Chapter Text
John opened his eyes to the sound of his phone vibrating. He glanced at the digital clock marking two in the morning and sighed heavily. Today had been a long day, and the only thing he wanted right now was sleep.
“Unless it’s someone from the station, you better silence that thing,” Bailey mumbled as she turned to the other side of the bed and drifted back to sleep.
John grunted softly as he moved his arm to grab the phone. He didn’t recognize the number calling, but he answered anyway.
“Hello,” he said in a sleepy voice.
As soon as the person on the other line started talking, John quickly sat up in bed, his eyes wide open, all traces of sleep gone.
“N-no, no. I—uh—I understand. I mean, we… yes. Yes!” he exclaimed, suddenly full of energy.
He shook Bailey’s shoulder, and she turned to face him. When she noticed John’s surprised but happy expression, she sat up as well.
“Thank you. I’ll see you soon,” John said before hanging up.
“Who was that?” Bailey asked, now fully awake. “That didn’t sound like a call from the station.”
“It was a social worker,” John replied, looking at her. Bailey gasped. “She said she has two boys in need of a home.”
After their previous social worker had been very honest—telling them no adoption agency would allow them to adopt a baby due to the risks of their lifestyles and professions—they had almost given up. Bailey had searched and found a foster program that might allow them to prove themselves worthy of being parents. The good thing was that, if everything went well, foster care could turn into adoption.
“Two boys?” Bailey asked, hope creeping into her voice. “How old?”
“She didn’t give me much detail. She just asked if we were interested. She made it clear she needed an answer right away—it’s an emergency. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you first. I basically made the decision on my own.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Bailey said quickly. “When is she bringing them?”
“Actually… she’s already on her way. Apparently, this couldn’t even wait until sunrise.”
They stared at each other for a few seconds before throwing off the blankets, getting out of bed, and rushing to get ready.
“Oh my God, this is happening,” Bailey said, sounding both excited and terrified as she washed her face. “Two boys? I never thought we’d get siblings. I always pictured one kid.”
“You and me both,” John said as he headed toward the guest room.
The room was already clean and ready to receive a child. There were toys, books, and puzzles scattered around. They hadn’t bought many clothes—only some basics—agreeing it would be better to get to know the child first and let them choose what they liked.
John couldn’t deny how excited he felt. He hadn’t experienced this feeling since Henry’s birth—that mix of excitement and fear that came with becoming a parent alongside the woman he loved. He looked around the room again, his gaze landing on the bed.
“There’s only one bed,” he said eventually.
When he turned around, Bailey was already behind him.
“Do you think that’s going to be enough?” she asked, panic setting in. “Do you think the kids would mind sharing? Our bed is bigger—I could sleep here and you could take the couch.”
“Why am I getting the couch?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.
“What if they don’t want to share a bed? Oh! What if they hate us?”
“Okay, okay—slow down,” John said calmly, placing his hands on her shoulders and making her look at him. “It’s going to be alright. I think the bed is big enough for two kids. If not, we’ll buy twin beds or something. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Bailey took a deep breath and looked at her husband.
“I’m sorry. I just want this to be perfect. I love you.”
“And I love you too,” John smiled, taking her hands. “We’re about to be parents. Well… foster parents. But parents still. It’s a big step in our lives.”
Bailey chuckled, visibly more relaxed.
“It is, isn’t it?” she said softly. “You’re going to be a great dad.”
“And you’re going to be a great mom.”
They kissed and hugged. Being a parent was a huge responsibility—and they were more than ready for it.
After tidying up a little (there wasn’t much to clean), they sat at the kitchen bar with fresh coffee, waiting for the social worker. It felt like forever until the doorbell finally rang, making both of them jump. They stood, looked at each other, and held hands as John opened the door.
“Good evening,” a Black woman standing in front of them said with a warm smile. “My name is Missouri Moseley. May I come in?”
“Of course,” John said as they stepped aside. He noticed she was alone. “I, um… I thought the kids were coming with you.”
“Oh, they’re in the car with a coworker,” she explained, glancing around the house. “I’d like to speak with you first.”
“Absolutely,” Bailey said, leading her to the dining table. “Would you like some coffee?”
“That would be lovely, thank you,” Missouri replied, taking a seat and pulling a folder from her purse.
Bailey returned a few minutes later, placing a cup of coffee with sugar and milk on the table before sitting beside John and taking his hand.
“These boys have been through a lot,” Missouri began. “Sam and Dean Winchester. Their mother died in a house fire when Sam was six months old and Dean was four. Their father never fully recovered from her death.”
She paused before continuing.
“He moved them constantly—city to city, state to state. There are CPS reports all over the country. No permanent home. Living in filthy motels. Sometimes left them aone for days.”
“He left them alone?” John repeats sharply. “How old were they when that started?”
“Sam was barely a year old.”
John and Bailey gasped.
“That means Dean was… five?” John said, disbelief clear in his voice. A child raising another child.
“Yes,” Missouri said after taking a sip of her coffee. “There are also reports suggesting Dean may have been abused by his father—old and recent bruises, hospital records of broken bones. Sam, on the other hand, appears healthy. No visible signs of abuse.”
“How old are they now?” Bailey asked quietly.
“Sam is seven. Dean is eleven.”
John and Bailey exchanged a look. Fostering an older child had always been a possibility. And it was clear Dean had done everything he could to protect his brother.
“Would that be a problem?” Missouri asked gently.
John blinked. “What?”
“Dean’s age,” she clarified. “I know you applied for younger children, but I won’t separate them. And given your professions, I think you’re a good fit. There are no relatives able to take them.”
“What happened to their father?” John asked.
Missouri sighed. “John Winchester was initially arrested in San Diego for drunk driving. When it was discovered he had left the children alone in a motel—and considering the CPS history—he was charged with child neglect. He’s currently in prison.”
Justice, at least this time, had been served.
“We’d like to meet them,” Bailey said softly. “We’re prepared to take both of them.”
Missouri smiled. “I’ll bring them in.”
John and Bailey held hands a little tighter.
They both knew their lives were about to change.