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when you build your house then call me home

Summary:

12x23 AU. After the infant Jack is born, Castiel knows that the malignant forces of the world will never stop hunting him. The two of them go into hiding, staying far from both friend and foe - including the Winchesters. But when Dean accidentally stumbles across them, both Castiel and Dean will have to reckon with what they want and whether they can finally let themselves have it.

Notes:

This fic started with the tiny what-if of Jack getting to stay a baby when he was born. I started writing it almost a year ago and here we are, with a submission for DCBB 2021. This is the longest piece I have done (so far)!

I want to thank my amazing artist girlinthemirrorbluenight for creating such amazing pieces for this humble little fic. You'll find embedded throughout the fic as well as on her tumblr

Thank you as well to my dear friends @Healthyeyes @streetsofnewvegas and @nonjaccuse for the cheerleading, reviewing, and general hand-holding as I struggled with this beast.

Title comes from the song Sara by Fleetwood Mac. You can listen to it here on the playlist I made for this fic!

Chapter 1: THE FATHER

Notes:

And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever;
John 14:16, King James Version

Chapter Text

The house on the lake was rustic, a two-story wooden structure built in 1947. It was set near the shoreline where the soil was slowly crumbling into the water day after day. Castiel estimated theyā€™d have approximately 180 years until the erosion started to become a danger to the house itself. It was very probable none of them would be living here by then and it was an adequate home to raise a child, turned beautiful by the way Kellyā€™s eyes had lit up when she first saw it.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIt reminds me of my parentsā€™ cabin on Lake Superior,ā€ sheā€™d said when theyā€™d first arrived, eyeing the cabin from the truck. ā€œWe went there every summer growing up.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Kelly had told him a little about her parents and her childhood over the weeks theyā€™d been on the run together--nights holed up in motel rooms that looked far too similar to the run-down places Castiel had visited previously; days driving along the highways that lined this country or stopped dead still in city traffic. It had helped the time pass and it had brought Kelly comfort, at least until she reached the end of her story and realized all over again the now incredibly finite span of her life. Everytime, Castiel had longed to comfort her and everytime he hadnā€™t known the words. He wasnā€™t good with using words to communicate with humans; his meaning always seemed to get lost somewhere between the words passing his lips and reaching their ears, even after all these years. He wasnā€™t very good at body language either; spending so much time with the Winchesters meant he knew the value of a crushing hug when one returned from the dead, or the grip of hands on flesh when one was dying, but he was flailing in the dark without a guide outside of those situations.Ā 

Ā 

So in those moments when Kelly leaned towards despair, Castiel offered her what he always wanted when he felt lost or afraid or uncertain and simply laid his hand, palm up, on the seat between them. Kelly took it every time.Ā Ā 

Ā 

It would be a comfort to Kelly, he knew, to envision her child growing here in a place so similar to one sheā€™d loved when she was a child herself. That made the decision to stay simple.Ā 

Ā 

They didnā€™t have much to bring in from the truck only the small amount of clothes and supplies Kelly had accumulated in her last months on the run. All of Castielā€™s belongingsā€”his truck keys, his cell phone (long turned off and SIM card removed and destroyed, just as Dean had taught him after one too many Jason Bourne movies), Jimmyā€™s stolen and dog-eared wallet with a picture of Claire and Amelia tucked in the insertā€”fit securely in his pockets. The mixtape stayed in the truckā€™s tape deck, safe.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhere did you find this place?ā€ Kelly wondered, following Castiel up the stairs to the bedroom on the right. He put her bag at the bottom of the bed before taking her elbow to help her sit on the mattress.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œA friend showed it to me, a long time ago,ā€ he said, remembering the days heā€™d been bored at the hospital, liable to fly off at any moment. Meg had usually tried to nudge him in some direction, presumably so she could track him more easily or be sure heā€™d come back. Sheā€™d shown him this place, a safehouse that only she knew of, put away some thirty years back when the old man whoā€™d owned it had died.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo one else seemed to want it,ā€ sheā€™d said, shrugging her shoulders. ā€œOne possessed lawyer later and here we are. Home sweet home.ā€Ā 

Ā 

His memories from that time were hazy; his true form had been scattered from the Leviathan, from assuming Samā€™s burdens, shot off in so many incomprehensible directions he couldnā€™t find a way or the will to bring them back. The part of his mind that occupied his vessel seemed to shift day to day, resulting in a muzzy recollection at the best of times and outright gaps at the worst. He remembered Megā€™s face in the sunshine, her true face twisting underneath in a way that had come to be oddly comforting rather than sickening. Other than that, the only thing that really stuck was the location of the house and that it seemed nice, although he suspected that assumption may simply have come from the company and the bees that milled around the wildflowers nearby.Ā 

Ā 

Kelly looked at him sympathetically, rubbing her hand on her belly. She must think he meant the Winchesters, he realized. Or maybe she recognized the muted grief in his face, worn over so many years but still present, just like the shoreline outside. In any case, she didnā€™t ask; instead, she patted the bed beside her in a gesture heā€™d learned years ago meant a bid for him to sit. He did so and she took his hand.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI was thinking the room down the hall would make a good nursery,ā€ she said.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

They spent the days up to the childā€™s birth making the house the home Kelly wanted. Castiel shepherded her to and from the store in the nearby town, picking up all manner of items - furniture, groceries, decorations, infant essentials. Human children needed many things, heā€™d learned over the past weeks, poring over parenting books while Kelly was sleeping. He wasnā€™t sure how much that knowledge would apply to a nephilim, especially one of this childā€™s power. The only nephilim heā€™d ever really interacted with was the one heā€™d killed for Metatronā€™s spell but that was the child of a seraph, not an archangel. There was really no telling if the child would need any of the things they were accumulating.Ā 

Ā 

But this process wasnā€™t just for the child, Castiel had come to understand. It was for Kelly as well. She knew, just as well as he did, that as the birth of her child approached, so did the time of her death. She would never meet her child, never hold him, or teach him right from wrong. All of that would be left to Castiel.Ā 

Ā 

This house, the life Kelly was trying to ensure for her child within it, it was her gift to him. Castiel would not take that away from her, not even by voicing the simplest of questions.Ā 

Ā 

And so, he unloaded the truck after each trip, helped Kelly select paints for the mural she had planned for the nursery, and stepped outside when she requested solitude, a laptop clutched in her hands. It was the least he could do.Ā 

Ā 

He had left Kelly upstairs, paint brush in hand and a smile on her face, and stepped out into the sunshine he always found so rare in this region. That wasnā€™t always the case anymore, especially during summer time when the sun beat down and the wildfires raged across the continent. He could still remember hundreds of years before, when the forests were still untouched by industry, and humans had not yet begun poisoning the planet on which they lived. So much could change in such a short amount of time, he marvelled, closing his eyes against the sun on his face. He himself was a sign of that.

Ā 

He felt something creep into his awareness, a twist in the stitching of the universe that heā€™d never felt before, like a seam coming undone. He opened his eyes and frowned at the twisting streak of light before him.Ā 

Ā 

It was like a pillar of pure energy. No, he corrected himself as he approached it, it was a rip, as if someone had pushed their hands through the fabric of space and time, got a good grip, and pulled.Ā 

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He circled the tear carefully. Heā€™d never seen anything like it, not in all the long years of his existence. But something about it still felt familiar, almost soothing.Ā 

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It was creation, he realized, pure and true as it had been many millions of years ago when the universe was still new. Divinity and opportunity and grace. It felt exactly the same as the energy that he could feel pouring off of Kelly, ever since they clasped hands at Heavenā€™s gate.Ā 

Ā 

It could only be a sign of the childā€™s impending birth. Heā€™d known a nephilimā€™s birth brought omensā€”swarms of insects, unnatural weather patterns, possibly even natural disasters. Heā€™d been expecting this childā€™s birth to bring something along those lines, but several magnitudes more powerful. This was beyond anything he could have imagined.Ā 

Ā 

There would be no hiding now, he thought blankly, not with something like this. Any supernatural being would be able to feel something of this magnitude. Even a hedge witch probably could, although they might not understand what it was. But any demon, any angel, would know that something powerful was coming into being. And any who desired to possess such power would come running.Ā 

Ā 

They would not be able to stay here, he and the child. Kellyā€™s preparations had been for nothing.Ā 

Ā 

Then he heard the rush of wings behind him, felt the bloom of festering divinity, and all thought disappeared under the sharp burst of panic.Ā 

Ā 

His brother, as always, was unmistakable. A pillar of exquisite divinity, beyond magnitude, seething and compressed to ride beneath human skin. And a creeping foulness, accompanied by a chill that stretched over planes of existence. Castiel would have known that presence anywhere, even before he shared a vessel with him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCas,ā€ Lucifer said, fixing him with a smirk. His voice curled around Castielā€™s name, turning it into something hateful. ā€œWhy am I not surprised to find you here?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Before Castiel could speak, the door to the cabin banged open; Kelly appeared in the doorway, streaks of paint across her cheeks and dotting her hands. She froze when she spotted them, worry twisting to fear.Ā 

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ā€œAnd Kelly. The woman of the hour,ā€ Lucifer said, his smirk curling wider. Castiel hurriedly moved between him and the door where Kelly still stood frozen.Ā 

Ā 

Luciferā€™s smirk hardened. ā€œYou really think this is wise, Cas? Why donā€™t you run off back to the Winchesters, leave Kelly with me. They must really miss you; my people tell me theyā€™ve been looking for you all over but you arenā€™t returning their calls.ā€

Ā 

The hit landed, as much as Castiel hated to admit it. He had disabled his phone before either Dean or Sam had had a chance to contact him, but he knew a roadblock like that wouldnā€™t stop them from searching. Angels and demons werenā€™t the only beings who could track omens like the one by the water. But he couldnā€™t afford to think about that, not now with Lucifer staring him down.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou wonā€™t touch her,ā€ Castiel growled, firmly placing himself between the two. He could hear Kelly breathing behind him, each one coming in hard on the inhale, trembling on the exhale.Ā 

Ā 

Lucifer adopted a look of faux innocence. ā€œNow, Castiel, be reasonable. She has something of mine; I just want it back.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou wonā€™t touch her,ā€ Castiel repeated, and let his blade drop into his palm.Ā 

Ā 

Luciferā€™s eyes tracked the movement, the smirk slowly fading from his face until all that remained was cruelty. ā€œHave it your way. But thereā€™s no room in my sonā€™s life for anyone else.ā€

Ā 

Lucifer charged in a blur of speed, so swift Castiel could barely track it; he managed to block the blow, dodging the follow-up. Lucifer kept coming, formidable, inevitable. The chances of Castiel winning an all-out fight with any archangel, let alone Lucifer, were infinitesimally low. Even when he was whole, fully winged and powerful, heā€™d only been able to defeat Raphael through desperate measures. And Lucifer was far more powerful than Raphael, in every way.Ā 

Ā 

But that didnā€™t matter, Castiel knew, as he spun away from another strike. All that mattered was Kelly and her child; Castiel had to hold the line, no matter what it took.Ā 

Ā 

Lucifer caught him with a blow across the face, hard enough he was knocked off his feet. He rolled to dodge a thrust of Luciferā€™s blade, lunging out swiftly to catch Lucifer in the leg. It wasnā€™t mortal in any way, but it was enough to make Lucifer cry out and stagger away, buying Castiel enough time to regain his feet.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCastiel!ā€ Kelly called behind him. He glanced over his shoulder; Kelly had left the cabin, running across the sand toward him. Castiel offered her his hand, an automatic reaction to the distress in her face.Ā 

Ā 

Kelly grabbed it, clutching it tightly. And he understood that it wasnā€™t just Kelly reaching for him.

Ā 

The child gripped him tight, worry and determination and love, so much love, pouring through Castiel and Kellyā€™s linked hands. Castiel felt the childā€™s power too, flowing into him as from a pitcher to an empty cup. It was heady, beyond anything heā€™d ever felt before; not even the souls from Purgatory had come close to this. Castiel had to wonder whether his vessel could actually hold this much power.Ā 

Ā 

It was so much, so overwhelming, that Castiel barely felt it when Luciferā€™s blade slammed through his chest.Ā 

Ā 

He panicked for a split instantā€”it couldnā€™t end like this, Castiel dying staring at Luciferā€™s triumphant grin, Kelly taken and the child polluted by his father. But nothing happened; no pain, no grace flare of death. Luciferā€™s confused stare dropped to the blade and Castiel understood. Of course it wouldnā€™t end like that.Ā 

Ā 

The child wouldnā€™t allow it.Ā 

Ā 

Swifter than an eye blink, Lucifer withdrew the blade and slammed it back into Castielā€™s chest. Again, nothing happened.Ā 

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ā€œOh, cā€™mon,ā€ was all Lucifer managed to say before Castiel seized his wrist and twisted sharply, breaking it in one motion. Lucifer staggered, crying out. Castiel twisted harder, wrenching Lucifer around and forcing him to his knees. He couldnā€™t let go of Kellyā€™s hand, lest he risk losing his connection with the child and his advantage along with it, which made the movement awkward. But Kelly didnā€™t seem to mind; she leapt forward and seized Luciferā€™s shoulder in her free hand and, together, they forced him to the sand.Ā 

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Castiel pinned him, pressing a hand hard on the back of his head. Lucifer cried out again, the sound muffled as Castiel ground his face into the sand.Ā 

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Luciferā€™s blade was still embedded in his chest. Castiel met Kellyā€™s eyes and nodded to it; she swallowed and pulled it gently out of his body. Again, he felt nothing, just the flesh of his vessel quickly closing the wound.Ā 

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Lucifer was writhing underneath them, struggling with all his might to get free. Somehow, Castiel and Kelly held him down regardless.Ā 

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ā€œYou canā€™t do this, youā€™re nothing! A snivelling human and a broken angel. Youā€™re nothing!ā€ Lucifer spat. Castiel shoved his face harder into the dirt. He met Kellyā€™s eyes again; she was still clutching the blade. He nodded and watched her eyes harden with resolve.Ā 

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ā€œShut up, you son of a bitch,ā€ Kelly spat and slammed the blade between Luciferā€™s shoulders.Ā 

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Lucifer screamed, his true voice boiling out in an ear splitting screech. Castiel squinted against the burst of grace, pulling Kelly close to shield her eyes against his shoulder.Ā 

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This is for Sam Winchester , he thought, who youā€™ve tortured and abused and haunted for far too long. This is for Kelly Kline, who youā€™ve used for your own gain, whose death youā€™ve caused just as surely as if youā€™d dealt the blow with your blade. This is for your son, so heā€™ll never have to endure your toxic influence. Ā 

Ā 

As Luciferā€™s light faded, as that presence disappeared from the world and from his mind for the final time, something small and injured inside Castiel, the part that he so often ignored, relaxed. Maybe, in some way, this had been for himself too.Ā 

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The thought felt selfish, as if his experiences with Lucifer were at all comparable to anything heā€™d put anyone else through. As if Castiel didnā€™t deserve whatever suffering was visited on him, for all the suffering heā€™d visited on the world and his own kind. Castiel turned his mind away from the thought. He had more important things to think about than self-pity.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œKelly,ā€ he said, ā€œare you okay?ā€Ā 

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The question was unnecessary; he could still feel her through the link the child had forged through them all. But humans, he had learned, liked to be asked unnecessary questions. They thought it showed care.Ā 

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Kelly said nothing for a long moment, keeping her face tucked against his shoulder. Then her shoulders shifted sharply once and she looked up at Castiel. Her eyes were red but she was grinning.Ā 

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ā€œIā€™m wonderful,ā€ she said.Ā 

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They left Lucifer in the sand where he died and headed back into the cabin to await the childā€™s birth.Ā 

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_

Ā 

When the child finally came into the world, Kelly seized Castielā€™s hand again, one last time.Ā 

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ā€œTell him I love him,ā€ she gasped out, ā€œmake sure he knows how loved he is.ā€Ā 

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ā€œI will,ā€ Castiel said, holding her hand just as tightly. Part of him quavered; he couldnā€™t be trusted with this responsibility, heā€™d told Kelly as much weeks ago. He was broken, defective; he ruined everything he touched and every decision he made. He was poison and Kellyā€™s faith in him was misplaced.Ā 

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Your lack of faith doesnā€™t cancel what I believe. Thatā€™s not how it works , a woman had told him once in a church at the lowest point in his long, long existence.Ā 

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You will , Kelly had told him, much more recently, her eyes meeting his in the rearview mirror of the Impala, full of determination and hope.Ā 

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That same determination and hope was shining in her face now. And Castiel would not allow himself to fail her.Ā 

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ā€œI will,ā€ he said again. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her sweaty forehead. He could feel her smile.Ā 

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_

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When it was over and Kellyā€™s soul had departed to Heaven, the child laid peacefully in Castielā€™s arms.Ā 

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Heā€™d cleaned the child and wrapped him in a warm blanket. A swaddling cloth, he thought and couldnā€™t help but smile. The child looked up at him with squinted eyes and Castiel placed his finger in the childā€™s tiny hand. The child closed those tiny fingers around his own and Castiel realized anew the immediacy of love.Ā 

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ā€œHello, Jack,ā€ he said.Ā 

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_

Ā 

Even as Castiel prepared Kellyā€™s funeral pyre, he knew that they could not stay for long. Luciferā€™s death alone was an event on a cosmic scale. Castiel expected there would be unnatural storms for the next few days in the area as Luciferā€™s grace dissipated into the universe; already, he could see the beginning of wildflower blooms sprouting from the ground where Luciferā€™s vessel still lay. And that was to say nothing of the beacon Jackā€™s birth had caused, calling all manner of demons and angels to them like moths to a flame.Ā 

Ā 

Jack could not be kept hidden, kept safe, here. Not anymore.Ā 

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But Kelly deserved some kind of rite before they left. Castiel didnā€™t think heā€™d be able to look Jack in the eye, knowing that heā€™d done otherwise. It would cost them precious time, but it was time he would need to make.Ā 

Ā 

The sun was beginning to crawl toward the horizon by the time the pyre and Kellyā€™s body were prepared. Castiel let himself pause after laying her shrouded body atop the pyre wood, resting a palm on her chest. There was no soul within her body anymore; the reaper had long come to claim her and Castiel knew she would be in Heaven now, reliving the best moments of her life on an endless loop. Chances were, he would never see her again.Ā 

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He let his hand drift, down to where he could feel hers, limp through the curtains heā€™d used as her burial shroud.Ā 

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ā€œIā€™ll protect him,ā€ he said, softly, ā€œheā€™ll know you loved him.ā€Ā 

Ā 

The wood went up easily and Castiel waited while it burned his friend to ash.

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Eventually, the fire burned lower, Kellyā€™s body consumed. Castiel could feel night approaching and knew it was time to move. He reached out a hand to douse the flames, leaving nothing but ash behind, easily turned over into the sand until there was nothing left. Then he went back to Jack.Ā 

Ā 

Jack was resting, peaceful in the crib Kelly had selected and assembled. He was soft and sweet and Castiel could feel the power crackling off him with every quiet breath he took.Ā 

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The boy mumbled quietly when Castiel reached into the crib. He was careful to place his hands in the exact correct position to give Jackā€™s little body the support it needed, tucking him into his elbow, supporting his head. Jack seemed to appreciate it, judging by the satisfied burble he made. He made a similar sound as Castiel tucked him carefully into the car seat before settling immediately back into sleep.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œBirth is difficult work, isnā€™t it,ā€ Castiel murmured. He hesitated, then reached out, brushing his finger over the downy hair that sprouted haphazardly on Jackā€™s head. Jack sighed at the touch, sagging further into sleep.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel picked up the car seat and carried it steadily down the stairs. Heā€™d packed the rest of things Jack would needā€”diapers, formula, clothesā€”into a bag, already stowed in the truck. The USB Kelly had pressed onto him was tucked safely away in Castielā€™s pockets.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel closed the door of the cabin for the final time with a sense of regret. Kelly had loved this house; she had spent so long painting that nursery, wanting it to be just right for her son. It was a monument of her love, dedicated to the son she would never meet. It felt wrong to leave it behind.Ā 

Ā 

He glanced down at Jack, curled up asleep in the car seat Castiel had bundled him into. He was the important thing here. They would come back here, he decided, the two of them together, when Jack was older and wanted to know more about his mother. Theyā€™d come back here, look at the mural, walk the shoreline, and make a marker for Kellyā€™s grave. Maybe Jack could help the flowers grow around it.Ā 

Ā 

He strapped Jackā€™s car seat into the truck, cursing his lack of foresight to find a vehicle with a backseat. For all the power Castiel knew Jack held, he seemed so fragile, vulnerable. He was such a little thing and heā€™d already lost so much; Castiel couldnā€™t bear to have anything else happen to him.Ā 

Ā 

Jack stirred when Castiel folded the collar of his tiny onesie to the side. ā€œThis will only take a moment,ā€ Castiel murmured, brushing his fingertips over Jackā€™s downy hair. Jack stared at him in silence and didnā€™t move at all while Castiel gently drew anti-tracking sigils in Sharpie on his chest. It was a non-permanent solution to the problem, but at least it was something. Anything else more permanent would cause pain, pain Castiel could not bring himself to inflict, no matter how necessary.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel capped the pen and straightened Jackā€™s clothes. Jack continued to stare up at him, his eyes shining in the sunlight and Castiel found himself again overwhelmed. This little boy, who held all the power of an archangel and more, was at this moment, entirely dependent on him. It was both unnerving and awe-inspiring.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI wonā€™t fail you,ā€ Castiel said softly, brushing his fingers over Jackā€™s soft cheek. Jack blinked at him serenely before shutting his eyes with a sleepy sigh. Castiel lingered for a long moment, gently stroking Jackā€™s face as the boy drifted back to sleep.Ā 

Ā 

The house was fairly remote, far from any large cities; the nearest town was about a forty-five minute drive, and their nearest neighbours half that. Castiel assumed Meg had chosen it for that reason. He started the truck down the dirt track that led to the cabin, planning the route in his mind. They would head south, he thought, then east, making some good distance on the highway before heā€™d detour onto some smaller, less travelled roads. He wanted to cross at least two state lines before he even thought about stopping. Maybe it would even be a good idea to cross the border north into Canada; it certainly wouldnā€™t stop anyone from tracking him, but it might be an unexpected move that would temporarily puzzle any pursuers. At this point, any effort was worthwhile, as long as it got them a little distance.Ā 

Ā 

But Castielā€™s plans were dashed before heā€™d even reached the main road. He came around a corner, view impeded by the thick trees pressing close on either side, and had to brake abruptly to avoid the car blocking the road.

Ā 

For a split second, he thought it might be some kind of accident. But one look at the three people surrounding the car, and the glinting blades in their hands, put paid to that idea.Ā 

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Castiel stared at them, hands tightening involuntarily on the wheel. The angels didnā€™t move, staring back silently.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel hesitated, then reached over to brush his fingers over Jackā€™s forehead. ā€œIā€™ll be right back,ā€ he said, trying to smile reassuringly. Jack gurgled quietly and curled up tighter in his carseat.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Castiel exited the truck, closing the door firmly behind him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œLet us pass,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

The lead angel, someone he didnā€™t recognize, snorted. ā€œNo,ā€ she said.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel shifted, letting his blade slip into his palm. ā€œI wasnā€™t asking.ā€Ā 

Ā 

The angels said nothing but slowly started to fan out and approach the truck. They had him at a disadvantage and they knew itā€”he was just one angel, flightless, no longer able to be in two places at once. And he was on the wrong side of the truck to get between Jack and the angels, one of whom was approaching the passenger side door.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel considered, then flipped his blade around in his hand. It would put him at a further disadvantage, yes, but heā€™d succeeded before under worse odds.Ā 

Ā 

Lightning quick, Castiel drew back his arm and threw his blade with unerring accuracy. It buried itself in the chest of the angel approaching the truck, who screamed and died in a burst of grace.Ā 

Ā 

The next second, the angelsā€™ leader was upon him. He dodged her blow, grabbing the striking arm and hitting the elbow. If this was a human attacker, that would have been enough to make them drop their blade and possibly immobilize that arm entirely. The angel only snarled and tried to twist out of Castielā€™s grip.Ā 

Ā 

Now the other remaining angel was next to them, stabbing forward while Castiel still struggled with the leader, clearly hoping to catch him off-guard. At the last second, Castiel pivoted, using all his strength to pull the leader around with him. The striking blade hit her with a glancing blow and that, finally, was enough to make her drop her own blade with a cry.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel caught the blade as it fell to the ground, reversed his grip, and struck back up, all in one movement. But the leader was too quick; she was already jerking backward and out of range, and the other angel closed in again.Ā 

Ā 

They traded blows, blades meeting with harsh clangs. Castiel knew the angel attacking him was trying to keep him busy long enough for the leader to reach the truck and take Jack. It forced Castiel on the offensive more than he would have liked, striking quick and hard to break past the angelā€™s defenses and harry the leader. It was a reckless strategy, and one that was difficult to keep up.Ā 

Ā 

In the end, Castiel wasnā€™t too surprised when the angel managed to catch him in the shoulder. The blade dug deep into his grace, agony spiralling through him. Castiel retreated with a snarl and missed the leader closing back in. She seized him, hurling him through the air.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel was thrown back toward the truck, slamming into the windshield with a harsh crack. He could feel the glass shattering behind him, could hear Jack start to wail. Urgency sparked inside him. It was time for a better plan.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel let himself slump to the ground, curling around his front as if more injured than he really was. Out of sight, he dug his fingers into his wound, stifling the grunt of pain that wanted to escape.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGive up now, Castiel,ā€ the leader was saying. ā€œThereā€™s no need for you to die unless you get in our way.ā€ She stopped beside him, using her foot to push him over on the ground. Castiel relished how her eyes widened as she saw the banishing sigil, drawn in his own blood.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œBite me,ā€ he said and activated the sigil.Ā 

Ā 

The angels disappeared shrieking in a blast of light. Any triumph Castiel felt immediately disappeared as he heard Jack scream inside the truck. He stumbled to his feet, ripping open the door just in time to see veins of gold fade away under Jackā€™s skin.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel cursed himself for all kinds of a fool. There had been so few nephilim over the years it was difficult to know how they would be affected by Enochian magic. Castiel had known the sigil wouldnā€™t banish the boy, had been counting on it, but he hadnā€™t anticipated it would hurt him either.Ā 

Ā 

Jack continued to wail, his hands curled in tiny fists and his face red with crying. Guilt and shame bit at Castiel and he quickly extricated Jack from the car seat. He slumped to the ground next to the truck, tucking Jack close, ignoring the way his wound throbbed with his every move.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m sorry, Iā€™m so sorry, Jack,ā€ he whispered breathlessly, over and over. Jack continued to cry; Castiel reached out with his grace, but couldnā€™t find any lingering damage to heal. Jack was simply frightened, as any child would be in his situation.Ā 

Ā 

Shame welled up again and he held Jack closer. His eyes drifted, coming to the body of the angel he had killed, his blade still protruding from their vesselā€™s chest. How many of his brethren had he killed now? The thought pierced him, as it always did, and he gave into the urge to hide his face against Jackā€™s hair.Ā 

Ā 

These were the bloody hands Kelly had entrusted her child to. This slaughterer of legions.Ā 

Ā 

Minutes passed as he sat there on the ground, comforting Jack with his killerā€™s hands and trembling under the weight of his guilt. Eventually, Jack calmed, his cries tapering off into shaky breaths.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel raised his head to look into Jackā€™s eyes, still teary but clearing. He wiped the tears off Jackā€™s face, using the sleeve of his coat to blot them gently away.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m sorry,ā€ Castiel said again and heaved himself off the ground. The movement put too much pressure on his wounded shoulder, sending a fresh wave of pain through him. Castiel winced through it as he buckled Jack back in his car seat.Ā 

Ā 

When Jack was secure, Castiel limped back to the driverā€™s side, gingerly heaving himself into the seat. His fingers fumbled reaching for the keys and he had to pause to take a breath before finally managing to turn the ignition.Ā 

Ā 

Nothing happened. Castiel sighed and tried again. Again, nothing. He exited the truck, opening the hood with a pained grunt. It was a thoroughly human habit he was indulging; he knew nothing about engines, what they looked like when they were in good repair or how to fix them. It felt similar to how he felt when he was human in the flesh, staring at a cooler full of ready made food at the Gas-N-Sip, driven by the consuming need to eat but apathetic toward the choices before him.Ā 

Ā 

He indulged himself by staring at the truckā€™s engine for a long moment before shutting the hood with a bang. He could just barely see Jack through the shattered windshield, watching him closely.Ā 

Ā 

They needed to leave, as soon as possible. They could not remain here, to be found by other angels, or demons, or even humans, who would take one look at this scene and come to some very damning conclusions.Ā 

Ā 

It only took a few minutes to check the other car that the angels had arrived in. Of course, the keys were missing. A quick pat down of the dead angelsā€™ pockets revealed nothing.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel allowed himself to indulge in defeat for just one moment. There was something about the intentions of a celestial being, a warrior of the Lord who had been making war for millenia, being frustrated by a lack of car keys that some would find very funny. He was sure Dean at least would have been able to see the humour in the situation.Ā 

Ā 

Of course, if Dean was here, he could probably fix whatever was wrong with Castielā€™s truck. Or hotwire the other car. All while ribbing Castiel for not bothering to learn how to do it himself. Or maybe heā€™d insist on showing Castiel how, walking him through the steps with that endearingly fond expression he always got when he showed Castiel something new and human.Ā 

Ā 

For a moment, the tempting thought to wait grew within Castiel. The Winchesters were skilled hunters; there was simply no way they hadnā€™t picked up on the omens surrounding Jackā€™s birth. It was only a matter of time until they showed up. Castiel would need to evade any angels and demons in the meantime, but it would be possible. And then they could go home, he and Jack.Ā 

Ā 

But as soon as the thought bloomed, it died. Castiel had left them at Heavenā€™s gate, betrayed them, again. He could not expect heā€™d be welcomed back with open arms. He could not expect the bunker would be open to him at all, not after another transgression in a long line of transgressions.Ā 

Ā 

And even if he was welcome, Jack would not be, not as he was. They wouldnā€™t want to hurt the boy, Castiel knew that. None of the Winchesters had the kind of malice in them to wish harm upon a child. But they wouldnā€™t understand Jack, wouldnā€™t understand that he had to remain as he was, with all his powers intact. They would want to extract his grace and they would think they were doing him a favour.Ā 

Ā 

Theoretically, the process would leave Jack simply human, free to grow and live his life as such. But there were so few nephilim; Castiel couldnā€™t say what the process would truly do to Jack, how his body and his soul would react to the loss of his grace. Maybe his grace would simply replenish itself but the loss might also do catastrophic damage to the boy.Ā 

Ā 

The part of Castiel that still flinched away from the mention of Metatronā€™s name, that remembered viscerally the helplessness and violation heā€™d felt when Metatron had cut out his grace, rebelled at just the thought of Jack losing his own. The Winchesters would be kind, he protested to himself. The extraction would not be violent, as it had been for him. But it would be a violation all the same. And if that was the price for him to return to the bunker, it was too high, no matter how much he wanted it.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel sighed, and pulled his blade from his brotherā€™s chest, tucking it away. Then he heaved himself back to his feet and limped back to the truck.Ā 

Ā 

Jack was lying quietly in his car seat, his eyes still a little teary. Castiel crouched next to the truck, gently thumbing away the tears that had spilled. Jack sighed softly and leaned into the touch. The gesture made Castielā€™s heart twist.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™ll be alright, Jack,ā€ he said. ā€œIā€™ll find you somewhere safe.ā€Ā 

Ā 

They would need to walk out of here. And the sooner they set out, the better.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

Castiel pulled the dead angel into the abandoned car, pushing both car and truck off into the foliage on the side of the road. No reason to advertise their presence.

