...spn...
Dean had taken to mentoring a flock of angels surprisingly well, all things considered. True, he still did not consider himself a proper role model for morally ambiguous beings, but he had always been good with kids.
The former hunter might even say he was happy, if not for the periodic headaches, present ever since he gave up hunting, growing in frequency and severity as the months wore on. Dean tended to just ignore them and concentrate harder on whatever he was doing, but soon he found himself caving into the pressure behind his eyes and popping tylenol.
When that ceased to be effective, Lisa started to notice.
"Is it something left over from before?" she asked, her hand brushing his forehead.
Dean grunted, trying not to move.
"I think you should go to a doctor."
"M'fine," he mumbled. As if to prove his health, he pulled himself upright. "Think I'll go mow the lawn today."
Lisa sighed. "Don't overexert yourself."
Dean nodded, adjusted his short, and headed outside.
It was a sunny summer day, the kind that pasted sweat to a body if it moved too much. Dean reveled in the heat, carefully keeping his mind off the hotter places he'd been as he started up the mower.
He got through half the lawn before he decided to sit down. Half way to the porch he collapsed.
...spn...
"We're hurting you by living in your head."
Sammy, now not so little, sat across from him in what looked like Bobby's library.
Dean shrugged, leaning back into the rickety desk chair his dream provided. "Yeah, I figured that much out a while ago."
"Then why didn't you tell us to leave?" Sammy's face twisted into a scowl, trying desperately to understand.
Dan snorted. "Like I would throw a bunch of kids out on their asses when they had no where else to go!"
"But we're hurting you!"
"I can handle it."
"NO YOU CAN'T!" Sammy cried, face red eyes streaming. "We're killing you! I can't- I couldn't-" He latched onto the older man's chest. "I don't want to have killed my father!"
A warm bubble blossomed in Dean's chest. He laid a hand on the angel's head. "Hey, it's alright. I'm not going anywhere."
Sammy pulled back. "No, 'cuz I won't let you. I'm gonna take the Band somewhere else to live. I can take care of them all now."
Dean's heart fell despite himself. "If that's what you want."
Sammy shook his head. "No, but it's what you taught me was right."
They stood in silence.
"Where will you go? I know the newest bunch you found can barely fly yet."
Sammy shrugged. "I was thinking about doing that time traveling thing you told us about and hiding out somewhere in the sixties. Some of the others want to meet their namesakes in person. Ringo said something about invading Britain."
Dean smiled wistfully. "You kids stop by and visit, ok?"
"Well duh! I'm not some jerk with wings!" Sammy laughed, and vanished.
...spn...
A bright light shone through his eyelids and the smell of disinfectant stung his nostrils. Dean opened his eyes, and groaned at the white hospital walls around him.
"Hey there sleepy." Lisa sat on a chair beside him, fingers entwined with his own. "The doctors said it looked like you had heatstroke. Feeling better?"
He smiled and squeezed her hand. "Not really, but I'll carry on."
...spn...
end!
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Mini omake:
Castiel sat in a field on a mountaintop watching the secret language of bees and flowers.
A presence made itself known behind him, but he didn't turn around.
"Hey there Uncle Cas!"
A tall figure loomed at the corner of his eye, casting a dark shadow over the flowers. The bees unhappily buzzed away. Pouting, the archangel had no choice but to look at the intruder of his solitude.
He was tall, and by human reckoning looked to be about twenty five. A silver shotgun etched with Enochian letters lay casually slung over his shoulder. He wore a faded pair of jeans and a black shirt with a name Castiel recognized from Dean's cassette collection under leather jacket.
"You're not Sam Winchester," he said immediately.
The Sam look alike smiled and shook his head. "Nope. I'm L. Sammy," he pointed over his shoulder, "and these are my siblings."
There was a rustle of feathers, and suddenly the clearing was full of jeans wearing strangers, all of whom held a mixture of pistols and riffles in place of the more traditional angelic short sword.
Castiel blinked.
"I was under the impression that there weren't this many of us left."
Sammy grinned. "Well we're not one of you- We're in the Band."
Castiel blinked again. "So what do you want from me?"
The younger angel's grin reflected on a thousand faces. "Well, we heard you were interested in an advisory position..."
...spn...
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Author's Notes:
Ok so I got inspired by that fic where angel's Grace is quantified as energy and the Winchesters and Cas go off trying to find Gabriel's lost grace to give Cas a power up.
In my universe, an angel's grace, aka 'Fluff Stuff', clings to the place where the angel died until enough energy collects to form another angel. Since previously all angels died in heaven, baby angels were born in heaven. Here 'The Band' is made up of angel's whose 'parents' died on earth (Gabriel, Anna, Uriel, random angel # 398, you get the idea), creating the first batch of earth born angels.
I've always loved Dean as a daddy fics, and thus this was born.
Referenced band members (as if Dean would name his children anything else):
Lead Zepplin band members: Jimmy Page, Robert Plant John Bonham, John Paul Jones. Black Sabbath: Tony Iommi Ozzy Osbourne Geezer Butler