Becky looked between the three of them - her stammering boyfriend who really needed some undisturbed time with his mother and the other him; the mother who was calmly waiting; and Dean, just starting to wake up. "Time you had breakfast," she answered Dean confidently, moving to pull him out of his seat. "On me. You need a break."

"What?" Dean exclaimed as he was half-dragged out of the chair, still blinking sleep out of his eyes. "I had a donut!" he protested. Two, actually, but who was counting, and did donuts actually count as breakfast' "I just had a break," he protested further, looking to Jo and then Sam, oblivious to the fact that the two might need a moment of privacy between mother and son.

"Not a sleep, a break from this room," Becky insisted, her expression caught between amusement and stern insistence. "Seriously, don't make me drag you. It won't be pretty."

Jo snorted with laughter at the threat, such as it was. "She's right, baby," she pointed out to Dean. "You haven't even stepped out long enough to shave and shower today. You need a break from being in here. Sam'll look after us while you're gone."

"Is she always this bossy?" Dean asked, directing the question to Sam, though there was a smirk on his face now, even if he wasn't quite awake yet. "I like a woman who knows how to take charge," he told Becky, not quite flirting, just teasing. "Be careful, Sam. She'll have you barefoot and pregnant if you're not careful."

Sam snorted laughter. "Go get some breakfast, Dad. You're delirious."

"Find me a heavy enough book, and I'll take charge you straight back to sleep again," Becky informed Dean with grin. "Seriously, I'm offering you a free breakfast here. One time only deal from a poor waitress."

"I'd take that offer if I could," Jo pointed out with a grin. "Go and eat something not in a paper cup."

"Yeah, okay ....I know when you're trying to get rid of me. I can take the hint. Come on, Becky. I'll let you buy me breakfast while I tell you embarrassing stories about Jo." He couldn't really tell her embarrassing stories about Sam, because he didn't have any yet. He tossed a wink at Sam, letting him know he was kidding before letting Becky lead him from the room.

"I have worse stories about you, I know about Tampa," Jo called after him with a low laugh, waiting until the door fell closed before looking over at Sam. "First thing first ....you owe me a hug." Setting her cup aside, she opened her arms, demanding that hug now rather than later.

"Tampa!" Dean exclaimed as he stepped out the door. "You can't blame me for that. I was drunk!" Dean's laughter could be heard echoing down the hall at his wife's remark. He was probably going to have to explain that reference to Becky now, but hopefully, she wouldn't be able to tell when he was fibbing a little. And hopefully, the nurses wouldn't scold him for being too loud.

Sam set the other cup of coffee aside that had been meant for his dad and leaned over to wrap Jo in a warm, gentle hug. "You okay' I know it wasn't an easy birth."

She wrapped him up in her arms, a part of her glad to know that her son would always want his mother's hugs, even when he was grown. "I'm sore, and tired," she told him, refusing to lie. "But I'm okay. Wasn't so much that it was hard, more that it took a long time to get there." She smiled at him, flicking his hair off his brow. "How about you? Are you okay?"

Once they had finished hugging, he settled himself in a chair beside her and took one of her hands between his. He'd had enough time to get used to the idea that his mother wasn't all that much older than him in this time, but he hadn't expected the confusion he felt at the birth of the child that was supposed to be him. He shrugged in reply to her question. "I'm okay. Just gonna take some time to get used to it, I guess."

"Time is what we've got, little man," she reminded him, letting him hold onto her as he finally sat down. The baby was fine where he was, hemmed in by blankets and dozing in his own little world. It didn't even register with Jo that she'd called a man barely seven years her junior "little man", exactly what she had called little Dean and what she was calling Sammy now. It seemed as though that was her go-to address for the little boys she loved. "So talk to me."

"Not so little anymore," he reminded her, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze. "What do you want me to say?" he asked, not really surprised by her attempt to get him to talk. He'd always been close to his mother and had never been afraid to tell her anything, but things were different now. He wasn't her son in this world, not really. The little boy dozing on the bed - that was her son. Not him. His mother existed more than twenty years in the future.

"First thing that comes into your mind," she suggested. "Or you could start with why you won't even look at the baby." She sighed softly, her fingers stroking over his knuckles. "I know it's confusing as all hell, Sam, but it's something we all need to accept. He isn't you. You are your own person, and he will be his own person. But that doesn't mean that you're not my son. You're always gonna be my son, no matter how weird it seems."

