Supernatural 1. 12 AM

**Baby Steps**

12:00 AM

"I never wanted any of this for you." Her breaths came out short and hushed, the pale opaque smoke escaping into the cold, frosty New England air, quickly disappearing around her. "I wish I could fix this, reverse this some how."

He stood beside her arms resting within his worn leather jacket. An outsider would never guess from his stoic look on his face the inner battle in him, holding him back He held himself back from comforting the sad girl in front of him on the porch steps. He didn't do things like that.

He took a deep breath, letting it stagger out into the air. "And what would that be?"

His words bring her out of her resolve; she takes immediate notice to him like for the first time she's finally noticing that he'd been there all along. No longer was he just an imagination, a fantasy she had been concocting in her head from time to time.

She opens her mouth. The words disappear as if to stop her from making some giant mistake. They both know the answer to the question he has posed. He wants this to end – his job, his _fathers'_ job, the one that has kept him away from any semblance of a "normal life". She nods her head turning towards him, he nods in return letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. Her head turns out towards the abyss and they continue to sit in this silence. They never cared much for words before so why would they suddenly decide into play now.

She shuffles her arms in her puffy winter jacket she is wearing. Knees shaking in rhythm with the wind, lips pursed deep in thought and her eyes dry from the hours of crying. He doesn't respond to her because his answers will never satisfy her. His feet are like roots growing deeper and deeper into the woodwork. Becoming yet another pillar for the old house to rest upon.

He stares into the open air. It's dark and with no moon to guide his aging eyes he can just barely make out the dirt path leading to the sidewalk. On either side the vague shapes of the garden crawl outwards towards the forest. The impala, still alive and kicking, sits somewhere beyond the iron fence in the driveway. She calmly waits for her next impending adventure.

He is suddenly sparked from his thoughts when he hears her laugh, clear and crisp in the night air. He looks down at her and watches as she erupts with laughter. She feels his eyes crawling over her crouching form, her body still rippling with laughter and the cold air. He casually raises an eyebrow and gives her a look that reminds her of the situation. The last of her laughter echoing into the midnight air.

"I'm sorry." The uncomfortable silence returns after she utters her apology. His gaze is unwavering on her, silently demanding an explanation for the sudden outburst.

"I'm 38 years old Dean," He snorts as she reminds him and she chuckles again, and then grows silent. Her face grows sad and she turns away from him. "We're never going to get it right are we?"

It's not the question that shakes him but the fact that once again he knows she's right about them, their future.

He shakes his head at the memory that tries to invade his mind; he doesn't need to remember all the times he's fucked up, especially with her and his family.

Sam. Dad. The two people he was responsible for, that he vowed to protect were now buried six feet under. He opened his eyes and gazed back down back at her. For her late thirties she had aged well only subtle changes existed. Her hair down past her shoulders, the green in her eyes faded and her lips pale in the porch light. Granted it had been a good three or four years since he last saw her, up close at least. But still she hadn't changed and more importantly neither had he.

Any other time he would've agreed with her about their current debacle. That maybe he wouldn't get it right because of who he was. He shook his head, it didn't matter who he was because he wasn't the same man from all those years ago. This time he was equipped with a new weapon – determination.

"We will." His voice was overtaken with a confidence she hadn't heard in _years._ "Rachel. . . ."

"Rae. . .I just. . . .I don't know ho—" She puts her hand up still facing out towards the darkness of the front yard. He grows silent egging her speak for him. Tell him what wants to say but can't.

_She knows._

_Oh of course she knows, _he thought, _she's always known._

This time the silence unnerves him. "I don't know what to do next." He admits, partially because its true and part because he doesn't know what else to say.

She removes her hands from her jacket, the rings wrapped like vines around her fingers scratching gently against the material. Her legs straighten out in front of her the wrinkles in her jeans disappear, elbows bent and, her hands move towards the concrete stairs for balance as she propels her body forward. She turns in a fluid motion, characteristically graceful just as she was when he first met her on this very porch. She smiles, unsure too of their future after tonight she moves back up the steps towards him, each step creaking with age under her feet.

