Work Text
Kate Milligan wouldn’t change a single thing about her life if she had the chance.
Because no, being a single mom wasn’t easy, but she had her mom and neighbours and friends helping out, and she didn’t have to deal with any of the drama that came with split-custody arrangements like some of her co-workers did. It was easier when the father stayed away.
Looking back, she knew sleeping with John Winchester had been a bad decision. He’d started out as her patient, for one thing, and that brought up all sorts of ethical dilemmas, but John had needed a place to stay and he’d been so rugged and charming and sweet that Kate, fresh out of her RN program and trying to expand her horizons, hadn’t been able to resist.
He was older than her by a decade or so, and he’d left the next morning with nothing in his wake, not even a number. She still hadn’t been able to bring herself to regret it, not even two months later when her test came back positive.
And, yes, Kate had gotten whispers and stares from people who knew the story, but she’d always wanted to be a mom and she’d be the first to admit that she found the selection of men in Windom to be less than ideal, so fine. She had her baby and named him Adam. He was tiny and perfect and all hers. So no, she wouldn't change a thing.
She thought, sometimes when money was tight, about trying to track down John Winchester, if only to put him on child support, but never went further than a bitter thought. She hadn’t put a name on Adam’s birth certificate and Adam was hers and hers alone. She didn’t want to share him with some man she’d only known for a week. She figured she’d never see John again and she’d made her peace with that.
When Adam was two, she’d been in a supermarket comparing the price of cereal and had nearly fallen over when she heard a soft “Kate?” behind her.
“John!” she said.
He looked older, so much older than he had when they’d slept together three years ago. She wondered if she’d aged nearly as badly.
“Good to see you,” she said, stepping closer to her cart, where Adam was sitting. “Your phone number didn’t work.”
“Yeah…” John rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I should have--”
“Yes,” she said. “You should have.”
“Is he?” John swallowed. “Is he mine?”
Kate held back the poison building in her throat. She refused to make a scene. This was her home and he was the one invading. “Yes.”
“I have a son?”
"His name is Adam," she said. "And he is my son."
"I'm sorry," he'd said, with his gruff, gentle voice. "Let me make it up to you."
John had taken them out for dinner and Kate had let him crash on the couch. He’d spent the next few days spoiling Adam, accompanying them to the park, and reading Adam stories. Kate could almost imagine him staying there, sharing her bed with him, building a nuclear family.
On day six, he disappeared.
Adam had cried, a lot, the first time, so much so that Kate swore she’d kill John Winchester if she ever saw him again, but when he called around Christmas when Adam was three, she’d been so dead on her feet that the idea of someone else coming over to keep Adam company during the break was too tempting to pass up.
It went like that for three years. John would call ahead, a few days later he would show up, and he would spend a couple days playing with Adam. Kate would let him sleep on the couch (not her bed, never her bed) and didn’t make a comment when he drank her beer or joined them for meals. She knew she and Adam were his shameful little secrets, but that was fine. Adam deserved to know his dad.
So when John called a week before Adam’s sixth birthday, as much as she didn’t want to, she picked up the phone.
“Kate,” he sounded out of breath. “I need you and Adam to get out of Windom. Now.”
Her blood turned to ice. “What, John-”
“This is serious!” he snapped, in the tone of a man who was not used to having people argue with him. “I’ve-- there are some dangerous people after me and they know where you and Adam are. You need to drive out to Granite Falls, I’ll meet you there. First motel in the phone book.”
“John, this is crazy, have you called--”
“KATE!”
Her ears rang with how loud he shouted.
“This is not a discussion! You and Adam are in danger!”
“I’ll meet you there,” she said, teeth clenched. “But so help me God, you owe me a damn good explanation when I get there.”
“Hurry.”
Kate rubbed her forehead, turning to where Adam was eating his lunch. She didn’t know why she was even entertaining the idea of listening to John Winchester. But he’d sounded so serious, and he’d never been anything but sweet and gentle around her and Adam.
“Baby? Go pack a bag. We’re going on a little trip.”
“To Grandma’s?” Adam asked, eyes bright.
“Not quite,” she said. “I’ll explain on the way. Don’t forget your toothbrush.”
Her hands shook as she packed her own bag, calling her work and Adam’s school. She really would have to put John on child support after this. She couldn’t exactly afford to be taking time off.