Ā 

The car seat came out of the truck easily enough, Jack cradled safely inside. Castiel slung the little baby bag over his shoulder, wincing as the weight pulled on his injury. He could feel his torn grace knitting together slowly but it was a deep wound. It would take a while to fully heal at which point he'd finally be able to heal his vessel. Until then, he would just have to ignore the disconcerting feeling of blood running slowly down his arm. Knowing he wouldn't just drain away and die from injuries like this had been harder to understand since his time as a human.Ā 

Ā 

With a last glance at the tree obscured vehicles, Castiel set off into the forest.Ā 

Ā 

It was quiet in the woods, but not unnaturally so. Castielā€™s feet cracked quietly over the twigs littering the forest floor and he could hear the soft sounds of night fall around them. As they passed an owl hooting, Jack tried to imitate the noise as best he could.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThat was lovely,ā€ Castiel said and Jack giggled. Castiel glanced down at him; his eyes were flitting around constantly, jumping from one thing to the next. He looked fascinated and Castiel turned his gaze to study what he saw: the trees, the leaves on the ground, the flashes of night sky through the foliage. It was dark now, dark enough a human would have trouble seeing without the light of a flashlight or the moon, but that didnā€™t pose a problem for angels. Or nephilim, it seemed.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIt really is something to behold, isnā€™t it?ā€ Castiel mused. Jack gurgled in agreement.Ā 

Ā 

Walking through the night would get them a little distance from the lake house, enough that any pursuers wouldn't immediately be able to locate them. It wasn't enough for a long term strategyā€”he'd need to find another vehicle as soon as he could. The closest town, Dexter by the Sea, was quite small; a stolen car would be noticed quickly. The next nearest, Tokeland, wasn't much better. Heā€™d have to make it all the way to Raymond before he had a hope of finding a vehicle and even then, it would be a risk in a town so small. But if he could head north to Olympia or south to Portland from there, he'd have a chance to exchange vehicles. If he was very lucky, the theft would go unnoticed, just another statistic lost among the shuffle. Then they could get some real distance and disappear.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel was so lost in thoughts, in the regular movements of his body, that it took a moment for Jackā€™s increased noises to register. The boy was whining quietly to himself in the car seat. He glanced down at him; Jack was glancing around still but his expression looked more fearful now, less interested.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel glanced warily around them, on guard in case Jack had sensed something he had not. But there didnā€™t appear to be anything there that shouldnā€™t be; no demons, no angels, no other supernatural creatures. Just the usual life of a forest at nightā€”animals hunting for food, insects chirping. Nothing unexpected but brand new to Jack all the same. Castiel remembered that humans often had a natural fear of the dark; he wondered if Jack had inherited it.Ā 

Ā 

"It's alright, Jack," Castiel said, "I know it's your first night in this world, but I promise it won't last forever."

Ā 

Jack didn't seem very reassured, his fearful sounds continuing. But he reacted to Castiel's voice, his eyes flicking up to him before looking around at the forest again. It was enough to prompt Castiel to continue.Ā 

Ā 

"I remember the first time I'd ever seen a forest like this," Castiel said. As heā€™d hoped, Jack looked directly at him, suddenly focused.Ā 

Ā 

"It was a long time ago,ā€ Castiel continued, ā€œbefore homo sapiens had become the predominant human species. Your ancestors were walking the earth, but they looked very different from you."Ā 

Ā 

The longer Castiel talked, the more the fear receded from Jack's eyes. So he continued, talking about the insects and beasts he'd watched in those ancient forests. He talked about the forests he'd visited in Siberia, the Amazon, and the bamboo shoots in China. He talked and talked and Jack calmed at the sound of his voice. It was humbling, to have something so small bring so much comfort.Ā 

Ā 

"But I think the most beautiful forest I've ever seen was in the heaven of a little girl who died of polio in 1924. The trees had looked so large in her memory, they seemed like massive pillars reaching for the sky and holding it up like the roof of a coliseum."Ā 

Ā 

Castiel had spent much time in that heaven, wandering that forest. The only other time heā€™d felt that kind of awe had been in purgatory, wandering alone through the woods, dodging Leviathan when he could. Heā€™d wanted to hide there, so completely heā€™d never be found again. Heā€™d stop every now and then, just to lay down on the ground, out of some hope that if he stayed still long enough the discarded leaves would cover him and he would become one with the landscape. Just another piece of detritus, unimportant, forgotten, and rotting away.Ā 

Ā 

But, of course, angels did not rot. And the Leviathan were always tracking him, drawn by his divinity, which remained incorrupt no matter how tainted he felt. Constant movement had been necessary, if only to stay one step ahead of Dean, his desperate prayers dogging Castielā€™s footsteps no matter how far he fled.Ā 

Ā 

As if conjured by the thought, Castielā€™s mind started to buzz with prayer. Desperation poured in like a tide, longing a subtle but powerful undertow. Please, Cas , Dean said into his mind, please be there .Ā 

Ā 

The prayer ended just as swiftly as it had begun; Dean might not have even realized he had been praying. The trees filtered back in before Castielā€™s eyes and if Jack hadnā€™t been making quiet noises in his car seat, he wasnā€™t certain he would have remembered where or when he was in that moment.Ā 

Ā 

The Winchesters were on their way, then. They must have noticed the omens caused by Jackā€™s birth or Luciferā€™s death and narrowed it down to a specific area. It was only a matter of time before they located the abandoned vehicles, the cabin, the remains of Kellyā€™s funeral pyre. Lucifer. Castiel and Jack needed to be gone by then.

Ā 

But Castiel hesitated, wrestling with himself again. Lucifer was dead, the threat he posed gone from the world forever. Would it be such a terrible thing, to go back to the cabin and wait there for the rumble of the Impala coming down the road?Ā 

Ā 

The thought of the incident on the road, the mess heā€™d left behind him, was enough to stop that thought. Jack was hunted now, and would be for all his life. Angels, demons, witches, any entity that wanted to use Jackā€™s power for themselves, they would never stop searching for him. Beyond looking to Jackā€™s own safety, Cas had no right to bring that danger to the Winchestersā€™ door. Better they went their separate ways, no matter how much it hurt. They would all be safer, then.Ā 

Ā 

Jack was making inquiring noises in the car seat, his fear dissipated.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œTime to go,ā€ Castiel said, and continued walking, trying to shake off the lingering sense of Deanā€™s desperation.Ā 

Ā 

It wasnā€™t the first time heā€™d received a prayer from Dean since leaving the Winchesters at Heavenā€™s gate. Most of them couldnā€™t even be classified as prayers, not even in the lackadaisical way Dean always prayed. Some didnā€™t even have words, more a sense of swirling emotionsā€”fear, anger, hopelessness. But they came, nonetheless, flaring in Castielā€™s mind one moment and gone the next.Ā 

Ā 

The longest prayer had come just after Castiel and Kelly had run, presumably when Dean and Sam had awoken from their forced slumber. Castiel had had to pull over and let Kelly drive as Dean alternated between raging and pleading. Since then, the prayers had shortened, changed in tone, and come at different times of day. The only thing Castiel could predict about them was that they would come.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYā€™know, in these circumstances, I'd usually go to them,ā€ Castiel told Jack, wryly, ā€œIā€™ve done it before.ā€ Like after losing the angel tablet or becoming human after Metatron stole his grace. Even after swallowing those souls and playing his version of god. Always coming to the Winchesters soaked in blood and guilt after making another in a long line of mistakes. Like a wounded animal that should have been put out of its misery a long time ago.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œBut not this time,ā€ he said, smiling down at Jack in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. ā€œItā€™s just us now.ā€ And if the words were meant to comfort Jack, they did not comfort Castiel.Ā 

Ā 

They walked silently for a time. Jack returned to looking around them curiously, newly enthralled by the sights and sounds around them. The trees opened up before them, the light of the moon shining down on a small clearing. Castiel saw deer on the far side, grazing contentedly, so far undisturbed by their arrival. Slowly, he put down the car seat and unbuckled Jack, lifting him in his arms. Jack seemed confused, although content enough to be held.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel shuffled him slightly, turning and pointing. ā€œLook, Jack.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack followed his pointing finger with curious eyes. He was too young for his expression to reveal much but Castiel could feel his surprised pleasure at seeing the deer, his wonder at their graceful necks, their strong legs, their dark eyes.Ā 

Ā 

They stood and watched the deer until the deer moved on into the night. They didnā€™t truly have the time to pause like this, Castiel knew. They should be pressing on. But feeling Jackā€™s warm weight in his arms, feeling his peaceful contentment, it was difficult to remember the urgency of their situation.Ā 

Ā 

They could make up the time later, he justified it to himself. For now, let Jack enjoy himself.Ā 

Ā 

-

Ā 

They walked a few more hours before Jack started making distressed noises. Castiel placed the car seat gently on the ground, touching Jackā€™s forehead. Jack pushed his feelings toward him through the touchā€”a rumbling in his belly, discomfort, weariness, a touch of irritability. Castiel remembered the feeling well from his brief time as a human: the boy was hungry.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel unslung the bag from his shoulder, wincing as he did so. The wound to his grace was healing, but slowly. It would be days before he felt truly healed, a process that would be dragged out by having to constantly be on the move.Ā 

Ā 

All the same, it didnā€™t take long to prepare the bottle of formula, heating it to the perfect temperature with a small burst of his grace. Then he gathered Jack in his arms and set about feeding him.Ā 

Ā 

It wasnā€™t as complex a procedure as Castiel had feared, bent over his laptop at night while Kelly slept, endlessly scrolling through new parent blogs and Youtube videos. Jack was biddable, willing to go along with it as Castiel carefully arranged him in a semi-upright position, making sure to support his head. Jack took to the bottle instantly, his emotions shifting from anticipation to a sated pleasure. Castiel eyed the volume of the bottle and gently disengaged Jack from it every 2 to 3 ounces consumed to gently burp Jack against his shoulder. Jack obediently spit up on the towel Castiel had conveniently placed on his shoulder for just that purpose.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou did well,ā€ Castiel said when Jack was finished, putting away the bottle and the newly cleaned towel. Jack cooed softly from where he still laid against Castielā€™s shoulder; he was struggling not to fall asleep but his full belly was pushing him ever closer despite himself. It was incredibly endearing.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel considered their supplies. He had enough formula and water to last a few more days, based on how much human newborns usually consumed. But Jack had other needsā€”a safe place to sleep, a clean place to change and bathe him. They couldnā€™t stay out here for much longer.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œTime to walk some more,ā€ he said to Jack. Jackā€™s brow crinkled and he made a displeased sound.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI know,ā€ Castiel sympathized, ā€œwalking truly is interminable. Iā€™m not sure how humanity does it all the time.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack made another disgruntled noise, his entire being exuding sleepy displeasure. Castiel hesitated, then carefully shifted Jack in his arms, folding his arms around him to bring him closer. Immediately, he felt Jackā€™s displeasure melt away, replaced by a feeling of comfort and relief.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d read, of course, that babies needed to be held. It helped them to connect emotionally and physically with their parents and form important social bonds. But it was one thing to read it and another to feel a living being take comfort at his touch. It was an intoxicating feeling, one that came from doing an uncomplicated good.

Ā 

He had so rarely used his borrowed hands for tenderness. He remembered moments of frozen helplessness, watching his siblings suffer in battle, watching Dean suffer from nightmares of Hell, unable to understand the feeling welling up inside of him. But he understood now. He had daydreamed about it sometimes, being tender. Putting a hand on Claireā€™s shoulder while she laughingly explained what the image she was showing him on Twitter meant. Patting Sam on the back after a few long hours of research together, using the gesture to heal the crick in his neck that always seemed to pain Sam these days.Ā 

Ā 

Mostly though, he dreamed of Dean. Taking Deanā€™s hand when he was driving, or coming up behind him while he was cooking in the kitchen and putting his arms around Deanā€™s waist, like heā€™d seen on TV. They were useless thoughts, only petty daydreams that he would let his mind mull over on long drives. They were certainly nothing that would ever happen in reality, nothing based in hope. But they were comforting to Castiel all the same, and he couldn't ever quite leave them behind.Ā 

Ā 

Now, in his arms, Jack was starting to drift to sleep. Castiel let himself hold the boy for another indulgent moment before he leaned down to put him back in the car seat. As soon as Castiel moved to place him inside, Jack stirred awake with a whine. Castiel brought him close to his chest again and Jack immediately calmed, a simple joy pouring off him. It humbled Castiel, feeling that joy.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m sorry,ā€ Castiel said, ā€œbut I canā€™t carry both you and the car seat, not safely. I can hold you later.ā€ He cuddled Jack a bit closer, stroking his fingers over his head before placing one in Jackā€™s tiny palm. Jack grasped his finger, looking up at him narrowly. Castiel squinted back at him, trying to understand the feelings he could sense from Jackā€”some swirling mix of consideration, happiness, and something he hesitated to attempt to label. Before he could fully grasp them, the emotions were subsumed by a flare of grace.Ā 

Ā 

It had the same burning power heā€™d felt when Jack had flooded into him at Heavenā€™s gate, the grace that had burned Dagon alive with barely an effort. It was a tidal wave and Castiel drowned in it, the power sweeping through him unrelentingly.Ā 

Ā 

The torrent faded as quickly as it had come on, leaving Castiel gasping on the forest floor, Jack tightly clutched in his arms. He looked down at Jack, suddenly afraid heā€™d hurt the boy, holding him too close in that massive surge of grace. Jack blinked back at him peacefully, a golden glow fading from his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

Relieved, Castiel started to stand and stopped. Something was different. The wound aching through his shoulder and down into his grace had been healed, that was immediately apparent, but...this was something else.Ā 

Ā 

He hesitated, straightened, and spread his wings. They unfurled around him, stretching across the dimensions.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel could do nothing but stare; they were fully formed again, not the scarred scraps left behind by Metatronā€™s spell. As beautiful as they had been before he went to Hell to retrieve Dean.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel stood there for a long time, adjusting to the feel of them. Eventually, Jack made a small, inquiring noise. Castiel glanced down at him again, his gaze blurring slightly from the tears lining his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

Jack looked back at him, clearly satisfied. ā€œYouā€™re right,ā€ Castiel said roughly around the lump in his throat. ā€œI can hold you now.ā€Ā 

Ā 

And he spread his wings and flew for the first time in years, leaving the car seat behind in the forest.Ā 

_

Ā 

With his wings, the options to evade pursuit were near limitless. He could fly anywhere in the world, no longer constrained to the United States by such human things as borders and passports. He now had easier access to things Jack needed; an empty hotel room in Mexico City provided a safe place for Jack to bathe and sleep, miles away from where pursuers would expect him to be.Ā 

Ā 

It made the game of evasion much simpler, giving them an opportunity to settle somewhere they wouldnā€™t be found. It also gave him access to tactics he wouldnā€™t have been able to use before. So, after Jack awoke, he set about laying an intricate trail for their pursuers.Ā 

Ā 

First, he flew to the soaring sequoia trees of the Sierra Nevada. Then to Yunnan province in China, where he spent some time walking through the bamboo shoots. Next, he travelled to the Amazon, settling next to the massive river and watching the leaves sway in the wind, the birds and insects flying by.Ā 

Ā 

Jack was enthralled by every new sight, alternately staring, giggling, or making little shrieks of delight. Castiel kept a tight hold on him every time he spread his wings.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI told you they were magnificent,ā€ he said as they lingered beneath the larch boughs of the Siberia taiga. Jack exclaimed in agreement.Ā 

Ā 

Of course, they couldnā€™t go to only remote places; the whole point of laying a false trail was to be noticed. Castiel flew them to Paris and spent an afternoon walking along the Seine. He flew to Bangkok to wander the grounds of the Grand Palace. He lingered by the reclining Buddha at Wat Pho holding Jack up so he could admire the shiny stones laid into the soles of the Buddhaā€™s feet. He flew to the Grand Canyon, standing with the other tourists at Mather Point.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œMy sister made this, a very long time ago,ā€ he said to Jack, quietly enough to not be overheard from the tourists around them. ā€œHael.ā€ The name hurt to say, as all the names of his deceased siblings did, a pain that could never be alleviated because it would mean forgetting the damage heā€™d wrought.Ā 

Ā 

Jack stirred in his arms, something disturbing him. Castiel shifted to hold him more securely but Jack was still restless, twisting in his arms and starting to whine.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œShhh,ā€ Castiel whispered, bringing him up to his shoulder. Jack relaxed against him, tucking his face into Castielā€™s neck. The sense of urgency that had been building in Jack dissipated, replaced by a slow moving contentment. Maybe Jack had simply wanted to be held closer, overwhelmed by the majesty of the canyon; the theory didnā€™t quite make sense, but Castiel wasnā€™t going to question it now Jack seemed to be feeling better.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™s alright,ā€ Castiel whispered. Jack sighed softly.Ā 

_

Ā 

Deanā€™s prayer came shortly after Castiel landed in Reykjavik.Ā 

Ā 

He was sitting on a bench on the Sculpture and Shore Walk, overlooking the Sun Voyager and watching the other pedestrians go by. Heā€™d just paid a visit to a baby supply store in Moscow, popping in and grabbing a baby carrier before popping back out. Heā€™d then flown into a one-stall washroom in a gas station somewhere in southern Texas to put it on.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThis will make things much easier,ā€ Castiel had said to Jack as he adjusted the straps on his shoulders. He could tell Jack wasnā€™t quite pleased with the arrangement; he seemed to prefer being completely ensconced in Castielā€™s arms at all times. He appeared to be under the impression that holding him was the only reason Castiel had arms in the first place.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSometimes, I need to have my hands free,ā€ Castiel explained, settling Jack in the sling. ā€œTo protect you. But with this, youā€™re still close to me.ā€ He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, prompting high-pitched giggles. ā€œSee?ā€Ā 

Ā 

The shoreline was lovely here; the walkway looked out over the water and the air was a bit chilly even in the Icelandic summer sunshine. Jack was avidly watching a bird picking at the grass nearby, entirely fascinated. It was peaceful.Ā 

Ā 

Dean blared to life in his mind without warning.Ā 

Ā 

Cas, I donā€™t know if you can hear me. Weā€™re at the cabin in Washington. We found Kelly and Lucifer ā€” I canā€™t believe you managed to ice the bastard. But the kidā€™s not here. And youā€™re not here. Obviously.Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed deeply, and Castiel could feel the longing building, stretching between them like a taut line.Ā 

Ā 

Just tell me where you are, man. Send me a text, find a payphone, something. I just gotta know youā€™re okay. Wherever you are, weā€™ll come and get you, it doesnā€™t matter where.Ā 

Ā 

There was silence for a long moment but the connection remained. Castiel wondered if Dean was waiting, waiting with bated breath, for Castiel to place the call as he had asked. Castiel remembered that hope; heā€™d stared at his phone so often when theyā€™d lost Dean to the demonic influence of the Mark, willing it to ring with all he had. Heā€™d never truly expected Dean to reach out, but it had been crushing nonetheless each day he hadnā€™t.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel wondered if it was as crushing for Dean now, every second that passed with his phone silent. He hoped not.Ā 

Ā 

Finally, Dean continued, his voice harder, almost angry. I know youā€™re with the kid. Gone on the run with him or something. But, Cas, you-you gotta know. You gotta know heā€™s controlling you. You gotta break out of it. Just break out of it and weā€™ll deal with it. Please.Ā 

Ā 

The prayer ended, the hum in Castielā€™s mind fading away. Jack was making curious noises against his chest, as if heā€™d sensed the prayer, as impossible as that was.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYes, that was Dean,ā€ Castiel said. He stroked his hand over the warm hat heā€™d placed on Jackā€™s head. ā€œThat was Dean.ā€Ā 

Ā 

They lingered on that bench for a while, until Castiel could gather himself together enough to take wing. Dean didnā€™t pray again.Ā 

Ā 

Cas and Jack in front of a variety of landmarks

Ā 

_

Ā 

They were left in relative peace for the next several destinations; Jack managed to sleep in a few more empty hotel rooms and once an empty apartment in Egypt. It wasnā€™t until Kiev that they ran into trouble.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel spotted the demons not long after he landed, their true faces hideous behind their innocuous human vessels. Castiel pretended not to notice them, continuing blithely down the street and turning into an alleyway seemingly without a care in the world. The demons took the bait, following him to a dead end.Ā 

Ā 

It was childā€™s play to disappear, flying quicker than an eyeblink to appear behind them. The demons startled, tried to fight, but they were no match for his speed.Ā 

Ā 

All the same, it was upsetting for Jack. Castiel fled as soon as he finished with the demons, tucking his bloodied blade away before Jack had to see it. Too much of this boyā€™s incredibly short life had been marred by violence; Castiel would shield him from it, if he could.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m sorry,ā€ he whispered to Jack when they landed in the cornfields near the Parana River in Argentina. ā€œIā€™ll find you somewhere safe.ā€Ā 

_

Ā 

Two stops later, they ran into another pair of demons. Again, Castiel killed them with ease and was left standing over two dead bodies in a remote corner of Manila, confused and angry. He knew Crowley had been desperate to stop Lucifer, to find Jack before he was born. But he must have known by now that Lucifer was dead; even lower demons would have felt that and Crowley was never one to allow important events pass beneath his notice. This intensity to the hunt didnā€™t make sense.Ā 

Ā 

It was a hurdle in the path before him but not an insurmountable one. He would just have to keep running.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel was walking down a busy street in downtown Kyoto when a presence suddenly materialized beside him. Without thought, he seized him, tugging them through the dimensions and slamming him against the wall of the alley they materialized in, his blade at Crowleyā€™s throat.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhoa, whoa, angel, thereā€™s no need for this!ā€ Crowley protested loudly, his hands up in surrender.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel shook him, hard. The wall cracked behind Crowleyā€™s back. ā€œGive me one good reason I shouldnā€™t kill you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œRelax, Cas,ā€ Crowley said, lowering his hands a little. ā€œIā€™m not here to hurt the tyke. I just wanted to see it for myself.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel hesitated, then backed up a step, lowering his blade from Crowleyā€™s neck to hover warily in front of him. Crowley made a show of straightening his coat, dramatically dusting off his shoulders. Finally, his gaze settled on Jack, currently sleeping in the sling.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo,ā€ he said, looking Jack over consideringly. Jack, for his part, slept on. Castiel had been worried about the unrelenting pace at first, concerned Jack would find it too tiring and they would need to take the risk of stopping more often. But Jack slept easily enough when he was tired, napping in the sling without concern. Castiel was beginning to think he found the sensation of flying soothing.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThatā€™s Luciferā€™s son,ā€ Crowley said. There was an undercurrent of wonder in his voice.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYes.ā€ There was no point in lying. Crowley had always had a knack for seeing through Castielā€™s lies anyway.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDoesnā€™t seem like much,ā€ Crowley said, watching Jack with an appraising eye. Castiel tucked an arm around Jack, twisting his body so Crowley couldnā€™t see him head on and bringing his blade to bear. Crowley didnā€™t even bother to pretend to feel frightened, rolling his eyes with a loud sigh.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHonestly, I'm not threatening the lad,ā€ he said, ā€œheā€™s just not what comes to mind when one thinks of Lucifer Junior.ā€

Ā 

Castiel had indulged Crowley long enough. They didnā€™t have time for this. ā€œHow did you find me?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGood luck,ā€ Crowley said, tucking his hands casually in his coat pockets. ā€œI happened to have a spy nearby who let me know when they spotted a trench coat wearing a baby bjorn. Weā€™ve all been on high alert, trying to find you.ā€ He smiled. ā€œCourtesy of the Winchesters.ā€

Ā 

ā€œTheyā€™re still looking,ā€ Castiel said, tonelessly. It had been days since Deanā€™s last prayer, longer since they had found the cabin. Castiel knew they hadnā€™t given up searching for him; neither Sam nor Dean were known for their lack of persistence. And Deanā€™s prayers hadnā€™t changed. They came at the oddest moments, unpredictably. Sometimes they were just a few words long, sometimes just some curses strung together with desperation. Sometimes they went on for minutes at a time, quiet words interspersed with long silences. When those prayers came, Castiel always had to find someplace quiet to stand, closing his eyes to listen and resisting every part of him demanding he fly to Dean that instant.Ā 

Ā 

The last prayer heā€™d received had been short.Ā 

Ā 

Cas. I donā€™t know if you can hear me. I hope you can, though. I hope you can.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOh yes,ā€ Crowley said, his face twisting into that familiar smug look, as if he perpetually knew something you didnā€™t. It was one of his more annoying expressions. ā€œAnd quite desperately too. You should have heard the things poor Squirrel was saying.ā€

Ā 

Castiel didnā€™t know if Crowleyā€™s words were meant to wound, but they did. He could well imagine the types of things Dean was saying. Something angry, no doubt, lashing out at Castiel in his absence, lashing out at Crowley when he saw him. Demands for Crowleyā€™s assistance, maybe even a vow to track Castiel down himself if Crowley played recalcitrant.Ā 

Ā 

But Dean was softer in his prayers, as he so often was. Castiel knew Dean felt very deeply, often so deeply he had problems processing his own emotions. Back when his grace had been pure, free of the scars heā€™d accrued through the last years, heā€™d been able to see those emotions surge in Deanā€™s mind, see the way his thoughts would circle obsessively around the core pillars of his being. A need to protect not only Sam, but the rest of his family as well, and humanity as a whole. A deep-seated understanding of his lack of worth, twinned by a pounding love that only ever pointed outward.Ā 

Ā 

It had staggered Castielā€”who had barely known what emotion wasā€”that one person could feel so deeply and so much, all at once.Ā 

Ā 

But prayer seemed a place that Dean allowed those parts of himself that he so often buried to show. The soft parts, the vulnerable core of him. Dean had said things to him in prayers that he never would have been able to say to Castielā€™s face.Ā 

Ā 

It was what he remembered the most from Purgatory, those prayers. They had followed him, no matter how far from Dean he had fled, alternately cajoling, threatening, and pleading. Each one had only made Castiel want to return to Dean more and each one had ensured he would not, because how could he atone if he was at Deanā€™s side, forgiven? How could he justify doing something so selfish when it would put Dean in so much danger?Ā 

Ā 

It hadnā€™t been fair to Dean, Castiel knew that. It had hurt Dean, when he discovered Castiel had stayed away from him on purpose, a hurt Castiel had watched him swallow and bury that day at the river. Castiel wondered if he would be able to bury the hurt in the same way now or if the Mark had stolen his ability to do that, even years gone.

Ā 

He wasnā€™t unaware of the similarities between his actions now and in Purgatory. This wasnā€™t the first time he had run from Dean, nor the second. Sometimes, it felt he was always running from Dean, pulled away by his obligations, his fear, his guilt, his shame. And it always seemed to turn out to be a mistake, like everything else Castiel did.Ā 

Ā 

Was he making another mistake again, running now? He looked at Jack; heā€™d woken up a bit during Castielā€™s conversation with Crowley and was now looking sleepily up at him. There was no trace of distrust or misgiving in the boy, only a boundless faith. Castiel couldnā€™t remember the last time someone had looked at him like that, not even the Winchesters.Ā Ā 

Ā 

No, he had to keep going, laying low until he could find somewhere safe for him and Jack to land. No one could be allowed to take Jack and the Winchesters could not be allowed to remove his grace. They would only all be safe if Castiel stayed away.Ā 

Ā 

The Winchesters would be fine. They had never truly needed Castiel, not in the same way that they needed each other, or needed Mary, or Jody, or Bobby; their real family. Castiel could be useful, he knew that. But there were no more crises on the horizon now, the domino effect of their actions and mistakes in the last few years terminated by Luciferā€™s death.Ā 

Ā 

No one needed Castiel now, except for Jack.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel had always been more trouble than he was worth, he knew that. Heā€™d failed too many times for it to be otherwise. But maybe he could do right by this boy. Caring for Jack would never be a mistake, no matter how much Dean and Sam might resent him for it.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWill you tell them you saw me?ā€ Castiel asked.Ā 

Ā 

Crowley looked at him silently for a long moment; Castiel was reminded uncomfortably that this demon had saved his life not that long ago.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo,ā€ Crowley finally said.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel watched him warily. ā€œReally?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œTell me one thing, Cas,ā€ Crowley said, taking a step toward him. ā€œHow much do you want this tiny tot involved in Hellā€™s affairs?ā€

Ā 

ā€œNot at all,ā€ Castiel said. It wasnā€™t a lieā€”the future Jack had shown him may have included reference to permanent closure of Hell, but that didnā€™t mean that Castiel actually wanted the boy anywhere near a demon, no matter the destiny heā€™d chosen for himself.Ā 

Ā 

Crowley smiled. ā€œThatā€™s what I thought.ā€ He stepped away from the wall of the alley, theatrically rubbing his hands together. ā€œThen, I wash my hands of this whole ridiculous thing.ā€

Ā 

ā€œSo youā€™ll stop sending your demons after us?ā€ Castiel asked. ā€œI donā€™t appreciate being hunted.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Crowleyā€™s eyes crinkled with amusement. ā€œSo you noticed them, then? Iā€™ll have to give them a talking-to about the meaning of the words ā€˜stay hiddenā€™.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel frowned, confused. ā€œWhat are you talking about?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Crowleyā€™s expression soured into a matching frown. ā€œWhat are you talking about?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel rolled his eyes, immediately frustrated in that way that only Crowley seemed to bring out in him. ā€œIā€™m talking about the demons whoā€™ve attacked us in Kiev and Manila. Iā€™m not sure what you thought you told them, but they certainly werenā€™t staying hidden when they were trying to kill me.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Crowleyā€™s expression didnā€™t change, his frown unmoving.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou didnā€™t know,ā€ Castiel said, suddenly sure. He tucked his blade away.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo,ā€ Crowley said.Ā 

Ā 

Those demons, as weak as they had been, had been well prepared. Theyā€™d had angel blades, theyā€™d known how to fight. If Castiel had not been restored to his full power, they might have posed a real danger to him. If Crowley hadnā€™t sent themā€”

Ā 

Ā ā€œI think you have a challenger for your throne,ā€ Castiel said, slowly.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œShit,ā€ Crowley muttered. Then his frown disappeared, folding into his familiar smirk, a bit more pained than usual. ā€œWell, I had best go then. People to kill, you know how it is.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCrowley,ā€ Castiel said. Crowley paused, looking at him with an expectant expression. Castiel looked away and forced himself to continue. ā€œThank you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œPlease, donā€™t,ā€ Crowley said, rolling his eyes. ā€œYouā€™ll embarrass both of us.ā€ His eyes lingered on Jack for a moment. ā€œI hope you enjoy fatherhood. I hear itā€™s rewarding.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel stared at him before his gaze fell to Jack. He had never thought about applying that label to himself. Being a father always seemed like something purely human, something that would never apply to him. Heā€™d had no role in Jackā€™s creation, not like a father would. But genetics wasnā€™t the be all and end all of family or of fatherhood. Fathers were meant to care for their children, to love them, want what was best for them and give them what they needed to achieve it. Wasnā€™t that what Castiel wanted to be for Jack? What was a father if not for that?Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNauseating,ā€ he vaguely heard Crowley grumble. When he looked back up, Crowley had disappeared.

