Dean didn’t spare much thought to appreciating the fact that this was the second time he had seen his own bloody corpse in the form of a shapeshifter as the alpha bled out on the floor of the Campbell’s panic room. He was too busy clutching the baby to his chest, cupping Bobby-John’s head and mumbling mindless reassurances, keeping the baby’s head turned towards himself. He didn’t want the kid to see the body, even if Bobby-John was just an infant, and even if his father was a monster, it didn’t sit right with Dean to just let a baby look at a corpse.
Dean was left out of ditch digging and monster disposal, mostly because Bobby-John gave the choking harbinger of a wail when Samuel tried to take him from Dean and Dean couldn’t quite get his arms to unbend from around the baby, but also because Dean suspected they didn’t want him around when they desecrated a corpse that looked just like him, with “delicate features” and all.
Dean thought perhaps it was some kind of bitter karma or fairness that Sam had been the black sheep among John’s family, and now Dean was the black sheep among Mary’s. Maybe they’d warm up to him, he hadn’t been trying to make a good impression. Maybe it would just take time. If they had Bobby-John maybe he’d try to visit - make sure they were treating the kid right.
He hated the idea of handing the baby over to a group of hunters. He knew in theory what John would have done with a monster baby. It was a thought he found sickening, and he felt a perverse gratitude that John was dead and Dean didn’t have to hear specifics of his ideas and plans. Instead he waited in a chair and bounced Bobby-John in his arms and adjusted the cuffs on his little striped jacket, and got kicked with a chunky little shoe for his troubles.
The rest of the group came back with barks of laughter and the clatter of shovels and tools being put away. Dean forced himself to relax in his seat, loosing his hold on the baby.
“Well, your more handsome double’s been dealt with.” Samuel remarked with teasing cheer, leading the group into the room. Dean nodded mutely. He let Samuel lift the baby out of his arms and appraise him. “And I guess your shifter daddy won’t be after you any more either.”
“You think he’s safe now?” Dean asked. Samuel shrugged.
“He’ll be safe as can be here at the compound, the Alpha’s dead and the other shifter’s won’t have the connection to look for him… we can’t exactly drop him off at the fire department, but he’ll make a fine hunter someday. Won’t you?” Samuel ended his sentence with a broad grin at the baby and a gentle pinch to his cheeks.
Dean’s mouth was dry. He hated the idea of any kid being raised as a hunter. But what options did he have? Taking the baby to Lisa? Saddling her with a baby she might not even think of as human when she was already burdened with him? Putting a target for shifters in her house? At least the Campbells had a home base, had enough adults to have someone here with the kid. Bobby-John - if they even kept that name- would have some stability and safety, not an ever-changing landscape out of a backseat window and the must of lonely motel rooms.
He gave them the carseat and diaper bag from his car and kissed Bobby-John’s plump cheek and put him in Samuel’s arms and left.