Work Text:
Dean POV
Dean stood motionless on the shore of the lake.
But he wasn't looking at the still green water.
He was looking to the right of the shoreline.
Not because there was anything to see.
But because there was something to feel.
The border of the Lafitte lands.
He clenched his fists and growled.
The air crackled there, reeking of sulfur and malice.
Fucking Crowley!
He had been in Carencro for almost three weeks.
He had been trying to figure out how to get around the contract. He had tried spells and tricks, but the invisible barrier resisted everything.
Not to mention Baileys, the Hellhound who patrolled the border and answered his growls with growls of his own.
Not that he didn't like this place...
Quite the opposite.
He loved Louisiana.
Sure, the unbearable humidity and the August rainstorms that arrived out of nowhere only to disappear again weren't exactly ideal. Especially at this stage of the pregnancy.
He was almost certain gills would suddenly sprout from his neck sooner or later, considering how much water seemed to be floating around in the air.
Not to mention his aching back and swollen ankles...
He sighed and rested a hand on his belly.
The pains had grown stronger since the night of the bargain. The pup was restless.
He could feel it.
«It'll be okay, Baby...»
he murmured for the hundredth time.
By now he couldn't even imagine something happening to the pup.
«I promise, okay?»
He turned to head back toward the Purgatory.
The tall grass brushed against his knees.
He liked all that green.
He had to admit he loved this place.
Benny had written a letter to Père Baptiste. He had fixed up the guest room in his apartment above the Purgatory.
And in that room Dean had built himself a small nest without even realizing it.
With Bobby's pillow, a few blankets, and Benny's comforting scent that seemed soaked into the very walls.
That warm, steady smell of bourbon and thyme that, ever since the depths of Purgatory, he had associated with safety.
Then there was the scent of spices drifting up from the bar.
And the old jazz playing from an even older record player Benny refused to replace with a modern stereo.
And so he waited for a reply to the letter.
He waited for Père Baptiste.
He waited for the answers only the old priest could give.
But Père Baptiste was busy dealing with a strange illness farther north. During hurricane season, the supernatural community needed him more than usual.
And Dean waited.
Sitting still and doing nothing had never been his thing.
Especially with Elizabeth glaring at him like she wanted to stab him.
Or Elias, who was always nervous because, as a third-generation shifter, he knew all too well the legends surrounding the Winchesters.
And Crowley.
Crowley, who appeared and disappeared like a fairy godmother who had escaped from a rehab center nobody wanted.
«Dean, my dear, ruling Hell is a full-time job... but I always find time to visit my most profitable contract!»
Dean growled as he thought about the way Crowley had tricked him.
The worst part was that he really hadn't had a choice.
He could feel the grace growing inside him day after day.
And that grace would tempt a great many people.
The pup's grace was different from Castiel's.
Castiel's felt like a gentle caress accompanied by a rush of adrenaline.
This...
This was deeper.
More rooted.
By now he knew it as well as he knew the beating of his own heart.
A force that warmed him from the inside out.
A fire that kept growing, spreading every day and consuming everything in its path.
Dean had a terrible feeling things were going to get worse very soon.
He sat down on the dock behind the bar.
It was almost sunset, and the evening shift at the Purgatory would start soon.
He would put his apron back on and help Elias with the tables. The kid was decent enough when he wasn't looking at Dean as though he might suddenly stab him with a silver knife.
Dean liked him.
It was strange how he was getting used to this routine.
He was getting used to arguing with tourists who asked for the third time what was in the gumbo, bragging to passing mediums about how fresh the catch of the day was, or chatting with regular customers who knew him by now.
At least it kept him busy.
Frigg continued to hide him.
Anyone who walked into the Purgatory didn't see Dean Winchester, Michael's Sword, Heaven's chosen one, legendary hunter.
They only saw a pregnant Omega serving tables with a perpetually irritated expression and the occasional smile reserved for people he particularly liked.
One fisherman had dared to ask Elizabeth whether he was Benny's partner.
A grave mistake.
A very grave mistake.
He had been literally thrown out amid a barrage of French insults.
The girl did not tolerate Dean's presence easily. The morning after the bargain, she had argued with Benny.
She didn't accept him.
She didn't want him on their land.
She didn't want him in their bar.
And most of all, she didn't want him near Benny.
She said Dean was using him. That he had settled down somewhere safe while drawing the wrath of angels and demons onto them and their community.
And more importantly, she knew that sooner or later Frigg's concealment would fail.
That sooner or later Dean would allow Castiel to see him.
And then?
Then Benny would step aside.
Just like always.
And just like always, he would suffer.
But Elizabeth was convinced that this time he wouldn't recover.
Dean had overheard that conversation by accident...
And it had broken his heart.
Because Benny hadn't denied it.
Because Dean himself couldn't deny it.
Because every day he spent at the Purgatory, he lowered his guard a little more.
He had gained weight again.
He slept better.
