((Takes place a few days after The Sorrow of Joy.))
August, 2012
It took a couple of days for the excitement of the wedding to cool off. Not simply the fact that there had been a wedding at all, though that would have been enough - so much had happened that it took everyone in the now crowded Singer house a few days to get their heads around it all. A pitched battle; the death of a friend; the announcement that Dean and Nim were expecting their first child; and perhaps most important of all, the arrival of said first child and his younger sister, fully grown, and with a bone of their own to chew on. With wounds healing and words to be spoken, the atmosphere had been more than a little awkward since the fire had taken Bill Harvelle beyond the reach of demons, gods, and any other evil thing out there. Brian had returned to Chicago, unable to leave the Landing for too long, and though she had yet to move on, Ayden was getting a little antsy to return to Stanford and her education.
The days were stretching out, Bobby and Ellen doing their best to keep things on the level, but between a newly wed couple and their fully grown offspring from the future, not to mention the lingering guilt felt by everyone for Bill's death, tensions had been running high. So high, in fact, that Hope had taken to sitting out on the porch in the evenings, avoiding her parents as much as possible. She didn't trust herself to say the right things, not the way Sam did, and though she was glad to see both of them, the ache of knowing that they weren't there in the year she had come from was only getting worse the more she saw of them.
Dean had spent the last few days in his own private hell, tormented by the guilt he felt at Bill's death. It didn't matter that he hardly knew the man or that he wasn't Jo's father in this reality. Whether it was his fault or not, Dean blamed himself for every mistake, every failure, every loss, every death. He had brooded for days, inconsolable, before Ellen had finally knocked some sense into him, reminding him that while the dead were to be grieved and honored, it was those who'd survived that really needed him, and that included two children from the future whom no one was quite sure of the reason for their arrival.
Despite his inner turmoil, Dean had not been completely blind to what was going on around him. He'd noticed that of the two of them, it was the girl who tended to keep to herself and give in to long periods of silence, not unlike himself. It was almost as if she was avoiding him, avoiding them all, but if that was the case, why had she and her brother come here in the first place" He found her one night, at Nim and Ellen's urging, taking his place on the porch, where he liked to sit in silence and think. He knew if she was anything like him, she went out there to be alone, but once Nim and Ellen got something in their heads, there was no point in arguing. And so, a few nights after Bill's funeral, he found himself seeking out his daughter - a daughter he and Nim had yet to conceive.
"Hey," he said, the screen door creaking as he stepped out onto the porch. "This is usually my haunt. Mind if I join you?" he asked, with a strained smile.
She was so deep in thought, she jumped when he spoke, having not heard the door opening, nor the sound of his boots against the porch decking. Hope raised hauntingly familiar green eyes to her father - the man who would be her father - fresh guilt flashing through her expression. "Oh, I ....I didn't realise I was takin' your place," she mumbled awkwardly, already halfway to rising onto her feet from where she had been sat on the porch steps. "I can go someplace else, I don't wanna put you out or anythin'."
"Don't I do that back home....In your time?" he asked curiously, knowing very little of what their lives were like in the future, other than what he'd been told already, which wasn't much. He waved her back down and took a seat beside her, handing her one of two mugs of coffee he'd poured before joining her. "Relax. I don't mind the company if you don't."
For a moment, she was conflicted, torn between avoiding putting herself in a situation where her mouth might run away with the truth in a less than tactful manner, and spending time with her dad for the first time in ten years. Ultimately the longing for a little time with Dean won out, and she thumped back down onto the step, wrapping her hands around the mug he handed her. His question made her hesitate for a moment before she answered, looking down into her coffee uncomfortably. "You did when I was little," she told him quietly. "You used to read to me on the swing we had on our porch." An unconscious smile flickered onto her face at the hazy memory before it faded in the face of the reality. "I don't mind the company. Sometimes bein' on my own isn't really what I want, you know?"
"Yeah," he smiled again, understanding better than she could possibly know. "I know." He blew into his mug of coffee before taking a sip, sensing an awkward silence descending upon them. He didn't have a shy bone in his body, and yet, he wasn't quite sure what to say to this future daughter of his. He didn't think he was very good at nurturing. Hell, he'd screwed that up pretty good when he was taking care of Sam, but he didn't want to think about that now. Thinking of his brother only made him sad. He didn't miss how Hope had referred to himself in the past tense, as if he was no longer part of her life. Had he left' Had he and Nim gone their separate ways or was he dead" And suddenly, he had a pretty good idea why she and her brother were here, but he wanted to hear it from her. "So, you wanna tell me why you and Sam are here, or do you want me to guess?" No, he didn't beat around the bush and never had. He didn't see much point in it.
Surprisingly, Hope snorted, the laughter without much actual mirth but a strange release of the tension she'd been carrying around for days. "Aw, man, you had to just come right out and ask, didn't you?" she groaned through a half smile. "I told Sam I'd fold at the first hand if I got left alone with you, and he said it didn't matter, but ..." She shrugged, sighing softly. "You want it all, or the cliff notes?"
Dean cracked that half grin of his that tended to come out when he was seeing the irony in something. He shrugged as he lifted his mug for another sip. "Gonna have to hear it all at some point, right' You can tell me now, or we can have a family conference. Your choice, kiddo." He wasn't sure why he was calling her that; it just seemed to fit her somehow, though she was no child. She was as pretty as her mom and probably just as smart. He sipped at his coffee. Ball was in her court.
