "I can't do something nice for you?"

"When you do something this nice? You want a favor."

"Okay... I do want a favor."

Paul nodded his head. "Uh huh."

Dean just launched into it. "Can you make yourself scarce tonight? I met a couple of twins in the souvenir shop and it turns out they're magician's assistants. I kinda want the room to myself for a few hours, okay? I mean, magician's assistants, man. Do you know how flexible they have to be to fit into those little boxes?"

Raising an eyebrow, Paul said, "Twins, huh? Sure. I'll make myself scarce. But I get to accidentally walk in on you in the later hours. You'll conk out eventually and you know it."

"Sure, if you want my sloppy seconds," Dean laughed.

"Dude, magician's assistants. I'll take 'em."

"And you kept talking about becoming a priest when you were a teenager. Aren't you glad that didn't stick?"

They looked at each other and laughed.

Dean started the car. "We'll take the night off and head for Stanford in the morning."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." Paul put a hand on Dean's arm. "I thought we were investigating the displaced Bermuda Triangle thing next."

Turning the car off, Dean just sat there quietly for a few seconds before he spoke. "I can't shake the feeling that something bad has happened to Dad. He's never gone this long without checking in with us."

"Or checking up on us," Paul amended with a grin.

"That too." Dean sighed. "I'd just feel a lot better if we checked in with Sammy, see if he's heard from Dad. He's always been really good at finding people."

"When they want to be found..." Paul wasn't so sure that their father hadn't disappeared on purpose. "Maybe Dad just needs some time to himself."

"No, this one... this one gives me a bad feeling." A serious expression on his face, Dean looked at Paul again. "Let's go see Sammy tomorrow."

With a sympathetic smile, Paul agreed. "Okay. I just hope he'll be happy to see his wayward, oversexed brothers."

"You may be oversexed. I can never get enough." Dean tried to start the car again, but the engine wouldn't turn over.

"Bucket of bolts," Paul mumbled.

"You take that back, or Jesus is winding up on the railroad tracks." Rrr rr, rrr rr... "Come on baby, be good to me, sweetheart. I'll give you some loving care in the morning. Right now, I need you to start."

The Impala instantly responded, revving up with its trademark deep rumble.

Dean patted the steering wheel. "Thank you, beautiful."

"You're welcome, darling," Paul joked.

Smacking his arm lightly, Dean pulled out of the parking lot. "Put in a tape, wiseass. No fucking Eagles. I've had it up to my ears with The Eagles."

"Hey, could be worse," Paul reminded him. "Could be Sam's music."

Both laughing heartily, they drove off to their motel, plastic dashboard Jesus and Mary bobbing all the way.

END

The last AU question answered by this story: What if John and Mary Winchester had adopted Paul Callan?

Jenn is named after lostsheep22, one of the persons who volunteered to have me name a character after them. Sister Elizabeth is named for mooserat, who was a stripper in another story. Now she's a nun. *snicker*

I chose Paul's middle name based on the Archangels, since Theresa was such a religious woman. I don't like the name Michael for personal reasons, and Gabriel is really the only reasonable one left. Besides, it sounds good with Paul. :)

I came up with the ideas that Theresa and Paul are empaths and that Paul is a necromancer on my own; they do not come from the series. Although, I got the idea that Paul was an empath from what I call "empath moments" on the show. But they never expressly stated that he was one.

The Thai used in this story:
Sawatdee = Hello
Haa! = What the hell!
Taet = Demon
Asoon = Evil spirit
Tam = Part of a Thai word that I'm using as a name here

The Generation of 1954 (c) 2007 Demented Stuff
Supernatural (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland, & Warner Brothers/The CW Television
Miracles is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Television