"It's just weird," he said, echoing her thoughts. "I mean ..." He sighed, frowning a little. He glanced at the door, though it was unlikely his father or Becky would return just yet. "I don't know if I did the right thing," he admitted, feeling torn and confused. She had warned him this might happen, but he'd been so sure, so adamant that he was needed more here than back home he hadn't listened to her warning.

"Oh, sweetie ..." Jo sighed softly, raising her other hand to touch his cheek fondly. "Does it still feel right, in your gut' You can always ask Apollo to take you forward, that door isn't closed. But you have to be sure, because it'll close behind you. I'd miss you, if you made that decision, but I'd support you, too. But no matter what I say, it's your decision to make."

"Yes and no," he replied, drawing comfort from her touch, no matter how his heart was aching. "I miss Hope and Johnny, but ....I love Becky, Mom. I can't leave her, and I still feel like I'm needed here. It's just ..." He paused a moment again as he tried to gather his thoughts and share them in a way she could understand and that wouldn't hurt her feelings.

"How can I be your son when you don't remember raising me" The Jo that was my mother is ....she's twenty years in the future. That's not me," he said, nodding his head at the sleeping newborn that shared his name. "He's not going to be me anymore than that kid was Dad. I'm not his brother or his uncle. We share the same genes, but we won't share the same experiences. I remember when Dad taught me to ride a bike and hit a baseball. I remember our first dog. I remember you baking cookies at Christmas and tucking notes in my lunch box, even when the world was crazy. Those are things I remember, but you and Dad don't. They're things you will share with ....with him, not me." He turned his head away so that she wouldn't see the tears in his eyes. It wasn't jealousy exactly, but just him trying to find his place in a world that didn't know him. She watched him for a long moment, wondering if he knew just how much she understood what he was saying to her. She'd lived three years of her life with no memory of who she was or where she had been; she had experience to put on the table here. "Sam ....when you were younger, did I ever tell you about being Nimue?" she asked him quietly, wondering if he would guess where she was going with this before she got there. "About what it was like to meet your father in Chicago?"

He wiped a hand across his face in hopes she wouldn't see his tears, as futile as it was. "A little," he admitted. "You said you loved him even before you remembered who you really were." He wasn't entirely sure how that was relevant to his own predicament, though the family seemed to have more than their fair share of these sorts of stories.

She nodded, smiling gently. "Now think about that," she told him. "I didn't remember a damn thing, about anything, but I knew I'd loved your dad for a long time. I didn't share anything with him, but I knew I loved him. Sweetie, you say that you and I don't share anything, but we do. You saved my life, we've hunted together, we've burned a Christmas turkey as a team effort. You've looked after me, and I've tried to look after you. Without you here, I would have panicked yesterday. Over the months, you've taught me how to be a mom, not to be afraid of being a mom, because if Sammy turns out even half as well as you have, then I'm not going to make a mess of it. No one else could have taught me that. No one but you. And no, I don't remember the life you've lived, and that makes me sad sometimes, to know that I've missed a lot and that I left you too soon. But that doesn't mean I don't love you, and it isn't shared between you and Sammy. The love I have for you is all yours, because of who you are and what you mean to me." She paused, her expression worried as she looked into his eyes. "But I can't make up your mind for you, little man."

"Mom," he started, chuckling again, "He's not eating bacon to taunt you. He said he had a donut, but you and I both know that's not breakfast. That's just ....carbs. And you know what he says about oatmeal." Sam mimicked his father's voice and mannerisms, which wasn't hard to do considering they were practically identical. "I'll eat oatmeal when I can't chew anymore and not before."

She snorted with laughter, rolling her eyes. "You two are unnervingly alike sometimes," she teased him fondly. "But I had to eat oatmeal this morning. I swear, the nurse was gonna spoon feed me if I didn't finish it!"

"Like father, like son," Sam quipped with a smile. He didn't mind one bit when he was compared to his father, proud of the man who had raised him and taught him that family was the most important thing. Those were lessons he'd never forget and tried to emulate in his life everyday. This, Sam realized - the baby boy right there in his arms - was family, and nothing was more important than that. "Maybe we should call him Rob or ..." He grinned as a thought came to mind. "Bertie. You used to call me that sometimes when I was a kid."