In the next few seconds she is standing next to him her head barely over his shoulder. She reaches out tentatively with a hand.

He pulls one from his jacket and meets her halfway. Fingers gently intertwined for the first time in a long time.

The wind blows past them and he can barely hear the next few words uttered from her chapped pink lips.

She whispers softly, "Baby steps, Dean, baby steps."


	2. 03 AM

Author's Note: I'm currently at college. I'm trying to get myself adjusted with going to classes and doing my homework. Also these updates might not always be quick or frequent. I plan on having like 4 or 5 chapters to this. Thanks for reading! Also thanks **february bliss **and **RockChixl4tx** for reviewing. Enjoy. Chapter 1 has been sent to my beta, it might change depending on what she does with it.

**Baby Steps**

_03:00 AM_

An hour had passed and they started shivering. He moved his hand from hers and rubbed her arm nodding his head to the old maple Victorian doors. They moved inside quickly the doors warmth passing through them.

Rachel moved into the kitchen and flipped on the lights catching the dimmer and lowered it as not to hurt their eyes. It wasn't time to stir up trouble between them. She moved swiftly to the other side of the kitchen starting up the coffee pot and then moving towards the new steel fridge. Dean stood in the doorway awkwardly, his arms holed up tightly in the leather jacket, eyes slowly scanning the room. The cabinets are cased in white, the top row each consisting of a glass window with iron rods to guard it. The counter tops are black marble contrasting with the white walls and cabinets of its surroundings. A large black marble slab lay in the middle, hoisted up buy maple cabinets, the sides unfinished rough to the touch. In the empty patches of fall hung antique pans, dried herbs, and small paintings of food or gardens. The walls remained white behind these objects; unlike them it hadn't aged with time.

"Coffee?" Before he could answer she slid a mug over to him already filled. The cup stopped just short of the unfinished counter top.

"Thanks." The mug stat on the table, his worn hands slipped around the old mug. Neither sat down instead silently choosing to stand and sip their fingers back to warmth. If people thought December was cold in New England, they obviously never stayed till well into January. The month school kids dreaded – no holidays, vacations or time off in general. A solid month with nothing but work or school or life in general – she hated January. The death of everyone in her family all revolved around thirty-one days in the coldest fucking month of the year. Figures he would show now after she'd been so long with out him. Four years and no sign of Dean or any Winchester for that matter and just when she thought she would die without him he comes back.

She stared off into her mug, the cream and coffee swirling around creating a tiny whirlpool in the center. She'd always envisioned he'd come back. The last time she saw him was four years ago. Two weeks after the death of Sam. He'd always come in times of desperation (for him) or when he needed help with a particular hunt. But this time was different. She looked up at the man across the counter from her his hands wrapped tightly in his hands perched over the counter seemingly in the same mindless internal banter.

Dean continued to stare into his rapidly emptying mug. The bottom almost visible through the dark murky liquid. The silence was slowly killing him. Even as much as he hated fumbling over his words he hated this particular silence. He had never been good with emotions, not like Sam had been and maybe that was part of the reason he envied his younger brother. He had to do it this time, he had to push past the fact that a good chunk of his life he was unable to tell her or anyone what it was that he needed them to understand.

"I'm done." His words were abruptly dropped on her. She looked up confused as if trying to pretend that Dean Winchester had in fact not just said these words in front of her.

"What?"

"I'm done, with all of this." His arm flied past him motioning to the invisible whatever behind him. He took a deep breath and pressed on further. "Hunting."

She ran a hand through her hair nervously; trying to take the so few words he said that held such a tremendous reason. The words that had flown effortlessly out of Dean Winchester's mouth (the self-proclaimed eternal hunter) hung around her weighing her down probably more than him.

"And I mean it. Every word." He interjected into the silence that had fallen between him. Her mouth was slightly open and eyes open wide (a deer in the headlights kind of look).

