FIC TITLE: The Home for Wayward Children

Author- PTBvisiongrrl

Part- 1/1 (at least for now; I promise nothing else, but ideas are a–brewing.)

Date- 3,572

Rating – PG13. I'm trying to write a smutless fic for a change.

Pairings/Characters- Sam/Dean brother bond; Dean/Castiel romantic relationship

Word Count-

Genre- Angst, Family

Warnings- Spoilers- AU for end of Season 11. I had already written this before the finale.

Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don't own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don't sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters and Angels of the Lord getting some on the show!

Summary-

At 39, Dean has taken more hits than a NFL quarterback, and his body has begun to feel it. His bones practically grate against each other when he gets up in the morning, and the rain makes him want to ball up into the fetal position until the Tylenol and Jack kick in. But if there isn't hunting, what is there? All there has ever been is hunting things and helping people, the family business. Well, maybe it's time to help other people hunt things and expand the family.

Chapter 1

Dean shifted on the cheap motel mattress, feeling each and every spring poke against tender muscles and achy joints. The rough sheets pulled against the hasty field stitches Sam had expertly sewn him up with last night, tugging uncomfortably but still hurting less than the ostrich-egg sized lump on the back of his head.

"I went for breakfast already," Sam offered, his voice disembodied from the direction of the small table and chairs in front of the curtained window. "Got you a burrito and coffee. Pain killers over here, too."

Laying a hand across his eyes to block the light creeping in, Dean sighed deeply, lacking the energy to even reply to his brother.

Sam made his way over to Dean's bed, the smell of vanilla coffee thick as he leaned over to move Dean's hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit warmed over," Dean answered, the gravel in his voice a reminder that, oh, yeah, Amara had tried to strangle him, too.

"Fighting a primordial evil can do that to you," Sam tapped Dean's bicep gently. "Let me see your eyes. You have a concussion."

"No shit. Bitch slammed me into a fucking stone wall!" Dean spat out, steeling himself for the stabbing pain that opening his eyes would surely bring before slowing blinking open.

Sam went through the concussion check, having Dean follow his finger with his eyes, asking the date and president, the usual. "As okay as you normally are, at least," he diagnosed before rising and walking back to his laptop at the table.

Moving much slower than usual, determinedly ignoring Sam's gaze following him in concern, Dean made his way to the bathroom to take care of business before breakfast. His burrito was still warm in its aluminum foil wrapper, container of super hot salsa by its side.

Dean savored the flavor, waiting to down his coffee until after the salty, greasy burn faded. "You already looking for a case, Sammy?"

Sam shot Dean a deadly look of contempt. "Fuck, no. We are going on vacation. We are taking a break, going somewhere that has NO supernatural activity of ANY kind, getting drunk and laid for days."

The look on Dean's face showed his surprise at Sam's wording. "Doesn't sound like you, but I'm all in. As soon as my bruises and stitches heal, at least. Hard to pick up chicks looking like Frankenstein."

Sam laughed out loud. "Cas can lure the girls back to your room to share, Dean. Or just smile at them and distract 'em from the rest of the package."

Jaw hanging open, Dean could only mutter, "What? Me and Cas? Huh?"

Closing the laptop, Sam leaned back. "We just saved the world, again. You got the shit kicked out of you by Amara because you turned her down. How many more apocalypses is it going to take for you to just admit to what everyone else in the world already knows?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Sammy?" Dean scoffed, drinking more coffee and looking nervously at everything in the room except his brother's earnest face.

Sam sighed, crossing his massive arms across his chest and narrowing his eyes. "I know you better than almost anyone else, Dean. I know when you are running away from something. I know when you want something but don't think you deserve it. I know when you love someone, whether or not you tell him or her. You can't hide it. Your eyes give you away. You can pull almost any con, could probably fake your way into the White House…but you can't deny love. And you love Cas. You have for years."

Dean swallowed, hard. "He's like another Winchester. He pulled us both out of Hell. He gave up Heaven for us. Of course I love him! He's family."

"He gave up Heaven FOR YOU, Dean. He pulled me out of hell—FOR YOU. Put a ring on him and he can be a real Winchester. Get your head out of your ass." Sam ran a hand through his long hair, standing and beginning to put his stuff into his duffle. "He loves you, too, if you would just open your eyes. And you two deserve to be happy with each other. You've done enough for the world, Dean. Do something for you for a change."

The weight on his body, the years of fighting, of wanting things he couldn't have, of punishing himself for not being a better son/brother/hunter/man… Dean felt it all and was just tired, too tired to argue against the truth Sam had laid bare between them. "Yeah, Sammy, I love him. I love him so much sometimes I can't breathe."