"Bertie, huh?" Jo smiled with him, remembering hearing Hope call him that on a number of occasions. "Sure you don't want us to call you Bertie" Or are you just really attached to Sam by now?" She twisted about carefully on the bed, crossing her legs more comfortably. "Would it help you feel more comfortable if we switched his name around or called him by a different name?"

"I'm a little old for Bertie, don't you think?" he asked, not missing the irony if they chose to call their new son Bertie, instead of Sam, just as they'd done with him when he'd been a boy. "I think you should do what you want. It's just gonna get a little confusing if we're both named Sam." He knew how much the name meant to his father, and he wouldn't deny him that. It was a decision his parents had to make on their own.

"I'll talk to your dad about it," she promised him gently, her smile far from fading as she looked at him holding the littlest Winchester in the world in his arms. It didn't matter that they were genetically identical; they were family, and that was what really mattered. "Should be allowed home tomorrow, too. Nothing's wrong with either of us that a little TLC won't cure."

"He's got a different birthday than me," Sam pointed out, though if anyone had already realized that, it was his mother. It was the first of what was likely to be many differences to come. "Maybe he'll get to grow up in a more peaceful world," he mused aloud, his heart going out to the small boy, though he and Hope had already ensured that this boy's parents would not suffer the same fate that theirs had.

"All three of us still very close, though," she pointed out with a smile - her own birthday fell in April, after all. "Something tells me you and me are going to have a lot of shared birthday celebrations in the years coming." She chuckled warmly, but his hope for the little boy softened her expression. "He will," she promised him. "We'll make sure of it."

"I had a happy childhood, Mom," he pointed out quickly, not wanting her to get the wrong impression. While the world had been screwed up, their family had not. "You and Dad made sure we never doubted that we were loved. That's why Hope and I came back here. Because you and Dad taught us that there's nothing more important than family. Nothing."

"I'm glad we got something right," she said quietly. There were times when she felt guilty for how quickly he'd had to grow up, even though the event that had settled that for him would now never happen. "I'm glad you have Becky."

And speaking of the devil ....the door opened to admit Becky herself, blushing bright red and giggling like mad, no doubt because of something Dean had said just before they got there.

"You got a lot right," Sam assured his mother before their private moment was interrupted by his father and girlfriend, both of them laughing. "Shhh, you'll wake the baby," Sam said, shushing them both with a gentle scolding.

Clapping a hand over her mouth, Becky snorted into her palm, moving to crouch down and take a look at the new Sammy for herself. "Sorry, mother," she teased Sam affectionately, looking the baby over upside down. "He's so little. Seriously, did you ever fit into diapers that small?"

On the bed, Jo let out a bark of laughter that did startle the baby, jolting him awake in a sudden blast of noisy cries. "Crap ....sorry!"

Sam glared at Becky a moment, more for waking his "little brother" than anything else. "For your information, Miss Smarty Pants, I wasn't a premmie. He is."

Dean winced at the racket, a paper cup of coffee held in his hand. "New rule ....Whoever wakes him gets to put him back to sleep again. That would be you, Rebecca," he teased, hiding a smirk behind the cup as he took a sip. Technically it had been Jo who had woken the baby, but Becky who'd incited her laughter.

"What?" Becky lurched backward before anyone could hand her the baby, palms held out in an attempt to ward off any attempt to make her soothe the screaming infant. "I didn't wake him up, she did!"

"Hey, you made me laugh, you can make him shut up," Jo chuckled, more than happy to join in on that rule.

Dean winked over at Jo, before claiming a chair. "Might as well get used to him. Who do you think is gonna be babysitting?"

Sam moved to his feet with the screaming bundle in his arms, looking far more competent with a newborn than his parents might have guessed. "Come on, Bec. He won't bite. I promise."

"And after I bought you breakfast, too," Becky complained to Dean, grimacing reluctantly as Sam advanced on her with the baby. She waved her hands in a useless fashion. "Aw, come on ....I'll read him a book or something, do I have to hold him' 'Cos, you know, I'm in a room with three people who will kill me with their little fingers if I drop the kid."