"A-are you serious?" She choked her own breathing the words barely exiting her mouth. He couldn't possibly be serious. The only thing that would make him stop hunting the answer was death and nothing else.

They sat in silence again. Each reliving the previous minutes that had just passed them by. Suddenly the soft pitter patter of tiny feet could be heard on the creaky old maple staircase. Dean turned his eyes away from Rachel and towards the entry way into the kitchen just in time for a three year old boy with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes dressed in batman pajamas (the feet also sown in) with his thumb in his mouth and a light blue blankie dragging on the floor behind him. His eyes half opened still encased in sleep.

"Mommy, I think there's somethin' under my bed."


	3. 04 AM

**Author's Note:** Here's the 3rd installment and I think its nearing the end. I don't know how much time and effort I can but into this but we'll see. Also please, please review! I see all these story alerts so I know it can't be that bad but please review! I really enjoy knowing what you like, what you want to see or if you hate it then tell me. So please review. Enjoy!

**Baby Steps**

_3:55 AM_

Dean had seen the interaction of mother and son before. From his earliest memory of baby Sam and his mom to the countless families he had saved over the years. But never did he imagine he would be witness to his own.

He had a rough picture in his head of what his son looked like but to see him in the flesh was positively mind blowing. His eyes darted to Rachel's form holding Danny, _his_ son, tightly in her arms. Rocking slowly back and forth trying to sooth her scared and tried son. Her palm moved in the small circles on his back, his tiny hands grasped around her neck.

"There aren't any monsters under your bed, Danny," she whispered, eyes briefly connecting with Deans.

"Really, Mommy?" His eyes still sleepily half closed. His tiny fists rubbing back and forth across his eyes trying to will his small body to stay awake.

"Yeah, really Danny. And you want to know why." Rachel's voice was strained and about to break. She had imagined this moment never happening that her son would only know his father through pictures and never in person. She cleared her head and finished her answer with her little boy looking up at her curiously. "Daddy's home sweetie, for good."

The little boy swiveled his head around to look at the man he had ignored when he ran straight for his mother. "Daddy?" He turned his head back to his mother and pointed to Dean behind him. Rachel could only nod her head. She walked over to Dean who stood on the other side of the island table. If it wasn't for holding Danny she would be shaking and collapsing on the floor in tears. But here she was holding onto Danny, her eyes locked with his green ones. Danny immediately fell into his father's arms, something Dean was least prepared fore.

Almost instantly Danny was sound asleep in Dean's arms. All the little boy's fear of things hiding in his closet and under his bed went away with his Dad finally there, home for good. It was an unusual feeling for Dean, to have this little boy resting in his arms. Sure he had lugged his fair share of heavy things around (unconscious bodies, weaponry and the like) but the weight of his sons' body was more than he could bear emotionally. He gulped down a large breath and looked back up a Rachel who stood in front of him glowing with pride. She nodded her head towards the maple staircase and Dean silently followed

Their shoes tapped the old weakened staircase and it creaked and groaned in resistance as they climbed the curvy gateway to the second floor. Dean saw a small light shinning from a room down the hall. Small words and decorations covered the door, definitely his sons' room. He moved toward the hall way but Rachel's hand rested firmly on his bicep. She nodded to the door directly in front of her. _Her room._ The last time he had been in this room was when he was busy creating the small boy in his arms.

The wall was still that pasty yellow color that reminded him of hospitals, but the smell was all her own. Lavender, rosemary and a strong mint sent flew at him as he walked over the threshold. Her bed was unmade, the sheets matching the walls and her light green comforter tangled up in her sheets like a weed. Getting the hint Dean laid Danny gently in the bed. After setting his sleeping son down on the bed, he shed his winter jacket revealing a worn thermal long sleeved shirt.

He was the first to speak.

"He's perfect Rachel." She looked up and smiled, shedding her jacket also.

"I know, since the moment he was born he was perfect."

He swallowed hard, "About that. . ."