August, 2012
It took a couple of days for the excitement of the wedding to cool off. Not simply the fact that there had been a wedding at all, though that would have been enough - so much had happened that it took everyone in the now crowded Singer house a few days to get their heads around it all. A pitched battle; the death of a friend; the announcement that Dean and Nim were expecting their first child; and perhaps most important of all, the arrival of said first child and his younger sister, fully grown, and with a bone of their own to chew on. With wounds healing and words to be spoken, the atmosphere had been more than a little awkward since the fire had taken Bill Harvelle beyond the reach of demons, gods, and any other evil thing out there. Brian had returned to Chicago, unable to leave the Landing for too long, and though she had yet to move on, Ayden was getting a little antsy to return to Stanford and her education.
The days were stretching out, Bobby and Ellen doing their best to keep things on the level, but between a newly wed couple and their fully grown offspring from the future, not to mention the lingering guilt felt by everyone for Bill's death, tensions had been running high. So high, in fact, that Hope had taken to sitting out on the porch in the evenings, avoiding her parents as much as possible. She didn't trust herself to say the right things, not the way Sam did, and though she was glad to see both of them, the ache of knowing that they weren't there in the year she had come from was only getting worse the more she saw of them.
Dean had spent the last few days in his own private hell, tormented by the guilt he felt at Bill's death. It didn't matter that he hardly knew the man or that he wasn't Jo's father in this reality. Whether it was his fault or not, Dean blamed himself for every mistake, every failure, every loss, every death. He had brooded for days, inconsolable, before Ellen had finally knocked some sense into him, reminding him that while the dead were to be grieved and honored, it was those who'd survived that really needed him, and that included two children from the future whom no one was quite sure of the reason for their arrival.
Despite his inner turmoil, Dean had not been completely blind to what was going on around him. He'd noticed that of the two of them, it was the girl who tended to keep to herself and give in to long periods of silence, not unlike himself. It was almost as if she was avoiding him, avoiding them all, but if that was the case, why had she and her brother come here in the first place" He found her one night, at Nim and Ellen's urging, taking his place on the porch, where he liked to sit in silence and think. He knew if she was anything like him, she went out there to be alone, but once Nim and Ellen got something in their heads, there was no point in arguing. And so, a few nights after Bill's funeral, he found himself seeking out his daughter - a daughter he and Nim had yet to conceive.
"Hey," he said, the screen door creaking as he stepped out onto the porch. "This is usually my haunt. Mind if I join you?" he asked, with a strained smile.
She was so deep in thought, she jumped when he spoke, having not heard the door opening, nor the sound of his boots against the porch decking. Hope raised hauntingly familiar green eyes to her father - the man who would be her father - fresh guilt flashing through her expression. "Oh, I ....I didn't realise I was takin' your place," she mumbled awkwardly, already halfway to rising onto her feet from where she had been sat on the porch steps. "I can go someplace else, I don't wanna put you out or anythin'."
"Don't I do that back home....In your time?" he asked curiously, knowing very little of what their lives were like in the future, other than what he'd been told already, which wasn't much. He waved her back down and took a seat beside her, handing her one of two mugs of coffee he'd poured before joining her. "Relax. I don't mind the company if you don't."
For a moment, she was conflicted, torn between avoiding putting herself in a situation where her mouth might run away with the truth in a less than tactful manner, and spending time with her dad for the first time in ten years. Ultimately the longing for a little time with Dean won out, and she thumped back down onto the step, wrapping her hands around the mug he handed her. His question made her hesitate for a moment before she answered, looking down into her coffee uncomfortably. "You did when I was little," she told him quietly. "You used to read to me on the swing we had on our porch." An unconscious smile flickered onto her face at the hazy memory before it faded in the face of the reality. "I don't mind the company. Sometimes bein' on my own isn't really what I want, you know?"
"Yeah," he smiled again, understanding better than she could possibly know. "I know." He blew into his mug of coffee before taking a sip, sensing an awkward silence descending upon them. He didn't have a shy bone in his body, and yet, he wasn't quite sure what to say to this future daughter of his. He didn't think he was very good at nurturing. Hell, he'd screwed that up pretty good when he was taking care of Sam, but he didn't want to think about that now. Thinking of his brother only made him sad. He didn't miss how Hope had referred to himself in the past tense, as if he was no longer part of her life. Had he left' Had he and Nim gone their separate ways or was he dead" And suddenly, he had a pretty good idea why she and her brother were here, but he wanted to hear it from her. "So, you wanna tell me why you and Sam are here, or do you want me to guess?" No, he didn't beat around the bush and never had. He didn't see much point in it.
Surprisingly, Hope snorted, the laughter without much actual mirth but a strange release of the tension she'd been carrying around for days. "Aw, man, you had to just come right out and ask, didn't you?" she groaned through a half smile. "I told Sam I'd fold at the first hand if I got left alone with you, and he said it didn't matter, but ..." She shrugged, sighing softly. "You want it all, or the cliff notes?"
Dean cracked that half grin of his that tended to come out when he was seeing the irony in something. He shrugged as he lifted his mug for another sip. "Gonna have to hear it all at some point, right' You can tell me now, or we can have a family conference. Your choice, kiddo." He wasn't sure why he was calling her that; it just seemed to fit her somehow, though she was no child. She was as pretty as her mom and probably just as smart. He sipped at his coffee. Ball was in her court.