Once she and Adam were packed (including an entire bag of Adam’s toys that she’d only said yes to because she had no idea how long they’d be gone for), she started her car and drove.
She wasn’t sure why. She’d never been the type to allow her boyfriends to push her around, and John wasn’t even that. He was the father of her baby, who showed up once a year and drank her beer. So why was she listening to him?
Because he tries to be a good man
, a little voice whispered.
And if he’s telling the truth, Adam’s in danger.
She pulled up to the first motel she found (she suspected it might have been the only motel in town) and caught sight of the beautiful black Impala that John had been so proud of.
She parked next to it and glanced in the back seat.
Adam, her beautiful, sweet, quiet little boy, the only thing she really loved in this world. He was asleep, curled up against the window with his teddy bear clutched in his arms. She’d always told him not to talk to strangers, not to follow strangers to strange places, and here she was. Doing exactly that.
She sighed and waited for John to show up.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
There was something Dad wasn’t telling them.
Dean was used to his dad keeping secrets from Sammy and swearing him to secrecy, and he was used to not having all the information, but this was different. They’d been hung up in Montana on a ghost and the second Sam shot the son of a bitch, Dad was grabbing the scruffs of their shirts and dragging them to the car like they were kids again. At first Dean had been worried they’d done something wrong (mouthed off too much? Bickered? Gotten hurt doing something stupid?), but Dad had just started to drive, barely stopping at the motel to grab their bags.
He’d driven through the night, refusing to let Dean take a turn. They stopped for gas, once, and then drove until they hit Granite Falls.
“I’ll go get us some grub,” Dean offered, but Dad shook his head sharply. “Sit down. We can wait.”
Dean’s stomach was growling, but he didn’t dare disagree. He just sat with Sam, splitting the last poptart with him and trying to keep him from pissing off their dad. He was a bitch when he got hungry.
Granite Falls. There wasn’t anything special about the town, really. It was nearby the campsite where Dean had speared his first Wendigo a couple years before, but Sam had snagged a newspaper at the gas station and there didn’t seem to be any unexplained attacks. They hadn’t gotten any word from Bobby, and Dad wouldn’t even drop them off at the library to do research. Whatever was making him so paranoid, Dean didn’t have a clue.
Dad lurched to his feet when a car pulled up outside and didn’t say a word before storming out. Dean reached for his gun.
“Look alive, Sammy,” he muttered. “I don’t like this.”
Sam must have felt the same way, because he didn’t argue as he put down his book and grabbed a knife from the bag.
They were both tensed, waiting for a fight, but when the door opened again, it was just Dad. No, not
just
Dad. Hidden behind his hulking form was a woman holding a sleeping child on her hip.
“Guns away, boys,” Dad rumbled. “It’s okay.”
“Okay…” Dean said, putting the safety on a tossing it to the bed. “Dad, what’s--”
“This is Kate and her son, Adam,” Dad said. “Kate, these are my boys, Dean and Sam. They’re Adam’s brothers.”
The room went deadly silent. Dean’s ears rang.
Kate started to shake, her pale cheeks turning red. Dean had a feeling that if the kid (Adam. His new brother?) hadn’t been sleeping, she would have screamed.
“You’re telling me,” she said, slow and measured but deeply unhappy. “That you have other children. Jesus, John, this is completely inappropriate, what on Earth-”
“Kate, please--”
Anger roared in Dean’s chest. Every time he’d been left behind while Dad went off, every time he’d been the one to go to Sam’s teacher meetings, or take him to the doctor, or cook him dinner, Dad had another family. Maybe multiple other families.
“Dad?” Sam squeaked, moving closer to Dean. “What--”
“What the fuck?” Dean growled. “You-- how long--”
“Dean,” Dad’s voice was deadly. Dean shut his mouth. “I will explain, I promise, but they’re in danger. I need to handle some things.”
“Oh, no you don’t!” Kate said, blocking the door. She glared at Dad with the heat of a thousand suns. “John, we are not--”
“You are,” Dad said simply. “Dean and Sam will protect you. I have to go. I’ll explain everything when I get back.” He picked up his bag and stood in front of her. “Move, Kate.”
“What exactly is your plan here?” she asked. “I took off work, I called Adam out of school, fine, but what exactly do you expect me to do long term? I can’t exactly afford this, Jesus, you are so--”
“It’s only for a couple days,” Dad said gently. “You stay here while I handle the… people who are after me.”