Ā 

Castiel wrapped his arms around Jack, sleeping soundly again in the sling. They remained in that alley for a long time.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

As harmless as Crowley had turned out to be, heā€™d found them far too easily for Castielā€™s tastes. That meant more flights, more destinations to get lost among the teeming crowd of humanity. Sometimes, Castiel allowed them to stay for a bit in a location, going through the motions of feeding Jack and burping him on his shoulder before moving on or flying into an empty home while a family was away to give Jack a bath in their kitchen sink. Sometimes, they would stay only long enough for their presence to register for anyone tracking them before moving on again. Others, they would linger beyond the necessities and take in whatever sites there were to seeā€”a garden, tall buildings, a shoreline.Ā 

Ā 

It was a routine of sorts, but it wasnā€™t stable. It wasnā€™t a home, wasnā€™t a secure place for Jack to come into his powers, where Jack could grow and feel safe. A life of constant insecurity, deprived of community and safety. Castiel knew what a life like that could do to human children; heā€™d seen it in the Winchesters. Heā€™d seen how Deanā€™s soul had settled when theyā€™d moved into the bunker and how Samā€™s had eventually started to do the same. He wanted that same feeling for Jack.Ā 

Ā 

Crowley was true to his word; the demonic presence at their destinations seemed to disappear entirely. But Castiel could feel their foulness out there in the world, the demonic omens forming and the sulphur in the breeze. He didnā€™t need to check the news to confirm, although a quick glance at the headlines of the Thanh Nien when pausing in Ho Chi Minh City confirmed the spike in unexplained disappearances, inexplicably failing crops, and dead livestock. There was unrest in Hell, spilling over onto Earth; Crowley was on the move.Ā 

Ā 

And heā€™d been to see the Winchesters.Ā 

Ā 

It had only been a few days since heā€™d met Crowley that the next prayer from Dean came, boiling angrily into his mind.Ā 

Ā 

Cas, you better have your damn ears on. I know Crowley saw you. Heā€™s not saying anything, but I know he did. The hell are you doing, man? Youā€™ll talk to Crowley but not to us? I know heā€™s changed, but heā€™s still a demon, man. You trust a demon over us?Ā Ā 

Ā 

The word again went unspoken but not unheard.Ā 

Ā 

The words hurt, as Deanā€™s words always hurt when he was angry, but it wasnā€™t anything Castiel hadnā€™t expected to hear. He hadnā€™t earned the benefit of the doubt, especially not from Dean, who always seemed to be the one to bear the brunt of Castielā€™s failures.Ā 

Ā 

Just ā€” dammit, just call me. The prayer finished, Deanā€™s desperation seeming to linger on the air.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel had told Dean once, many years ago when he still believed there was a plan for the world, that all their fates laid with Dean. He hadnā€™t been wrong; the world and all its foibles only continued to exist due to the Winchesters. But what Castiel had forgotten, in the years since that moment, was that their fates, his fate, would not always lay with Dean. There was no great plan that had brought him into alignment with the Winchesters; he had chosen them, chosen Dean, over and over. Because he thought it was right, yes, but also simply because he wanted it. And now, he was making a different choice, one that necessarily took him away from Dean.Ā 

Ā 

They would both have to live with it.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

A few days later, Castiel landed on a beach in Northern California and knew heā€™d found Jackā€™s home.Ā 

Ā 

It was low tide and the wet sand stretched out from the tideline. There were people walking across the uncovered ocean floorā€”someone throwing sticks for their dog, a couple holding the hands of a toddler walking slowly toward the surf in the distance. He looked out over the water and remembered the peace that had descended in Kellyā€™s mind back at the cabin when sheā€™d first looked out into the sound. He could feel that same peace in Jack now.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWould you like to live here?ā€ Castiel asked. Jack, watching the gulls circling above and calling to each other, burbled with interest and waved his arms. And so it was settled.Ā 

Ā 

Eureka, California. It seemed apt.Ā 

Ā 

With a destination decided, Castielā€™s mind turned to logistics. Humans these days prized money above all else, a lesson heā€™d learned well during his own time as a human. And money was something of which he had none, save the few coins of change Dean had absently dropped in his pockets over the years. His only option was the old credit card Sam had set up for him a few years back. Castiel had used it only occasionally but as far as he knew it still worked.Ā 

Ā 

It would also bring the Winchesters down on him as soon as he used it; it would be foolish to assume they werenā€™t watching it.Ā 

Ā 

Many humans earned money by working, but heā€™d also learned how difficult employment was to secure when one had no experience and no one to vouch for you. Castiel supposed he technically had some of that all-important experience now, but he doubted Nora would give him a ā€œgood referenceā€, not after heā€™d left for a family emergency and never returned over four years before. And even if he could secure employment, that left the problem of Jack. The boy was too young to care for himself and it was too dangerous to leave him in the care of others who would be frightened by his powers and unable to defend him if pursuers came.Ā 

Ā 

So employment would not be an option. Luckily, Castiel had options at his disposal now that he had not had when he was human.Ā 

Ā 

It was simple to fly to an ATM in New York City and use his grace to short circuit it. The money began to dispense itself in an orderly fashion and Castiel got to work shoving it into his bag.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œJack,ā€ Castiel said, ā€œthis is an important lesson. Money is something that humans value very much. They work to earn it, use it to buy what they want and need. Money is needed for almost everything in this world.ā€ He gently placed one of the hundred dollar bills into Jackā€™s little hand. Jackā€™s fingers curled around it curiously, cooing softly at the new texture. His brow crinkled in confusion.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI know,ā€ Castiel said, ā€œIt seems odd to value a piece of paper so highly. At least when most humans used a bartering economy, the things they were trading for goods had actual inherent value, not just whatever was assigned to it.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack still seemed confused. ā€œDonā€™t worry,ā€ Castiel said, confidingly, taking the bill and tucking it away with the others. ā€œI donā€™t understand it either.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel had hidden from angels before, albeit not entirely successfully. The tattoo heā€™d acquired for himself after losing his grace had long ago healed, the flood of the grace heā€™d stolen from Theo washing all marks on his vessel clean. It was a difficult thing to remain hidden from angels while being yourself an angel. His species longed for connection to each other, had been designed with that connection in mind. To be separated from the host was to be an angel no longer.Ā 

Ā 

But Castiel would need to hide now, completely. He found an empty room in a condo in Vancouver and used his grace to carve the same markings into his ribs that heā€™d given to Sam and Dean. It was a curious sensation at first, being within himself and forced to turn away from himself, the ward making his grace want to overlook his own being. He allowed himself to lay down on the bed with Jack cooing on his chest in an effort to recover, his mind spinning. He left when a key began to scrape in the lock, disappearing with a contraction of his wings.Ā 

Ā 

Jack, at this point, would still have to make do with charms, temporary tattoos, and hex bags. It didnā€™t feel right putting a permanent mark on the boy without the boy being old enough to understand it or why he was doing it. Maybe when Jack was grown enough to understand the necessity, Castiel could put the same marks on his ribs to keep him protected. For now, the hex bag he tucked into Jackā€™s sling would do.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel flew from Vancouver to Thunder Bay to Edinburgh to New Delhi in quick succession. He waited there awhile, letting Jack sleep, until he was sure that anyone still attempting to locate them would have been confused and caught up in the flight. Then, he flew to New Orleans.Ā 

Ā 

Maybe it was overly cautious to not fly directly to Eureka. But Castiel was unwilling to be anything but cautious, not when Jackā€™s safety was in question. So he would avoid leaving any trace of his flight approaching the town and drive there instead.Ā 

Ā 

He settled on a silver Toyota hatchback, one of five similar cars heā€™d seen lining the street. It was forgettable in every way, one of those cars that Dean would have derided as belonging to a suburban mom or a weed-smoking hippy. It would be missed, Castiel knew, by whoever owned the vehicle, but it would be buried in the police reports of a city like this. No one else would ascribe any meaning to its theft, even if someone had managed to track him this far.Ā 

Ā 

It was simple to obtain a new car seat and place it in the back. He strapped Jack in, satisfied to have him safe and happy in the rear of the car.Ā 

Ā 

It was around a thirty-seven hour drive; it would take several days, anticipating having to stop to feed Jack. But Jack certainly didnā€™t seem to mind, settling down immediately into sleep as soon as Castiel started the car. Maybe he found driving just as soothing as flight; Castiel had read that many infants did.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel drove in silence until Jack stirred a few hours later, just as they were passing through Alexandria. He stopped to feed Jack, the routine of preparing the formula and adjusting Jack to feed and burp having become soothing over time. They were back on the road soon enough, Jack drowsing in the back, eyes on the window. Castiel merged carefully back onto the highway and after a few minutes, dug into his coat pocket.Ā 

Ā 

The mixtape was safe inside, retrieved from the truckā€™s tape deck before they abandoned it. He hesitated for a moment then popped it in.Ā 

Ā 

He thought maybe the music would be too loud for Jack, but heā€™d paused the tape just before Thank You opened. The sound of strumming guitar filled the car. Castiel could sense Jackā€™s interest flare, curiosity shining bright.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean gave this to me,ā€ Castiel explained, ā€œweā€™d been fighting; heā€™d done something stupid and he was upset with how I chose to fix it. But weā€™d reconciled and he wanted to apologize. Iā€™d been about to leave, to search for you and your mother. Dean stopped me and gave me the tape.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel had been confused at first, both by the gift itself and by Deanā€™s flustered expression. Dean had been odd since his return from the government prison. He had been at turns dismissive and angry and other times seemingly longing for Castielā€™s company, hanging in the doorway of the library just out of the corner of Castielā€™s eye, unspeaking until Castiel acknowledged him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat is it?ā€ Castiel had asked him, carefully removing the sparkly bow fastened to the top of the tape. Dean had shuffled his feet, his eyes flicking from the hallway walls to the interior of the guest room heā€™d shown Cas to.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWell, I know you donā€™t know a lot of music, so I, uhā€”ā€ Dean had cleared his throat. ā€œI just wanted to give you something to listen to. Yā€™know, when youā€™re driving.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel had studied the tape; the scrawled label still made him smile. ā€œThatā€™s very thoughtful, Dean. Thank you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean had shrugged, still not looking at Castiel. Something about the exchange had made him uncomfortable, although Castiel had never been able to determine what. But he remembered the traces of a blush heā€™d seen crawling across Deanā€™s cheeks, his shoulders high, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Ā 

ā€œItā€™s nothing,ā€ Dean had mumbled. ā€œJust thought you should have it. And I-I wanted to apologize, again. For being so crazy the last few weeks.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel hadnā€™t been able to resist a smile, tucking the tape into his coat pocket and putting his hand on Deanā€™s shoulder. ā€œItā€™s alright, Dean. I know you were just worried.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean had shrugged again and Castiel had drawn his hand back. ā€œStill.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWell, your apology is accepted,ā€ Castiel had said. He patted his coat pocket. ā€œAnd I look forward to listening to this.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean had mumbled something under this breath, ducking his head. Castiel had had just a second to see the blush had fully darkened his cheeks before he turned away and walked down the hall.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel had heard all the songs before of course, even before Dean had given him the mixtape. He figured heā€™d probably heard every song Led Zeppelin had ever written by this point, sitting in the backseat of the Impala over so many miles. But this particular arrangement had been new and Castiel had found he enjoyed it.Ā 

Ā 

Jack seemed to be enjoying it as well, judging by his happy burbles as Plant sang out why don't you show up and make it alright .Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI like it too,ā€ Castiel said, and hummed along with the rest of the song.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

Castiel stopped the next morning at an overlook somewhere in New Mexico; Jack had been restless in the last hour of so, whining more and flailing his hands and feet. He could use the break and, judging by the growing irritability, a meal.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™ve been very patient,ā€ he told Jack, patting his back gently to burp him. ā€œWhen I first started driving, I found it just as tedious as walking. But youā€™re doing very well, Jack.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œFamily roadtrip?ā€ a voice asked. Castiel turned to see a woman standing a few yards away. She had a picnic basket in her arms, clearly extracted from the back of the minivan behind her. A group of children, presumably hers, were seated at another picnic table, laughing and pushing each other.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYes,ā€ Castiel said, ā€œweā€™re travelling toā€”Nevada. To meet up withā€”my wife.ā€ Technically, not true; Castielā€™s wife still lived in Colorado, as far as he knew. Although he had to wonder how valid any marriage could be when one spouse was an amnesiac found naked in a reservoir by the other spouse.Ā 

Ā 

He hoped Daphne was still alright; she had been much kinder to him than he had deserved.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œMe too,ā€ the woman said, ā€œexcept weā€™re going in the other direction. She had a conference for work, but we figured the kids would like to join her for the weekend.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œMy wife thought similarly,ā€ Castiel said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIt must be hard for her to be away from him so soon,ā€ the woman continued, hitching the picnic basket up on her hip. Jack burped and then promptly yawned. The woman sighed, her expression going a little soppy. ā€œOh, theyā€™re so cute at this age.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYes,ā€ Castiel said, resting his palm on Jackā€™s back. ā€œI'm very proud of him.ā€Ā 

Ā 

The children at the table started to yell excitedly, obviously the beginning of some well-worn argument. The woman rolled her eyes, glancing at them. ā€œEnjoy him when heā€™s this old. At least he hasnā€™t learned how to talk back yet.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel was suddenly hit by the realization that Jack would grow. Heā€™d known, logically, that Jack would grow as all humans did. That one day heā€™d be a toddler, then a little boy, and many years from now, a young man, with his own wills and desires. It was staggering to think about, this little warm bundle in his arms, growing beyond Castiel until one day, he didnā€™t need Castiel at all.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI will,ā€ he said and helped Jack wave goodbye as the woman left to rejoin her family. Castiel waited until Jack started to drift off to sleep before heading back to the car.Ā 

_

Ā 

They arrived in Eureka early in the morning, having driven through the night and only stopped for gas and to feed and change Jack. Castiel was mastering the technique of changing a diaper quickly and effectively, if he said so himself. He felt his millennia as a strategist in Heaven had helped with that particular skill.Ā 

Ā 

Jack stirred awake as Castiel pulled to a stop by the curb. Castiel sighed, leaning forward on his elbows on the steering wheel. The street they were on was overshadowed by the water tower in the distance, proudly proclaiming the name of the town. It looked nice, the type of peaceful, idyllic neighborhood that he had seen portrayed on TV a dozen times.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel turned in his seat, looking back at Jack. The boy was blinking sleepily, his little hands balled into fists and his feet kicking in the air. He was probably due for a change and another meal.Ā 

Ā 

The task before himā€”finding Jack a homeā€”suddenly seemed insurmountable. Heā€™d secured money, yes, and he could do the same thing every month to afford the rent. It wasnā€™t honest, but Castiel was desperate and getting a job and leaving Jack defenseless wasnā€™t an option. He glanced around at the homes lining the street they were on. Each of them seemed just as lovely as the next, small homes set in modest yards. Some had flower boxes lining their windows, many had driveways with cars parked in them.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel could picture Jack in any of these houses. Jack was a child; he didnā€™t have any desires for a house, other than it be stable and warm. Castiel had never had a home, not in a way a human would identify it. Heaven had been a place he existed, not a home. When Castiel longed for Heaven, he didnā€™t long for a place, or even his family, not really. He longed for a return to simplicity, an abdication of the struggle that came hand in hand with free will. He longed for the Heaven heā€™d known before he first doubted, before heā€™d uncovered the rot beneath the ivory coating. He knew too much now, had experienced too much, to ever go back to that. Besides, it wasnā€™t where he truly wanted to be.Ā 

Ā 

Jack started to fuss in the car seat, his face screwing up in a pout. Castiel could feel his hunger start to build.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œBreakfast?ā€ he asked. Jack squealed an exuberant agreement.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel considered. He could feed Jack here, of course, but maybe it would be nice to interact with the people of this town. Heā€™d learned over the years that humans found nothing more suspicious than someone who did not interact with anyone. Of course, they also found people who interacted with others in a manner deemed socially unacceptable to be equally as suspicious, a tendency Castiel had run afoul of many times.Ā 

Ā 

But surely they could handle going to a restaurant and eating some breakfast. It would be a good way to establish themselves in the community, unlikely to garner any undue attention.

Ā 

Castiel pulled into the parking lot of a diner that seemed promising; a run down building with red leather seats that the stuffing was bursting out of at the seams. He believed it could be called ā€˜retroā€™. It was about half full, with some families and a few individuals bent over newspapers and coffees. The kind of place Castiel and Jack would blend in, just another couple of humans getting something to eat.Ā 

Ā 

A woman in a checkered dress greeted them as soon as they walked in. ā€œHi, welcome to Garyā€™s. Grab a seat wherever.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel glanced around at the positioning of other diners before claiming a booth near the back; from there, Castiel had a good view out the window as well as toward the main door. Jack, still secured in his car seat, went next to him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHereā€™s your menu,ā€ the waitress said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThank you,ā€ he squinted at her name tag, ā€œTabitha.ā€Ā 

Ā 

She smiled at him. ā€œFor sure. Anything you want to start?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCoffee, please.ā€ It would give him something to go with his hands at least. And humans didnā€™t like it if you tried to sit in a restaurant without ordering something. It was a theme heā€™d noticed across many of the establishments heā€™d visited when he was human. It had been a uniquely frustrating experience, being turned away for not buying anything but having no money to do so.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œMilk and sugar?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo, thank you.ā€

Ā 

Tabitha left, returning shortly with a mug and a coffee carafe. Castiel smiled in thanks then turned back to Jack, lifting him from the car seat. Heā€™d gotten Jackā€™s feedings down to a smooth routineā€”Jack tucked into his elbow, a cloth draped over his shoulder. He could sense the instant Jack needed to burp and transfer him expertly to his shoulder, gently patting his back until he was ready to feed again.Ā 

Ā 

With Jack fed, he went sleepily back into his car seat. Tabitha reappeared shortly after with that uncanny ability to sense when a customer was in need that so many servers seemed to have.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAnything to eat for yourself?ā€ she asked, looking at Jack with a smile.

Ā 

ā€œIā€™ll have the special,ā€ Castiel said. One thing heā€™d learned after all these years was that every diner like this had a breakfast special.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œComing right up.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel turned to his phone while he waited, poking listlessly at the screen. He remembered learning how to use this device over the years, from the flip phone that Dean had passed him back during the first apocalypse with his and Samā€™s numbers already programmed in, as if Castiel was incapable of memorizing a couple ten digit numbers. Heā€™d since been gifted with a newer ā€˜smartphoneā€™ which Sam had been kind enough to show him how to use. He had only two apps that hadnā€™t come with it. The Gas-N-Sip rewards app came in very handy as two different vehicles constantly driving cross country tended to spend a lot on fuel. Sometimes, he almost regretted telling Dean how to use it; he had a terrible tendency to redeem Casā€™ hard earned points so he could buy himself snacks.Ā 

Ā 

The only other app he had was Instagram, downloaded solely so he could follow Claire. She only posted once every few months, usually a picture of a natural landscape, though sometimes shots of Alex and Jody snuck in. Castiel never dared to comment, but he liked every single one.Ā 

Ā 

There had been a time that even doing something as simple as that would have been beyond him. But heā€™d learned over the years, not just how to do it, but why it mattered. How something as simple as clicking that heart would demonstrate the connection he felt to Claire.Ā 

Ā 

But there were still so many things about being human that heā€™d never learned, even when heā€™d been human himself and driven by the simple needs of his body. Heā€™d learned to feed himself, but heā€™d never learned to prepare anything more complex than a sandwich. Heā€™d learned the need for shelter, the fact that he was a side sleeper, how his hip would hurt in the morning after hours pressed to the hard floor and the stretches that eased the pain the best. Heā€™d even learned how to rent a motel room, the few times heā€™d had the money and the thought of sleeping on the floor again made heat prick at his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

Everything he knew, heā€™d learned through desperation or through example watching the Winchesters. Neither of those had ever included how to find a home.Ā 

Ā 

His musings were interrupted by the arrival of his plate of food. He thanked Tabitha and gingerly cut into the eggs on his plate. It would be suspicious to leave it all untouched. Better to eat half and leave the rest behind. The taste was awful, as all food was now with his grace. So many molecules.Ā 

Ā 

Between bites, he continued to poke around on his phone, throwing glances at Jack. Jack was deeply asleep, his head tipped to the side and his lips slack, a pool of drool gathering on his lips on the verge of sliding down his chin. Castiel folded his napkin and carefully wiped the drool away before it could.Ā 

Ā 

His desultory clicking on his phone had brought him back to Instagram. To his surprise, a new photo had been posted since heā€™d last checked the app: a picture of a small wooden bridge, old and worn, crossing a wooded stream. It was picturesque, calming. Claire had captioned it with a tree and wave emoji.Ā 

Ā 

Another thing heā€™d learned from humanity, this time explicitly from Claire. Sheā€™d claimed after a dinner at Jodyā€™s that she was tired of his ā€˜weird-assā€™ texts and that she was going to show him how to text properly. Theyā€™d ended up spending an hour reviewing emojis, what they were, and under what circumstances to use them.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNever, under any circumstances, use the eggplant emoji,ā€ she had told him, huddled on Jodyā€™s couch beside him. His phone was in her hands; sheā€™d just sent a text to Dean of a smiling cowboy and a puke face. Dean had texted back ?? .Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNever?ā€ Castiel had asked. It seemed arbitrary.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWell,ā€ Claire had said, still smiling mischievously at Castielā€™s phone. Her thumbs were moving quickly to pluck out another string of emojis. ā€œIf you really like someone, then you can send one. But you gotta time it right, make sure theyā€™re into it. No one wants an unsolicited eggplant emoji.ā€ She seemed to be trying desperately not to laugh.Ā 

Ā 

Castielā€™s phone had dinged. In response to Claireā€™s new string of emojis - a string of wink emojis and kissy lips - Dean had texted back WTF .Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHow do I know when itā€™s appropriate?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Claire had smiled at him. It had made her look her age for once. ā€œYouā€™ll know.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Later, Castiel had looked it up and agreed with Claireā€™s assessment. At the time, heā€™d reclaimed his phone and sent Dean an apology text: Claire had my phone :( Ā 

Ā 

that explains it, Dean had replied.

Ā 

she was teaching me how to use emoticons :D Ā 

Ā 

theres rules to that? Ā 

Ā 

Yes. She also said I shouldnā€™t use proper punctuation.

Ā 

guess ur ignoring that one

Ā 

I havenā€™t decided yet.Ā 

She said I shouldnā€™t use the eggplant emoji XD Ā 

Ā 

Castiel had watched the three dots that indicated Dean was typing a message appear and disappear five times before they disappeared for good. Dean, ultimately, left Castiel ā€˜on readā€™.Ā 

Ā 

He looked at the photo a moment longer. Claire was a good photographerā€”he could almost feel the peace the photo invoked through his phone. Heā€™d told her that once; sheā€™d seemed embarrassed to have her skill recognized, scuffing the ground with her shoe and muttering under her breath that it was stupid while her face slowly went red. It was a reaction that he recognized from seeing Deanā€™s own reaction any time Castiel had paid him a compliment. As with Dean, he hoped Claire would one day believe him and be able to accept the compliment without fuss. He hoped, with every like, she would get a little bit closer. He carefully clicked the heart.Ā 

Ā 

Jack murmured and shifted in his chair, his little hands curling in fists briefly before relaxing again. It would be nice to introduce Jack and Claire. To see her hold him, see the fondness in her face when she rolled her eyes at Jackā€™s baby noises. She pretended to be tough but he had a feeling that Jack would break right through her defenses.Ā 

Ā 

Maybe, someday, they could have that.Ā 

Ā 

But for now, they needed a place to live. And maybe, he considered slowly, Claire could help with that.Ā 

Ā 

Claire, he knew, had little more experience renting a home than he did, considering the questionable stability of her life between Amyā€™s departure and Claireā€™s arrival at Jodyā€™s. But she was human and had been all her life. She had a cultural awareness that Castiel lacked, gleaning what he could from half watched TV shows and the Winchesters, who were not exactly experts on normal human behaviour. If there was anyone in his very short list of allies who might be able to help with this, Claire was it.Ā 

Ā 

It would be foolish to call her. After all, Claire was just as familiar with the Winchesters as with him, and the Winchesters hadnā€™t been the one who tore her family apart and got her father killed. She was likely to tell the Winchesters sheā€™d spoken to him, at the very least. She was even more likely to tell Jody, who would then probably tell the Winchesters.Ā 

Ā 

But he missed her and he wanted to hear her voice. Castiel placed the call before he could think better of it.Ā 

Ā 

Surprisingly, Claire picked up. Castiel had expected to have to leave a message and wait for her to call him back; after all, she had been the one to tell him that ā€˜only old people actually answer their phone when it rings.ā€™Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, Cas,ā€ she said. She sounded tired, her voice rough and drawing out the syllables a little longer than usual.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHello, Claire,ā€ Castiel said. He forced himself to sound normal rather than concerned. It was always hard to tell whether Claire would appreciate his worry or not. ā€œHow are you?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m fine,ā€ she said, clearly in the middle of a yawn. ā€œJust finished up with a ghoul near Milwaukee. Gonna head back home soon.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel frowned. That was quite a drive and if Claire was finishing the hunt now, sheā€™d probably been up all night. No wonder she sounded tired. ā€œMaybe you should head back tomorrow, get some sleep first.ā€Ā Ā 

Ā 

He could practically hear Claire rolling her eyes down the phone. ā€œJeez, Cas, youā€™re such a nag,ā€ she said, sounding that combination of off-put and fond that she and Dean seemed to be such masters of. ā€œIā€™m fine. Iā€™ve pulled all-nighters before.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThatā€™s not a healthy practice.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, yeah.ā€ He could hear the faint sound of rustling on her end, what sounded like the crinkling of a bag. She continued with her mouth full, chewing loudly in his ear. She was probably eating potato chips for breakfast again, a habit Castiel despaired of. ā€œSo, whyā€™d you call? Not to talk about my hunt.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel frowned to himself. He didnā€™t just get in touch when he needed something from Claire, did he? No, he texted her all the time just to check in, even sent her photos of things he saw that he thought she might appreciate. Sheā€™d been upset when heā€™d ā€˜ghostedā€™ her when he was possessed by Lucifer and heā€™d made an effort since then to keep in touch with her on a regular basis. It had led to some interesting internet rabbit holesā€”he'd once spent an entire night researching the sexual orientation of a creature called the Babadook due to one of her texts.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI do contact you outside of hunting,ā€ he said, hoping it didnā€™t sound defensive or hurt and abjectly certain heā€™d failed at both.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI know that, Iā€™m notā€”ā€ she cut herself off with a sigh. ā€œCas, what is it? Not that itā€™s not nice to hear from you but I want to get on the road.ā€

Ā 

Castiel sighed. Claire could be prickly and sometimes wasnā€™t in the mood to talk. Of course, sometimes she was in the mood to talk and wanted Castiel to break through her defenses and keep engaging her, all while she pretended she didnā€™t want him to. The behaviour reminded him a lot of Dean, which Castiel assumed he would find unflattering considering Claireā€™s age and gender, as if that made some kind of difference. They were truly exhausting sometimes.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel sighed himself, glancing at Jack. He was still sleeping, drool starting to gather on his lower lip again. Best to be direct, then. He could text Claire later when she wasnā€™t so tired. ā€œI need your help finding a house.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Claire snorted over the sound of more rustling. ā€œWhat, Sam and Dean kick you out?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNot,ā€ Castiel stuttered, taken off guard by the response, ā€œNot exactly.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo, then what?ā€ Claire asked, words warped again around the presumably-potato chips.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel wondered how best to explain; a lot had happened in the last few weeks, none of which Claire was probably aware of. Heā€™d gotten the sense over the last weeks that Claire had no idea heā€™d left the Winchestersā€™ side. She had certainly never asked about it, seemingly content sending emojis in reply to whatever photo he texted her. For once, Castiel was grateful for the Winchesters' inability to share with their family.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHang on,ā€ he said, lowering the phone from his ear. He took a quick picture of Jack; Jack stirred at the sound of the shutter, his eyes blinking sleepily open and shut again. Castiel absently wiped the drool from his mouth with his sleeve, sending the photo with his other hand. ā€œThere, Iā€™ve sent you a picture.ā€

Ā 

There was a short silence as Claire checked her phone, followed by a loud and strangled noise.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œClaire? Are you alright?ā€ Castiel asked. Sudden images of the ghoul returning, not quite dead, to attack Claire danced through his mind.Ā 

Ā 

Claire was suddenly back on the line, her voice loud. ā€œWhere the fuck did you get a kid?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel frowned. ā€œThatā€™s hardly appropriate language for someone your age.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOkay, youā€™re literally older than dirt, so I donā€™t think your opinion counts,ā€ Claire scoffed. ā€œAnd that is so beyond the point and you know it. Whoā€™s kid is that?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Mine , said everything in Castielā€™s being. But that would only confuse Claire more.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHeā€™sā€”Luciferā€™s child,ā€ he said, reluctantly, ā€œtechnically.ā€Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat? He had a kid,ā€ Claire said, more statement than question. Then, horrified, ā€œOh my god, while he was possessing you?Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhatā€”no. He wasnā€™t possessing me when Jack was conceived.ā€ Castiel glanced around warily, but thankfully no one was close enough to overhear their conversation. Heā€™d learned through hard experience that humans, even those in the hunting world, had a habit of reacting strongly to conversations like this.Ā 

Ā 

Claire sighed, sounding relieved. ā€œThatā€™s something. But why do you have Lucifer's kid? Isnā€™t he going to...want him back?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œLucifer is dead.ā€

Ā 

ā€œDevilā€™s dead, thatā€™s cool,ā€ Claire said, with that blase tone she always had when confronted with something that would make most humans at least pause. That tone always made Castiel smile. ā€œAnd what, you just adopted his kid?ā€

Ā 

ā€œIn a sense, yes,ā€ Castiel said, the words edging closer to that part of him that felt so possessive of Jack, so protective of him, the part of him that was still echoing with the word fatherhood , even all these weeks after Crowley had said it. ā€œHis mother asked me too.ā€

Ā 

ā€œAnd whereā€™s she?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAlso dead,ā€ Castiel admitted with a pang, quietly, as if Jack would wake up and hear him.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Claire was silent for a long moment. ā€œOkay, let me see if I've got this straight. Lucifer had a kid, then died. Baby mama somehow found you, decided you were dad material, and also died. And now you have a baby. Who is also the literal spawn of Satan.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel sighed deeply, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. ā€œYouā€™ve made it sound ridiculous. But that is essentially correct.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Claire burst into laughter, loud and long. Castiel bore it patiently, a smile tugging at his lips at the sound.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGod, your life is so weird,ā€ she finally said, laughter running through her words. ā€œShit like this doesnā€™t just happen to people, what the hell.ā€ Castiel wasnā€™t sure if he was meant to respond to that so he decided to stay quiet instead, waiting on the line while Claire gathered herself.

Ā 

She finally finished laughing with a long sigh. ā€œYou know your life is a cosmic joke, right?ā€ she asked, wryly.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel snorted. ā€œThe thought has occurred to me before.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo, wait, where are Sam and Dean in all this?ā€ Claire asked. ā€œAnd why do you need a house?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel hesitated. Maybe it had been a mistake going to Claire for help. He knew she would be curious but the more he explained, the more it felt he was stepping over some invisible line, dragging her into something he had no business dragging her into. Hadnā€™t he inflicted enough damage on Claireā€™s life?Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d hesitated too long. ā€œCas?ā€ she asked. She paused before continuing, something small in her voice, ā€œyou still there?ā€Ā 

Ā 

It spoke to her forgiving nature, as much as she would balk to be labelled as such, that she would show concern for him. It also spoke to the abandonment sheā€™d experienced over her life, that she would feel so vulnerable expressing it, even in this mild way.Ā 

Ā 

Maybe it was foolish to call Claire. But he loved her and it had been too long since heā€™d heard her voice. He forged ahead.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œJack is a nephilim, Luciferā€™s nephilim. Heā€™s very powerful,ā€ Castiel said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDoesnā€™t seem that powerful,ā€ Claire interrupted. She already sounded much more secure. ā€œHeā€™s cute, though. Bit drooly.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œClaire,ā€ Castiel sighed.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, youā€™re the one not explaining.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m trying to, if you would stop interrupting me.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Claire snorted. ā€œYeah, whatever.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel sighed again, making sure it was loud enough for Claire to hear clearly. He could just catch her laughter on the other end. ā€œAs I was saying, heā€™s a very powerful child.ā€ He paused, again. ā€œThe Winchesters want to remove his grace.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAnd you donā€™t want that,ā€ Claire guessed.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Castiel looked at Jack; he was starting to wake up now, blinking sleepily up at him. Castiel brushed his hand over Jackā€™s tuft of hair and felt the flare of his happiness.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHis grace is a part of him, just as mine is part of me. It belongs with him.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Claire paused for a long moment, the line silent.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou sure thatā€™s a good decision?ā€ She finally asked, sounding uncertain. ā€œI justā€”I know Sam and Dean can be stupid sometimes, but I figure they wouldnā€™t wanna do it if they didnā€™t have a good reason.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel wondered briefly where this sudden faith in the Winchesters was coming from; from what he remembered of their relationship, Claire had not been especially fond of either of them. Sheā€™d even been afraid of Dean at one point, after that incident with the loan shark and her friend. But of course, that had been some years ago and things changed quickly for humans.Ā 

Ā 

And things had, inevitably, changed after the recent encounter with the werewolf. Heā€™d gone to see Claire shortly after that, concerned by what the Winchesters had told him. Although sheā€™d shrugged off his concern, he could see the experience had deeply frightened her. Of course she would feel kinder toward the Winchesters now, after theyā€™d helped her through that.Ā 

Ā 

And the truth of the matter was, Castiel had no reason to expect the benefit of the doubt from her. Not from Claire, not after the way he had imploded her entire life. It made more sense for her to trust the Winchesters over him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThere may come a time when Jack decides to give up his grace,ā€ Castiel tried to explain.
ā€œThatā€™s his right. But that decision canā€™t be made for him, especially not when heā€™s an infant. Heā€™s only a child, Claire. He needs to be protected, notā€”stolen from.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Not like Castiel had stolen from Claire. Taken her father from her then got him killed in the name of a mission that he had never explained to her. Taken Claireā€™s own body when she was just a child, put her and her mother through a traumatic experience; taken Claireā€™s mother through his negligence then failed to return her. He had thoroughly and systematically destroyed her family, as only an angel could. And here he was, asking her to show kindness toward him and a child heā€™d claimed that sheā€™d never received from him.Ā 

Ā 

It all seemed so unforgivable.Ā 

Ā 

Claire was silent over the phone. He never should have called her, not for this. Asking her for help to care for another child after so magnificently ruining her own childhood must seem like salt in the wound.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat do you need?ā€ Claire finally asked. Her voice was flat and hollow.