"You're not gonna drop him!" Sam reassured her with a smile. "Sit down," he instructed, now that the chair he'd been sitting in was vacant. All of this was new, of course. None of it had happened before, so Sam couldn't be sure, but he trusted Becky and knew she was far more capable than she gave herself credit for.

"No killing. Promise," Dean said, raising a hand to indicate he had no weapons.

"Or maiming," Jo added with a chuckle, pleased to know that she wasn't the only person in this family with a deathly fear of dropping the baby.

Pouting worriedly, Becky thumped down into the seat Sam had vacated, trying to ignore the wails coming from the baby boy she'd indirectly woken up. "Now what? Are you going to sit on my lap, baby?"

"First is the worst," Dean quipped, meaning the first time holding a baby. He'd had a trial by fire himself a few years back during a hunt with his brother involving the baby of a shapeshifter. It was a long story, and one he had not yet told.

"Fold your arms like this ..." Sam instructed, as he jiggled the bundle in his arms to get him to calm down.

"What, you mean I should have been changing Sam's pants and feeding him from a bottle for the last eight months or so?" Jo asked Dean sweetly from where she was comfortable on the bed. Her trust in Sam was absolute, as evidenced by the way she allowed him to manhandle the baby into Becky's stiff arms without interference. If he trusted Becky, then so did she.

"Oh, look, you learned a new word," Jo teased her husband, leaning over to kiss him gently. She generally didn't give an inch when they were in company, and their grown up son definitely counted as company. She'd make it up to him when they were alone, and he knew it. "You know, I think lack of sleep may be making me a little loopy."

Sam glanced at his mother, wondering if that was their cue to leave, but he didn't want to leave without making his feelings clear to both his parents and maybe even to Becky. "Look, I know this is all a little weird and awkward for everyone, but I stand by my choice. You might not realize it yet, but you need me. No one is the loser here. Little Sam here gets a big brother out of the deal, and we'll both be here for Hope when she's born. You get an extra pair of hands in this war we're fighting, and I get to be with Becky."

Well, that got awkward fast, at least for the only non-Winchester in the room. As much as Becky understood and appreciated Sam's implication that she was worth staying in this time for, she didn't think this was a conversation she was supposed to be hearing. And she couldn't escape, or the nurses would accuse her of trying to steal a baby.

As for Jo, she smiled gently as Sam spoke, deeply glad that he seemed to have at least arranged matters in his mind so that he could work toward becoming comfortable with them. "Never said we didn't need you, little man," she reminded him softly. "Can't say I'm not happy you're staying, either."

Just a short while ago Sam had been wondering if he was doing the right thing and now, here he was trying to convince his parents that he had no regrets - or was he really just trying to convince himself. He looked over at Becky with the baby in her arms and frowned, knowing he failed to explain his feelings, at least where she was concerned. "I didn't decide to stay because of Becky ..." he started, having made the decision before he'd met her. "....but now I can't imagine my life without her."

Dean arched a single brow as he glanced at Jo, wondering if the young couple didn't need a few moments alone.

Strange, that it wasn't Sam's feelings Becky wasn't sure of. She was absolutely certain of him, trusting that he loved her the way she loved him. But she was uncertain if his parents - his dad - really approved of her, or at least, of the way Sam made room for her in his life. She wasn't a hunter, after all; as far as they knew, she was just a top-grade student who'd skipped a few years to be graduating from university in a few months' time. In that light, she was more of a liability than anything.

Jo caught Dean's glance, and came to a decision herself, not even trying to stifle her quiet yawn. "Sorry," she apologized for the rude gesture, despite the out it gave Sam and Becky. "Busy day yesterday, you know?"

Sam seemed to get the hint, and they had been there a while already. "Yeah, we know," Sam replied. "How long are they keeping you?" he asked, catching his mother's hint that it was time to say goodbye.

Dean only frowned over at Jo, wondering what she was thinking, but like most women, she always seemed to be a little more insightful than him, especially when it came to their son.

Jo smiled, watching as Becky gingerly got out of the chair to try and hand off the baby to Dean without looking him in the eye too much. "They'll probably let me out tomorrow," she told Sam. "We'll call, let you know what?s going on. So no worrying, all right' We've got twin gods roaming around here to keep us safe."

Sam leaned in to give his mother a hug and a whispered, "Love you," while Becky handed the baby off to his father.

