It was unexpected for Sam and Jess to have a baby right at the end of college, but deep down, all he felt was incredible joy. Life was perfect in California; he was applying to law school, with the greatest girlfriend in the world and a newborn at home. Except for occasional nightmares, his childhood trauma was left in the dust. These were the things that Sam Winchester foolishly assumed untouchable.

They say that you had been reaching for your mother the night she burned alive on the ceiling.

With the bassinet among the things lost to the Stanford fire, Sam resorted to sleeping with you in his arms or next to him. Night after night, like clockwork, Jess’s face would plunge into his subconscious, jerking him awake. His face was damp, his lungs struggling for oxygen that refused to come. As per the routine, you would startle right after, wailing like a monster caught in a trap.

So, Dean came to the rescue, again. It was a tacit agreement, of which neither brother remembered the beginning. During the day, Sam would cover all the responsible crap, and at night, Dean would just get to hold you on whatever cheap shitty motel accommodations they got. Like the good uncle that you met only a few days ago, he started handling your bedtime, carefully letting you sleep on any mattress that wasn’t too gross. There were no complaints from him; just a sense of duty that even Sam didn’t fully understand. Dean never found it in himself to be bothered. He enjoyed getting to know the niece or nephew that he only met because of a tragedy.