Ā 

Castiel closed his eyes. He hadnā€™t meant to be cruel to her. ā€œIā€™m sorry.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI know you are,ā€ she said, voice still dead. ā€œWhat do you need?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel sighed. She reminded him so much of Dean sometimes.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m...trying to find a house. Somewhere for us to live,ā€ he said, reluctantly.Ā 

Ā 

Claire snorted. It was derisive, but at least it was an emotion. ā€œWhat do I know about buying a house?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNot buying, renting is fine. And youā€™re much more savvy in human life than I could ever hope to be,ā€ Castiel said, letting the last sentence come out wry, inviting Claire in on the joke.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNot like itā€™s hard,ā€ she said, but he could hear in her voice that she was warming again. He could never quite believe it, how simple it was for her to move forward.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t know where to find a house, Cas. Maybe try Craigslist?ā€ she said.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel took a risk. ā€œWho is Craig and where do I find his list?ā€Ā 

Ā 

The question was a gamble but Castiel had learned long ago the benefits of playing stupid. He heard Claire huff over the phone and knew she was rolling her eyes, that crooked smile playing over her face. He decided to chalk it up as a win.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™s a website, dummy,ā€ she said. ā€œPeople post ads for things they want to sell. Or rent, in this case.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Claire was kind enough to talk him through locating the website, which he pulled up on his phone. It was simple from there to find the appropriate section for house rentals.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel brought the phone back to his ear. ā€œThis is exactly what I needed. Thank you, Claire.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™re gonna need money, too,ā€ she said.

Ā 

ā€œI have that covered.ā€ He paused. ā€œI really do mean it, Claire. Thank you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

She scoffed but it sounded sweet. ā€œWhatever. Justā€”find someplace nice for that kid, okay? I figure heā€™s gonna have it hard enough.ā€

Ā 

ā€œI will.ā€ He paused again, rubbing his fingers over Jackā€™s head. Jack cooed and leaned into the touch, his little hand flapping up to grab at Castielā€™s fingers. ā€œI know he would like to meet you. Maybe you could visit sometime?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œMaybe.ā€ But Claire sounded pleased; he could hear the smile in her voice. Heā€™d done something right.Ā 

Ā 

He smiled. ā€œIā€™ll speak to you soon.ā€Ā 

Ā 

They said their goodbyes and Castiel realized, hanging up, that he hadnā€™t explicitly asked Claire not to contact the Winchesters. He supposed it was for the best. Maybe she would tell them sheā€™d heard from him, maybe she wouldnā€™t. Maybe she would eventually come to visit, with the Winchesters in tow, and all this running would have been for nothing.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Whatever happened, it was worth it for the opportunity to speak to her. To think about her smile, hear her laugh. To know that despite the trespasses heā€™d committed against her, he hadnā€™t destroyed her spirit.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThat was Claire,ā€ he said to Jack, ā€œyouā€™ll like her.ā€Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

After Castiel had unlocked the secrets of Craigslist, finding an appropriate house didnā€™t take long. He settled on a one bedroom home on K Street, a residential street overlooked by the water tower and within walking distance of the zoo. It was a squat, little house, set back far enough from the road to have a small front yard. The green of the grass first drew Castielā€™s eye, but his decision to pick it was made when he saw the stained glass window in the photo included of the kitchen. It caught the light, refracting it across the wood floor in warm tones. Castiel looked at the picture and imagined placing the kitchen table below that window, how it would catch the light in the morning. Jack would be lit by that light as Castiel fed him breakfast, while he did his homework after school.Ā Ā 

Ā 

He imagined sitting beside Jack in that kitchen, watching him do his science homework and telling him about blackholes, offering to show him one in person, and felt good. Most importantly, he thought, thumbing through the photos again, he thought Kelly would like it.Ā 

Ā 

He held the phone out to Jack, who was just starting to wake up in the car seat. ā€œWhat do you think of this one?ā€ he asked. Jack squinted his eyes open and blinked in bleary agreement.

Ā 

Castiel texted the landlord and secured a viewing for that afternoon. They spent the time in between sitting in the car by the pier, Jack napping in the car seat and Castiel studying the incoming tide.Ā 

Ā 

A prayer from Dean came while he was waiting, the first since heā€™d decided to settle in Eureka.Ā 

Ā 

Cas, look, Iā€™m sorry about what I said. I didnā€™tā€”I was angry. Iā€™m...Iā€™m worried, man. We all are. We havenā€™t had any luck tracking you, everything keeps going cold. Dean paused for a long moment and Castiel could feel his borrowed heart pounding in his chest. But Iā€™m not giving up, okay? Weā€™re gonna find you. Somehow.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel swallowed heavily and looked down at his hands, folded in his lap, until it was time to go.Ā 

Ā 

The viewing went well. The landlord, Julio, was punctual and friendly, and Castiel used the opportunity presented by the handshake to discreetly search through his mind. He had a family at home, a husband and two children. The house he was hoping to rent had been owned by his mother until her death two years ago. Thankfully, she had not died inside the house; Castiel would be glad to not have to disperse a ghost in their prospective home. The property itself had so much sentimental value that Julio could not bear to part with it by selling and had decided to rent instead, even though his family could have used the money from the sale. He had been hoping to rent to a family, and the sight of Jack, sleepy in his sling, had charmed him immediately.Ā 

Ā 

The viewing hadnā€™t taken very long. Julio had shown him around the property, pointing out the stairs that led up to the small loft space, advising on the space in the living room, how the bedroom would be more than enough to fit a bed and a crib. How the loft could be used as a bedroom for Jack, once he was old enough. He was speaking from experience, Castiel realized. Julio had shared the loft space with his brother growing up but had found it stifling as he went into his teenage years.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHeā€™ll want his own space when heā€™s old enough. My girls shared until they were nine but after that, we just had to move. Needed the extra bedroom,ā€ Julio said fondly.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m sure Jack will love it,ā€ Castiel said, carefully not mentioning the fact that the loft would almost certainly go unused as Castiel lacked a need for sleep. In any case, the words seemed to be the correct combination, as Julio smiled and moved on to the kitchen.Ā 

Ā 

The stained glass window was even more beautiful in person. Jack cooed at the sight, and Castiel could feel his fascination with it, smiling as he waved his hands as if trying to chase the multi coloured lights.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œMy father had that put in. Heā€™d always been a very devout Catholic; I think he wanted to have a bit of the church at home with him,ā€ Julio said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™s lovely,ā€ Castiel said. ā€œItā€™s what initially drew me to this place over the others I saw.ā€ Jack whined, as if not wanting to be left out. ā€œAnd Jack as well, of course.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Julio briefly showed them the backyard before leading them back toward the front of the house. Castiel realized suddenly that he had no idea how to proceed from here. Was he meant to act coy, pretend as if he didnā€™t want the house to start a haggling session? Or was he meant to profess his desire for the property immediately, so as to secure it right away and ensure no other potential renters came sniffing around?Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI would like to rent this home,ā€ he finally settled on. He knew many times he was too blunt, but he figured straight-forward was better. At least it was less confusing although it also had a habit of putting people off.Ā 

Ā 

And Julio did, in fact, look a little put-off, Castiel noted with resignation.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThatā€™s great,ā€ Julio said, in a tone that indicated his statement was a slight exaggeration. ā€œI can get you an application and after I check your references, Iā€™ll be in touch.ā€Ā 

Ā 

No, that wouldnā€™t do at all. Castiel didnā€™t know what this application would entail, but he was almost certain that it would require documents he had no access to. He had no official ID, only the fake FBI badges that the Winchesters had taught him how to make and Jimmy Novakā€™s old driverā€™s license. Neither, he was sure, would suffice. And he had no references to give, no one to vouch for him, other than possibly Claire. But he had already asked her for more than enough. More than she should have had to give.Ā 

Ā 

None of his experience in human life had ever prepared him for this. He dug through everything that the Winchesters had ever told him, through all the human writings Metatron had forced into his mind, and came up with nothing. Nothing except Deanā€™s voice, from long ago: When we want something, really, really badly, we lie.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThank you,ā€ Castiel said, and held out his hand for Julio to shake. Julio grabbed it automatically, compelled by human custom. Castiel took the opportunity and impressed on Julioā€™s mind the knowledge that heā€™d received the completed application and checked with Castielā€™s references and received only stellar remarks. He was comfortable renting this house to Castiel, knowing that it would be in good hands.Ā 

Ā 

The coercion didnā€™t make Castiel proud, but needs must. That, at least, he had learned from the Winchesters.Ā 

Ā 

A few minutes later, Castiel was standing alone in front of the house that now belonged to him, holding the keys in one hand. It was a strange feeling, having a home. He sighed, resting his palm on the top of Jackā€™s head.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAre you ready to go inside?ā€ he asked. Jack burbled in agreement and Castiel turned to enter their new home.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

All that remained then, was the question of what to do about the Winchesters.Ā 

Ā 

Jackā€™s pursuers would never stop hunting him, Castiel knew that. But he could protect this property with sigils in the foundations, hidden on the walls, hex bags stuffed into corners. And he could protect Jack himself with similar methods until Jack was old enough to protect himself.Ā 

Ā 

The probability of the Winchesters ever finding them seemed low with the precautions heā€™d taken. But that hadnā€™t stopped them searching; Deanā€™s prayers seemed to come more frequently now. They werenā€™t always anything coherent, sometimes just ramblings of a drunk man or stray thoughts and emotions. Castiel didnā€™t even know if Dean knew he was doing it half the time.Ā 

Ā 

But the clear fact remained that he lingered on Deanā€™s mind, in a way he only ever seemed to do when he was absent. And he knew he would continue to linger, a constant hope that dragged Dean ever onward, never letting him rest as he deserved.Ā 

Ā 

It was cruel to continue to allow that. And Castiel had never wanted to be cruel to Dean. Yet, he still hesitated.

Ā 

A week and a half into their life in Eureka, Dean prayed while Castiel was feeding Jack at the little table heā€™d found discarded in an alley behind someoneā€™s house. Dean was clearly distraught, his voice thick and rough.Ā 

Ā 

Please, Cas. Please. Just give me some kind of sign, okay? Anything, Iā€™ll take anything. Itā€™s been weeks since Crowley saw you. Are you even still out there? I donā€™t even know if you can hear me. Justā€”please. Please. If you can hear me, gimme something.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel had promised himself, after the crypt, that he would never put Dean in a position to beg him for anything. Not again. He always seemed to hurt Dean, no matter how much he tried not to, no matter how much he never wanted to in the first place. He would hurt Dean, and Dean would be angry and they would fight and then let it go. And then the cycle would continue anew, stretching on and on, without end.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel looked at Jack, nestled comfortably in his arms. As predicted, the light shone through the stained glass window, creeping into the corners of the room and touching Jackā€™s face with color. He whined a little as Castiel watched him, settling only when Castiel drew a soothing thumb across his cheek.Ā 

Ā 

It was time to finally break the cycle.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

It had been a long time since Castiel had dream-walked. He made a few false starts before he got it right.Ā 

Ā 

Even when heā€™d had his wings before, dream walking had never been a habit of his. For most of his existence, there had been no need for it; it had come in useful on a handful of occasions but it had been far from a necessity. It seemed, in the years since heā€™d done it last, heā€™d lost some of the knack for it. Muscle memory, as a human would understand it.Ā 

Ā 

Jack would have to come with him; Castiel couldnā€™t leave him in the house alone. Time moved differently in dreams than in the waking world, but even leaving Jack alone for a few minutes seemed too long. Judging by the misgiving that leaked off Jack when he caught the thought from Castielā€™s mind, he agreed.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™ll hide you, in the dream,ā€ Castiel said.Ā 

Ā 

The first time he flew, he overshot and ended up in the dream of an Amazon delivery worker in Massachusetts. It was pleasant enough, just a small dream of spending time with family back home in New York. Castiel course corrected and missed again, settling in the dream of a young boy in Lebanon, dreaming peacefully of a space ship piloted by a dilophosaurus. Jack, made invisible by Castiel, squealed with delight. Castiel indulged him and they stayed until the space shuttle landed on Jupiter.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel again took flight and realized heā€™d landed correctly immediately. He didnā€™t have to look further than the distinctive black car, parked innocently in front of the bar he stood before.Ā 

Ā 

After a momentary pause, Castiel entered the building. It looked vaguely familiar, some parts of the decor resonating while others were more faded and worn, as if the dream was thinner there. It was an amalgamation, Castiel realized, some facsimile of a bar created in Deanā€™s mind from all the bars heā€™d been to over his lifetime.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel looked out over the patrons; there were only a few, gathered together in small clumps at tables and booths. His eyes swept over the bar itself and there they stopped.Ā 

Ā 

Dean was leaning forward on his arms, folded on top of the bar. He was facing away from the entrance, away from Castiel, so all he could see was the broad expanse of Deanā€™s back and the short spikes of his hair. He didnā€™t notice the foreign intrusion into his dream, totally absorbed in the person next to him.Ā 

Ā 

It was a bizarre sensation, staring at a person who had the same face as you, while that face did not actually belong to you. Jimmy Novak had spent more time wearing that face, even though his soul had never touched the body Castiel currently inhabited. To the people who loved Jimmy, this would always be his face first and Castielā€™s second. And yet, Castiel must have started to identify his appearance, such as it was, with this body, for it to be so affecting.

Ā 

The other Castiel, the one from Deanā€™s dream, was also leaning forward on his folded arms, mirroring Deanā€™s posture. He seemed just as intent on their conversation, deaf and blind to all else around him.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel hesitated then wandered closer. As he did so, the bar fell into better detail, the fuzzy corners becoming a little clearer with each step he took toward Dean, his specific dreamerā€™s vision bringing it all into focus. Soon, Castiel was close enough to hear their voices, Dean and the dream.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI have to go,ā€ the dream said.Ā 

Ā 

All at once, the scene fell into place. Castiel remembered this conversation. It was the bar heā€™d gone to with Dean, where he broke the news that he would be returning to Heaven on the completion of the trials. Their last conversation before it had all fallen apart so spectacularly, another of Castielā€™s failures.Ā 

Ā 

He remembered how heā€™d felt thenā€”the desperation to fix his mistakes, no matter what happened to him, the cloying guilt drowning him at every turn. The fear that had been driving him since heā€™d understood exactly what Naomi was doing to him. And the longing he was only truly beginning to comprehend that treasured every glance and touch, that ached to stay at Deanā€™s side anyway, even though closing the gates of Heaven would ensure Dean the peace he so desperately deserved.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d thought, in that moment, that he was ensuring Dean could have it all, peace and freedom. He should have known, then; nothing like that ever came without a steep price.Ā 

Ā 

Jack squirmed in his arms, hidden away in the sling on his chest. Castiel put his hand on him, holding him close.Ā 

Ā 

A part of him wondered if he was simply being naive again, putting this much faith in Jack. He was just a boy; maybe having such lofty expectations for him was too much. But at his core, he knew it was different this time. Jack was a child, innocent and good, where Metatron had been a power-grubbing sycophantic narcissist. They couldnā€™t be more different. And regardless of whatever faith Castiel had in Jack, he deserved to live, happy and free of concern. And Jack believed in Castiel. Heā€™d chosen him. Castiel couldnā€™t remember the last time someone had chosen him, simply for him.Ā 

Ā 

In front of him, Dean and the dream were continuing, unaware of Castielā€™s presence. Castielā€™s memory was goodā€”he didnā€™t need to watch to remember every word of this conversation, the expressions on Deanā€™s face. The way heā€™d stared at Castiel for a long moment, something Castiel still couldnā€™t define in his eyes, before he blinked and looked away and it disappeared, lost behind a sip of Deanā€™s drink and a pop culture reference Castiel had had no hope of understanding then.Ā 

Ā 

The dream version of Castiel went to stand, pushing himself away from the bar. And then, the dream suddenly diverged from memory, when Deanā€™s arm reached out and grabbed Castielā€™s.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWait,ā€ he said. Castiel could see the white knuckled grip he had on the dreamā€™s arm. ā€œCas, wait.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI have to go, Dean,ā€ the dream said, sadly.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo, you donā€™t,ā€ Dean insisted, standing up. ā€œYouā€”these trials, it's not what you think, man. Metatron, heā€™s tricking you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel wondered at this interaction. Dean seemed to both be remembering this moment and the moments that followed after. It seemed so pointless, but it was Deanā€™s mind, after all, which loved to torture him with thoughts of things out of his control that he could never change.Ā 

Ā 

The dream wasnā€™t listening, acting out his role in whatever this was. ā€œI have to do this, Dean.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo,ā€ Dean said again. He tugged on the dreamā€™s arm hard, dragging him closer. ā€œYou don't gotta do jack shit, Cas. You don't have to leaveā€”ā€ Dean stumbled to a stop, the fire of his anger abating. ā€œI just got you back, man. Please.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Abruptly, Castiel couldnā€™t bear it. Whatever the dream was going to say next would be terrible, no matter what it was. If he decided to go after this, Castiel would hate him for it. And if he decided to stay, that would be worse.Ā 

Ā 

Gently, Castiel exerted his influence over the dreamscape. The bar faded away, the patrons disappearing along with their drinks. Trees sprouted up to replace them, the floor became a shimmering lake and Castiel turned again to find Dean now sitting on a chair at the end of a dock, a fishing rod held loosely in his hand. It was the only place Cas had ever seen Dean at peace in his dreams.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel hesitantly approached him, the dock creaking under his feet. Dean didnā€™t seem to notice him at first, absorbed by the water in front of him. It let Castiel linger in silence for a long moment, studying that face in profile. This face, this body and the soul it housed, it had all become more dear to him than he ever could have imagined, diving into Hell all those years ago. He was glad to see Dean again, even if only one last time.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shifted in his chair, blinking out at the sunlight bouncing off the water as he leaned back. It must have been far enough for him to register the presence of another, because he looked straight at Castiel suddenly. There was no shock on his face, no surprise. He was looking up at Castiel with an easy expression, the beginning of a smile hidden in the corners of his mouth.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, Cas,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHello, Dean,ā€ Castiel said, softly. The hidden smile burst out into a lovely grin that crinkled Deanā€™s eyes. Castiel found himself unable to resist smiling back, the part of him that always turned to Dean like a flower to sunlight basking in its glow.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat are you doing here, man? I thought you were gonna be at work until six,ā€ Dean said. He placed his fishing rod to the side, wedging it into the tackle box so the line stayed steady.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel wondered what exactly Dean was dreaming. He knew that Dean had had this dream many times before; it had a well-worn feel, like the t-shirts the Winchesters slept in, gone threadbare over the years. Whenever Castiel had soothed Deanā€™s dreams of Hellā€”always a clandestine act, hidden from both his superiors and Dean himselfā€”this dock had usually been the place he found Deanā€™s mind turning to.Ā 

Ā 

But Castiel had only been within this dream once, on the run and desperate to keep ahead of his brethren. And now, Dean had made him part of the narrative. He wondered what his role was, what job Deanā€™s subconscious had thought him appropriate for. He put the thought from his mind.Ā 

Ā 

It wouldnā€™t be right to play into this fantasy; he shouldnā€™t drag this out longer than he had to.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou asked for a sign,ā€ he said, then spread his arms a little to his sides, as if saying, here I am .Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked at him in confusion, his smile fading and his brow crinkling. As with all things, except for those deliberately blotted out by others, Castiel knew the memory of that smile would live safely in his mind.Ā 

Ā 

Realization bloomed slowly on Deanā€™s face. ā€œIā€™m dreaming,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYes.ā€

Ā 

Dean stood, eyes fixed on Cas. His gaze was clearer now, direct. All traces of the contentment that had been lining his face wasĀ  gone completely, replaced by doubt and suspicion. ā€œBut...are you actually here?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI am,ā€ Castiel said, ā€œIā€™m...sorry to have not come sooner.ā€ He dropped his gaze to the dock. ā€œI know youā€™ve been looking for me.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, no shit, Cas,ā€ Dean said, harshly. His doubt had burned up, consumed by anger. ā€œMe and Sam have been searching all over for you, tearing the freakinā€™ country apart. Where the hell have you been?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™ve been...around,ā€ Castiel said. He still couldnā€™t make himself look at Dean.Ā 

Ā 

Dean snorted, his eyebrows raising disbelievingly. ā€œAround? Thatā€™s all you got?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel sighed. ā€œItā€™s safer if I donā€™t tell you, Dean. I havenā€™t been on the move for no reason.ā€

Ā 

Castiel could feel Deanā€™s eyes, sharp and hot on him. He made himself look back up, met that keen gaze. ā€œThere something after you?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel nodded. ā€œMany somethings.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWait, is this because of Rosemary's baby?ā€ Dean asked with a frown, ā€œDamien Junior?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI thought Damien was the child.ā€

Ā 

Dean rolled his eyes, expansively. ā€œSemantics, Cas, itā€™s still the devilā€™s hopped up kid. Where is it?ā€

Ā 

Castiel swore his expression didnā€™t change, his limbs didnā€™t move to enclose Jack more securely, hidden from Deanā€™s sight against his chest. ā€œSafe. Heā€™s safe.ā€Ā 

Ā 

And somehow, Dean knew anyway. ā€œItā€™s with you?ā€Ā 

Ā 

A sharp rush of anger washed through Castiel. ā€œYes, he is. Heā€™s an infant of unimaginable power. Anything that wants to grow their powerbase wants him now. I couldnā€™t leave him alone.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean stared at him, shaking his head in disbelief. ā€œWhatā€™s your plan here, Cas? You and the kid gonna go all Fugitive forever?ā€

Ā 

ā€œIf need be.ā€

Ā 

Dean threw his hands in the air. ā€œCā€™mon, Cas, heā€™s controlling you! You said it yourself, he has unimaginable power. You telling me a little mind control is outside his wheel-house?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel resisted his own desire to gesture in frustration, limiting himself looking away and gritting his teeth. Jack was starting to get restless in the sling, his feet kicking at the fabric, distressed whines low in his throat.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel faced Dean again, trying to remain calm. ā€œHe is very powerful. Iā€™m sure the things heā€™ll one day be capable of will be astonishing. But heā€™s still a child, Dean. Heā€™s not controlling me or making me act against my own will.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHow can you even know? It wouldnā€™t be the first time someone managed to get in your head,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

Naomi. Rowena. Even the souls from Purgatory, the Leviathans. Dean was right; Castiel had been used as a weapon too many times to trust blindly. And he hadnā€™t trusted Jack at first, had thought him just as corrupt as his progenitor, even in the womb. But that belief had been shaken, standing in that basement with Kelly. It had been shaken even more, feeling Jackā€™s tiny feet kicking in that hotel room. And it had disappeared entirely at Heavenā€™s gate, washed away in the flood of Jackā€™s grace and belief.Ā 

Ā 

Jack had believed in him first, chosen him first. Castiel had been helpless to do anything but choose him in return.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™ve learned from my mistakes, Dean,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

Dean heaved a long sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. ā€œLook, Cas, I get it, you feel responsible for the thing. You think because you said yes to Lucifer, taking care of it is your job.ā€ Dean fixed him with a look, heavy with understanding. ā€œBut itā€™s not. Youā€™re not this thingā€™s father.ā€Ā 

Ā 

And he was right. Castiel wasnā€™t Jack's father, not by blood or grace or any other measure. Other than the desire Jack had for him, the longing Castiel sensed when Jack opened his eyes and didnā€™t see him right away, the peace he felt held in Castielā€™s arms. He wasnā€™t Jackā€™s father, but he was, in all the ways that mattered.Ā 

Ā 

Deanā€™s hands came up, grabbing him by each arm. His face was painted in lines of desperation. ā€œYou gotta come home, Cas. Throw off his control, tell me where you are. Iā€™ll come get you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

And Castiel wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to soothe him. If that meant going back to the bunker, then thatā€™s what he would do. But Jack wriggled again, one of his hands brushing against Castielā€™s coat and brought him back to reality.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel sighed. ā€œDean. I didnā€™t come here to argue with you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Deanā€™s brow crinkled in confusion. His hands tightened on Castielā€™s arms. ā€œWhat do you mean?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™ve heard your prayers,ā€ Castiel said and watched a vulnerable comprehension race across Deanā€™s face, ā€œAnd Iā€™m sorry Iā€™ve worried you. I didnā€™t mean to distress you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Comprehension faded behind a cold mask, Deanā€™s eyes going dead, his jaw tightening. He let go of Castiel. He failed to not mourn the loss.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œBut?ā€ Dean asked, tonelessly.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œBut I can't come back, Dean. This child, he needs me. And itā€™s safer, for all of you, if I stay gone.ā€ Castiel hesitated, then put his own hands on Deanā€™s shoulders. ā€œIā€™m sorry, Dean. But our paths are diverging.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean said nothing, continuing to stare at Castiel with a blank hopelessness in his eyes. Castiel looked back at him and wondered what Deanā€™s future would hold for him now in a world that no longer needed him to save it, where he could finally be at peace. He could grow old now, comfortably and slowly, full of the usual human complaints about sore backs and knees but without the anxiety of his aging body failing him on a hunt. The crowā€™s feet beginning to line his eyes would deepen over time, as would the lines in his forehead. His skin would begin to sag and his stomach might even fill out into a comfortable paunch over the years, the jealousy of humans in ages past. Maybeā€”hopefully, Castiel told himself sternly, hopefullyā€”Dean would find someone to share those years with. Another human to grow old beside. He might even have a child of his own one day.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel would see none of it but that was the price heā€™d agreed to pay by making this separation. Dean had so many years ahead of him, now, free of worry and bloodshed. Free of the burdens Castiel had so often brought to his door. That Castiel wouldnā€™t be there to see it was a cheap price to pay.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou will always be my family, all of you,ā€ he said. ā€œPlease never think otherwise.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œJust tell me where you are, man,ā€ Dean whispered. His eyes dropped from Castielā€™s. ā€œPlease, just...ā€Ā 

Ā 

Castiel squeezed Deanā€™s shoulders. ā€œTell Sam and Mary I wish them well.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean said nothing, staring mutely at the dock. Castiel hesitated but he couldnā€™t leave Dean like this. Slowly, he lifted one hand to Deanā€™s cheek, lightly brushing his thumb and fingertips against his skin. The touch startled Dean, enough that he looked back up and met Castielā€™s gaze.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Castiel made himself smile. ā€œGoodbye, Dean.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean didnā€™t say anything, staring at Castiel with a forlorn expression. He didnā€™t protest when Castiel lifted his hand to touch Deanā€™s forehead and he went peacefully into another dream. Castiel shrouded himself and exited before he could see what it was.Ā 

Ā 

Back in their little house, Castiel settled into the rocking chair heā€™d placed beside Jackā€™s crib. It was a wrenching pain, leaving Dean behind. It felt like a chapter of his life, his long, endless life, had come to a close. He wouldnā€™t be who he was, wouldnā€™t be anyone, without Deanā€™s influence. There had been points heā€™d believed heā€™d never have a life beyond Dean. Equally, there had been points when heā€™d believed he could not possibly continue being a part of Deanā€™s life, that theyā€™d trespassed against each other too many times to continue. Never had he believed heā€™d be the one to make the severing cut, that he would find a blade sharp enough to make it. Never had he believed that he would survive it.Ā 

Ā 

Jack wriggled again, that same flavor of discontentment Castiel had first sensed all those weeks ago at the Grand Canyon pouring off him in waves. It had been growing over the course of their dream walking, intensifying the longer Castiel had lingered until Jack was practically vibrating with it. Castiel gathered him close and bent and kissed his forehead, just like heā€™d seen parents do with their children on TV. Jack sighed, his discontentment fading, and Castiel finally allowed himself to understand.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou love me,ā€ Castiel whispered shakily into Jackā€™s skin. It sounded like a question. Nevertheless, he could feel Jackā€™s reply.Ā 

Ā 

He closed his eyes and pressed another kiss to Jackā€™s head. ā€œI love you, too.ā€Ā 

Ā 

_Ā 

Ā 

Dean stopped praying after that.

Chapter 2: THE GHOST PART 1

Notes:

ā€œReal isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'

'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.

