(Dean Hawke and Castiel Watson-Holmes are second cousins once removed through common descent from Baron Tobias Hawke I (1923-1990), great-grandson of Sherlock Holmes I, and also third cousins once removed through common descent from Benjamin Watson I (1885-1970), son of John Watson I. God – or perhaps even Mrs. God – moves in mysterious ways).
Lewes, East Sussex, England
September 18th, 2008
It could and likely should have been horrendously expensive but it had been almost supernatural the way in which things had just fallen into place. And that five-figure lottery win from a ticket St. John had bought on the off-chance just before the birth had been more than welcome!
Their friends Angus Macdonald and Valiant Henriksen had used the wonders of technology to have their own son the year before, the fifth Valiant Henriksen, so St. John and Shere had started the ball rolling by applying to be considered. Whoever was in charge of things had jumped at the chance to have two gay men having a son of their own and a surrogate mother had agreed to carry twins with one egg fertilized by sperm from each man, the identities of the father of each child to then be sealed and to only ever opened by the child once it reached twenty-one if they so wished. Hence Mr. St. John Watson-Holmes and Mr. Shere Watson-Holmes were now the proud fathers of both Castiel and James.
By the way, St. John had not had a panic attack whatever any smirking behemoth had said, nor had he eaten a whole pie to get over any such attack. And he had definitely not been the least bit jealous at his brother-in-law Ben – Benjamin Jackson-Giles III, the great-great-great-grandson of his namesake helped by Shere's own ancestor Sherlock Holmes. Ben, who was also a distant cousin of theirs, had married his sister Mary last year and had just had their first son Benjamin IV, and the tall fellow had leered at Shere in a way that had been..... inappropriate in his opinion..
He shuddered at the memory of Shere's reaction to his voicing that opinion. Little wonder the horny bastard called it The Shredder™!
They were trying to work out how to get two babies into their Range Rover outside the hospital when a familiar car drew up next to them, and Lord Toby Hawke and Lady Ursula got out.
“Bringing our newest in for his check-up”, Lord Toby grinned as he took the baby from his wife. “Dean Hawke, our little green-eyed boy.”
“He must be a distant cousin to our own bundles of joy”, Shere said bringing Castiel round while St. John secured Jimmy. “Any particular reason you chose that name?”
“From my father-in-law and not just because I was told to”, the nobleman grinned missing his wife's disapproving look.
Castiel had been fussing at the movement but, as he in his turn was brought round to be placed in the car, he reached out to his second cousin once removed.
“They like each other”, Lady Ursula smiled. “It's fate!”
“Dean and Castiel”, St. John snorted. “Like that could ever happen again!”
God frowned as He watched Dean Winchester getting to grips with suddenly being alive again. Everything seemed to be going according to plan, and His Wife's little cutes...... Him above, He was doing it again! Her favourite angel had left Heaven to meet his hunter brave for what the latter would doubtless consider their first ever meeting. Yes, everything was fine. So why did He have an uneasy feeling that something was ever so slightly off?
Because it was.
Lebanon, Kansas, United States of America
Dean Winchester was a hunter, and as such he had a sixth and sometimes even a seventh sense when things were not right. And having somehow survived the attack by those hell-hounds he had felt ever since that something was ever so slightly off. Which was why he and Bobby had consulted the seer Pamela Barnes who had found that some supernatural being called Castiel – and angel of all things! - had been involved in Dean's narrow survival. Which was why the hunter and his surrogate father were standing in a freezing barn having summoned an angel.
Despite everything Dean was not afraid. Definitely ab-so-lute-ly not afraid. It was just cold in that goddam barn. Who really believed in angels these days? And the building shaking like that with all those weird flashing lights – not helping.
Not helping with the cold, he meant!
Bobby's voice was unnaturally loud in the empty building. Dean did not jump; it was an uncontrollable reflex action. It was dammit and his surrogate father could stop smirking right this minute!
Fortunately for his journey up a certain long river in north-east Africa the barricaded doors chose that moment to slowly give way and in walked.... what the ever-loving fuck? A freakin' tax accountant?
Dean blinked hard but nope, it was still walking slowly towards them, the most unmenacing thing imaginable. More than most men he had seen plenty of strange shit in his life, but this one took the pie.
The two hunters both raised their guns and let whatever the hell the thing was have it. The bullets hit it alright and tore holes in the creeper trench-coat, but the thing just kept coming, seemingly unaffected. Dean gulped and reached for Ruby's knife as the... whatever the hell it was slowly walked around him, staring curiously at him as it did so. Its eyes were unnaturally blue, glowing strangely in the dim light from outside.
“Who are you?” Dean demanded, shuddering with adrenaline and absolutely nothing else.
“I'm the one who gripped you tight, and raised you from perdition”, came the growly response. Seriously did the guy/thing/whatever gargle with rocks or something?