Dean noted how Becky wouldn't meet his gaze as she came over to hand him the baby. "Bec, we good?" he asked, arching both brows at her curiously. The girl had gotten a little too quiet over the last few minutes, and he had a feeling it was because of him.

The girl looked almost startled as Dean spoke to her, catching his eye as she released her grip on his son. "Yeah," she said quietly, hoping her flush didn't give her away. "Yeah, we're good. Uh ....don't forget the goodie bag, okay?"

Behind her, Jo was kissing Sam's cheek, stroking the back of his head as though he were still a baby himself as she hugged him back. "Love you too, little man," she promised him. "Don't worry so much, okay' Misunderstandings happen all the time."

"We won't," Dean replied, smiling warmly. He might not have told her yet, but he liked her and he and Jo both approved. "Thanks for breakfast." He didn't wait for a hug or ask for one, not wanting to make her feel even more awkward than she already did. They'd had a good chat over breakfast, and he hoped that, in time, she'd come to feel like one of the family.

"Try not to," Sam replied, not bothering to remind her again that he wasn't so little anymore. "Get some rest, okay' We'll check in with you tomorrow."

"You needed the break," Becky nodded to Dean, her usual smile absent from her expression as she backed up, offering a wave to Jo on her way past the bed. The smile that spasmed into view was not the cheerful cheekiness they'd grown accustomed to.

Releasing Sam, Jo sat back with a low chuckle. "Scout's honor, I will rest as much as Sammy lets me," she promised. "Take care, guys, okay?"

Dean frowned at the lack of smile from Becky, wondering what he'd done wrong. Everything seemed to have been going well, until when" Until he'd said something about Sam not being happy. That had to be it. His frown deepened, wanting to kick himself in the ass, but the damage was done, and he wasn't sure he could undo it. "Hey," he said, hoping to stop the pair before they could escape. "Take care of each other, okay?" It wasn't exactly an apology, but he hoped it at least told them that he cared about them both.

Sam reached for Becky's hand as he followed her to to door. "We will, Dad. Don't worry. See you tomorrow, okay?"

"Absolutely," Jo agreed, just about managing to hide her wince as she saw the penny drop with Dean. She'd been hoping he wouldn't realize what had been implied until at least after Sam and Becky had made their escape, but there was nothing for it now. "We'll keep in touch."

Dean watched the pair exit, looking back at the boy in his arms with a sigh. "Well, I sure made a mess of that. Hope you forgive me someday," he told the baby, though that Sam would not grow up to be the young man who had just stepped out of the room. It wasn't really Sam's forgiveness he needed so much though as it was Becky's, but he really wasn't sure how to make it right.

"Oh, it isn't that big a mess," Jo assured him, making herself comfortable on her side to watch him with their newborn. "But, you know ....she doesn't know you well enough to be able to follow your train of thought, not the way Sam does. So in her mind, it seemed as though you might have been suggesting that Sam isn't happy with her. She'll get over it, and so will you. She's still just eighteen, Dean, and she doesn't have our background. It's a learning curve, that's all."

"No, it's not," Dean replied, feeling bad for unintentionally hurting Becky's feelings. "I like her. I do. I think she's good for him. They're good for each other. Maybe I should have just told her that," he said. He didn't want to make a mountain out of a molehill, but he didn't want to let the wound fester either.

"So when you next get a chance, tell her that," Jo suggested with a gentle smile. "You know, they're planning on moving her into Sam's apartment when she finishes officially at Stanford in a couple of weeks. We should probably be able to hear her dad yelling about it from across town when she tells him."

"It's that serious?" he asked, brows arching upwards. He had heard what Sam had said, but they were young. Becky was only eighteen and Sam was just into his twenties. As far as Dean was concerned, they were just babies.

"They seem to think so," she nodded, rubbing a hand through her hair. "He loves her, Dean, and it's pretty obvious that she feels the same way about him. Even if it doesn't last, it's an experience they need to have. And you know what? It's a normal experience. Meeting someone, wanting to live with them, learning to live with them - it's that experience that normal people go through to find out whether they're going to grow together or apart."