'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'

The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams

Chapter Text

The pavement of the 101 stretched before the Impala, asphalt shimmering in the hot sun. Dean had to admit, driving through California in the peak of summer was not one of his favorite activities. But Sam had found a case that looked an awful lot like chupacabras down near Red Bluff and he and Eileen had already been heading out the door to Minnesota for a black dog. And Mom was all the way in New England still tracking down that could-be Asmodeus sighting, so there hadnā€™t really been another option.Ā 

Ā 

Dean wouldnā€™t have wanted to hand it off to anyone else, anyway, not if that meant sitting in the bunker alone for weeks, waiting for someone to get back and pretending like watching TV or drinking beer by himself was how he actually wanted to be spending his time. Pretending was easier when there was someone else to do it for.Ā 

Ā 

But California always made Dean miserable. There was a reason he and Sam so rarely came back down this way.Ā 

Ā 

Luckily, the sights and sounds of southern California had long fallen behind him, replaced by soaring redwoods and misty hills in the distance. The highway had been taking him closer and closer to the ocean; he could see it now, glinting blue in the sunlight, that distinctive salty smell rolling in through the open windows. Traffic had slowed down the closer he got to town, slowing to a crawl whenever he neared a turn off for a beach. Maybe heā€™d take 299 after he passed Eureka, get away from all the day-trippers and their minivans.Ā 

Ā 

Regardless of the route, it would be a long haul back to the bunker, one that his back and knees no longer agreed with. But there was no rush; Sam hadnā€™t called with a new hunt and none of them would be back yet. Dean had found the bunker lost a little of its charm when he had to be there alone; he wasnā€™t exactly in a hurry to get back to it.Ā 

Ā 

Maybe heā€™d come across something on the way back. Or maybe heā€™d take the scenic route; hell, he could even stop by the ocean while he was so close before heading back into middle America. All these people had to be on to something.Ā 

Ā 

Dean glanced at his fuel gauge and sighed. California prices were awful but he didnā€™t have much of a choice; heā€™d need to fill up before he left the state. Now was as good a place as any.Ā 

Ā 

Dean took the next exit into town. He passed the first few gas stations, all of them absolutely packed with tourists. It was the weekend, he realized distantly, watching kids scamper around, teenagers bored in the back of their parentsā€™ cars. No wonder it was so crazy.Ā 

Ā 

Dean gave up on finding someplace a little less busy and pulled into the next station he found. Like the others, it was also packed; but the line moved quicker than heā€™d expected and it wasnā€™t long before he was leaning against the trunk, Baby drinking her fill.Ā 

Ā 

He watched the other drivers out of idle curiosity. The SUV across from him was absolutely crawling with kids, each shrieking something to each other and ignoring their beleaguered parents. The couple at the pump in front of him were too busy necking to notice the tank of their motorcycle was full while the couple in the sports car adjacent were clearly gearing up for an intense argument.Ā 

Ā 

It felt like the most human interaction Dean had had in days, outside phone calls with Sam and Mom and busting the sheriffā€™s chops over their messy detective work. To these people, he was just another stranger, only acknowledged as long as he was in eyesight and sometimes not even then. There was an emptiness to it that rubbed him the wrong way. An emptiness that reminded him of how itā€™d been all those years back, alone on the road with Dad off who knows where, and Sam in college beyond reach.Ā 

Ā 

The pump clunked, signalling Baby was full. Dean shrugged off his melancholy, rolling his shoulders and ignoring the way the sweat on his back had made his t-shirt cling uncomfortably to his skin. There was no point thinking like this; Sam and Mom joined him when they could, but they had their own shit going on. Mom was definitely more present than sheā€™d been before the whole fiasco with the Brits, but she was still finding her footing after thirty years dead. Dean could sympathize; he was just glad she didnā€™t look at him like he was a stranger anymore.Ā 

Ā 

And Sam, Sam had a good thing going. Eileen was good for him, kept him grounded and out of his own head. Made him laugh. It had been a hell of a long time since Dean had seen Sam so happy. There was no way in hell he was gonna barge into the middle of that and spew his crap all over the place.Ā 

Ā 

Dean paused, letting himself lean against his arms on the roof of the car. He had no right, feeling like this. Things were good, for the first time in what felt like forever. They didnā€™t have much going on, other than the run of the mill monster shit and Crowleyā€™s wild goose chase for Asmodeus. Things were good and his family was as safe as they could be. He couldnā€™t ask for more than that.Ā 

Ā 

He took a breath and pushed himself upright. If he was going to press on back east, he deserved some frigginā€™ jerky for the road.Ā 

Ā 

The gas station was one of those places that had a little bell above the door, ringing cheerily any time it was opened. It was a pretty tiny place and most of the entrance was taken up by the people waiting in line. Dean edged around the last guy ā€” some massive bald dude cradling a very tiny slushie ā€” and poked his way around the aisles.

Ā 

The jerky was near the back, crammed onto a shelf with the Slim Jims and the pepperoni sticks. He had to squeeze past the people crowding around the lotto kiosk, careful not to take a stand of some new flavor of chip with him as he went. He stood there for a few minutes debating flavors, letting some of the crowd dissipate. He couldnā€™t help but look every time the door jingled, years of having the importance of his surroundings drilled into his head making it second nature.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d just about decided ā€”teriyaki and sweet & spicy, he deserved twoā€”when the door opened again. He shot it a casual glance and froze.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d seen Cas before, since heā€™d gone AWOL over a year ago. Dean had seen him in the shoulders of a man walking past him on the street, in the eyes of a waitress six months back who had just the same shade of blue. But his brain had always caught up with him eventually, snapping him out of it before he said or did something embarrassing.Ā 

Ā 

It was never him, was the thing. Never Cas driving the car in the next lane or running for the bus or crossing the road. Cas was gone, long gone, disappeared somewhere Dean would never find him, no matter how hard he looked.Ā 

Ā 

Our paths are diverging.

Ā 

And yet, somehow, beyond all reason and possibility, here Cas was, smiling politely at the old lady and her grandson exiting the store. He looked completely different ā€”blue button down and frayed jeans replacing the holy tax accountant lookā€”and exactly the same. Sometimes Dean thought heā€™d recognize that face anywhere, seared into his mind just as surely as Sam and Momā€™s, regardless of how long it had been since Dean saw him last.Ā 

Ā 

The door shut behind Cas, tinkling gently. Dean took a breath, shuddering on its way into his lungs. Apparently, the sound was as deafening as it felt; Cas jerked to a halt, his shoulders stiffening. He turned toward Dean, eyes blown wide and lips parted in shock. The angle gave Dean a fantastic look at his chest, and the baby strapped there in a little sling.Ā 

Ā 

The kid. Holy shit, he still had the kid.Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™ gaze jumped all over Dean and he wondered absently what Cas was seeing. Could he tell that Dean hadnā€™t showered in two days, that the crust of sweat from the hunt was still lingering on his skin? Could he somehow see that Dean had barely slept last night, tossing and turning for hours before falling into a hazy doze and pulling himself out of bed an hour after dawn? Cas had always seemed like he could tell before but maybe heā€™d gotten out of practice in the last year.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCas,ā€ Dean managed to croak. The name barely made a sound as it passed his lips but Cas clearly heard it, rocking a step backwards. He swayed a bit on the spot, taking such a deep breath that the baby moved with it. And he disappeared, between one blink and the next, as if heā€™d never been there at all.Ā 

Ā 

Dean cursed, probably too loudly judging by the glares of the people at the lotto kiosk. He stared around the store frantically but it was useless ā€” Cas hadnā€™t just ducked behind the Doritos without Dean noticing, he was fucking gone.Ā 

Ā 

Dean barged his way outside, the door jangling violently as he pushed through. He hurriedly checked every car, around the side of the station, looking up and down the sidewalk. Cas was nowhere in sight. No one seemed to have noticed him pulling his magical Houdini act, either, though they were sure giving Dean shifty looks now. But people saw what they wanted to see ā€” it didnā€™t necessarily mean anything that they chose to be freaked out by the maniac racing around the parking lot rather than the disappearing wonder.

Ā 

Dean trudged back to the car, hurling himself into the front seat. What the hell had just happened in there? Maybe heā€™d finally lost his grip on reality, imagining Cas in front of him when it was just some random guy creeped out by Deanā€™s staring. Maybe there hadnā€™t been anyone there at all, just Dean almost having a heart attack over empty air. Wouldnā€™t have been the first time heā€™d started seeing Cas all over the place and started acting like a lunatic.Ā 

Ā 

But back then, it had turned out to actually be Cas. And Dean hadnā€™t gotten so far in life by ignoring his instincts. Everything in him screamed that Cas had been there, not ten feet away, living and breathing and real .Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed, putting his head in his hands. Even if it was Cas, looking for him may very well be pointless. If what Deanā€™s eyes had told him was true, Cas could fly again somehow. This town could have just been a stop on his flight, one of a thousand. He could be all the way on the other side of the world by now.Ā 

Ā 

Despair rose up, choking Dean. Heā€™d spent so much of the past year trying to convince himself that it didnā€™t matter that Cas was gone. He had Sam, he had Mom, Jody and the girls, Eileen. So Cas was gone ā€” screw him, let him stay gone. Heā€™d made his decision clear the last time Dean had seen him. Cas wasnā€™t his concern anymore.Ā 

Ā 

And now all the work Dean had put into beating that all down, locking it far away never to be looked at again , was undone in a moment. He might as well be back where he started a year back, staring at the ashes and sand outside that house in North Cove, Casā€™s absence a fresh, still bleeding wound.Ā 

Ā 

Well, screw Cas anyway. Clearly, he didnā€™t want Dean to find him. He wanted to see the look on Casā€™ stupid face when he did.Ā 

Ā 

Mind made up, Dean pulled away from the pump ā€” to the clear relief of the people waiting angrily behind him ā€” and slotted Baby into one of the gas stationā€™s very few parking spots.Ā 

Ā 

The attendant inside was clearly not pleased to see him again. Not surprising, after the little performance Dean had just put on. And if Dean was wrong on this, she was probably gonna pick up the phone her hand was hovering over and call the cops and Dean would have to get the hell out of Dodge, Cas or no Cas.Ā 

Ā 

Well, the only way forward was through. He approached the counter, pasting on his most winning smile.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey,ā€ he said, ā€œI donā€™t suppose you happen to know the guy who was just in here?ā€Ā 

Ā 

She stared at him, clearly unimpressed. ā€œThere were a lot of guys just in here.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean just kept smiling. ā€œHeā€™s a bit hard to miss. White, about my height, dark hair, blue eyes. Had a kid with him?ā€Ā 

Ā 

The attendant just looked at him, silent. Okay, tough crowd; clearly, charm was not the way to go, here. Time for a different track.Ā 

Ā 

Dean let his smile go a little cracked around the edges, a little desperate. Not too overdone; just enough to be convincing, like he didnā€™t want it to show but couldnā€™t help it. It felt a little more genuine than he wanted it to.Ā Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œListen,ā€ he said, pitching his voice a little quieter, leaning in over the counter, ā€œIā€™m looking for my brother, okay? And I didnā€™t see him for very long, but this guy looked a hell of a lot like him. I just wanna know if you know him.ā€

Ā 

The attendantā€™s skepticism seemed to soften a little. ā€œYour brother?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah,ā€ Dean said. He looked down at the counter, fidgeting with his hands, selling the vulnerable, awkward look. ā€œWe...fell out of touch and I havenā€™t seen him in a long time. But I just gotta talk to him, see if heā€™s alright.ā€Ā 

Ā 

She seemed to waver, but she wasnā€™t quite there. Dean sighed internally and pulled out his phone.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI got a picture here,ā€ he said, ā€œhe look familiar?ā€Ā 

Ā 

As soon as the attendant looked at the picture, Dean knew he had her. Made sense; Cas and Claire were a killer combo, no matter how you cut it. Dean had taken this photo the last time theyā€™d all gone up to see Jody and the girls, just before Cas had disappeared back to Heaven. Claire had been eagerly showing off the station wagon that Jodyā€™s friend had finally fully bequeathed to her, the rest of them tagging along and making the appropriate impressed noises. Claire had seemed to catch herself and tried to play it off as not as big a deal as she clearly thought it was. Cas had immediately told her he was proud of her, that it looked like a reliable automobile, and seemed to match her well. Claire had blushed and scoffed and dragged him off to the grocery store with her, nominally to get dinner but in reality to just get five flavours of ice cream.Ā 

Ā 

Dean had snapped the photo when they got back; the two of them were sitting side by side on the hood of the car, Claire with a spoonful of ice cream dangling from her mouth. Cas had put his arm awkwardly around her and Dean hadnā€™t missed the way Claire had leaned into him. The photo had caught the surprised joy creeping onto Casā€™ face.Ā 

Ā 

They looked good. They looked like a family.Ā 

Ā 

The attendant looked at the photo for a long moment, her eyes going soft. She looked back up at Dean, a smile curving her lips. ā€œYeah, I know Carl.ā€Ā 

Ā 

So, he was using a fake name. Smart. Dean grit his teeth, hoped it didnā€™t show through the relieved expression he contorted his face into. ā€œAny idea where I could find him?ā€Ā 

Ā 

She shrugged. ā€œHeā€™s a regular here, but itā€™s not a small town. I donā€™t remember seeing him anywhere else.ā€

Ā 

Shit. Just Deanā€™s luck. He didnā€™t let his frustration show on his face, made his expression go grateful and a little watery. ā€œKnowing heā€™s here is enough. Thank you so much.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDo you want to leave your number? I can pass it on to him the next time heā€™s in.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSure.ā€ It was pointless; Cas wouldnā€™t call him, even if he ever came back here. But there was no reason to make the attendant suspicious all over again. Dean scribbled down the number of his other, other phone, and left.Ā Ā 

Ā 

He walked back to the Impala slowly, slumping down into the driverā€™s seat. What now? This place wasnā€™t LA or New York but it wasnā€™t the smallest town either; it wouldnā€™t be easy to find Cas, even if he hadnā€™t just split town as soon as he saw Dean.Ā 

Ā 

No, it didnā€™t help to think like that. Yes, Cas could be in frigginā€™ Australia by now but the attendant had said he was a regular. Heā€™d gone to the trouble of making a false name which he then gave out to gas station attendants, for Christā€™s sake. That seemed like ground work, Cas deliberately laying a foundation in this town. It didnā€™t seem like he would abandon that lightly. Dean had to proceed under the assumption that Cas was still here, somewhere. And if he was here, Dean would find him.Ā 

Ā 

He just had to be smart about it; he couldnā€™t exactly go all over the place looking for Cas, not without pinging the suspicion of the locals. And Dean was loath to go to the cops with something like this. The quieter he kept this, the better.Ā 

Ā 

But Dean knew Cas. He remembered what Cas had looked like, in that brief instance in the gas station. His clothes were different, his mannerisms casual, comfortable. He was trying to lay low, pretending to be human. And Dean knew exactly who heā€™d learned to be human from.Ā 

_

Ā 

Dean spent a good couple hours canvassing every ratty diner, fast-food joint, and little rinky-dink store he could find. Every time, he struck out, showing Casā€™ photo to blank faces. Only once, at a department store back toward the edge of town did he get a cashier who recognized Cas.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOh yeah, he comes in all the time,ā€ the kid said, barely sparing Deanā€™s phone a glance before turning back to his own, ā€œbuying stuff for his kid, I think.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAny idea where I could find him?ā€Ā 

Ā 

The kid shrugged. Dean weighed the benefits of pulling his FBI badge and demanding access to their records ā€”did they have a rewards program here? Would that mean they had Casā€™ address?ā€” but gave it up as a bad job.Ā 

Ā 

He continued criss-crossing the town, inching along block by block. The determination he had felt back at the gas station was starting to slip away in the face of the growing heat and lack of leads. Cas had always been good at disappearing; Dean probably wouldnā€™t find him unless he wanted to be found.Ā 

Ā 

He was just pulling through the next intersection when he spotted it. He slammed on the brakes and pulled a hard right turn, ignoring the indignant honking that started up behind him.Ā 

Ā 

The diner was simply called Garyā€™s. It looked more rundown than a place Dean would have expected so far inside the city limits; these kinds of joints usually turned up at trucker stops in the middle of nowhere, a place to stuff your face with halfway decent food during a ten hour drive. The building was long, low, and ramshackle. Some of the siding seemed to be hanging on by a thread and the eaves were rotted through. The parking lot was full of potholes that were probably doing a number of Babyā€™s suspension. As Dean pulled into a space, he spotted a boardwalk sign out front, boasting the All Day Breakfast Special, available for $4.99.Ā 

Ā 

This was exactly the kind of dump that Cas had joined them at dozens of times, going all the way back to the original Apocalypse when all heā€™d done was stare judgmentally at Deanā€™s burger and make passive aggressive remarks about his cholesterol level, to Samā€™s great joy. That attitude had changed over time, easing into an indulgent air that always had Cas repeating Deanā€™s order so Dean could steal it off his plate, all while holding a mug of coffee that never went cold.Ā 

Ā 

If Cas was looking to establish a human identity in this town, this was exactly the type of place heā€™d go.Ā 

Ā 

Dean sat in the car for a long second, fiddling with his keys. He could feel hope beating inside him again, the same hope that had been dashed at every other place heā€™d gone to, only to be revived when he spotted the next one. He was getting pretty fucking tired of it.Ā 

Ā 

He sighed and pulled himself from the car, heading inside.Ā 

Ā 

Garyā€™s looked about how heā€™d expected it ā€” checked tile flooring, cracked vinyl on the booths, a jukebox at the back. If the place wasnā€™t so clearly old and run-down, Dean might have suspected them of trying to match some kind of all-American stereotype to pull in the tourists.Ā 

Ā 

Dean headed over to the counter, claiming a stool. He forced himself to act casually, look over the small listing of specials in the stand beside him rather than show the adrenaline coursing through him as it always did when he felt on the trail of a good lead.Ā 

Ā 

It wasnā€™t busy so it didnā€™t take long for the waitress to stop in front of him, placing her hands casually on the counter.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat can I get you?ā€ she asked with a practiced smile.Ā 

Ā 

Dean pasted on his most winning grin. Waitresses were tough customers; she didnā€™t even seem a little bit charmed, her own professional smile not budging an inch.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWas wondering if I could get a coffee to go. Extra large,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

She nodded. ā€œComing right up.ā€Ā 

Ā 

She returned quickly, hot coffee in a paper cup and a handful of sugar packets and creamers beside.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThat everything for you?ā€ she asked, placing the cup and condiments in front of him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t suppose you make pie?ā€ Dean asked, stirring some cream into his coffee. It looked like the thick tar places like this always somehow managed to produce; a little cream would help it go down and not give him heartburn in a half hour.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSure do. Todayā€™s special is cherry.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean shot her another grin. ā€œIā€™ll grab a slice of that.ā€ Might as well spend a little bit of money, make it seem like this was a more casual question than it really was. Ease her into it, so to speak. And Dean deserved a treat, goddamn it.Ā 

Ā 

The waitress glanced at his coffee in its paper cup. ā€œBoxed up?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, thanks.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean managed a few slugs of his coffee ā€”it really was unspeakably bad; no amount of cream and sugar could possibly save it but Dean needed the caffeineā€” before she came back with the styrofoam box.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAnything else?ā€ she asked.Ā 

Ā 

And now, to the point of his stop here. ā€œActually, I donā€™t suppose you can give me directions?ā€Ā 

Ā 

She nodded agreeably, half her attention focused on the bill she was writing for him on her little notepad. ā€œSure thing. Where you heading?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean dug his phone out of his pocket again, finding that picture with Claire and angling it toward her. ā€œIā€™m visiting my brother, Carl, but I got all turned around. Donā€™t suppose you know him?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Shockingly, the waitressā€™ face immediately creased with a warm smile.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOf course, I know Carl,ā€ she said. ā€œHeā€™s such a sweet young man and that baby is frankly adorable.ā€ She looked up from the photo to shoot him a confused look. ā€œBut he hasnā€™t mentioned a brother before.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean smiled again, strained. ā€œWeā€™ve fallen out of touch a little. Iā€™ve wanted to come and see him, butā€¦ā€ he shrugged, as if at a loss for words. ā€œBut now Momā€™s sick and I-Iā€™d just really appreciate it if you could point me in the right direction.ā€Ā 

Ā 

And she fell for it, as Dean figured she would. A sick family member was always a good line, made people fold quicker than a wet paper towel, even waitresses who heard the worst of humanity day in and out.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOh, of course, honey, Iā€™m so sorry,ā€ she said, patting his hand before gesturing out the window behind Dean. ā€œYou just want to head due east on Harris and take a right on N street. He should be right around there.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean smiled at her. He didnā€™t have to fake the relief in it. ā€œYouā€™re a lifesaver, thanks so much.ā€Ā 

Ā 

She smiled back. ā€œOf course. You tell him hi for us.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI sure will.ā€ Right after Dean hugged him or threw him through a wall. He hadnā€™t decided which yet.Ā 

Ā 

A settled bill, a fifteen minute drive and one more stop asking for directions and Dean found himself stopped on a suburban street, looking at the row of houses stretching before him, heart pounding. The house the neighbours had identified as ā€˜Carlā€™sā€™ was a few places up, a little one with a pointed roof with some kind of attic space, judging by the window up there. The front yard was overgrown with plants, the grass itself a little overlong compared to the lawns around it. A massive tree just beside the sidewalk blocked a direct view of the house from the street. Dean wondered if the plant life and the way it partially blocked the house was deliberate or if Cas just sucked at yard work.Ā 

Ā 

Luckily, Dean had managed to avoid driving straight by it in his search so he hadnā€™t completely blown whatever element of surprise he still had. He leaned over to the glovebox, hesitating before tucking a gun into his jeans. He hesitated again, eyes lingering on the angel blade nestled next to the Biggersonā€™s napkins jammed in there. He finally made himself grab it, stuffing it into his pocket before he could overthink it.Ā 

Ā 

Dean quietly exited the car, shutting the door softly so it didnā€™t make a sound. It was the middle of the day and the street was crawling with people; he couldnā€™t afford to look too suspicious here. Dean didnā€™t want to get the cops called on him because he was packing heat a little too obviously.Ā 

Ā 

But whatever luck had gotten Dean this far seemed to fail him now. No sooner had he hit the edge of the property line did the door to the house swing open. Cas stood in the doorway, expression set with some unidentifiable feeling, staring right at him.Ā 

Ā 

He was wearing the same clothes he had been at the gas station ā€” a button down in dark blue, jeans going a little thready at the knees but stretched tight around his thighs. The difference from the baggy suit and coat was enough to throw Dean for a loop. Cas looked like some midwest dad getting featured in Menā€™s Health Magazine. He looked uncomfortably like he had when he was an amnesiac healer named Emmanuel, staring at Dean without incomprehension while Dean just tried to breathe around the feeling of his heart breaking all over again.Ā 

Ā 

But his face ā€” Dean knew, logically, Cas didnā€™t age as humans did. The years would never show in his face as new lines or wrinkles or the increase of grey hairs at his temples. Dean had thought, sometimes, that heā€™d spotted a few new lines around his eyes after Casā€™ short stint as a full-blown human, but he could never be sure.Ā 

Ā 

But a year had passed, one in which Dean had never laid eyes on Cas outside of odd dreams at night and half-hearted wishing. A part of Dean ā€”the part that had couldnā€™t accept never seeing Cas againā€” had thought Casā€™ face would look different, that heā€™d be able to see the time theyā€™d spent apart there, written in Casā€™ features. But there was no change; they might as well both be standing in that stupid playground again. As if all the months of worry, frustration, and half-frozen grief had never happened at all.Ā 

Ā 

Dean knew he was staring, frozen on the grass unable to take even one more step. Cas didnā€™t seem to mind, though, staring straight back with that same intensity that always threatened to drive Dean to the ground. Dean used to hate that shit, all too conscious of the people around them and what they would see and infer. He wondered when heā€™d started to crave it.Ā 

Ā 

Dean managed to open his mouth, but the words werenā€™t there. Cas just kept looking at him for another long moment, long enough Dean wondered if he might just disappear again.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou might as well come in,ā€ he said finally, voice rough and low, just loud enough that Dean could hear him across the yard. Another thing that hadnā€™t changed. Cas retreated through the doorway, leaving it empty, but open. Expectant.Ā 

Ā 

Dean swallowed and forced himself to cross the yard. His heart was pounding as he crept up the front steps, itching for a weapon in his hand. But there was no need for it here, not until he had a better idea what was going on.Ā 

Ā 

He crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him carefully. A hallway stretched before him, a stairway to the right leading up. There was a doorway on the left that seemed to lead to a living area. The hallway, he guessed, went to the kitchen, while he could just see the edge of a crib through the door on the right.Ā 

Ā 

It all looked exceedingly normal, like a show home but with crappier furniture.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Cas was standing at the end of the hallway, the light from the kitchen behind him illuminating his shoulders and casting his face into dramatic half-shadows. His hands hung limply at his sides, his shoulders sagged ever so slightly. He looked weary, but maybe that was just the light, picking out the fine lines in his face.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou shouldnā€™t have come,ā€ Cas said.Ā 

Ā 

Dean wasnā€™t sure what heā€™d expected Cas to say, but certainly hadnā€™t been that. Any moment Dean was having was effectively shattered, his nerves melting into a bolt of anger.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWell, hello to you too, Cas,ā€ he said, feeling his face twist in a scowl, his shoulders stiffen. He hated this, how quickly he got his back up, but he could never seem to help it. ā€œOr is it Carl, now?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas looked away, his gaze dropping to the floor. ā€œI thought it best to use a pseudonym.ā€

Ā 

ā€œRight,ā€ Dean said, nodding slowly. ā€œStay under the radar.ā€ It made sense, although Dean hated to admit it. He hated to admit that anything about Cas disappearing without a word and with no effort to contact him again made sense.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIt seemed best,ā€ Cas repeated.

Ā 

Silence fell between them for a long moment, the only sound the ambient noises of suburbia ā€” someone mowing their yard, neighbours talking a few doors down in their driveway, some kids playing around in a sprinkler. It felt bizarre, as suburbia always did to Dean, so removed from Deanā€™s everyday life. It felt equally bizarre for Cas to be here, like a puzzle piece trying to fit into a completely different puzzle.Ā 

Ā 

Cas finally broke the silence. ā€œHow did you find me?ā€

Ā 

Dean snorted. ā€œWould you believe right place, right time? I was just passing through, needed some gas, and ā€” ā€ he stopped with a wide shrug.Ā 

Ā 

Cas nodded, slowly. His eyes tracked up and down Dean before finally lingering on his face, meeting Deanā€™s own gaze. Dean couldnā€™t help his nervous swallow. He could feel fresh sweat beading up under his shirt.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAnd now what?ā€ Cas asked, ā€œnow that youā€™ve found me?ā€

Ā 

Before Dean could respond, a baby started crying from the living room. Cas vanished, reappearing in the living room between one blink and the next, so fast it took Dean a minute to process what had happened. Cas crouched by a playpen on the floor that Dean hadnā€™t noticed before, too fixated on Cas. There was a baby inside, the same baby from the gas station, wearing a little green onesie covered in dinosaurs. Cas was offering him a block, maybe to join the pile of blocks already in the playpen.Ā 

Ā 

Dean had seen Cas around children before. Hell, heā€™d seen Cas wearing a child, although neither he nor Claire liked to talk about it. But the truth was, Cas clearly loved kids. Dean couldnā€™t count the times heā€™d caught Cas returning the intent stare of the baby in the car next to them at the gas station. He remembered that time theyā€™d been walking by a park and Cas had detoured to help some kids get their ball down from a tree. Hell, even way back during the first Apocalypse, Cas had loved kids; he still remembered Cas wandering off in that Wal-Mart, only for Dean to find him in the toy aisle, patiently fetching Barbies from the top shelf for the little boy standing next to him, all the while explaining that gendered toys were a ridiculous concept and it was perfectly alright for him to want to play with dolls rather than trucks. Dean had pulled Cas away when heā€™d started to talk about how gender itself was a social construct.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDude, heā€™s six,ā€ heā€™d said, ā€œand we gotta find his parents.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas had squinted at him. ā€œHis parents are two aisles over looking at camping gear. One can never be too young to explore their gender identity.ā€ Heā€™d tilted his head to the side, appraising Dean in a way he didnā€™t like. ā€œOr too old.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Rather than kick that can of worms, Dean had taken one of the Barbies from its packaging and tucked it in the kidā€™s jacket and sent him back on to his parents. The boy had given Cas a hug goodbye which clearly both confused and pleased Cas, who only moved to rest his palm on the boyā€™s head for a moment before letting him go.Ā 

Ā 

Dean had treasured that at the time; it had shown a different side of Cas from the stone-cold warrior who had a terrible track record with kids, considering the possession and the attempted murder. That part of Cas had grown over the years; he only had to look at how gooey Cas got any time Claire was mentioned to know that.Ā 

Ā 

So really, it shouldnā€™t be such a surprise to see Cas now, crouching next to this latest Hell-spawn with a soppy look on his face.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThat him?ā€ Dean asked. It didnā€™t seem possible. The kid looked too normal, like any other pudgy baby Dean had ever seen. A little teary eyed from the recent spate of tears, a little drooly, wispy blonde hair plastered on his head. Just a normal, whiny kid.Ā 

Ā 

But appearances could be deceiving. Dean knew that better than anyone. Hell, this wasnā€™t even the first monster baby heā€™d run into; he still remembered that shifter baby all those years back. And that kid was cute, innocent. He wasnā€™t the spawn of literal Satan.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYes,ā€ Cas said, pressing the block gently into the kidā€™s hands, ā€œheā€™s going through a throwing phase.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Sure enough, the kid no sooner took the block than he was winding his arm back and hurling it across the room. Cas sighed deeply, retrieving the block. Dean would have laughed but it just seemed too insane. He must have walked through a portal into another world coming through the front door, or maybe Gabriel was still out there, chucking him into some fucked-up TV land. No way this was reality.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCas, we gotta talk,ā€ he said, eyeing the baby as Cas passed the block back again.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAbout what?ā€ Cas asked. The kid started to wind back for another throw. Cas placed a hand over the block and fixed the kid with a significant look until he lowered the block with a sad, little sigh.Ā 

Ā 

Dean stared at Cas. ā€œWhat do you mean, about what? About that thing!ā€Ā 

Ā 

He felt oddly ashamed, saying that while the kid was sitting right there, looking all cute and innocent with his blocks. But it had to be said. This Cas, in his dad clothes and his sensible house, this wasnā€™t Cas. And that kid wasnā€™t some normal kid.Ā 

Ā 

Cas glared at him, so hard Dean almost took a step back.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHeā€™s not a thing,ā€ Cas growled, ā€œheā€™s a child. My child.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean felt his stomach drop, the breath crush out of his lungs. ā€œWait, slow down ā€” ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas stood up and started to walk toward him, getting that smite-y look around the eyes. Dean glanced behind him; the baby wasnā€™t even paying attention, fixed entirely on his blocks.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIf youā€™ve come here to hurt him ā€” ā€

Ā 

ā€œCas, just listen to me, okay?ā€ Dean said, hating the desperate tone in his voice. He held his hands up in surrender. ā€œI get heā€™s a kid alright, I can see that. But that kid ā€” ā€ He pointed back at the playpen; the baby had apparently gotten tired of blocks and was now trying to put an entire stuffed rhino in his mouth. ā€œ ā€” freaking mind whammied you into next week. Hell, look around you, this ainā€™t you!ā€

Ā 

Cas looked at him quietly. It was a sad look, one that Dean didnā€™t like. ā€œIt is now.ā€

Ā 

ā€œCas, heā€™s controlling you ā€” ā€ Dean started again; he had to get through to Cas, he just had to. He couldnā€™t have come this far just to fail at the finish line.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHe is not controlling me,ā€ Cas cut him off, with a shake of his head. His face was still sad. ā€œTrust me, I know what that feels like.ā€

Ā 

Dean glanced at the baby again, still contently chewing on the rhino. He didnā€™t seem to have a care in the world, didnā€™t even seem to be acknowledging the two of them. He hadnā€™t even really looked at Dean so far, wholly absorbed in his toys. Which either meant that he was powerful enough to control Cas without even looking like he was doing it or ā€”

Ā 

The bottom of Deanā€™s stomach dropped out. It was what he had feared, for so long, and refused to acknowledge. That Cas had left him, abandoned him, for some other cause, a repeat in a pattern long established. He was always doing this, searching constantly for something of value, latching onto whatever he found. Too much heart , Alfie had said. And that heart always seemed to lead him away from Dean.Ā 

Ā 

When I looked at him, I did not recognize the guy staring back at me, he had told Sam after Cas had flown the coop. Heā€™d been so sure, so sure that Cas would never have left willingly, that something had been done to him. And really, what did he have to base that certainty on? A long history of Cas walking away? Cas never stayed, Dean knew that, he never stayed.Ā 

Ā 

What was more likely? That the baby, a literal fucking infant, was rotten to the core and pulling Casā€™ strings, all while doing his best to choke himself on a stuffed toy, or that Cas had decided to take the chance to finally move on and cut the bond tying them together?Ā 

Ā 

Our paths are diverging.