The timbre of Dean's voice, not just the words, made Sam whip around and stare.

The look on his brother's face made Dean chuckle. "I'm done fighting it, Sammy. Hasn't done me a damn bit of good yet, so why would it now? I'm just…done with it all, to be honest. Tired. Exhausted. Too far gone down the rabbit hole to see the light these days."

Flashbacks to Famine and Dean talking while he lay dying flitted through Sam's mind. "What?"

"Not talking about killing myself, here. Just- tired." Dean finished his coffee and headed to the bathroom. "Let me shower, then let's make one last sweep to see if there's anything left to cleanup before we head home."

"Dean?" Sam asked, his breathing fast. "That's not something to joke about—"

"Not joking, Sam. I am okay. Really. Tired, and need some time to think. Need to see Cas." Dean stopped in the bathroom doorframe and turned around to look at Sam. "Serious. I'll be okay. I'm just done with what we been doing. It ain't working for me anymore. I'm physically beat, mentally exhausted. Amara—the Darkness didn't win, we did, but it was a cost. A huge cost."

"Are you really going to be alright?" Sam pressed, ignoring the huge Cas-themed elephant in the room for now.

"I need some time to heal. I'm almost 40, man. I don't bounce back from getting my ass handed to me as quick as I used to. Let me deal with that first, then all the rest. Okay?" Dean asked, earnest, his green eyes clear and honest.

"Yeah, man," Sam huffed out a breath in agreement, blowing his hair out of his eyes.

S & D/C… S & D/C… S & D/C… S & D/C… S & D/C…

Dean hurt enough, even after a long shower and four Tylenol, that he let Sam drive Baby back to the site of last night's epic battle. Dean barely remembered the aftermath, he had been hurting so bad. All he clearly recalled was the backlash of both mental and physical pain he had felt when the super-powered banishing spell that used his blood was invoked, seconds after he had buried the bespelled and blessed angel blade into Amara's heart and twisted it hard.

Dean knew that Castiel had helped him up off the ground, then Sam (who had been knocked down by the physical world chaos created by the unleashed spell), and sat them both into the Impala. A quick brush of healing Grace to make sure they would live and then Cas had gone off, flown away, to take care of the last of Amara's turncoat angels.

There had been other hunters there—Dean knew that, even though he didn't know their names. While Sam and Dean had been doing their best to fight Amara on their own, her activity had acted as a locus for the supernatural. The rise of creatures and events had brought the attention of several hunters to this area—unfortunately for them. Amara had eaten their souls as an appetizer for her anticipated main course—Sam Winchester's soul, ripped from Lucifer's hold—and desert banquet—sweet, fallen angel flesh of Castiel.

Dean was never in danger, if he went along with her. She wanted him for much more. She wanted him for all time. Creepy mental goddess-stalker.

Sam and Dean needed to find the bodies and send the hunters off with a proper funeral. Well, Sam did. Dean would mostly be watching, given the damage he had taken. A woman scorned and all that—because for all Amara's hate, Sam had very little injury.

Except that when the brothers arrived at the battlefield, sun now overhead rather than moon, the pyres were ready to be lit and there was a small crowd standing waiting for them.

Cas greeted them as both Winchesters got slowly out of the car. He could see them check that their weapons were at the ready, and hoped that the children standing with them did not. "Sam, Dean," Cas gave them a nod of greeting with their names. "I'm glad that you arrived now. We are ready to burn the bodies."

Dean bit his lip at Castiel's wording, taking quick concussion-difficult stock of the situation. "Who are they?"

"Four hunters died last night. These are their friends and family." Castiel stepped to the side, introducing Sam and Dean to the group. Two hunters had been married; the three redheaded children—a barely tween girl with a baby in her arms and a toddler of indiscriminate gender clutching her hand—were theirs. The gangly older teenage boy was the nephew of the oldest male hunter, who had been his guardian after his own father had been killed by a wendigo. A barely-teen blonde, wide blue eyes and willowy tall, standing a little apart from the rest of the group, was the sister of the last hunter killed. Two other hunters, one with a bandaged eye and the other with a sling on his arm, rounded out the group.

The group barely acknowledged Sam and Dean, and Dean felt the grief emanating from them. He knew that grief, knew nothing that could sooth it, and swallowed his reaction. How many hunters had Sam and Dean been forced to burn over the years? But these were hunters they had not known, and it was not their job to step in to do so while family was there. So they let Castiel run things.