"I think that's minor genius," Jo agreed with a chuckle, lazily swinging her legs off the bed to go and hunt for one of the little bottles the hospital had provided for their use while they were there. No need to heat it, although the newly re-christened Bertie seemed to prefer it warm. "No spit up in the bed this time, though."

"I know, I know ....A couple of ounces and then burp him," Dean recited with a roll of his eyes. Despite the little experience he'd had with babies, he'd had to learn that one the hard way. "You want the bottle or the diaper?" he asked, giving her a choice as they took turns with baby duties.

"I'll diaper," she volunteered, a far cry from the reluctance she'd shown when they'd been babysitting their borrowed newborn this time last year. "Need to get used to that damned cord sooner rather than later." She flashed him a faint smile. "You're pretty good at this dad business, you know."

He shrugged at her compliment, not thinking much of it. "I've had a little practice," he said, unsure if he should expand on that explanation. He chuckled to himself a little at a particular memory. "Did I ever tell you about the time me and Sam had to babysit a shapeshifter kid" Cute kid. Sam said I had the touch, whatever that is."

"You looked after a shifter baby?" Jo laughed as she handed him a cloth and the little bottle, hands open to take their charming little bundle of bubble blowing baby off him to get the diaper changed before he started complaining too much. "You've definitely got something, baby, that's for sure. Kinda glad I've got you to make sure I don't make too many mistakes."

"Yeah," he replied, tossing the cloth over a shoulder before handing over the baby for a changing. "Well, we didn't know he was a shapeshifter at first. Named him Bobby John. Not sure what became of him." He turned quiet, hoping the kid didn't turn into a monster, even if it was already in his genes. He didn't like the idea of having to kill a kid. Lost in his own thoughts, it took him a minute before he registered what she was telling him. "Yeah, well, it's mostly just trial and error. I helped with Sam when he was little, but ..." He shrugged again, as if he didn't really want to talk about that.

In the midst of changing what was, thankfully, a not particularly smelly diaper this time, Jo looked over at him as he shrugged, her expression gently understanding. "We'll find out for sure," she told him in a soft tone, knowing he worried over the Sam he'd left behind near constantly. "One way or another, we'll find out. Until then, we've got a family to look after, a real family, and it's gonna get bigger. And you know what? We're gonna make damn sure they've got choices when they grow up."

He blinked over at Jo, unsure if she was referring to the shapeshifter kid or his brother Sam. He knew there was no going back - not anymore. This was his home now; this was where he belonged and he found himself terrified of the thought of risking losing everything he'd worked so hard for here, even if it meant never knowing what had happened to Sam. "No," he said quietly. "It's better left alone." It was the only explanation he gave her for now, but when she'd suggested it, his heart had gone cold with fear, like someone had walked over his grave.

"All right," she conceded, allowing him that fear for now as she buttoned up the onesie once again. "But the first time this little guy gets explosive diarrhea, he's all yours." She flashed Dean a cheeky grin, lifting Bertie onto her shoulder to bring him back to his daddy. "There you go, Poppa. Fill him up, and let's get some sleep."

"Are we even talking about the same thing?" he asked, looking a little confused. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but he just wasn't following her train of thought. Or was she trying to distract him' "Takes more after his uncle than me. He eats like a moose," he said, opening his arms for his son, the bottle at the ready.

"I'm changing the subject," she assured him with a smile, easing the baby boy into his arms. "Quiet time for you, me, and baby before Ayden bounces in here loaded down with as many cuddly toys as she can possibly carry, knowing her." She chuckled. She loved his sister, but Ayden was way too excited about someone else giving birth.

"Won't be long before we can return the favor," he pointed out with a smile, the threat of a stormy mood temporarily averted. Maybe they'd talk about it more later, but for now, he didn't want to think about his brother or what he'd left behind. He had too much to live for here in this world - too many people who loved him and needed him and were counting on him. This was his life now, and he had no regrets.

This was his family; the good, the fun, and the beautiful, and right now, all of that was wrapped up in one very small, very precious little bundle in his arms. Who would have thought that Dean Winchester would ever become a dad? And yet here he was, holding his son in his arms as his wife watched them. Even without his Sam, life went on, and this little life had the whole world in at his feet, just waiting to see what happened. Now that would be a life worth watching.

((Seems to be our turn for minorly epic scenes! Fun, though. Huge thanks to my partner in crime for indulging me!))