Ā 

God, heā€™d been so fucking stupid.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThen what happened man? Whyā€™d you go pro-antichrist?ā€ Dean managed to ask. He hung his head, rubbed his hand down his face. He felt so gutted, he wasnā€™t sure how he was still standing.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean?ā€ He looked back up; Cas was watching him closely, his brow crinkled in concern.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCā€™mon, man, tell me,ā€ Dean said. He chuckled bitterly. ā€œYou owe me that much.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Concern faded into guilt, guilt that Dean tried not to feel satisfaction in.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€¦ā€ Cas sighed. ā€œI meant to kill Kelly, and Jack, when I took the Colt.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean shot him a look. ā€œYou really think you couldā€™ve done that?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas dropped his gaze. ā€œI thought I had to. But I couldnā€™t go through with it. Then Kelly offered to go to Heavenā€™s gate with me and I thought that would solve the problem.ā€ He glanced behind him at the kid, something apologetic in his face. ā€œI realize now I was already starting to wonder if there was a problem to be solved.ā€Ā 

Ā 

And that sounded like Cas. Cas the doubter, the questioner, always bringing up those inconvenient truths you didnā€™t really want to think about. He saw the good in shitty people everyday. Dean shouldnā€™t be surprised he saw it in the kid, too.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œBut when I held Kellyā€™s hand,ā€ Cas continued, ā€œhe showed me the future. Peace on earth.ā€

Ā 

Dean frowned. ā€œWhat, like the peace the angels wanted to bring? Cas, you know shit like that ainā€™t real.ā€

Ā 

Cas shook his head. ā€œNo, Dean, not some manufactured, flawed peace. Real peace, from angels, from demons, from all of it. A world where humans can just...be.ā€

Ā 

Dean looked at the kid. Heā€™d moved on from the rhino and returned to the blocks; he was laying them all out in one long line, his tiny face extremely focused.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou really think he could do that?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas sighed, shooting the kid a look dripping in fondness. ā€œI donā€™t know. He is just a child; he could have just been showing me what I wanted to see.ā€ He looked back at Dean, his expression soft. ā€œHe wanted to live, Dean. Is that so hard to understand?ā€

Ā 

ā€œWe weren't going to kill him.ā€ It had been practically unimaginable at the time, seeing a pregnant Kelly and thinking about putting a bullet in her head. Now, looking at the baby and his little blocks, it was impossible to picture, so painful Dean couldnā€™t bear to look at it.Ā 

Ā 

Cas seemed to soften. ā€œI know that. But you wanted to remove his grace. Itā€™s a traumatic experience for an angel. I canā€™t imagine how terrible it would be for a nephilim to go through.ā€

Ā 

Dean hesitated. ā€œItā€™d be that bad?ā€

Ā 

ā€œWould you let someone take your soul out, even if they said it was for the best?ā€

Ā 

Dean sighed. Yeah, he could see that wouldnā€™t be the best plan. But ā€”Dean looked at the kid again, this tiny boy with apparently unimaginable power. How could it ever be the right call to have a kid with a nuke strapped to his chest running around? Kidā€™s were stupid and got upset about the smallest things. Mom had just told him that story about how heā€™d burst into tears because his shirt was red when he was three; apparently, heā€™d been inconsolable the entire night. At least most kids could only kick or scream; this one might be able to level a whole block if he lost his binky.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo, whatā€™s your plan then? You just gonna stay here and play house?ā€ Dean asked.

Ā 

ā€œThat was my intention.ā€ Cas walked back to Jackā€™s playpen, crouching down next to it. The kid grinned at him, wiggling his rhino up at him. ā€œIt took us a while to settle in here. But Jack likes it.ā€

Ā 

ā€œThatā€™s his name?ā€

Ā 

Cas looked up at him. His eyes had gone warm, welcoming. His mouth was curving up on one side with a soft smile. It was a look Dean didnā€™t really recognize. He wondered if heā€™d ever seen it before. He wondered if this was the type of look that only children brought out in Cas.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIt is.ā€ Cas reached down into the playpen, picking Jack up and positioning with an ease that spoke to how many times heā€™d done it. He approached Dean, still frozen in the entrance to the living room. He stopped well within Deanā€™s personal space, close enough his arms would brush against Deanā€™s chest, if either of them only took a step forward.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œJack, this is Dean, a friend of mine.ā€ Jack gave a small squeal, sticking his thumb in his mouth. It was the first time heā€™d truly looked at Dean, staring at him intensely from Casā€™ arms. Dean had an uncomfortable sense that the kid was seeing a hell of a lot more than Dean wanted him to.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean, this is Jack.ā€ Cas finished, looking at Dean expectantly. Dean glanced at him quickly before looking back at the kid.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œUh,ā€ Dean said. He wasnā€™t sure exactly how to respond to such a serious introduction to someone who wasnā€™t even old enough to speak yet. Neither Cas nor Jack seemed to mind Deanā€™s stuttering; they both just kept staring expectantly.Ā 

Ā 

Finally, Dean just said, ā€œhey, kid.ā€

Ā 

Jack titled his head to the side in an eerie mirror of the gesture Cas had made so many times. The kidā€™s eyes, though a different color, seemed just as piercing. Dean swallowed and looked away.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Cas finally broke the silence. ā€œWe were just about to have lunch. Do you want to join us?ā€ He asked the question slowly, as if he was sounding out the words as he went along. Jack continued to lay quietly in Casā€™ arms, seemingly content to stare at Dean without blinking.Ā 

Ā 

My child , Cas had said. This was Casā€™ child. This was Casā€™ home, in which he lived with his child. Dean didnā€™t know a way to make anything in that sentence make sense.Ā 

Ā 

What the hell was he still doing here? Heā€™d wanted to find Cas and heā€™d found him. Heā€™d wanted to know what was going on and he knew now. He should split town, get the hell out of here and back on the road. He could head back up the coast or make a run out east, until he found a dive bar scummy enough he could get lost in it for the night. Hell, maybe two. Stay lost until Sam called him back to reality.Ā 

Ā 

But Dean was still living on another planet, apparently, because he found his head nodding, his mouth quietly agreeing. Sure thing, Cas, itā€™d be great to have lunch with you and your not-so-evil demon baby. Why the fuck not.Ā Ā 

Ā 

The uncertain look on Casā€™ face eased somewhat, though Dean could still see the worry lingering around his eyes. Jack in his arms, he led the way toward the room Dean had guessed was the kitchen. Dean hesitated then followed a few steps behind, which thankfully meant he didnā€™t run into Cas completely when he stopped dead in the door.Ā 

Ā 

Dean tensed, his hand itching to grab his gun. But when Cas turned he didnā€™t look worried or angry or just fucking blank like he did when something was digging around in his head. Deanā€™s gaze flicked back down to the kid, who was blithely chewing on the rhinoā€™s foot without a care in the world, before looking back at Cas.Ā 

Ā 

If anything, he looked a little abashed.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWe only have baby food,ā€ Cas explained, ā€œwe donā€™t entertain very often.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean felt bizarrely reassured; at least Cas hadnā€™t turned into some suburban dad who barbecued for the neighbours every weekend. Small blessings.Ā 

Ā 

He said, ā€œCā€™mon, I know a place.ā€

Ā 

_Ā 

Ā 

The trip back to Garyā€™s was surreal. Cas tried to insist they walk, as he didnā€™t have a car , apparently not having seen a need to keep one . Dean refused; the last thing he wanted was to make a spectacle of himself walking around town with Cas and the baby. His own Baby was already eye-catching enough. Then they got into a ridiculous argument about the Impalaā€™s safety ratings and how itā€™s really not a vehicle to transport children in, especially with the lack of carseat. Dean argued that he and Sam travelled in it and they turned out fine, while telling the part of himself that remembered the car accident that nearly killed him to shut it.Ā 

Ā 

Cas stared at him dubiously, clearly not convinced. Dean rolled his eyes.

Ā 

Ā ā€œCas. Heā€™ll be fine,ā€ Dean said, ā€œIā€™m pretty sure if we get into an accident, the only one you wonā€™t have to worry about is Jack. Isnā€™t he stronger than god or something?ā€

Ā 

Cas rolled his own eyes, in that infuriating way he had as if he was asking the heavens for the patience necessary to deal with Dealā€™s unending bullshit. Dean wanted to crush the fondness that sprung up in his chest at the sight. ā€œHeā€™s a very powerful infant, Dean, but he can still be hurt.ā€

Ā 

ā€œThen I will drive very, very carefully. Itā€™s only a fifteen minute drive. I promise, nothing is gonna happen,ā€ Dean said with exaggerated self-restraint.Ā 

Ā 

Cas narrowed his eyes at him for a long moment before nodding severely.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDo you want to go for a car ride?ā€ he asked Jack, very seriously.Ā 

Ā 

Jack squealed and clapped his hands in obvious delight.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSee?ā€ Dean said. Cas sighed.Ā 

Ā 

In the end, Cas still tried to insist on cramming the car seat he had kicking around for some reason into the car. Dean patiently explained that it was a modern seat and not designed to fit in a classic car; he almost thought Cas was going to call the whole thing off right there but he only sighed and agreed that if he sat in the back and held Jack on his lap, it would probably be safe enough.Ā 

Ā 

The drive to the restaurant was mildly excruciating. Dean was forced to crawl through traffic, limited by Casā€™ constant reminder to stick to the speed limit and obey all traffic signs. Dean was a good driver, heā€™d been driving since he could see over the steering wheel; he didnā€™t need an angel in the backseat telling him how to do it. It was enough to drive him insane and wonder why the hell he was doing this, sneaking glances at Casā€™ pinched face in the back seat. His eyes dropped to Jack momentarily, cradled safely in Casā€™ arms, leaning his head against Casā€™ chest.Ā 

Ā 

Well, maybe Dean did get it. If that was Deanā€™s kid, heā€™d probably be just as much of a basketcase.Ā 

Ā 

The sign to Gary's was a welcome return to normality. Dean eased into a parking space and felt the tension in the car finally dissipate.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWho knew youā€™d be the worst of all soccer moms?ā€ Dean said, getting out of the car.

Ā 

Cas apparently didnā€™t find Deanā€™s comment worthy of a comeback but Dean could practically feel him rolling his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

Abruptly, Deanā€™s throat felt tight and he had to blink a few times to keep his eyes clear. Godammit, but heā€™d missed this; sniping at each other, pushing each otherā€™s buttons. The knock-down fighting he could do without but there was nothing so peaceful as good natured bickering. Maybe Dean was just maladapted or maybe it was just a by-product of growing up with your annoying kid brother as your only friend, but there was something about bickering that just felt like home. And Cas had always been a pro at it, even before heā€™d understood what they were bickering about.Ā 

Ā 

Dean remembered the first road trip theyā€™d ever taken, that long haul between Pennsylvania and Maine going to hunt down Raphael. Cas had alternated between complaining about how slow driving was and stone cold silence while Dean sung along obnoxiously to the music. It had been the happiest Dean had been in weeks.Ā 

Ā 

And now Dean was playing chauffeur after Cas had been MIA for a year playing happy families with Lucifer Jr.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean?ā€Ā 

Ā 

He turned to see Cas staring at him across the roof of the car. He looked confused, but there was something a little knowing there too, as if heā€™d guessed what Dean was thinking. Dean dropped his eyes from his face and his gaze landed on the kid, still held securely in Casā€™ arms.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCā€™mon,ā€ Dean grunted out and led the way inside.Ā 

Ā 

Garyā€™s looked just as dilapidated as it had an hour ago. Dean elected to lead their unfortunate trio to the booth nestled at the back near the hallway to the bathrooms. Dean grabbed a seat and watched while Cas wrangled over one of the high chairs with practiced ease. Heā€™d done this before. Clearly, he had, if he was enough of a regular for the waitress to recognize him and know him by name. Dean swallowed and looked away.Ā 

Ā 

The waitress whoā€™d given him the directions to Casā€™ place came over just as Cas was settling the kid in the chair.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOh, you found each other!ā€ she said, grinning at them.Ā 

Ā 

Dean smiled at her. ā€œYes, maā€™am. Those directions were the ticket.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m so glad,ā€ she said, ā€œI kept bugging Carl about getting his family out this way, itā€™s so good to see you coming down.ā€ And that was a little more judgmental than Dean would have liked, but it made sense. Townsfolk would be a little put-out, seeing a single dad with an infant, whose family was apparently too good to visit.

Ā 

The waitress went on before Dean could respond. ā€œBut I understand; family illnesses are always so hard.ā€Ā 

Ā 

She paused, her face full of sympathy. Dean wasnā€™t sure exactly what he was supposed to say, so he just kept smiling. ā€œThat they are.ā€Ā 

Ā 

She smiled back, her sympathy folding back into her professional mask. ā€œHereā€™s your menus; you just let me know when youā€™re ready to order.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas thanked her, watching as she walked away. Then he leaned over the table suddenly, his expression urgent. ā€œFamily illness?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shrugged, not sure what to do with Casā€™ sudden focus. He turned his attention toward his menu; it was all of two pages long and had the same dishes listed as almost every other diner heā€™d stopped at over the years. ā€œYeah, figured it was as good an excuse as any.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas leaned in a little further. ā€œSo, itā€™s not true, then. Mary and Sam are alright?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean glanced up at him, a little surprised. ā€œYeah, theyā€™re fine.ā€ And when he saw Cas slump in relief, couldnā€™t resist adding, ā€œprobably be better if you hadnā€™t gone AWOL with Damien, here.ā€Ā 

Ā 

The kid piped up with a little whine, as if he knew he was being talked about.Ā 

Ā 

Cas sighed. ā€œIt wasnā€™t my intention to make you worry.ā€

Ā 

Dean suddenly felt pissed all over again, the anger that had drained out of him back at the house flooding back in. ā€œWasnā€™t your intention? Donā€™t give me that. We looked everywhere for you. I was ready to tear the whole frigging country apart. What the hell did you think was going to happen?ā€

Ā 

Cas sighed and looked out the window, silent.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d just told Cas, was the thing, right before Cas lifted the Colt. Dean had sat at his desk and heā€™d peeled back a part of his flesh, just a little, to let those words out. With everything thatā€™s going on, you canā€™t just go dark like that. We didnā€™t know what happened to you. We were worried. Thatā€™s not okay. And then Cas had turned around and done it again, had been planning to do it the entire time, even while listening and agreeing with Dean.Ā 

Ā 

What did you think I was gonna do? Dean wanted to ask. And more damningly, if only because of how pathetic he would sound asking it, did you even care? Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d had excuses before, on Casā€™ behalf. Cas was desperate for a win, Dean knew that. Hell, heā€™d been there himself, so desperate heā€™d been willing to throw his hat in with anything, even the Mark. And Cas had gone from so desperate he couldnā€™t see straight to mind-controlled, taken away by something so powerful it could puppet Cas before it was even born.Ā 

Ā 

That same all powerful entity was now slapping his hands on the high chair table, making small whining noises in his throat until Cas finally caved and pulled him out of the chair and into his lap.Ā 

Ā 

Dean watched them, Cas brushing his fingers through the kidā€™s hair, the kid starting to calm down at his touch. He looked innocent, not at all like the monster deanā€™s imagination had made him out to be. This kid didnā€™t look capable of anything other than screaming, eating, and shitting himself. He certainly didnā€™t seem capable of controlling someone against their own will.Ā 

Ā 

And Cas had said that he hadnā€™t. That Cas had chosen to go, to protect the kid and Kelly. Had chosen to leave. Again. Which shouldnā€™t hurt the way it did, drive the breath from Deanā€™s lungs the way it did, because when had Cas ever chosen to stay? Not to fight something, not to avert the apocalypse or save the world, but just to stay, just because.Ā 

Ā 

God, he really needed the waitress to come back soon. He couldnā€™t handle this overwrought thinking without a burger to stuff in his face.Ā 

Ā 

But Deanā€™s wish was not to be granted and their table lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. The kid settled down, his agitated whining settling into quieter noises the longer Cas held him. Casā€™ hands were gentle, his touches clearly meant to soothe. It looked weird on him. Dean knew that Cas could be gentle, of course. Heā€™d seen it, heā€™d felt it; the careful way Cas always hugged him, as if worried heā€™d break Dean; the soft, barely-there touch of his fingers whenever he healed Dean. But it seemed so alien on him, watching Cas now. Like seeing two different images try to fill the same space.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIs that better?ā€ Cas asked quietly. The kid gurgled and grinned.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGood,ā€ Cas said, as if that had actually been a response, and placed Jack back in the high chair.Ā 

Ā 

Thankfully, the waitress finally returned before Dean had much time to think about that exchange. Heā€™d never felt so relieved to order a burger before.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œUsual for you, Carl?ā€ the waitress asked Cas.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYes, thank you Tabitha,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

She grinned at him, her smile shifting from professional to genuinely friendly. ā€œSure thing.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dreadfully, the table lapsed back into silence, only broken by Jackā€™s soft murmurs to himself. Cas placed a paper placemat in front of him, seemingly on auto-pilot, reaching over to the small plastic cup full of crayons next to the salt and pepper shakers. As soon as the crayon was in his hand, Jack was clearly in heaven, scribbling thick lines across the page in nonsensical patterns.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhatā€™s that supposed to be?ā€ Dean asked, groping for anything to alleviate the oppressive silence.Ā 

Ā 

Cas hummed, resettling his grip around his coffee mug. His shoulders loosened a little; it made Dean feel obscurely better, knowing that Cas had been suffering during the silence too.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t think itā€™s supposed to be anything,ā€ Cas said, ā€œsometimes he likes to draw things heā€™s seen that day, but most of the time Jack is more of an abstract artist.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean nodded seriously, as if it made total sense for a kid scribbling with crayon to be called an artist. ā€œRight.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack glanced up at him suddenly, catching Deanā€™s eyes. Dean froze, staring back at him. A long moment passed, in which Jack continued to stare, and Dean wondered if it was rude to be creeped out by a baby. Finally Jack looked away, transferring his avid concentration to his crayon options. He finally selected one, a light green, and carefully started drawing thick lines, crayon held tightly in his tiny fist.

Ā 

Dean looked away from him, meeting Casā€™ eyes. Cas, of course, was looking straight back at him; there was no way he hadnā€™t caught that whole exchange but he mercifully didnā€™t say anything about it.Ā 

Ā 

Dean took a long sip of his coffee, desperately searching for something to say.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo you can fly again, huh? Howā€™d that happen?ā€ he settled on.Ā 

Ā 

He watched Casā€™ face crease into a smile, that small gentle one that he only made when he was really pleased. ā€œJack. I didnā€™t think it was possible, but he healed my grace.ā€

Ā 

ā€œReally? Thatā€™s awesome.ā€ And Dean really did try to sound pleased, because he was. It didnā€™t take a genius to see how much losing his wings had hurt Cas. Even though heā€™d come around to driving, Dean could never forget how interminable heā€™d found it, how miserable Cas had been back in the day when heā€™d been falling the first time, let alone when he was human. He knew Cas had still been upset by the loss, all these years later.Ā 

Ā 

And heā€™d been sympathetic, of course he had. But there had been a part of him that had been on tenterhooks when Cas got his grace back from Metatron that had relaxed when Cas confirmed he still couldnā€™t fly. It was a shameful, ugly part of Dean, he knew that, but it was there now, tensing up as if Cas was going to disappear in front of his eyes any second.Ā 

Ā 

If Cas left now, Dean was uncomfortably aware that heā€™d never manage to find him again. It had been sheer luck this time around and lightning never struck the same place twice. If Cas could fly now, he could go completely off the grid; forget staying in the States, he probably wouldnā€™t stay on the same continent. Hell, he and Jack would probably be just as comfortable living it up in Antarctica as they were in California.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHow are the others? Sam and Mary?ā€ Cas asked. Dean fell onto the topic like a man starving, finally having something to talk about where the words flowed easily and the emotions made sense. When he mentioned that Sam was hanging out with Eileen nowadays, Cas smiled.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThatā€™s good. Sam spoke very highly of her,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

Right, Cas had never met Eileen; theyā€™d always seemed to pass each other like ships in the night rather than meet face to face. Shame; Dean knew theyā€™d like each other.Ā 

Ā 

Dean went on, expanding on what Mom was up to these days, how the situation with the Brits had shaken out. Cas seemed genuinely interested, watching Dean closely and nodding along. Dean thought about mentioning the hunt Mom was on right now, but figured in the end that there was no reason to bring it up. Cas was as out of the game as he could get with a kid like his; no reason to trouble him with talk of the newest pretender to Hellā€™s throne.

Ā 

The waitress returned, bearing plates of food. Dean picked up his burger as soon as it was put down, watching as she placed a cinnamon bun and a small salad in front of Cas and an empty bowl in front of Jack.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThanks, Tabitha,ā€ Cas said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œEnjoy. Let me know if you need anything else.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat, you eat now?ā€ Dean asked once sheā€™d left, eyeing the food in front of Cas.

Ā 

Cas shook his head, something rueful in his face. ā€œI still donā€™t need to. But Iā€™ve found that humans become suspicious if you donā€™t eat. The molecules of these meals are less offensive than most.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou tried this one?ā€ Dean asked, holding up his burger to take another bite. ā€œItā€™s pretty good.ā€ Not the best heā€™d ever had ā€” that went to the ones he made lovingly in his own kitchen. Close second was that tiny shack outside New Vienna, Ohio, which heā€™d had for the first time at 23 after a grueling ghoul hunt.Ā 

Ā 

Cas gave the burger a dubious look. ā€œIā€™ve found that something in the composition of ketchup doesnā€™t agree with me. And sesame seeds are irritating.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean shoved the smile that wanted to break across his face behind another bite, unwillingly amused. ā€œYeah, okay. What about the kid?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHe doesnā€™t seem interested yet in anything on the menu. Tabitha is kind enough to allow me to bring in my own food.ā€ Cas reached into the little shoulder bag heā€™d hauled along with him, pulling out a small mason jar filled with some kind of orange mush. ā€œHeā€™s partial to pumpkin puree right now.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas carefully dumped some out into the little bowl, using his spoon to scoop some up and guide it into Jackā€™s mouth. Jack was surprisingly cooperative about it, obediently opening his mouth whenever the spoon came close and smacking his lips. Cas didnā€™t even have to pretend to be an airplane.Ā 

Ā 

By the time Dean was moving onto his fries, there was just a remnant of the puree left in Jackā€™s bowl, which Cas seemed happy to let Jack finger paint across the high-chair table. Cas turned to his own salad, stabbing his fork into it with a reluctant air. Dean supposed inoffensive wasnā€™t the same as good, judging by the put-upon expression on his face.Ā 

Ā 

He could only watch Cas fork salad into his face despondently for so long.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGive it here,ā€ he said, pulling the plate across the table. He snatched up his fork. ā€œMaking me eat rabbit food,ā€ he grumbled, taking a big bite. The thing was all spine, so at least it had some decent crunch, not like those spinach things Sam was so fond of.Ā 

Ā 

Cas ducked his head, a small smile on his face.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThank you, Dean.ā€ He managed just a few bites of the cinnamon bun before he pushed that over to Dean as well.Ā 

Ā 

Dean paused in demolishing his food long enough to notice the kid staring at him fixedly. His mouth was a little agape, streaks of orange mush smeared all around it. His head was tilted a little to the side and Dean realized abruptly that he recognized that look. Cas had made the same goddamn face ā€” minus the pumpkin ā€” when heā€™d been new to Earth way back in the first apocalypse, when he looked at everything he saw as if it had been made specifically to confuse him.Ā Ā 

Ā 

It was weird seeing that expression on a babyā€™s face. Almost weirder than how the kid couldnā€™t seem to look away, not even when Cas reached over to mop up the spilled food.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhatā€™s up with the kid?ā€ Dean asked, shoving more of the bun into his mouth.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Cas glanced at him before turning his attention back to Jack. His hand was just as steady with a napkin as it had ever been on an angel blade.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHe recognizes you,ā€ Cas said. He glanced at Dean again, meeting his eyes for a second before looking away. ā€œI...might have mentioned you. A few times.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean wasnā€™t sure what the hell that meant. Cas had mentioned him to the kid? Why bother when he wasnā€™t planning on seeing him again? Maybe Cas was just being polite and the kid actually thought Dean was a freak. Or Cas had mentioned Dean, but only to complain. Telling the kid what a moron Dean was, how they were better off clear of him.Ā 

Ā 

Nah, that wouldnā€™t have been it. Whatever Casā€™ flaws, heā€™d never been intentionally cruel.Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed, abruptly exhausted with this whole farce. He shoved the remnants of the cinnamon bun away, leaning back in his seat to look at Cas.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat are we even doing here, Cas?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

Cas didnā€™t look at him; his shoulders tensed. ā€œWeā€™re eating.ā€

Ā 

ā€œDon't give me that, you know thatā€™s not what I mean.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas sighed quietly, folding his hands on the table. He still didnā€™t look at Dean. ā€œThen what do you mean, Dean?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI mean,ā€ Dean cut himself off, staring at Cas. Heā€™d spent months, months, looking for Cas. Even after that dream, he hadnā€™t been able to give up. Even now, when heā€™d forced himself to acknowledge the reality of Casā€™ disappearance from his life, he still searched, checking newspapers, blogs, weather networks, for anything even remotely unusual in the distant hope it might be Cas. He mightā€™ve spent the rest of his life doing it, searching for someone who didnā€™t want to be found, thinking that he had to swoop in to save Cas and feeling like he was failing every day he didnā€™t.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI mean this, man.ā€ Dean gestured around them, between them. ā€œI havenā€™t seen you in a year, a freaking year, and the last time I did see you, you ran off with Lucifer's baby mama and mind whammied me and Sam into next week. And now weā€™re going out to lunch like old buddies?ā€

Ā 

ā€œWe are old buddies,ā€ Cas said, quietly.Ā 

Ā 

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. ā€œAre we? Or was I imagining it when you gatecrashed my dream and told me to get lost?ā€

Ā 

Cas stiffened. ā€œThat is not what I said.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOh really? Because itā€™s sure what it sounded like.ā€

Ā 

Cas finally looked at him, the sudden force of his gaze crashing into Dean.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThen you misheard me,ā€ he said firmly, ā€œI chose to go, I had to go, to protect Jack. To protect you and Sam and Mary.ā€

Ā 

ā€œWhat, from him?ā€ Dean asked, gesturing at the kid.Ā 

Ā 

Cas had the nerve to roll his eyes. ā€œNo, Dean, from the things hunting him.ā€

Ā 

ā€œOh yeah?ā€ Dean asked, leaning forward. He knew he was getting too upset, his voice starting to raise, but he just couldnā€™t stop it. ā€œThey hunt you all the way out to the coast, leave you no choice but to settle down in a cute one bedroom with Satan's kid? Really seems like youā€™re hiding out, real subtle.ā€

Ā 

Cas glared narrowly at him. ā€œAnd what would you have preferred, an underground fortress? Would that have met your standards?ā€

Ā 

Yes, goddammit , Dean wanted to say. What was so bad with Dean's hole in the ground? It was fortified, protected, and it was home. But Cas had never seemed to want to be there; the room Dean had given him had remained unused, gathering dust and empty of all but the bare essentials.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d justified it to himself, over and over ā€” what the fuck did he know about how angels liked to live? Heā€™d never seen an angelā€™s home, not even when heā€™d been in heaven. Cas had never spoken of anything that sounded even remotely like a home in heaven. Heā€™d mentioned a garrison, a flight, but never a barracks or a house. Maybe angels didnā€™t live like that, Dean had told himself. Maybe that was why Cas stayed away; he didnā€™t know any better.Ā 

Ā 

But clearly he did, so there was a different problem here. Two guesses what that was.Ā 

Ā 

The thought hurt and like Dean so often did, he turned that hurt back around into anger.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œLike youā€™ve ever given a shit what I prefer,ā€ he hissed.Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™ jaw went tight, his chin going up. Heā€™d never learned how to hide when a hit landed, not like Dean had. He looked away again, a harrowed look in his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean, I don't want to argue,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThen why am I here, man?ā€ Dean asked. He was tired of this, all of it; the situation, Cas leaving, and most especially, himself. He didnā€™t like this part of himself that always seemed to come out when he was fighting with Cas. The part that forgot Cas deserved the benefit of the doubt, that Cas had bled for them, died for them, done more for them than anyone could ever have expected or asked for. The part that always left him with a sour taste in his throat and a lingering memory from his childhood before the fire, of screaming fights that ended with his dad storming out of the house with his mom angry and silent in the doorway watching him go.Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™ head went up, his hot glare skewering Dean across the table.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t know, Dean, why are you here?ā€ he demanded, ā€œyouā€™re the one who followed me to my home, who decided to stay and took us here in the first place. If staying is such an imposition, then why did you bother?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean didnā€™t know why. He couldnā€™t explain anything heā€™d done today to himself, let alone Cas. The only thing he knew was that heā€™d known, seeing Cas at that gas station, that he couldnā€™t let him disappear without a word. If heā€™d just left then, never seen Cas again, heā€™d have regretted forever. He just wasnā€™t sure if this was better.Ā 

Ā 

Dean noticed, suddenly, that the diner was quieter than it had been. A few of the closest patrons were ignoring them in that clearly deliberate way people had when they had noticed something and didnā€™t want to make it their business. Tabitha was over at the counter, mechanically wiping out coffee mugs and shooting daggers at Dean.Ā 

Ā 

Well, Dean could check off making a scene in public off his to-do list for the day. He sighed heavily and slugged back the rest of his luke-warm coffee.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhatever, man. Letā€™s get out of here.ā€

Ā 

Cas didnā€™t say a word, gathering Jack up into his arms. Dean couldnā€™t help but notice that Jack was looking at him a little warily, his fingers curling into Casā€™ shirt. Dean felt some toxic mix of shame and envy surge through him, so powerfully he didnā€™t even notice when Cas put down a wad of cash in front of Tabitha.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThank you,ā€ he said, shooting her a strained smile. ā€œIt was lovely.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™re always welcome,ā€ she said, almost too enthusiastically. As soon as Cas turned for the door, she shot Dean a murderous look. Yeah, yeah, message received. Dean better be out of a town by sundown or Tabitha would hunt him down and make him regret it.Ā 

Ā 

They drove back to the house in stone cold silence. Even the kid seemed to have picked up on it, quietly holding his toes while Cas held him securely. It wasnā€™t a long drive and Dean spent it the whole thing wracking his brain for anything else to say.Ā 

Ā 

But there wasnā€™t really anything, was there? Dean didnā€™t know how to walk back anything heā€™d said and he didnā€™t know what to say to make it better. He didnā€™t even know if Cas was interested in hearing anything like that from him.Ā 

Ā 

Maybe he and Cas had said everything they had to say to each other. Maybe it was time to just let this go, like he should have done a year ago when Cas frigginā€™ told him to.Ā 

Ā 

Soon enough, Dean was parking in front of Casā€™ house. He thought Cas might step out right away, slam the door behind him as he rushed back into his house and his life, leaving Dean and his bullshit far behind. But he didnā€™t, choosing instead to sit in silence in the backseat. Dean glanced at him in the rearview mirror, finding his eyes, and they sat there wordlessly, listening to the engine ping as it cooled.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhere are you going from here?ā€ Cas finally asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œBack to the bunker.ā€ Any thoughts of stopping at the ocean or taking the long way home were long gone. Dean needed to be on the open road taking the fast lane straight back to his memory foam mattress as soon as possible, so he could lie down and drink until he forgot this whole day had even happened. If he tried hard enough, maybe heā€™d even forget heā€™d seen Cas at all.Ā 

Ā 

Cas looked at him for another long moment, unspeaking. His face was set in a small frown, distant and sad. It could have been years ago, Dean dropping Cas off at the Gas-N-Sip, forcing himself to tell Cas he was proud of him rather than what he wanted to say, which was to beg him to come back home. Those same pleading words were perched in the back of Deanā€™s throat now, on the verge of coming out.Ā 

Ā 

But it wouldnā€™t do any good. Everything Dean had seen today had just made it even more clear ā€” Cas had a home here, one heā€™d made rather than been given. A place heā€™d chosen to stay. He had a fucking kid, for godā€™s sake, and a place all set up for that kid. Why the hell would he leave all that to go to some hole in the ground? Could they even baby proof the bunker? And what the hell would that even be like ā€” Cas playing house with a baby powerful as god while the rest of them went out on hunts, tiptoeing in bloody and exhausted so they wouldnā€™t wake the baby. It sounded like some screwed up sitcom. That wasnā€™t real life, wasnā€™t any kind of life Dean would want to inflict on a child, even one who was already chest deep in the supernatural.Ā 

Ā 

It was better to just not say anything. At least Dean could leave with his dignity intact.Ā 

