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one of the wonders

Summary:

Honestly, Mary doesn't care at this point, just would someone tell her how she's supposed to deal with two suddenly adult sons, their angel BFF/life partner, and their baby, who happens to be the devil's son and can maybe read her thoughts? And teleport? And move things with his mind?

Oddly enough, there's no manual for this.

Or, 5 times Mary saw something that made her realize her grandson is the most powerful being on Earth and 1 time she experienced it firsthand.

Notes:

if you've read the first installment in this series some of this may seem familiar lol, and that's bc this fic was written concurrently when it became obvious there were two very different stories working themselves out: one a family tragicomedy and one a farcical story about an angel baby with magic powers.

welcome to the second one

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Mornings in the Bunker are different this time around. For Mary's part, she's the same as she's ever been: an early riser by habit as opposed to inclination, she's still up by five, forcing herself out of her room by eight, snagging handfuls of whatever's out in the kitchen before hitting the road, whether that be for a case or just the sound of wind hissing through cracked windows.

She still bumps into Sam coming in from his run more often than not, still waits for the sound of Dean's door opening down the hall followed by the pipes coming to life for his shower before she emerges. The clothes from her bags, left with her car in the Bunker's garage when they all headed out for Washington six months ago, are half hung up in the closet, half in her trunk where they belong. Same as ever.

Things are different, though. For one, they have half a dozen interdimensional roommates. For two, there's a baby in the mix. Mary is around more often than she'd like yet for ostensibly the former, but it's really both, because the biggest change is not the increased demand for hot water. The biggest change is—

Mary ducks into the hall exactly thirty seconds after the sound of Dean's door shutting only to walk straight into Castiel and Jack.

"Oh—"

"Shit—"

Somehow the baby's the most eloquent of them all, letting out a distinct noise of displeasure at the sudden stop. He's still half asleep on Cas's shoulder, clinging to the front of his shirt—a shirt which is, she wouldn't even have to recognize it to know, Dean's. It's an eerily familiar image to her: for Mary, it was only a year ago she was waking up to see a different sleep rumpled dad carrying a six month old in footie pajamas. She can't tell what's weirder, how similar or how different this is.

They've both very obviously just woken up, because—Mary checks her watch—of course they have. Six on the dot.

"Sorry. I'll just..." Mary steps to the left as Castiel steps to the right. "Uh."

They go back and forth for a second before Mary just stops and takes another step back, gesturing down the hall. Cas nods at her kindly, hiking Jack higher on his hip.

"Good morning, Mary."

"Good morning, Castiel." She pauses for a second, unsure if she should greet the baby too. Would that be weird? Would it be weirder not to? He's just a baby, he won't notice, but...

As they pass, Cas smiling briefly in thanks, Jack turns to keep her in sight, unwavering gaze sits in stark contrast to the sleepy crease in his cheek. Somehow, she knows he noticed. She still isn't sure she should've said something.

Dean and now Cas's room is not that far from hers, and Mary abandons her trajectory to turn back, to watch Cas push open the door with his shoulder, arms full of baby. She catches a glimpse inside the room, messy by anyone's standards but especially Dean's. There are toys and baby books on every surface, a half full laundry basket next to a folded pile of clothes on the desk, shirts draped over chairs and the bed a mess. It looks lived in: real. It looks personal, and yet Mary has no idea the stories behind each thing out of place.

From this angle, she can clearly see Dean still facedown in his pillow, Cas's hand in the center of his back. Another view of the angel's back and she sees Dean has one knee hiked up on the opposite side of the mattress—Mary tries not to think about it—where Cas tucks Jack under his arm in a neat cradle before returning to close the door.

Mary restarts walking just in time to avoid notice, but, well, there's no one left to witness her loitering, and the bunker is echo-y as hell: if anyone's headed her way she'll hear it ages before they get there. For now, it's just her and the fluorescents.

Under the click of the door comes first Jack's babble, then a muffled noise from Dean.

"Aba ba ma," Jack answers, which Cas translates as, "Good morning, Dean."

"Mm. You hear something?" The sound of sheets rustling. "Coulda sworn there was somebody in here..."

More Jack noises, insistent over a barely audible laugh from Cas.

"No, just us."

"Funny, cuz it sounded like... a baby!"

Jack's delighted shrieks fill the hallway as the light above their door surges. From the accompanying yell from Dean and general noise, Mary can imagine the scene well enough, but it still boggles the mind. As if stitching together the image of her own little boy it feels like she was carrying just yesterday with this battle-scarred adult wasn't hard enough, the universe adds this to the mix: her son and his son, not that different from the baby she left behind and yet so tiny in the arms of this man, a killer, a caregiver too. This man, whose laughter seeps through fake monster sounds to join the laughter of his monster baby.

Mary recognizes the thin screech with just enough time to hop out of the spray when the bulb bursts. Shattered glass, almost so fine as to be dust, falls neatly to the concrete. It could be mistaken for a salt circle if not for the hot wire smell in the air. Except it's not quite a circle, or maybe it's two, a smooth arc of powdered glass bending around an invisible force, like the slow overlap of one celestial body eclipsing another. It's a perfect halo, right up until...

When she takes a step back, the arc fits perfectly around where the toes of her boots were.

Mary glances back at the door, still shut on the baby and Dean's jointly waning laughter.

"Ah, shit," Dean sighs. "I thought we were doing better, baby Jack."

"And you thought five dozen extra bulbs was overkill."

"What's the damage?"

As Mary steps back carefully down the hallway, keeping an eye on the next bulb (still steady, but she's watching anyway), the door clicks open to admit Castiel's head. Face upturned, his eyes find the empty socket of the light his son just blew up out of joy.

"Just one more," Cas tells the ceiling.

By the time he looks down, Mary is in the garage, her key in the ignition.

Notes:

the silly little art is mine. shout out to gaussian blur, this brush pack I downloaded in I think 2013, and smudge tool my beloved. idk I was thinking abt doing a little thing for each part, they're just very visual to me for some reason. if anyone else wants to join in lemme know and I'll give you early access to a chapter or smth lol (kind of a joke but also not really)

anyway, I'm still writing this but posting it's what's gonna make me finish lmao. don't forget to rate comment and subscribe etc