A distant memory danced along the edge of Dean's mind, refusing to come into focus. The guy/thing/whatever sure looked familiar from somewhere or other. It was damn annoying not being able to recall just where.
“Yeah?” the hunter said scornfully. “Thanks for that!”
He felt the knife weigh heavy in his grasp and reckoned he could get the thing in the chest with one quick blow. The guy/thing/whatever had his head tilted to one side as he continued to stare through those impossibly blue eyes.
“What's your name?” Dean demanded.
“Castiel”, came back the reply and now the low growl was also irritatingly familiar. “I am an Angel of the Lord.”
That deep voice. A foggy city. A room with big windows, lots of old stuff in it and a roaring fire. A ceremonial sword hanging above a desk. The smell of old soap and a faint tang of barley-sugar. A violin and a picture-frame of someone – him - wearing LARP gear. A comfortable-looking chair and a ri-fuckin'-diculous woollen hat on a hat-stand. Home.
Home? Dean was sure he'd never seen such a weird old place. Well, fairly sure.
The hunter shuddered as the memory shifted. A feeling of emptiness far, far worse than any pain he had ever known. Then a sudden completeness as if part of him had returned. And the feeling that his whole body was going to explode with happiness, this same figure before towering over him as he... as this guy/thing/whatever....
Dean's eyes widened. Bloody hell where had that memory come from?
The images shifted again. A small country cottage. An old black car standing outside. Fields running down to a small village in the valley below and a soft, gentle breeze making the smoke from the chimney drift slightly. Bees buzzing in the garden out back. A large comfortable double bed and a man in it. A sense of sublime happiness, more than he had ever known before.
Dean gulped. It had all come back to him. Holy. Cow!
“Cas?” he said quietly.
“Son”, Bobby said, “why're you calling him..... what the fuck!”
The old man stared in astonishment. His adoptive son Dean Winchester was not only holding but kissing this.... thing. A man, or at least something wearing a man. And Dean was.... ew, kissing it! Kissing it damn thoroughly and all!
Maybe it was some new tactic the kid was employing because the guy/thing/whatever tensed for a moment and then briefly pulled back to emit the sort of noise that only ever came out of the mouths of people on those trashy TV movies that Bobby never ever watched of an afternoon. And then – ew again! - the guy/thing/whatever was kissing the hunter right back!
The hunter waved loosely in the direction of the old man and finally pulled back. He had the sort of dopey grin on his face that Bobby only usually saw after – nononononono so not thinking about that!
“Later, Bobby!” Dean called, smirking in a way that made Bobby cringe. “Me and Cas, we got some serious catching up to do.”
“Nearly thirty years without sex!” the thing growled looking positively feral despite the outfit. And then he effortlessly scooped the hunter into its arms and strode out of the barn with Dean.... God help him, Dean Winchester giggling like a schoolgirl?
Bobby just stared after them, dumbstruck. Had they all shifted to some set of parallel dimensions without him noticing or something? He instinctively downed the entire contents of his hip-flask and wished he had access to the rest of the bottle back home.
The liquor store was probably still open. If not he could always break in.
God tensed. The last time His wife had used that tone of voice it had been to inform him that She may just possibly maybe have maybe possibly started some sort of revolution-thingy in France. Maybe. Possibly.
Him above, what had She done this time? He took a deep breath and braced for the worst.
“Yes, dearest?” He said not panicking in any way, shape or form.
“You know you said to take those precautions against....” She waved her arms vaguely in the air, “against..... you know what?”
God looked at Her anxiously. He was God; of course He knew damn well what! With those two getting back together they had both foreseen that... that that could be a real danger. Ever since the original design had led to the nephilim, angels had been redrawn to be perfect warriors with absolutely no need whatsoever for things like sex. Especially sex with humans. It. Could. Not. Happen.
Except of course to Castiel. The ultimate one-angel disaster area.
“Yes?” God said warily.
“And that we had to make sure that our angels, no matter how cutesy-wootsy or lovable or adorable or darling or sweet or.....”
He noted with alarm the Henriksen's Bakery Deluxe Eclair Set that had suddenly appeared next to Her. Those only ever appeared when She was really stressed. Oh Him, how bad was this?
“That they did not.... impregnate humans”, She managed, “because the results were always.... maybe perhaps a little problematic?”
As in that iceberge that had been 'maybe perhaps a little problematic' for the 'Titanic', He thought.
“Yes?” He said silently wishing that He himself had someone to pray to at times like this.
“Well”, She said carefully, “I did exactly what you said, dear heart. I made one hundred per cent sure that our sweet little cutesy-wootsy down there could not get his beloved hunter pregnant with a nephilim.”
God stared at Her. He knew that there was a catch in there somewhere. He hadn't been born yesterday!
“But?” He pressed anxiously.