Ā 

Dean made himself smile and hoped it looked less ghoulish than it felt. ā€œIā€™ll be seeing you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas stared for a moment longer. He opened his mouth as if to speak then pressed his lips back together and nodded.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSay goodbye, Jack,ā€ he said. Jack blinked and made a soft, cooing noise, his eyes flicking anxiously between the two of them. It made Deanā€™s stomach twist.Ā 

Ā 

Cas got out of the car, closing the door softly behind him. He bent down to look through the passenger window at Dean, that same frown shading his face. ā€œGoodbye, Dean.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean nodded, tongue tied, waving in lieu of words. Cas stepped back from the car and Dean pulled away.Ā 

Ā 

Dean didnā€™t kid himself that his exit looked like anything other than an inglorious retreat. He glanced back in the rearview mirror, watching Cas and the kid shrink behind him until he had to turn the corner and they were gone.Ā 

_

Ā 

Just like every time he had an argument with Cas, Dean regretted it immediately. Luckily, he had a long drive home to obsess over it. He drove until he was going cross eyed and pulled off the road to get some sleep somewhere in Utah.Ā 

Ā 

He slept poorly and got back onĀ  the road as soon as he could see straight again. His shoulders didnā€™t relax until he took the turn off from the 281, the familiar grass waving in the breeze and the dingy stop sign with half the letters bleached out by the sun. Minutes later he was pulling into the bunkerā€™s garage.Ā 

Ā 

He put the car in park and cut the engine. The silence was deafening after the roar of road sound, his ears ringing without the sound of the engine and Metallica. Dean heaved a deep sigh, crossing his arms on the steering wheel to hide his face in the darkness there.Ā 

Ā 

He was so tired it felt like every muscle was aching with it. It went beyond the exhaustion of a long road trip. His eyes felt gritty, his jaw sore from grinding his teeth, his ears still thrumming from the music heā€™d turned up loud in an attempt to drown out his thoughts. The darkness of his folded arms was soothing after peering into the glaring headlights of the highway. His bed seemed too far away; he wondered if he was too old to just turn around and curl up in the back seat for the second night in a row.Ā 

Ā 

Or maybe he could stay here, folded up in the front, leaning on Babyā€™s steering wheel. Maybe if he stayed here long enough, he could forget all about this whole thing. And in the morning when he got the will to get out of the car, he would walk into the kitchen and his family would be there.Ā 

Ā 

The thing was, Dean never knew how to fix arguments with Cas. Sometimes it felt like they were never truly finished, just forgotten or set aside. They'd fight like dogs and then they'd move on, the wounds scabbing over until the next fight tore them open all over again.Ā 

Ā 

Dean knew that the cycle was his fault, as much as he hated it. He didn't know how to resolve arguments; hell, he'd spent most of his life not even knowing how to make them, doing his best to stop the fighting between Dad and Sam. And they had never apologized to each other or admitted fault. He supposed the Winchesters were all a bunch of stubborn sons of bitches.Ā 

Ā 

But Cas was different. Yeah, it had taken him a while to really understand the whole feelings thing, but he loved to talk. Which was something Dean could not have imagined saying about the guy way back when they first met. But maybe Cas had read a book on emotional honesty along the way or maybe he'd just decided to stop giving a shit, but most of the time, Dean could count on him to say what he meant. If he was upset, if he was angry, if he was happy, he'd tell anyone who'd want to listen. He'd want to talk their fights out to lay them to rest. But Dean couldn't bear to. And because Cas was a forgiving man at the end of the day and always tried to spare Dean the hard parts of life, he'd let it go and so the cycle continued.Ā 

Ā 

And what was there to fix this time, anyway? Cas was done with him. He'd reached the end of his rope. The question wasn't why he'd left, it was how had he stayed so long in the first place.Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed again and jumped at the tapping on his window. He jerked his head up and stared at Sam, peering back at him through the glass.Ā 

Ā 

Dean opened the car door, hearing Samā€™s little ā€˜oofā€™ when the door hit his legs.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThe hell are you doing here?ā€ Dean asked, getting out of the car.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWe finished early. Eileen had a friend down in Des Moines that needed a hand so I figured Iā€™d head back,ā€ Sam said. He took a couple steps back, giving Dean an exaggerated look up and down. ā€œWhatā€™s wrong with you?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI just drove twelve hours and I need a fucking nap, thatā€™s whatā€™s wrong with me.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œUh-huh,ā€ Sam said, clearly skeptical, ā€œis that why youā€™re hiding in the car like someone ditched you for prom?ā€

Ā 

ā€œWhat? No . Iā€™m fine, Sam.ā€ Dean brushed by Sam, taking the stairs down into the bunker proper.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, you sure seem like it,ā€ Sam muttered behind him. His footsteps trailed Dean inside.Ā 

Ā 

Dean dropped his bag on the war room table and turned on auto-pilot to the kitchen. He made a beeline for the fridge, pulling a beer out with probably too much relief. Sam had folded himself down onto a stool at the table by the time he turned back around. Dean passed the beer heā€™d grabbed across the table to Sam and grabbed another for himself.Ā 

Ā 

Sam eyed the beer. ā€œYou know itā€™s two in the morning, right?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean shot him a grin, cracking his bottle open and snagging a seat. ā€œFive oā€™clock somewhere, right?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Sam snorted. ā€œI donā€™t think thatā€™s how that works.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean shrugged and took a long pull off the bottle.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSoā€¦.ā€ Sam said, leadingly. He was pointedly ignoring his own beer.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo?ā€

Ā 

Sam rolled his eyes. ā€œSo, howā€™d it go?ā€

Ā 

Dean shrugged. ā€œFine. Turned out it was just the one of them, went down pretty easy, got back on the road.ā€ He took another long drink.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSaw Cas,ā€ he said, very casually. It was worth it for the dramatic double take Sam threw him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWait a minute, what? You saw Cas?ā€ he demanded.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYep.ā€ Dean took another draw of his beer. ā€œDown in Eureka.ā€

Ā 

Sam spluttered. ā€œWell, what is he doing there? Is he alright?ā€

Ā 

Dean snorted. ā€œOh yeah, heā€™s fine. Living in a fucking stepford house with Satanā€™s kid.ā€

Ā 

If possible, Samā€™s eyebrows rose even further. ā€œHe has the nephilim with him?ā€

Ā 

ā€œYep.ā€

Ā 

ā€œAnd?ā€

Ā 

Dean shrugged, took another pull. ā€œAnd what?ā€

Ā 

Sam threw his hands up in the air. ā€œOh my god, Dean, literally any details! Is Cas okay? Did you manage to talk to him? Whatā€™s he doing with the kid? Whatā€™s the kid like?ā€

Ā 

Dean took another pull; he was already halfway done. ā€œYeah, we went for lunch.ā€

Ā 

Sam stared. ā€œYou ā€” you went for lunch.ā€

Ā 

ā€œYeah.ā€

Ā 

Sam paused for a long moment, seeming to need it to digest that. Then he asked, ā€œWas the kid there?ā€

Ā 

ā€œYep.ā€

Ā 

ā€œOkay, and?ā€ Sam asked, clearly frustrated.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shrugged again, leaning back on the stool. ā€œAnd, I donā€™t know, it was normal.ā€

Ā 

ā€œNormal?ā€

Ā 

Dean glared at him. ā€œYeah, normal. He just seemed like a regular kid.ā€

Ā 

Sam clearly didnā€™t believe that but he let it go. ā€œAnd how was Cas?ā€Ā 

Ā Ā 

ā€œHe wasā€¦ā€ Dean trailed off, shaking his head. ā€œI donā€™t know, man. It was weird.ā€

Ā 

ā€œWeird how?ā€ Sam demanded, before his face folded into a frown. ā€œWait a minute, if the kid is normal, what does that mean? Is he controlling Cas?ā€

Ā 

Of course, Sam would get there way before Dean had. It was humiliating, to have to admit how wrong heā€™d been, to retract what heā€™d sworn was true over a year ago. Deanā€™s stomach roiled with it; or maybe that was just the beer.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNah, man. He ā€” ā€ he paused, killing the bottle. ā€œHe never was.ā€

Ā 

Sam looked at him closely, his eyes narrowing. ā€œWait. Youā€™re saying he was never controlled? Not even back at the playground?ā€

Ā 

ā€œNo, he ā€” he just left.ā€ Dean walked to the fridge, grabbed another beer. He knew it wasnā€™t a good idea, that heā€™d feel like shit come morning with the alcohol compounding a long drive and a series of shitty days. But fuck it, he needed it. ā€œHe said some bullshit about something the kid showed him. Peace, or something. So he left to take care of it. Him.ā€

Ā 

Dean was still facing toward the sink, leaning on it with one hand, beer in the other. He heard Sam sigh behind him; he glanced over his shoulder to see Sam had put his head in hands.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo, let me get this straight,ā€ Sam said. ā€œWeā€™ve spent a year trying to find Cas and all this time heā€™s been in California being a dad.ā€ He laughed disbelievingly, running his hands through his hair.

Ā 

ā€œYep.ā€ It was all so clear in retrospect. Cas had told him so himself in that goddamn dream. It wasnā€™t Casā€™ fault Dean was an idiot. And it wasnā€™t Samā€™s fault that Dean hadnā€™t told him about that dream. It had felt too odd, too strange, and too private. Heā€™d woken up knowing he had to tell Sam about it but by the time heā€™d actually managed to pry himself from bed and face Sam, heā€™d been too ashamed.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d thought, for the longest time, that that dream had been his last real chance to save Cas, and heā€™d blown it. He couldnā€™t bear to tell anyone about that, not even Sam.Ā 

Ā 

Sam still had his head braced in his hand. ā€œHe couldā€™ve called us.ā€

Ā 

ā€œYeah, he couldā€™ve,ā€ Dean said, finally opening his beer.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWe had a plan,ā€ Sam said, ā€œif we took the grace ā€”ā€

Ā 

Dean shook his head. ā€œNah, Cas said it wouldnā€™tā€™ve worked.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Sam squinted up at him, his head still in his hand. He stayed slumped across the table, tired lines around his eyes. Dean wondered when his little brother had gotten so old.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œReally?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, something like that. Said it wouldā€™ve been awful for the kid, having his grace taken out. Like losing a soul.ā€Ā 

Ā 

That made Samā€™s eyes go distant; Dean knew he was thinking about when his own soul had been missing, the things heā€™d done. Dean had told him enough times that he wasnā€™t responsible for any of that, that it hadnā€™t really been him. He had never been sure if Sam believed him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo, now what?ā€ Sam asked, eventually.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shrugged, taking a long pull on his beer. ā€œLooks like heā€™s gonna raise the kid. Heā€™s a full-blown dad.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Sam snorted. ā€œThatā€™s hard to imagine.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWell, believe it.ā€

Ā 

They sat in silence for a long moment, Dean steadily making his way through his beer, Sam picking at the label on his own.Ā 

Ā 

Sam broke the silence. ā€œYou couldā€™ve called me.ā€

Ā 

ā€œWhat?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhen you saw him? You went to lunch together and didnā€™t think to let me know?ā€ Sam asked. If anything, he sounded hurt.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI just did.ā€

Ā 

Sam sighed, deeply, pushing himself up from the table. ā€œWell, weā€™re going back, so you better get to bed.ā€

Ā 

Dean slumped over the table with a deep groan. ā€œSam,ā€ he whined, ā€œI just drove a thousand miles, I donā€™t wanna go all the way back.ā€

Ā 

Sam glared down at him. ā€œYouā€™re not the only one who missed Cas, okay? I wanna see him. Iā€™ll drive if youā€™re still wiped in the morning.ā€

Ā 

Dean sighed, wiping a hand down his face. ā€œSam, I donā€™t know if itā€™s a good idea.ā€

Ā 

Sam frowned. ā€œWhy? Did Cas say something? Is it not safe?ā€ Dean could tell from Samā€™s expression that if Dean told him yes, Cas had said visiting would put them at risk, then Sam would back down. Which was all that Dean really wanted at two in the freaking morning.Ā 

Ā 

But...maybe all those talks he and Sam had had about not lying to each other were finally starting to stick. Or maybe Dean just didnā€™t want to see the disappointment on Samā€™s face.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNah, he didnā€™t really say much about that. Itā€™s just...ā€œ he trailed off.

Ā 

Samā€™s expression dropped from concern into exasperation. ā€œPlease tell me you didnā€™t have a fight with him.ā€

Ā 

Dean took a slug of his beer, avoiding Samā€™s eyes. It didnā€™t quite cover up Samā€™s groan.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI canā€™t believe you two,ā€ he said, throwing his hands in the air, ā€œI donā€™t care what you said, heā€™s my friend too and I wanna see him. So youā€™re just going to have to deal with it like an adult because weā€™re going back tomorrow.ā€

Ā 

ā€œGod, alright,ā€ Dean said, standing up. He hadnā€™t quite finished his beer. He considered the judgmental look Sam would give him if he chugged the bottle and poured the rest down the sink with a little sigh.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo you should get some sleep.ā€

Ā 

Dean threw his hands in the air, retreating from the kitchen. ā€œJesus, okay, Iā€™m going.ā€

Ā 

ā€œAnd brush your teeth!ā€ Sam yelled after him. Dean groaned loudly in response and went straight to his bed to collapse.Ā 

_

Ā 

He had weird dreams all night, probably a mix of exhaustion and the late-night/early-morning beer. They were mixed up, confusing. At one point, he was in a motel room he remembered from one shitty summer when he was sixteen. That was the year Samā€™s school had made his whole grade do a music course and Sam had become obsessed with the recorder theyā€™d given him. Sam had been pretty decent at it ā€”as good as anyone could be with a recorderā€” playing songs from the radio that heā€™d figured out by ear. Heā€™d seemed to think Dean wouldnā€™t mind so much if Sam was playing rock music rather than the sheet music his teacher had given him; Dean had had to listen to so many shitty renditions of rock songs that summer.Ā 

Ā 

In the dream, Sam was sitting on the bed across from him, practicing the fingerings on his recorder and blowing through the occasional note, in the middle of figuring out how to play Sweet Child Oā€™ Mine. Dean was sprawled on his own bed, buried in a shitty novel heā€™d nabbed from the library. He couldnā€™t concentrate on the story and kept thinking about the dwindling pile of cash Dad had left them and how there was no way it would last them for the two weeks Dad had said heā€™d be gone.Ā Ā 

Ā 

The dream shifted, in the way they always did. Dean was suddenly outside a bar, some dive he was still years too young to actually be in, not that the staff cared. He could feel his jacket hanging off him, too big like heā€™d always worn when he was younger.Ā  He ducked his chin into the popped collar, glancing up at the neon Coors sign hanging in the window.Ā 

Ā 

He was cold, he was hungry, and he was miserable. And desperately, desperately broke, with Sam just as hungry in the motel room across town.Ā 

Ā 

He was in the bar within a blink, peering through the dim space, the air hazy with cigarette smoke. The pool table was a bit busy, good ole boys gathered around sizing up their shots and slugging back beers. They had the hazy look of people whoā€™d had a few drinks; might be good marks. But they were also big so they might kick his ass once they realized what he was doing. It was a risk, for sure, but if he made out with even just twenty bucks to show for it, it would be worth it.Ā 

Ā 

He started to walk over and got distracted by the shoulders of the guy leaning against the bar. He glanced over just in time to catch Deanā€™s eyes ā€” a striking blue pinned Dean to the spot. For a split second, he wondered if he was desperate enough to try it with this guy. Heā€™d never done it before, not with a guy, not for money, never been desperate enough, but he felt desperate now.Ā 

Ā 

Dean hesitated, then lowered himself into the stool next to Blue Eyes, his stare boring into him the entire time. Dean had to steel himself before he could meet that gaze.Ā 

Ā 

He opened his mouth to speak and Blue Eyes cut him off.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean,ā€ Cas said, ā€œyouā€™re dreaming.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed, blinking down at the green jacket now covering his arms. He could feel it tighter around his biceps, pulling across his shoulders as he hunched over the bar. He could practically feel the wrinkles settling around his eyes, the fat and muscle lining his bones that hadnā€™t been there when heā€™d been a scrawny kid, wearing his dadā€™s hand-offs.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, I figured.ā€ He looked around the room again, spotting Charlie and Kevin sitting at a table in the back, Mom and Jody hunched over the bar around the corner. He couldnā€™t see Sam anywhere.Ā 

Ā 

He looked back at Cas. ā€œAre you really here?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas quirked his lips up in amusement, an expression Dean had watched Cas learn. ā€œWhat do you think?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean picked up the whiskey that had appeared in front of him. ā€œYou wouldnā€™t leave me, right?ā€ he asked, taking a large sip.Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™ hand came to rest on Deanā€™s arm. It was warm, solid, moving down his arm until Casā€™ fingers rested gently against the palm of his hand. ā€œOf course not.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean snorted, putting the glass down. ā€œYeah, thatā€™s what I thought youā€™d say.ā€Ā 

Ā 

_Ā 

Ā 

He woke up groggy, his eyelids glued together. He stayed in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, until he heard Samā€™s footsteps down the hall.Ā 

_

Ā 

They loaded into the car shortly after nine. Dean still felt exhausted, weariness dogging every step and pulling at his eyes. He hoped the coffee heā€™d been mainlining since heā€™d stumbled into the kitchen would kick in soon. He took comfort in the fact that Sam looked equally as exhausted, slumped in the passenger seat with his head against the window.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHowā€™d you sleep?ā€ Sam asked.Ā 

Ā 

Dean grunted in response.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, same,ā€ Sam said. He sighed and closed his eyes, keeping them closed while Dean pulled out of the garage.

Ā 

ā€œYou still shouldā€™ve told me, man,ā€ Sam finally said as Dean accelerated onto the highway.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI did tell you,ā€ Dean said. Sam had clearly been stewing over this all night, judging by the tight frown on his face. Dean hadnā€™t had enough coffee to have this conversation again.Ā 

Ā 

But Sam didnā€™t seem to care about Deanā€™s lack of coffee intake. If anything, Deanā€™s response seemed to energize him; he sat up straight to shoot Dean a glare. ā€œYeah, after you drove halfway across the country! Did you lose your phone?ā€

Ā 

ā€œNo, Sam, I just ā€” ā€

Ā 

ā€œHeā€™s my friend, too! Youā€™re not the only one whoā€™s been worried sick for the past year! I wouldā€™ve wanted to know you found him.ā€

Ā 

ā€œJesus, okay!ā€ Dean said. ā€œI wasnā€™t thinking straight, alright?ā€

Ā 

Sam muttered something under his breath, turning his head back toward the window. Dean shot him a hard look.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat was that?ā€

Ā 

Sam sighed, heavily. ā€œNothing, Dean.ā€

Ā 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the grass ticking by on the side of the highway. The road was fairly empty so far, beside the odd long haul trucker speeding along. But it was clear skies and sunny; Dean accelerated, watching the speedometer tick higher.Ā 

Ā 

Sam broke the silence abruptly, still staring out the window. ā€œI couldā€™ve met you down there.ā€

Ā 

Any weariness Dean had managed to shed flooded back in until he was even more tired than heā€™d been when heā€™d finally laid down the night before.Ā 

Ā 

Of course he knew he couldā€™ve called Sam. Things probably would have gone a lot better if he had; maybe with Sam playing peacekeeper, they wouldnā€™t have ended up having a fight in Casā€™ favorite diner. But it hadnā€™t occurred to him at the time; heā€™d seen Cas and everything else had fallen away.

Ā 

He could still picture the look on Casā€™ face, looking through the passenger window as they said goodbye. He couldnā€™t handle Sam being upset with him, too.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSam, I just. It didnā€™t go well, okay? He wasnā€™t exactly happy to see me.ā€ Dean thought about the look on Casā€™ face when he spotted Dean at the gas station, when he opened the door at his house. His little smile in the diner and how quickly it faded when Dean screwed it all up, just like he always did.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou managed to go to lunch,ā€ Sam said, ā€œwhat did you guys talk about?ā€

Ā 

Dean sighed. ā€œI donā€™t know, Sam, a bunch of stuff. We mostly argued, actually.ā€

Ā 

Sam snorted. ā€œWell, not much has changed, then.ā€

Ā 

ā€œSam,ā€ Dean said, pained.Ā 

Ā 

Sam lifted his hands in surrender, something that looked a little pitying in his expression.Ā 

Ā 

They drove in silence for a while longer. Dean tried to muster up the will to grab a tape, throw on the radio, anything to relieve the quiet. Radio would just be static now before the country station based out of Kearney started to edge through, every other word lost to the static. He hated that station anyway ā€” all a bunch of whackjobs twanging along about wanting to fuck their trucks or something ā€” but reaching for a tape seemed like too much effort.

Ā 

So he stewed, instead, watching the miles tick by. They were joined by a few more vehicles, mostly farmers in their pickups going into town. He had to slow down to ease past a tractor trundling on the side of the road, again going past a car pulled over with its hazards on.Ā 

Ā 

The road stretched in front of them, disappearing over the horizon, the engine thrumming along beneath them. Usually, driving calmed Dean down and he could feel a little of that peace settling on him, still. But there was a part of him that had been wound up tight since heā€™d spotted Cas in that gas station that refused to come undone, sitting like a stone in his gut.Ā 

Ā 

It was seeing Cas again, he knew, after doing his best to ignore the hole heā€™d left behind. Thereā€™d been a part of Dean that had honestly believed heā€™d never see Cas again; hell, for all heā€™d known, the nephilim or Lucifer or someone had killed the bastard a year back and Dean would never find out the truth, constantly haunted by a ghost that didnā€™t even have the decency to be real. When heā€™d imagined finding him, it hadnā€™t been anything like what heā€™d seen in California. That Cas had seemed content in a life that Dean could barely understand. Cas had never said heā€™d wanted that, to live in a house in a nice neighbourhood, go to the local restaurants, be a known person in the community. Those had always been Deanā€™s dreams, pushed down and away after the fiasco with Lisa and Ben when heā€™d truly come to understand that he had no place in that world.Ā 

Ā 

And here Cas was, less human than heā€™d been in years, raising his monster child in the fucking suburbs. It didnā€™t make any sense.Ā 

Ā 

He could feel Samā€™s eyes on him after a while, watching him. He felt his body tense up under the attention, his shoulders drawing up around his ears.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThis is really wigging you out, isnā€™t it?ā€ Sam asked, quietly.Ā 

Ā 

Dean threw him a glance, studying Samā€™s concerned face before looking back at the road. Dean sighed and sagged back into the seat, taking a hand off the wheel long enough to wipe a palm down his face.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI don't know, man,ā€ he said, ā€œitā€™s just not what I expected y'know? When we found Cas again, I mean.ā€

Ā 

Because of course Dean had thought about it, Sam knew him too well not to know that. Dean hadnā€™t known what the hell it would mean to rescue Cas from a nephilim, if it would even be possible, and so heā€™d found his daydreams turning to something a bit easier to grasp: finding Cas, bringing him back to the bunker. Heā€™d thought about having Cas around, always underfoot rather than somewhere off in the wind with no explanation of where he was going or why. Heā€™d thought about being able to swing by Casā€™ room, say good morning or goodnight, or sit on Casā€™ bed and watch a movie together. It was embarrassing, how much time Dean had spent thinking about it, the idea of just having Cas close nestling under his skin like a splinter: ever-present and painful to the touch.Ā 

Ā 

Dean thought about what he had expected ā€” to save Cas from this child, to take Cas home with him. He hadnā€™t expected that Cas would have found a new home in the meantime.

Ā 

ā€œHeā€™s really got a house?ā€ Sam asked after a moment.

Ā 

ā€œYeah.ā€

Ā 

Sam snorted a laugh. ā€œWho wouldā€™ve thought, huh?ā€

Ā 

Dean couldnā€™t help but laugh with him. ā€œNot me, man. Not me.ā€

Ā 

ā€œIs it a nice house?ā€

Ā 

Dean thought about what heā€™d seen of the placeā€”the stained glass window heā€™d just glimpsed in the kitchen, the living room cluttered with baby things. It seemed nice, more of a home than Dean had ever known growing up. It seemed like the kind of place a kid would like to grow up. ā€œYeah, seems like.ā€

Ā 

ā€œAnd the kid?ā€

Ā 

Dean shrugged. ā€œHeā€™s fine, too, apparently.ā€

Ā 

Sam started to smile. ā€œWhatā€™s his name?ā€

Ā 

ā€œJack.ā€Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

Cas was surprised to see them, if his expression was anything to go by. Dean knew Sam had let him know they were coming ā€”Dean had to admit, he would not have thought of using prayer like that . Dean had found he remembered the way back to Casā€™ little house well; with every turn, the dread churning in his stomach turned up another notch.Ā 

Ā 

But Cas didnā€™t seem like he wanted to bring up their less than stellar reunion a few days back. He opened the door when the Impala came to a rumbling stop in the driveway, blinking out at them in confusion. Sam practically burst from the car before it had even come to a complete stop, jogging up the pavement and sweeping Cas up in his gigantic arms. Dean watched them while he put the car in park; he could just see Casā€™ face, peeking over Samā€™s shoulders, so he could see when Casā€™ confusion melted into happy relief, when he closed his eyes and hugged Sam back. Dean blinked and looked away, focusing on turning off the car.Ā 

Ā 

He took his time, rolling up the windows, tucking his keys away. He didnā€™t look back up at the house again until he was fully out of the car, shutting the door quietly behind him.Ā 

Ā 

Cas and Sam had separated in the meantime, although they still stood close together. It made something twinge in Deanā€™s chest, that twinge heā€™d had since he was a teenager, watching Sam make friends in school, get invited over to their horses, sit with them at lunch. Dean hadnā€™t been friendless growing up, but heā€™d never really been close to anyone. He hadnā€™t seen much of a point in it, knowing theyā€™d split town soon, and itā€™d been hard to relate with kids whoā€™d never seen any of the shit heā€™d seen.Ā 

Ā 

But people at school had always seemed to like Sam; he tried to fit in there in ways Dean never bothered to, and it worked for him. It was why Sam always mourned when they left a town, no matter how short a time theyā€™d spent there, and Dean had always been hungry to go.Ā 

Ā 

He knew it wasnā€™t right to be a little jealous of how easily Cas and Sam got along nowadays ; if anything, he should be grateful. He remembered how theyā€™d been back in the early days: Cas always saying the wrong thing, leaving Sam half awe-struck, half ashamed. But theyā€™d been through some shit together, stuck through some shit together, shit even Dean hadnā€™t been certain theyā€™d make it through. He remembered too, when he was going to nuke Amara, and how heā€™d known that Cas would take care of Sam after he was gone. That theyā€™d always be there for each other, forever, and the comfort that had brought him.Ā 

Ā 

But it still stung a little, seeing them be so easy with each other when he and Cas always seemed to rub each other the wrong way eventually. Cas had been his friend first, hell, maybe Deanā€™s first friend ever. It felt like they should be easier with each other than that. Dean couldnā€™t even remember the last time Sam and Cas had fought, outside of that civil war clusterfuck, and that hadnā€™t even been about the two of them, not really.Ā 

Ā 

Maybe Dean had just missed something growing up, something that Sam had learned. About how to relate to people, even people from different species, that Dean never picked up.Ā 

Ā 

The only person Dean could remember having that kind of ease with, all the time, was Benny. And considering how that had turned out, he wasnā€™t about to label that a success.Ā 

Ā 

He hadnā€™t even gotten to hug Cas, he realized. And now it was too late.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean?ā€ Sam asked. ā€œYou coming?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean made himself look away from the car ā€” Sam was standing alone now by the open door, Cas having disappeared off somewhere inside. He was looking at Dean with a concerned expression.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah,ā€ Dean said, ā€œjust a sec.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean grabbed the bag out of the backseat and made his way up the driveway, his stomach roiling. Sam opened his mouth, probably to say something sympathetic, when Cas reappeared in the doorway.Ā 

Ā 

Their eyes met and Dean felt that same jolt he always did, like heā€™d missed a step on the stairs. Cas didnā€™t say anything, looking at Dean for a long moment before he quirked his lips up in a small smile.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHello, Dean,ā€ he said, quietly.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, Cas,ā€ Dean said, clearing his throat. He felt some of his nerves ease, fading away with the knowledge that Cas didnā€™t seem to hold a grudge for how theyā€™d parted last time.Ā 

Ā 

A loud squeal interrupted them and Dean jerked his head down; Cas had brought the kid out with him. Jack was staring at Sam with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open a bit.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGuess heā€™s never seen a giant before,ā€ Dean said, grinning when Sam rolled his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWeā€™re practically the same height,ā€ Sam said, but Cas cut him off succinctly by placing the kid unceremoniously in Samā€™s arms.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHe likes you,ā€ Cas said. Sam gaped at him, his eyes jerking between Cas and the kid, who seemed immensely satisfied in his new position, going by the dopey smile on his face.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWait, what, uh, Cas, I-I donā€™t,ā€ Sam stammered, his eyes wide. Dean recognized that face, made it himself once or twice in fact. It was the classic look of a person faced with the sudden responsibility of not dropping an infinitely fragile tiny human.Ā 

Ā 

That face was also frankly hilarious, at least when someone else was wearing it.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œRelax, Sam,ā€ he said, trying not to laugh, ā€œheā€™s stronger than god, I think heā€™d be fine if you dropped him.ā€

Ā 

ā€œNot funny, Dean,ā€ Sam hissed, shooting Cas a worried look. Dean swallowed another laugh.Ā 

Ā 

Cas seemed unperturbed by it all; he stepped closer to Sam, gently rearranging his grip until he was holding the kid securely.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHe likes you,ā€ Cas said, again, looking the two of them over with a clearly content expression. The anxiety started to fade from Samā€™s face, his mouth quirking up in a hesitant smile.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œReally?ā€ he asked, focusing on the kid. The kid made a little noise, like a smaller version of his attention grabbing squeal, and Samā€™s smile broke out into a full grin.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOf course, he does,ā€ Cas said. His face was painted with fondness, eyes flicking between Samā€™s face and the kidā€™s. Occasionally, that glance would come to rest on Dean; the fondness remained.Ā 

Ā 

He looked good. Astoundingly, he wasnā€™t wearing the same thing he had been a few days back ā€” Dean had half-expected heā€™d just replaced his default outfit with some other dad-lite default. His clothes today were on the same theme, though ā€” comfortable jeans, a little thready at the knees, a checkered button up. It suited him, somehow, paired well with the fond expression on his face as he watched Sam and Jack.Ā 

Ā 

Dean swallowed and looked away. He cleared his throat again and tried to get his bearings.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œUh,ā€ he said, and didnā€™t miss how Casā€™ eyes immediately jumped to him. It made Dean shift uncomfortably. ā€œWe, uh, we got you some stuff.ā€ He hated how it sounded more like a question than a statement.Ā 

Ā 

Cas tilted his head to the side. ā€œYou did?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah,ā€ Dean said, ā€œwe figured we should, what with all this.ā€ He gestured vaguely toward the house, a movement mostly lost by the fact he had to keep holding onto his bag.Ā 

Ā 

Clearly, all meaning had been lost as well; Cas just looked more confused.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™s a human tradition,ā€ Sam said, his eyes still locked on Jack, as if afraid heā€™d disappear if he looked away. ā€œWhen someone gets a new house, you get them stuff for the house. Same when someone has a baby, their friends and family get them things for the baby.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™ confusion cleared away and the fondness returned. He glanced between Sam and Dean, clearly touched.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThat was very kind of you, but unnecessary,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œJust take the stuff, man,ā€ Dean said, holding the bag out.Ā 

Ā 

Cas took it, pulling the items out one by one. The first was a Nerf gun, lovingly selected by Dean over Samā€™s protests. Cas tilted his head again, flipping the box over to study the picture of the kids wielding the toys and shooting the shit out of each other. He looked up from the box to look at Jack, his eyes narrowed.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThank you,ā€ he said, although he seemed unsure he should be saying it. Dean had a sudden vision of Jack using the toy ā€” when he was old enough to actually hold it, whatever, Sam ā€” and Cas staring on stoically as Jack shot him in the chest over and over. Any reservations Dean may have had about buying it completely disappeared in the face of that hilarious mental image.Ā 

Ā 

Cas turned back to the bag, making a pleased sound when he pulled out the roadkill looking stuffed animal blanket thing that Sam had bought, apparently better known as a Buddy Blanket.