He certainly couldn't deny that.
He was...
Getting used to it.
It reminded him of that year with Lisa and Ben...
He sighed, running a hand over his face.
Fuck...
His gaze drifted back to the lake.
It wasn't enormous, but it looked a little like the lake from his dreams of peace.
Except for Steve.
His dreams of peace definitely did not include a twenty-foot Mississippi alligator.
The reptile watched him placidly.
Nothing and no one seemed capable of moving Steve from his lake. By now, the Lafittes considered him something of a mascot.
Benny claimed he remembered him from when he was a child.
«What the hell do you want, huh?»
Dean huffed at the giant lizard as it surfaced.
Ancient, black, unblinking eyes.
«I know I'm an asshole, okay?»
Steve floats.
«If you keep looking at me like that, I'll turn you into a set of luggage!»
Steve didn't even blink.
Steve stared at Dean.
Dean stared at Steve.
Steve floats.
Yet another staring contest between two incredibly stubborn creatures.
The frogs croaked around them while the first fireflies replaced the dragonflies. The mosquitoes, meanwhile, seemed to work twenty-four-hour shifts.
The alligator hadn't moved an inch.
Completely indifferent to the life of the lake swirling around him.
«Screw you, Steve!»
Dean was the first to give in, looking away with a growl.
As always.
«Fine! You win! Damn it!»
he growled in frustration.
The baby rolled inside him as if providing live commentary on the match.
«Hey, you! Don't side with the dinosaur!»
he huffed, pressing a finger against his belly, which seemed to grow larger every day like dough left to rise.
Dean huffed again while staring at the alligator.
No one could beat Steve...
But when the bar closed, he'd bring him leftovers.
As always.
Dean suspected Steve hadn't eaten him yet solely because of that arrangement.
He seemed as ancient as Frigg.
And just as impossible to understand.
The Goddess continued to reveal herself in reflections and shadows.
Golden and green veils.
Ancient eyes shining with a light of their own.
The gentle smile of a mother.
Dean could feel her.
She was pleased.
She was the Goddess of the home, guardian of choices and motherhood.
Dean had done his research and discovered that, among other things, Frigg had a particular fondness for swamps.
Around the Lafitte lake grew tall bald cypresses, mangroves, aquatic plants and now...
Sulfur grass.
Frigg's yellow flowers now colored the shoreline.
The honey scent of the blossoms mingled with sun-warmed mud and wet wood.
The local fishermen wondered what that strange bloom was.
They had never seen anything like it before.
Dean wrinkled his nose.
Frigg had definitely settled in even better than he had.
But he couldn't blame her.
He had summoned her.
He had followed the ancient instructions, painstakingly translated, to ask for her help.
He had asked to be hidden.
It was thanks to Her that he had been able to leave the bunker and travel without too many problems.
That his pup had not yet been found.
It had been inevitable that She would choose this place.
Dean knew exactly why.
Because he had always felt safe at the Purgatory.
Because with Benny he had never felt the need to hide.
She knew it.
She had felt it.
He groaned in frustration at the flood of thoughts.
Another problem.
When he killed for Crowley, he didn't have time to think.
He studied the enemy.
Prepared his weapons.
Killed.
Slept.
And the next day he started all over again.
But for the past three weeks he had found himself trapped.
Not within the perimeter Crowley had imposed.
But inside his own thoughts.
He slowly stretched out on the warm wood of the dock, watching the pink clouds overhead.
Moving was becoming harder.
More exhausting.
The heat left him breathless, and the pup never stopped moving.
He truly hoped the old voodoo priest would hurry up.
But at the same time...
He was afraid.
Terrified.
Constant movement didn't necessarily mean the pup was healthy.
There was no guarantee this was a normal pup.
He needed to know.
He needed to prepare.
He didn't even know when the baby was supposed to be born or how his exhausted, overused body would react.
How many times had Castiel talked about a "geriatric pregnancy"?
He frowned while staring at a cloud shaped like a bee.
Cas...
His fingers immediately drifted to the mark.
A smile slipped free because the pup instantly stirred, sensing the distant call of his father.
«When I know what you are, Baby.»
he murmured, resting his free hand on his belly, feeling the touch of the pup beneath taut skin.
«When I know you're okay, we'll call your daddy, okay?»
The pup settled immediately, and Dean let out a low purr.
Fuck...
How could someone love a creature that wasn't even born yet this much?
Part of him truly didn't understand it.
He didn't understand why he was so terrified and so excited at the same time.
He didn't understand why he lay awake at night thinking of possible names for his child.
Or why he automatically found himself humming Knockin' On Heaven's Door whenever the pup seemed restless.
But he understood that he wanted to be there for this tiny creature.
That he wanted them to know they were loved.
That they were safe.
He wanted...
He wanted the pup to love him.
To see him the way no one had ever seen him before.
He wanted to be unique and irreplaceable to that little life.
He wanted to be a dad.