At least until the redheaded tween starting shaking so hard that the teenage boy took the baby from her and the blonde wrapped her arms around the girl, murmuring words of comfort in her ear. "It will be alright, you'll see. We lost people, but we won. We grieve but we go on. We are hunters, and this is what hunters do."

That was the point when Dean's eyes flooded and he had to walk away.

Castiel's eyes sent a message to Sam to follow Dean, and Sam did, leaving the group behind to stand guard while the bodies burned. It would take a bit to turn the bodies into enough ash to scatter and bury. Sam followed Dean through the trees a bit, making noise enough that Dean probably wouldn't shoot him for startling him.

Probably.

When Sam heard Dean stop walking, and then a sobbing noise tear from Dean's chest, Sam ran the short distance. Sam wrapped his huge Gigantor arms around Dean and held him close as the tears forced themselves out and his body shuttered hard despite his injuries.

Sam waited until Dean had calmed and caught his breath, and pulled away from Sam, before Sam willingly let go. "Are you going to be okay, Dean?"

"Those kids…did you hear what the older girl said? This is what hunters do. And those kids are hunters. That is so wrong, Sammy. So, so wrong. No kids should be hunters." Dean wiped at his eyes, trying to look less like he had just had a monumental emotional breakdown.

"No kids should be hunters," Sam agreed. "It's not fair to a kid. You and I know that better than most."

"We had no choice in it, Sammy. Dad—Dad was too fucked up to even realize what he was doing to us. Grief practically killed him. Revenge resuscitated him." Dean bit his lip. "We had to go along for the ride. There were no options—no family, no one he trusted enough to keep us safe." He kicked at the tree he had been leaning against. "We only lived because we were chosen as vessels. Nothing was going to keep us dead. What's going to happen to those kids?"

"I don't know, Dean," Sam shrugged. "Maybe they have family. Just because we didn't doesn't mean they don't."

"You know any hunters that had families like that, Sammy? Any that didn't get killed because of knowing us, at any rate?"

Sam shook his head. "Well, what do you want to do about it? If they don't have family? I don't know how Jodi would feel about having more kids around. Her house is only so big."

"We have space," Dean spoke without thinking.

"You want to bring five kids back to the Bunker? Us, taking care of kids?" Sam laughed, sharp and disbelieving. "And what do we do with them when we go out on a case? Leave them with Cas?"

"I don't want to hunt anymore, Sam," Dean finally said, the words low and heavy, almost a physical weight he had to force out of his mouth.

"What?" Sam demanded.

Dean sighed, shifting on his feet, trying to stretch out the tight muscles in his back and neck. "I don't think I CAN hunt anymore, Sam. I really am getting too old for this shit."

"What else would you do, Dean?" Sam demanded. Dean had never, ever had a plan for his life beyond hunting. Sam had secretly feared the day Dean gave up hunting, because Sam was afraid that it would be the day that Dean just gave up on everything.

"Bobby stopped hunting. What did he do?" Dean asked semi-rhetorically. "We help others hunt. We just don't do the actual killing anymore."

"Why, Dean? We're damn good at this." Sam's fear bled into his voice.

"I'm quitting hunting, Sammy, not you. You're my brother." Dean gripped Sam into a quick hug, reassuring the bigger man. "And I will never leave Cas. I just have to work up the nerve to tell him that. The Bunker's a big place, little brother. There's a lot of space to expand and a lot of stuff to catalog. I think it could take the rest of our lives and then some to get that place organized."

Sam laughed, relief making it sound a little mad. "You never really struck me as the librarian type, Dean. But it's nice to be surprised every now and then."

Smiling, then wincing as Dean felt his split lip tear a little again, "I refuse to wear the little half-glasses on a chain, no matter how blind I go."

There was no answering frivolity, however, and Dean turned to see a pensive Sam rock-still. "I don't know if I'm ready to give up hunting, Dean."

Dean walked back to Sam, clapped him on the shoulder and got Sam to move along the route he had followed into the woods. "That's okay. I'm not going to stop you. I'll be back at the Bunker, researching or whatever shit you need. Cas can watch your back."

"You researching. Never thought I'd see the day." Sam stopped and forced Dean to pause. "You're gonna have time to do research while taking care of five kids?"

Dean scowled. "Who said I was taking care of those kids?"

"You brought it up first, Dean," Sam frowned. "And I know you. That's your plan, if they need you. If you're not hunting, you're still saving people. Plus, you do an okay job raising kids. Look at me, after all!"

Dean pulled Sam's face down to rest their foreheads together. "First kid's always the test case. Next ones will turn out even better."