From a gently rocking black behemoth of a car a long way below there suddenly came a long drawn out pleasured moan that ran through way too many octaves and had God raising His eyebrows in astonishment as well as several angels grumpily handing over money to their colleagues.
It went on.
Mrs. God reddened. God went pale.
“Our son is.....?”
“Batting”, She said, wolfing down another eclair. The moaning was if anything getting even louder.
It was still going on when God came back from breakfast at Heaven's Golden Corral. How His wife could sit there working away at those stories that She loved to write, He alone knew. If She had another Reading any time soon then He would be seriously reconsidering that promise to Noah about no more floods.
It was still going on when Lucifer dropped by for a visit after lunch, smirking far too loudly for His Father's liking. God pointedly ignored the fact that the boy was one of several to place a bet on the book that His wife was now running. At least Lucifer's smirk vanished when Gadreel came up to ask what was keeping him and remarked that he was getting some interesting ideas from all this. Who knew that the devil could whine like that?
It was still going on at dinner and even Heavenly sound-proofing seemed to be ineffective against it. God just knew that the other angels were bound to start asking awkward questions once it was all over; He would have to have the Talk many times over. Honestly, how did Castiel always make such a mess of things?
After 9 hours, 18 minutes and 4.1 seconds (approximately) the terrible noise from below ended abruptly – to be followed by an equally terrible silence and then the sound of an all-too-familiar voice saying, “uh, Mother, Father? I, uh, may have a small problem here?”
Apparently depriving an angel (or at least a Castiel) of sex with his True Mate for nigh on thirty years tended to result in a build-up of 'pressure'. In fact quite a sizeable build-up of 'pressure'. So it was not really their son's fault he had forgotten the minor detail that his True Mate was human again and therefore was not really able to cope with an angel-induced orgasm lasting nearly half a day. Even if the smile on the hunter's face.... ew! If they tried to bury him they wouldn't have been able to close the coffin lid for one thing!
To placate His wife - and because Supreme Being or not, He would start getting cavities if She went off on all that 'cutesy-wootsy' stuff again! - God very generously decided to bring Dean Winchester back to life, even if He thought (silently) that the hunter would have been proud to have had 'Death through a nine-and-a-quarter-hour orgasm' on his headstone. God even (somehow) refrained from rolling His eyes while doing the resurrection thing although He made a mental note to add better sound-proofing around the cottage some time. Honestly why was His eternal existence always.....
He had that sudden feeling that Things, which were bad enough, might just be about to get a whole lot worse. Especially as His wife was on the Amazon 'Babies: Multiple Births' section. That sort of thing was impossible when the angel was... as She had so quaintly put it, 'batting'.
“They offer discounts on bulk purchases”, She said happily. “I wonder if I can order it in 'Heavenly Blue'?”
“Oh flip!” God said. “Things could not be worse!”
Casdene, East Sussex, England
Doctor St. John Watson-Holmes sniffed (manfully, of course) as he looked across at his partner holding Castiel. Thankfully Jimmy was fast asleep in his cot although feeding time was only a few minutes away. One short trip to the hospital and both men were knackered! St. John would need that extra pie he had bought for the energy.
“Our firstborn son”, Shere said softly. “He looks so angelic.”
Their happy family moment was however short-lived as there was the sound of shouting from outside, although fortunately neither of their new family members appeared to notice it. Both men frowned; the boys who lived at the farm behind the hill had recently taken to using the private road outside as a short-cut to and from their school in Lewes, where presumably they had not yet been taught to read 'Private: Keep Out' signs. Shere went to the window.
“Yobs”, he muttered looking out. “Do you want to take Cas so I can go out there and scare the shit out of them?”
St. John was about to answer when Castiel suddenly opened his blue eyes very wide and looked straight at him. Barely a second later there were yells and thuds from outside, followed by the sound of moaning.
“How weird”, Shere said. “All three of the morons just cycled straight into the wall and fell clean over the other side. Bikes are ruined and they probably need to see a doctor about those injuries.”
He moved to fetch their sons' bottles just as Jimmy woke up and started to fuss. St. John smiled then looked thoughtfully down at young Castiel who was still staring at him intently. Something in that azure gaze most definitely resembled a smirk.....
Brunton Hall, Collingbourne Kingston, Wiltshire, England
Little Dean Hawke suddenly opened his forest-green eyes and stared up in surprise. Then a knowing look crossed his tiny face, and a cuddly toy black car flew from one side of the nursery across to his cot and into his arms. Two forest-green eyes suddenly glowed, and a single black feather seemingly fluttered down out of thin air and slipped inside the baby's pillow.
God frantically checked and rechecked reality, but no. Apparently a little Castiel really did go a long way.
“Here we go again!” His wife smiled.
“Oh..... double flip!”
“Indeed”, She said. “I suppose that I had better order in even more baby stuff.”
”Now things could not be worse!” Her husband said firmly.
THE END (OR IS IT?)