Mommy Winchester

Part 5

Dean was acting strange.

Well, strange for him, anyway.

You couldn't quite figure out why, but he had been acting differently since the day you had finally admitted that yes, Cail was his son.

But not in the way you would have expected.

Instead, he seems... relaxed?

You'd think he would be more tense.

Half of you had expected a tantrum - angry words and accusatory tones, mostly you'd ruined his life and had disappointed him and ruined everything - not.... calm acceptance?

Was that what that was?

It was freaking you out.

Dean Winchester was not a calm person, at least not the one you remember, and no one changes that much in five years.

Although, you weren't much to talk.

You were a literal mortician; a single-mother, suburb-lurking, small-town living, mortician.

How much more different could you get from killing monsters daily and running around the country drinking beer and running credit card scams?

Which you were still pretty good at, when it came to ordering Christmas presents.

But that wasn't the point.

Er.

Anyway.

"You really don't have to come with me to work," you grumble after a moment, walking swiftly,, Dean following you down the hallway of the morgue - unnecessarily right on your heels.

"I do. If there's anymore killings, they'd come straight to you," he informs you brightly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his suit. "Soo - yeah, I gotta follow you."

Balls.

You frown at him over your shoulder as you step to your office, unlocking it with your key. You step inside, flicking on the light and shirking your jacket and bags off into the chair by the door, like you do every morning.

"Got any stiffs today?" Dean asks, leaning against your desk as he watches you move around the office.

"Does it look like I do?" you grunt, refusing to be friendly towards him; you really just want him to leave you alone, for those burning green eyes of his to stop watching every move you make.

Dean chuckles, a smart comment rising to his lips.

You were so cranky anymore.

Though it wasn't like he didn't understand.

He'd watched as you'd dropped Cail off this morning at school, and then walked the rest of the way to work, saying your daily hellos to your neighbors and fellow townspeople like something out of a movie.

This town really was stuck in the past.

Dean wasn't sure how it had survived that way.

Unless they were giving yearly sacrifices to a scarecrow or something like that, but he figured you would've caught on eventually if that had been the issue and gotten your son out of town quicker then someone could breath.

Funny.

He accepted Cail as his offspring without any reservations.

The kid just didn't know it.

He didn't doubt Cail was his - Dean trusts you too much, even after all the years of separation. He knew you didn't sleep around, that he was the only guy you had ever messed with around the time of the kids conception - the two of you had been too close, spent too many months on hunts just the two of you, before Sam got involved again, back when it had just been him and his father.