“Handle?”
Even to Dean’s ears, that didn’t sound good. Kate groaned, hiking the kid a little higher, rocking him.
“John, you said you were a mechanic. Now, I don’t know what kind of nonsense you’ve gotten yourself into, but-”
“I don’t have time for this.” Dad grabbed Kate’s shoulder and moved her out of the way.
“John-”
“Bolt the door behind me!”
And then he was gone and Dean was stuck in a room with Kate. Dean watched as she took a deep breath, schooled her face into something resembling tranquility, then turned to face him.
‘Hello,” she said. “I’m Kate. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m Dean,” Dean said, reaching out to shake her hand. “This is my little brother, Sammy.”
“Sam,” Sam corrected. “Um…”
“Mommy?” a tiny voice piped up. “Where are we?”
Adam. Now that he was awake, Dean studied him a little closer. He was smaller than Sam had been at that age, and he had lighter hair and wide blue eyes.
“A motel,” Kate said. “Isn’t that exciting? This is Sam and Dean. These are Dad’s other sons.”
“You know what that means?” Dean stepped a little closer. Adam shook his head. “Means we’re brothers. We ain’t gonna let a thing happen to you."
Kate smiled tightly. “Dean, I’ve got a cooler of food in my car, would you mind helping me bring it in?”
“Oh,” he glanced back at Sam. “Sure.”
“C’mon, Adam,” Sam jumped in. “I think there are some crayons in the cupboard, we can draw.”
Adam looked up at his mom, who nodded, so he hesitantly took Sam’s hand. “Do you like dinosaurs?”
“Love them,” Sam said, with a straight face. “Do you have any?”
Adam nodded, so Dean left them to it, following Kate outside. She stopped at a bench, lighting up a cigarette.
“Mind if we chat for a second?” She wasn’t really asking.
“Yeah, sure,” he said, sitting down next to her.
She took a couple drags, then sighed. “I’m sorry. This can’t be easy for you.”
Dean shrugged. He was more shell shocked than anything. “It’s okay.”
“I mean, I knew John was flighty, but I never thought-” she swallowed. “Where’s your mom?”
“Dead,” he didn’t mean for it to come out so clipped. “Died when Sammy was a baby.”
“And how old is Sammy?”
“Thirteen. I’m 17, almost 18.”
“Jesus,” Kate rubbed her forehead. She was pretty, even with her blonde hair a mess and dark bags under her eyes. “Where do you live? Near Windom?”
Dean shrugged. “We travel a lot. Dad hunts, mostly, so we go where the game is good.”
“I thought he was a mechanic.”
Fuck
. “He was. Still is, sometimes, I guess. Our Uncle Bobby has a shop in Sioux Falls and we go there a lot.”
“So, what, you live out of motel rooms?”
“Yeah.” Dean knew he wasn’t doing a good job of making it sound less fucked up than it was, but he hadn’t had a chance to make up a good lie yet. He’d been to Windom a couple times, and Dad always came back from those hunts in a good mood. Was there ever even a hunt? Or had he been off playing family with this woman? “Sometimes Dad rents an apartment, if we’re gonna be in town for a while.”
“And what’s this about people coming after him?”
“Game of poker gone wrong,” Dean said. “Owes money to the wrong people.”
“He’s not going to kill them, is he?”
“No,” Dean lied. “No, he’ll probably just work a few jobs, sell some… hide, make the money up.”
“Jesus,” Kate said again. She looked tired.
“I’m sorry,” Dean offered. “Dad was probably trying to keep you and Adam safe, not telling you about us.”
“Oh, sweetie,” she patted his knee with a comforting smile. “We were doing just fine without him.”
Automatic annoyance flared in Dean’s stomach. He didn’t like how she seemed to think of Dad as some deadbeat who’d knocked her up and then left. He didn’t
choose
to have three sons and leave one behind. It was for their safety. Hell, Dean would’ve killed for Sammy to get Adam’s childhood.
“Anyway,” Kate put out her cigarette. “Let’s get that cooler. I packed plenty of sandwiches, you and Sam are welcome to join us.”
Dean just nodded. He was just looking forward to when Dad got back and they could put this whole mess behind them.