"You've never needed an excuse Dean. We were dealt the same hand, I understand." Her voice turned serious and hard. Even with all the windows closed and the low hum of the heater he could swear on his life a cold wind just blew through the room.

His brow was furrowed; he'd almost forget how easily she made him angry. "You shouldn't have to understand, Rae. Never should anyone have to understand what I do to you. You called me and asked me to come back and see him, but no. No," he said firmly, "I had to stay out there and fight and watch innocent people die." By now his voice had risen considerably but Danny remained breathing soundly, still enraptured by sleep. "You needed me and I didn't come to your rescue."

"I don't need a knight Dean. You know that."

"He needed me, you needed me and I ignored it all."

"I wasn't expecting you to come rushing back to me Dean. Sam died, your father had been gone, it was the last thing you needed was to see another person in pain that you were close to."

He paused, "I love you Rachel. I loved you then and I loved you now. I should have been there no questions asked. It's not fair that you had to go through this by yourself."

She stayed silent this time. Instead she walked over to him and took his hands which had been restlessly thrown at his sides after his emotional speech. "You never need to blame yourself for missing Danny's birth or the start of his life. I've told him ever since he was young that his daddy had to make sure the world was safe before he could come home to play with him. He understood Dean and he waited for you, just like I waited for you. And now you're here."

"And now I'm here to stay Rachel. I swear this time. The demon," He sighed, the words caught in his throat along with his breath but he continued his eyes hardening with mention of the demon, "The demon doesn't want me. I don't know why but it doesn't want me, or you, or Danny even." He looked away from her.

"It won't get us Dean. I'm sure it wants too but he knows the rules, once he says he doesn't want something he can't have it."

He sighed again tightening his hold on her hands. "I know." He gazed down at the floor and then back at her trying to force a weak smile. She yawned quietly and let her body fall towards his arm wrapping around his torso. He then in turn wrapped his arms behind her shoulder blades pulling her deeper into his chest, her head buried in his shoulder. "I just don't want to end up like my father. So in love with a woman and then have her just disappear, not getting the chance to experience what life could be with her."

She raised her head from his shoulder and looked at him. He had never been like this before. When she first met him he had shunned away from any emotion, showing his true feelings only in moments of true desperation. To see him so open was heart melting. "You won't ever lose Danny or I. Don't think for one moment we won't fight back against whatever it is in this world that tries to rip us apart Dean. And when I say no one, I mean no one Dean." She raised her arms from his torso to around his neck. "Danny can more than take care of himself now and so can I."

Deans' eyes quickly met Rachel's. "Wh-wh-what?" He stuttered.

"He's been exhibiting powers recently." She was so calm about this while Dean could barely wrap his mind around it. His son exhibiting _powers_?

"What kind of powers?" He swallowed the gulp of air that had been caught in his throat and continued, "Like yours?"

"Yeah. He's only beginning to come into his own with them. A little telekinesis at first, some telepathy but nothing to major right now. It's the telekinesis I'm having a problem with." She laughed slightly bowing her head down towards his chest.

"We'll we can deal with it as it grows. Together." He had never expected their child to have supernatural powers. But then again Rachel was a blood born witch with powers and the Winchester line wasn't unknown to have powers themselves but it never even crossed his mind that Danny, or any child he produced would have powers of any kind.

Rachel smiled shyly at him and motioned her head to sleeping Danny in the middle of her bed.

"I know there are things we still need to talk about but I'm exhausted and I just don't know how much of this I can take without waking him. Tomorrow we'll talk, okay?"

Dean nodded his head and his eyes glanced over to his sleeping sons form wrapped in the light green comforter. Rachel moved her arms from Dean's neck to down by her body and started to walk towards the other side. Dean stood still in the floor, for the first time unsure if he should join her or go down the hall to the guest room.

She looked up at him as she climbed in, jeans and all, and motioned to the space on the other side of Danny. He let out the breath he hadn't known he had been holding and climbed into bed. _Finally,_ he thought, _I'm home_.


End file.