Sam shoved Dean off, feeling their world shift but not unpleasantly so. Dean had not been happy in so long—going through the motions, giving it 110%, but never quite letting the joy of victory reach his eyes. "Dean the Nanny. God, it's like a bad Disney sitcom."

Dean punched him hard on the shoulder, and Sam shot back Bitch Face #17.

S & D/C… S & D/C… S & D/C… S & D/C… S & D/C…

Castiel was waiting by the dying fires, leaning against the Impala. "Dean. Sam," he greeted them.

Sam motioned down to the flames, popping the trunk to pull out a shovel, holy water, and salt before heading down to the almost-extinguished pyres.

Dean leaned next to Cas on the Impala and waved off the healing hand headed his way. Dean was alive, and there were more important things to deal with currently. "How are the kids doing?" he asked.

Blue pierced him as Cas answered. "As well as to be expected. They are in mourning, and fearful."

"Why are they afraid?" Dean asked, probing.

"They have no family, not that they know well enough to 'show up on their doorstep unannounced to live with them', according to the eldest boy, Colton. Their parents' were hunters, just as yours." Cas rubbed his neck nervously, a habit he had picked up from Dean. "They do not know how they are going to survive. Foster care will split the siblings up, which Rose—the red haired girl—does not want."

Dean studied the group, noting how close the children stood next to each other, how they interacted. "How old are they?"

"Rose is 11. The baby, Petie, is 10 months old. The toddler is 2, and named Jerry, short for Jeremiah. Colton is the oldest at 16 and Morgan, the older girl, is 14." Cas sighed deeply. "Morgan reminds me of Claire."

Dean could see the physical resemblance, even if it was passing. "What are we going to do with them?"

"The other hunters volunteered to take them to family, which is how I now know they have none." Castiel crossed his arms, unconsciously mimicking Dean's pose. "I suppose we will have to turn them over to Children's Services—at least the younger ones. I don't like letting any of them go live on the streets on their own, but I don't know what else to do with them."

"Now that this is all over with, what do YOU want to do, Cas?" Dean asked.

Looking nervous, shifting away from the Impala and beginning to pace, Cas was silent for several long minutes. "I'm not sure. I hadn't thought past the final battle with Amara. I hope she is the last massive evil we ever have to deal with—but I know lesser creatures are still loose. I assumed you and Sam would return to hunting, and I could help you with that. Heaven is—not home for me anymore."

"If you stay here, will you Fall? Become human?" Dean asked, his voice uneven and breathy.

"I've Fallen several times at this point, so I don't really care," Cas shrugged. "I just don't feel that what I do up there will matter. Earth, this is where anything that happens will happen now." Cas turned to level one of his lingering, emotional stares at Dean. "Do you want me to return to Heaven?"

"No!" Dean practically shouted before he realized he had spoken. "No," he said more quietly, "I don't want you up there with those bags of dicks. I want you here with us—with me."

Cas cocked his head to the side, his usual squinty-eyed look of confusion slightly less squinty eyed as he studied Dean's face. "You want me to stay here, on Earth, at the bunker?"

"Yes," Dean nodded. "With me."

"With you?" Cas asked. "What does that mean?"

Dean stepped quickly and with purpose to Castiel and seized Castiel's right hand in his. "I mean that I love you, and I want to build a life here with you."

The gasp that came out of Cas make Dean smile.

"Yeah, I know," Dean shrugged. "Finally got my head outta my ass. Fifth- or is it sixth?—apocalypse was the charm."

Cas wrapped his free hand around Dean's neck and pulled him in for a ferocious kiss, not caring who was around and saw it. "Fifth. It was the fifth," Cas murmured against Dean's mouth, leaning his forehead against Dean's and wrapping strong arms around him. "I've loved you forever, Dean."

Dean smiled, eyes fluttering open to meet Cas's blue ones. "Will you move in with us at the Bunker?"

"Us?" Cas asked, squinty eyes puzzled. He had made it clear that he expected Sam to be there, too, already.

"Well," Dean pulled back, his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Sam will be there, of course. But I was also thinking that those hunter kids…might be better off with us than with Social Services. We have a lot of room, we understand how they were raised…what do you say?"

Cas blinked a few times. "Of course, Dean."

Dean nodded firmly and quickly. "Good. Go help Sammy and I'll talk to the kids. I'll explain that we are taking them with us for a few days, let them see the place before they decide if they want to stay."

Cas's smile was blinding. He reached for Dean's hand, pulling him down the gentle incline next to the asphalt and heading for the gathered hunters.