Ā 

ā€œWeā€™ve been watching Paw Patrol,ā€ Cas said, confidingly, rubbing his fingers in the blanket. It was very soft, Dean had to give it that, even though he still thought it was creepy as hell. ā€œJack will enjoy this.ā€Ā 

Ā 

The hat was next, a tiny little knit thing with the logo for the Steelers embossed on it, which didnā€™t really make sense considering theyā€™d bought it in Wyoming. Cas squinted at it, then nodded seriously.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThis will be useful in the fall; Jack gets cold easily.ā€ He paused, shooting the kid a considering look. ā€œThough I wouldnā€™t say heā€™s a Pittsburgh fan.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean blinked. ā€œYou know what that is?ā€

Ā 

Cas blinked back at him. ā€œYou donā€™t?ā€

Ā 

ā€œYeah, I know what it is,ā€ Dean blustered. It was true, kind of . He knew they were a football team and thatā€™s about all he cared to know. ā€œJust surprised you do.ā€

Ā 

ā€œI do watch sports, Dean,ā€ Cas said. He sounded like a slightly disapproving teacher; it was unfortunately very endearing.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWait a minute, you do?ā€ Sam said, finally coming back from whatever world heā€™d been on since he realized the kid wanted to be held by him to rejoin the conversation. A good thing too, it saved Dean from digging this hole any deeper.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOf course,ā€ Cas said, now sounding slightly offended.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhen?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

Cas suddenly looked shifty. It was always such a funny expression for a million year old being to have it almost made Dean burst out laughing.Ā 

Ā 

Cas sighed, looking down at the ground. ā€œI didnā€™t realize the cultural importance some Americans placed on football,ā€ he said, somewhat conspiratorially, ā€œit was an all-day event.ā€

Ā 

ā€œHoly shit,ā€ Sam said, with a laugh, ā€œyou watched the Superbowl?ā€

Ā 

Dean couldnā€™t help but laugh too ā€”the image of Cas at some unsuspecting familyā€™s house, squinting at the football players running around on the screen, taken aback each time a goal was made and everyone around him went ballistic. That was something Dean would have paid money to see.

Ā 

Cas nodded, seriously. ā€œI enjoyed the halftime show, although I could have done without the nationalism.ā€

Ā 

ā€œHey,ā€ Dean said, ā€œitā€™s the great American past-time, you gotta have some flag waving.ā€

Ā 

ā€œDean, thatā€™s baseball,ā€ Sam said.Ā 

Ā 

Dean stared at him. ā€œWhat?ā€

Ā 

ā€œThe great American past-time, itā€™s baseball.ā€

Ā 

ā€œSam is correct, Dean,ā€ Cas said seriously, adopting his teacher-voice again.Ā 

Ā 

Dean held his hands up. ā€œOkay, whatever, I donā€™t actually care. I hope the kid likes the hat.ā€

Ā 

ā€œHe is only a year old. His preferences will change over time,ā€ Cas said, ā€œbut heā€™ll appreciate the warmth.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas reached the bottom of the bag, drawing out the last gift ā€”a bottle of wine. Dean hoped it wasnā€™t complete shit; neither he nor Sam knew anything about wine. But it had a label he figured Cas would like: a sketch of a mountain meadow, complete with a peaceful stream and surrounding wildflowers. If you looked close enough, you could just see some bees.Ā 

Ā 

Cas inspected the bottle, a smile breaking across his face when he saw the label.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThis will do nothing for me,ā€ he said, looking between them, that smile still on his face, ā€œbut thank you. You didnā€™t have to do this.ā€

Ā 

ā€œNah, Cas, we-we wanted to,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™ eyes shifted to Dean, lingering. ā€œThank you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean nodded, mutely, suddenly unable to speak. Cas looked at him a moment longer before his gaze shifted back to Sam.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWould you both like to come inside?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

Dean and Sam exchanged glances. Dean felt suddenly unsure. Theyā€™d come all the way out here because Sam had wanted to see Cas, but it still didnā€™t seem right to linger. Cas had made his decision, hadnā€™t he? There was a clear boundary between the lives that Dean and Sam led and the life that Cas had here in sunny California. It didnā€™t feel proper to track any of that into Casā€™ house, even if Cas was the one inviting them in.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSure,ā€ Sam said, following Cas into the house, Jack still held securely in his arms. Dean stepped inside the house last, shutting the door behind them. There was a little pile of bags beside the door, leaning against the wall; Dean could just see a brightly patterned towel sticking out the top of one.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou going somewhere?ā€ Dean asked, gesturing at the bag. It looked like the blanket had little crabs on it.Ā 

Ā 

Cas glanced down at the bag. ā€œWe were planning to go to the beach today.ā€ He hesitated. There was something uncertain in his eyes, and something else Dean couldnā€™t quite figure out.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou could come with us,ā€ Cas finally said, eyes flicking between them, ā€œif you want.ā€Ā Ā 

_

Ā 

Somehow, they ended up at the beach, though Dean still didnā€™t really understand why. Cas got into the car with a minimum of complaining this time around, holding Jack securely in his arms. It was a short drive to the beach, but it was early enough it wasnā€™t totally packed and Dean easily found a spot to park.Ā 

Ā 

Cas was extremely prepared ā€”nautical themed towels were spread across the hot sand, a rainbow beach umbrella stood at an angle to produce the largest amount of shade. Jack was placed gently in the middle of one of the towels, a tiny tilley hat on his head.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Sam had changed at Casā€™ place, unearthing a pair of shorts from somewhere. Dean couldnā€™t remember ever owning a pair of shorts other than the shitty cut-offs he used for washing the car and had opted to stay in his jeans. Cas had changed into swim trunks, some kind of bright yellow abomination in a weird pattern ā€” Dean had to stare for a few moments before he figured out it was actually corn kernels all over. Cas pushed sunscreen on both of them, patiently slathering it all over Samā€™s back.Ā 

Ā 

Dean laid back on the blanket, staring at the odd picture they made. It was creepily domestic: Cas and Sam exchanging words too quietly to be heard over the sound of the waves, Jack sprawled on his back beside Cas and waving his limbs in the air. Cas had a wicker sun hat perched on his head, despite the fact that Dean was certain he couldnā€™t actually get a sunburn.Ā 

Ā 

Cas finished up with Sam and turned to Dean. His expression went a little hesitant as he held the bottle of sunscreen out to Dean.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shook his head. ā€œNah, Iā€™m good.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas frowned at him, holding the bottle out a little more forcibly. ā€œAt least cover your face.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œMy face is fine.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas eyed him narrowly. ā€œDo you want to know the rates of skin cancer among those who donā€™t use sunscreen?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed and gave in.Ā 

Ā 

Being here was weird. Dean couldnā€™t remember the last time heā€™d been to the beach. Hell, he couldnā€™t remember being to the beach at all, not outside of a job that brought him near to one. Heā€™d never really seen the point of going; he wasnā€™t exactly the type to put on a speedo and frolic in the waves, or read a book under an umbrella getting sand in his junk. Though he couldnā€™t deny heā€™d thought about it before ā€” him, Sam, Cas, even Mom, toes in the sand, soaking up the sun. It sounded nice, like something a normal family would do.Ā 

Ā 

Well, Mom wasnā€™t here and Luciferā€™s baby was, so. It wasnā€™t quite how heā€™d pictured it.Ā 

Ā 

Other people were also on the beach, families spreading out with their kids, people settling down with books, some groups of friends clearly breaking out the beers which Dean wouldnā€™t mind doing himself. Sam had taken a book out from somewhere and kept tilting the cover away so Dean couldnā€™t see what it was. Dean snorted and gave up, turning back to Cas.Ā 

Ā 

Sometime in the past few minutes, heā€™d lost his shirt, though the sun hat remained. Dean was subjected to the broad stretch of Casā€™ shoulders, the play of muscles in his arms and chest, shifting gently as he tickled Jackā€™s stomach. His face was angled away but he could just see how Casā€™ cheeks pulled up in a smile.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shoved his sunglasses on his face and closed his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

He almost fell asleep right there, the heat of the day eased by the breeze coming off the water. It had been a long drive and the blanket was oddly comfortable on his sore back, though he was sure heā€™d regret lying down when they had to leave. But it was good, for now.Ā 

Ā 

Dean jerked to full consciousness at a loud shriek, sitting bolt upright. Cas and Jack were perched at the edge of the blanket; Jack was clearly the source of the noise, letting out another shriek as Dean watched. Dean looked at Cas, but he didnā€™t seem freaked out or worried, though he did have a wary look about him, glancing around furtively, as if waiting for something to happen. Dean followed his gaze around the beach, but there didnā€™t seem to be anything out of the ordinary, just the same crowd of people, give or take a few, that had been there before he laid down. He glanced back at Cas and Jack, curious.Ā 

Ā 

Jack was sitting up, balanced by Casā€™ hand on his back. His hands were stretched out in front of him, as if he wanted to touch the sand. But the sand itself ā€” it was moving before their eyes, shifting and piling on itself to reach upwards, forming shapes. As Dean watched, a depression started to form, sand falling away and building up in columns, all without a hand even touching it.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIs he making a sand castle?ā€ Sam asked. He was staring just like Dean was, mouth agape.Ā 

Ā 

Castiel nodded, his eyes still tracking up the beach for a moment longer before he seemed to be satisfied no one was staring at the baby making sand castles with his mind.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI think he was inspired by our bedtime story last night,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

Dean and Sam watched as one of the towers crashed down, only to reform into one more complex, complete with arches and a peaked roof. Dean swore he could see tiny windows in it, like the little windows archers used to defend castles.Ā 

Ā 

Dean had almost forgotten what the big deal was about Jack. Cas kept throwing around words like powerful and grace and hunted, but Jack had seemed like a fairly normal kid as far as Dean was concerned. He ate, he slept, he shit ā€” or at least, Dean assumed he did, judging by the stockpile of diapers heā€™d seen by Casā€™ door. All regular baby things. The only thing heā€™d done that other babies couldnā€™t was heal Casā€™ grace, but it wasnā€™t like Dean could see that.Ā 

Ā 

Seeing Jack manipulate his surroundings with nothing more than a wave of his hand...that was something else entirely.Ā 

Ā 

Sam seemed less thrown by it all; after a brief moment of hesitation,Ā  he dug into Casā€™ bag and came up with a plastic cup and went to join them by the sand. Sam patiently gathered the sand in the cup, digging down until he could find the wetter sand. Then he quickly turned the cup over and pulled it off, leaving behind a cup-shaped mound. Jack seemed enthralled, clapping his hands together excitedly before flapping them. Another sand mound, shaped exactly the same, sprouted beside Samā€™s.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, thatā€™s it,ā€ Sam said. ā€œLetā€™s make another.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean watched Sam gathering more sand into the cup and wondered if Sam had been to the beach before, maybe while he was at Stanford. Maybe he and Jess and some of their other friends had gone to the beach and drunkenly made sand castles, indulging their younger hearts and unaware that Sam was doing it for the very first time.Ā 

Ā 

Sam was now patting the sand gently, encouraging Jack to do the same. Jack mimicked him, gingerly at first but growing more confident after he did it a few times.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHeā€™s good with children,ā€ Cas said, settling down next to Dean.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, he is,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

Sam and Jack had turned back to the castle now, Sam using his cup to make simple sand mounds and Jack making complex towers and spires spring fully formed from the ground. Anyone walking by would probably assume Sam was some sand sculpture genius with Jack as his little prodigy in training.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHow does he know what a castle looks like?ā€ Dean asked, eyeing the new arched gateway springing up before them.Ā 

Ā 

Cas shook his head ruefully. ā€œThere was a documentary on TV the other week. I thought he was asleep but I guess he absorbed it anyway.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean snorted. ā€œYeah, no kidding.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack whined suddenly, his face twisting up in distress; Cas sprung to his feet, hurrying over. Sam has a hilarious look on his face, his hands up in the air as if Cas was accusing him of something.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t know what I did,ā€ Sam said.Ā 

Ā 

Cas shook his head, gathering Jack in his arms. ā€œYou didnā€™t do anything, Sam. Heā€™s an infant in a very big world. He just gets startled sometimes.ā€ Cas knelt in the sand, rocking softly as Jack calmed down.Ā 

Ā 

Dean could count on one hand the number of people he knew who would know what to do with a baby and he never figured heā€™d have to add Cas to that list. Hell, heā€™d seen Cas with a baby before, flipping out because she had a little fever. There was a world of difference between that guy, stressed and sweaty and hurting, and this one, casually holding Jack against his chest with none of the awkwardness heā€™d had then. Heā€™d held that baby in Rexford like he was holding a bomb that would go off at any moment. He held Jack like heā€™d never get tired of it, like holding him was what his arms were for.Ā 

Ā 

Jack calmed, sighed, and laid his head on Casā€™ shoulder, crumpling his little hat in the process. Cas tilted his own head down over Jack, his face close to Jackā€™s . It was the kind of image Dean expected to find on some mommy blog raving about her husband, the baby whisperer.Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked away and caught Samā€™s eyes; he was staring straight at Dean with a peculiar look on his face.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNothing,ā€ Sam said, in that tone of voice that implied both that it was Something and Dean was an idiot for not understanding. It had annoyed Dean when Sam had started sounding like that as a snot-nosed ten year old and it annoyed him now.Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed and laid back down, determined to ignore it. The sound of the ocean waves coming in was relaxing, even as foreign as it was for someone whoā€™d spent most of his life in landlocked states. He could hear the chatter of the other people around them, bursts of laughter here and there, the shouts of kids down the beach, seagulls crying to each other overhead. Dean was suddenly thankful for the umbrella; it would be just Deanā€™s luck to have one of those bastards decide to take a shit all over him.Ā 

Ā 

But it was peaceful, even with the ambient noise. Dean felt sleep tugging at him again; he folded his hands over his chest and sighed, letting himself sink further into the blanket.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThis is going to sound weird,ā€ Samā€™s voice suddenly said. ā€œBut I expected him to be...I donā€™t know, stranger. I guess.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean slit his eyes open behind his sunglasses to peek. Sam was leaning toward Cas, his elbows balanced on his crossed knees. Jack was still slumped into Casā€™ shoulder but his head was tilted, clearly looking at Sam. As Dean watched, Sam reached out with one hand, Jack immediately grabbing a finger. Sam and Cas both smiled.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHow do you mean?ā€ Cas asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI just mean, knowing what he is. I guess I thought it would be more obvious, like youā€™d be able to see it. But if he hadnā€™t done all that,ā€ Sam said, gesturing at the sand castles, ā€œheā€™d just seem like another kid.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Sam was distracted looking down at Jack, now gumming away at his finger, so he didnā€™t see Cas glance over at Dean. Dean froze in place, knowing his barely open eyes would be hidden by his sunglasses and also knowing that there was no way Cas wouldnā€™t notice that he was awake and listening. Cas looked at him for a long moment, but turned back to Sam without ratting him out.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™re thinking about the demon blood,ā€ he said. Dean froze at the same time Sam did, his face going white as his eyes jumped up to Casā€™. Dean screwed his eyes shut just before Sam looked toward him, for all the good it would do. If Cas knew he was awake, Sam definitely would; no way he wouldnā€™t know when Dean was faking sleep after all the motel rooms theyā€™d shared. But Dean continued to pretend and the fiction seemed to give them all the cover they needed for Sam to sigh, soft and shaky, and say, ā€œYeah. Yeah, I am.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSam,ā€ Cas said, clearly picking his words carefully. ā€œI know you often felt...ostracized as a child. Like you were different from the others.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah,ā€ Sam said, his voice still hushed, ā€œI-I mean, I didnā€™t know until years later. I still donā€™t know when Dad found out. When I was growing up, I just thought it was always being the new kid in school, yā€™know? But later, I figured that maybe. Maybe people could tell. Like it was obvious I was...impure. And that was why.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean kept his eyes closed, his muscles relaxed, absolutely determined not to react and let whatever was happening here play out. Sam never really talked about stuff like this, not anymore. Maybe because theyā€™d talked it to death between themselves, maybe because Sam thought he should be over it by now. It hurt, to know Sam was still carrying that burden and to know that Dean himself hadnā€™t helped to alleviate, no matter how many conversations theyā€™d had.Ā 

Ā 

The thing was, Dean had felt the same way for so long. Like there was something rotten inside him, some poison that he could never get out. But Dean had inflicted that on himself with the life he lived and the way he lived it, the things heā€™d done. The way he was all twisted up inside, the anger, the self-loathing, that was just how he was; he didnā€™t know how to change it, so he had to live with it.Ā 

Ā 

But that wasnā€™t Sam. That wasnā€™t Samā€™s burden to carry.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSam,ā€ Cas said, his voice grave and hushed. ā€œYou were not and have never been impure. What was done to you as a child, it was a violation, one no child should ever have to bear. But it didnā€™t stain you or corrupt you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean squinted his eyes open again, hardly daring to, but needing to see Samā€™s face. His expression was all twisted up, his brow furrowed tightly, his lips pressed together. It was that particular expression he made when he was trying not to cry, the one heā€™d made since he was a little kid, and it made Deanā€™s heart squeeze in his chest.Ā 

Ā 

Cas paused, then gently pressed Jack to Samā€™s chest. The kid went eagerly, practically squirming his way into Samā€™s arms and settling immediately against his chest with a happy sigh. Samā€™s grip was more confident this time around; the about-to-cry face faded, replaced by something softer as he looked down at Jack.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou were just as pure as Jack is,ā€ Cas said. He sounded absolutely certain. ā€œPure, and good, and full of promise. There was ā€” is ā€” nothing strange here.ā€ He rested one palm against Jackā€™s back and another on Samā€™s arm. ā€œOkay?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOkay, Cas,ā€ Sam said. His smile was a little watery. ā€œThanks, man.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked at the little tableau they made, all three connected. Cas was practically glowing, lit up by sunlight and compassion. There was something a little lighter around Samā€™s shoulders, a burden temporarily removed so you could almost forget he was carrying it at all. Dean let his eyes fall to the kid, still contentedly cuddled up against Sam, cooing softly.Ā 

Ā 

Maybe the kid wasnā€™t so bad, after all. Not if he could help Sam feel a little better.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

Dean managed to actually fall asleep, sometime after Sam and Cas transitioned to talking about a movie Dean had never heard of. He vaguely heard them get up at some point, Sam saying something about going down to the water to which Dean grunted in response. Then he was left in peaceful quiet, the sound of the waves and distant humanity around him.Ā 

Ā 

A shadow fell over him suddenly, blocking out the sun. Dean squinted his eyes open and found himself looking up at Cas standing above him. He was still very shirtless, Dean noted uncomfortably.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œJack wants a snow cone,ā€ Cas said, very seriously.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOkay?ā€ Dean said, blinking blearily. He pulled the sunglasses off his face to rub his eyes.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Cas just kept standing there. ā€œDo you also want a snow cone?ā€

Ā 

ā€œHell, yeah,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

Cas flopped back down on the towel beside him, stretching out. He wasnā€™t quite covered by the shade of the umbrella, the sunlight stretching across his chest and shoulders. ā€œThen you can go get them. Jack wants a blue one.ā€

Ā 

Dean sighed and hauled himself up onto his elbows, using the motion to force his eyes away. He looked toward the water and saw Sam and the kid making their way toward them up the hot sand.

Ā 

ā€œSam!ā€ he shouted. Samā€™s eyes shot up to him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat?ā€ he called back.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat flavor do you want?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Sam reached them, kneeling on the towel. He set the kid down gingerly on his feet. Jack took some toddling steps over to Cas and flopped down on his stomach, Cas exhaling at the impact.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCan you just get me a water?ā€ Sam asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSuit yourself. Cas?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t need to eat or drink,ā€ Cas said, his voice slightly muffled by Jackā€™s hand, currently doing its best to cover Casā€™ mouth.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCā€™mon, thatā€™s no fun,ā€ Dean said, ā€œIā€™m getting you one of those twisty potato things.ā€ And if Cas only ate one bite and Dean got to have the rest of it, he wouldnā€™t exactly complain.Ā 

Ā 

Cas fended Jack off long enough to look up at him and smile. ā€œThank you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

The concession stand wasnā€™t far and the line wasnā€™t too bad. Standing there waiting for the food, he realized that he stuck out like a sore thumb here. Everyone else was wearing tiny bathing suits and little sandals, while Dean was still wearing his t-shirt, jeans, and boots. Even the stand attendants werenā€™t as covered.Ā 

Ā 

It made Dean shift uncomfortably, the hot midday sun beating down making his clothes sticky with sweat. He felt suddenly like people were staring, wondering what the hell this guy who didnā€™t know the dress code was doing here. He took the food with relief and hurried back.Ā 

Ā 

One advantage of boots on sand ā€”he couldnā€™t feel the heat. Though he despaired of ever getting all the sand out of them.Ā 

Ā 

When he got back, Jack was standing balanced on Casā€™ chest, Cas carefully supporting him. As he got closer, Sam reached over and started tickling Jack's pudgy little belly. Jack giggled uproariously, kicking his little legs. Even Cas was smiling. Dean didnā€™t think he was imagining the butterflies that seemed to be springing into being from nothing around their umbrella.Ā 

Ā 

Sam grabbed the water bottle from the crook of his arm before Dean had to figure out how to hand everything over. Cas sat up, settling Jack in his lap before pausing to eye Dean.Ā 

Ā 

Right, the kid was too young to feed himself and Cas only had two hands and couldnā€™t handle a snow cone, a potato on a stick, and a kid all at once.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWould one of you like to help Jack?ā€ Cas asked.Ā 

Ā 

Dean wasnā€™t sure what his face was doing, but it must have been serious enough that Sam jumped after an almost imperceptible pause.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI can do it,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

Jack got settled in Samā€™s lap and Dean passed over the snowcone. After a few tries, Sam managed to get the spoon in Jackā€™s mouth, to his apparent delight.Ā 

Ā 

Dean handed the potato over to Cas. ā€œYou had one of these before?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas eyed it dubiously. ā€œI havenā€™t had occasion, no.ā€ But he took it, considering it for a long moment before taking a small bite.Ā Ā 

Ā 

In the end, Jack only had two bites of his snow cone before he wanted to play in the sand again. Dean ended up being stuck with eating the half-melted remnants of the snow cone as well as the majority of the potato thing.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIs my tongue blue?ā€ he asked Cas, opening his mouth wide.Ā 

Ā 

Cas chuckled. ā€œVery.ā€

Ā 

Dean managed to sneak another short nap, Cas reading Samā€™s book while he and Jack played down by the water, before Jack got tuckered out. Apparently even very powerful babies needed nap time, at least according to Cas.Ā 

Ā 

Jack didnā€™t seem to agree, judging by the fuss he started to kick up.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™ll feel much better after a nap,ā€ Cas said. Jack flailed his arms and whined in response.Ā 

Ā 

And that seemed to be their cue to leave. Dean glanced at Sam, only to find him already looking. The tension that had been easing in his shoulders was back, a frown twisting his brows. Dean looked back to Cas and saw a similar expression on his face.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWeā€™ll help you pack up,ā€ Dean said and got to his feet, shoving his feet back in his sandy boots.Ā 

Ā 

Dean and Sam shook out the towels while Cas packed up the kid; soon enough, they were back in the car, stuff safely stowed and Jack wriggling in Casā€™ arms in the back.Ā 

Ā 

It was just easing into late afternoon now, hours left until the sun set. Plenty of time to get back on the road and head toward home, now that Samā€™s curiosity had been sated. Cas had been surprised but not upset to see them, and he was meeting Deanā€™s eyes whenever he glanced at him in the rearview. Whatever lingering bad feelings there had been after their fight were clearly buried. It had been a surprisingly peaceful day, all around. Part of Dean was glad heā€™d come back.Ā 

Ā 

But another part of Dean hadnā€™t managed to entirely settle and still felt discomforted in this town, with this Cas. That part wanted to be back on the highway, the road stretching before him into the distance, the sun beating down, loud music on the radio. He glanced in the rearview again, but Cas wasnā€™t looking back this time; he was busy looking down at Jack, who was drowsing grumpily in his arms, face stubbornly creased despite Casā€™ gentle touch on his cheek.Ā 

Ā 

Dean turned his eyes back to the road.Ā 

Ā 

Harris St would be the best way out of town from Casā€™ place; a couple turns and then heā€™d be back on the 101, heading south to the 36 and then straight out east. They could spend the night around Reno, maybe stop to make some money. Or they could even push on through if Sam napped in the first leg and took the second.Ā 

Ā 

He glanced at Sam, blinking slowly in the passenger seat. It made Dean think about how tired he was, surprisingly so. He wasnā€™t as young as he used to be but driving like heā€™d done lately wasnā€™t usually enough to wipe him out this much. Must have gotten too much sun down at the beach.Ā 

Ā 

It wasnā€™t enough to stop him getting out of Dodge, and certainly hadnā€™t been in the past; there were plenty of times heā€™d gotten behind the wheel after a grueling hunt, running on fumes and caffeine. But by the time he was pulling into Casā€™ driveway, heā€™d mostly made peace with telling Sam theyā€™d grab a hotel for the night rather than driving straight out.Ā 

Ā 

Sam nodded along, seemingly unsurprised. Dean hadnā€™t expected for Cas to roll his eyes, pausing halfway out of the car. Deanā€™s stomach only just had a half a chance to start to sink to the ground when Cas said, ā€œYouā€™re welcome to stay here.ā€ Then, he unceremoniously got out and headed toward the house.Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked at Sam, who huffed a laugh and got up to follow Cas.Ā 

_

Ā 

They got pizza for dinner; Cas couldnā€™t recommend any places in the area other than Garyā€™s so it seemed like the best option.Ā 

Ā 

Cas vetoed any fun movies, at least until Jack had gone to sleep for the night, so they were stuck watching some Disney Dean had never seen. Dean had made an argument for James the Giant Peach but the suggestion was shut down because it was too ā€˜creepyā€™. Samā€™s proposal of Chicken Run had gotten a brief moment of consideration from Cas, which Dean assumed was Cas checking his mental catalogue of pop culture courtesy of Metatron because he refused to believe that the guy had watched Chicken Run but still hadnā€™t seen Wrath of Khan.Ā 

Ā 

It wasnā€™t long after the movie ended that Cas started putting Jack to bed. He paused by Dean and Sam on his way back to the nursery.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSay goodnight, Jack,ā€ he said. Jack blinked sleepily up at them, yawning with a little squeak.Ā 

Ā 

Dean wasnā€™t sure what to say, so he settled on a wave, wincing as he did so. Sam was no better; his aborted hug turned into a pat on Jackā€™s head. Neither Jack nor Cas seemed to mind, both seeming pleased enough as they toddled away.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™re so awkward,ā€ Sam muttered.

Ā 

ā€œShut up,ā€ Dean said.

Ā 

Kid in bed meant the good stuff could come out; they still ended up watching Finding Nemo.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThis movie sucks ass,ā€ Dean complained.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI like it,ā€ Cas said, mildly, tucked carefully into the rocking chair heā€™d pulled into the room from the nursery. Dean sighed and settled down to watch.Ā 

Ā 

Dean was beat when the credits finally rolled, his eyes barely staying open. Sam seemed in the same boat, slumping over beside him on the couch.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou got a bed around here?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo, I didnā€™t see the point,ā€ Cas said. ā€œYouā€™ll have to share the couch. It pulls out.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean groaned internally, heaving himself up to help Cas pull out the futon while Sam grabbed some blankets from the closet. He hadnā€™t shared with Sam in a long time, not since Dad was still around, and that was back before Sam cracked six feet. Tonight was not going to be comfortable.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Somehow, the two of them managed to cram themselves onto the thing. It creaked under their weight and Samā€™s feet stuck over the edge unless he tucked himself into a fetal position, which left Dean squeezed out to the edge of the mattress. He figured itā€™d take him a while to fall asleep but he blinked one minute and was gone the next.Ā 

Ā 

He woke up suddenly sometime in the night. He stared around in confusion, wondering what woke him, until Sam kicked him again.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSam,ā€ he grumbled, shoving him. Sam, clearly still asleep, grunted and rolled away.Ā 

Ā 

Dean blinked blearily around the room, pitch black except for the nightlight in the hall and the dim moonlight shining in through the window. He froze when he saw a figure by the window.Ā 

Ā 

It was just Cas, he realized, even as his heart rate rose from fright. He was sitting in the rocking chair next to the window, moonlight just illuminating his silhouette. Dean could just spot a book open in his hands.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGo to sleep, Dean,ā€ Cas said softly, and Dean did.Ā 

Ā 

Dean woke with a jolt in the morning, the breath driven from his lungs by a sudden weight. He opened his eyes to see an up-close view of Jack, with Samā€™s grinning face swimming above him. Jack was fully sitting on his chest, smiling and babbling.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGood morning, sleepyhead,ā€ Sam said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI canā€™t breathe,ā€ Dean said, glaring up at Sam.Ā 

Ā 

Sam snorted. ā€œHeā€™s not that heavy.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack let out a shriek of delight and clapped his hands to Deanā€™s cheeks. Images flashed suddenly before his eyes: a man heā€™d never seen before with a scar on his face, Sam shooting a gun, and Cas, Cas everywhere ā€”smiling underneath the stained glass in the kitchen, yelling something incomprehensible with firelight dancing on his face, snarling with a blade in hand, staring down at him teary eyed, and staring up at him beside a pond, a peaceful smile on his face, his hand in Deanā€™s. And underneath it all, a feeling of love so staggering, pure and uncomplicated, that Dean could only remember feeling as a child before Mom died.Ā 

Ā 

Dean gasped at the touch of a palm on his face. He was again in the living room of Casā€™ house, sitting up on the futon. Cas was beside him, a hand against Deanā€™s cheek.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean?ā€ he asked, ā€œare you alright?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean nodded, his eyes jumping around the room. Sam was standing a few feet away, holding Jack. Deanā€™s eyes rested on the kid; he was staring at Dean with his head cocked to the side. His face was far too serious for a baby.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat happened?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t know,ā€ Sam said, concerned, ā€œyou just spaced out. You sure youā€™re okay?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked at Jack again. Those images, theyā€™d seemed so real, like Dean was really there. He could still hear the crack of the gun, feel the heat of the flames, the skin of Casā€™ hand. Could it be ā€”

Ā 

Dean shook himself, making himself grin up at Sam and Cas. ā€œNothing, just had a weird dream. You got coffee?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean didnā€™t let them stay much longer after that, making the requisite noises about getting started early to avoid traffic, how long a drive it was. Both Sam and Cas were throwing him looks full of barely-concealed concern but they were kind enough not to bring it up.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThanks for letting us stay, Cas,ā€ Sam said as they walked out.Ā 

Ā 

Cas smiled at them both. ā€œOf course.ā€ Jack waved from his position in Casā€™ arms; the seriousness of his expression had faded over the course of the morning. He looked completely normal again, drooly and pleased.Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked at them, one last time, as he pulled out of the driveway. Cas and Jack were framed in the doorway; Cas lifted a hand in a wave, meeting Deanā€™s eyes, and then they were gone as Dean drove away.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThat was nice,ā€ Sam said.

Ā 

ā€œHm,ā€ Dean said and stayed silent for the next fifty miles.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

Dean didnā€™t mean to come back.

Ā 

He and Sam had made the long haul back to the bunker and it wasnā€™t long before they picked up another hunt. Theyā€™d met up with Mom on the way, finally wrapping it all up in New England, and sheā€™d joined them. For a little while, things had felt good.Ā 

Ā 

Dean let himself get distracted by the life, the routine of hunting so deeply ingrained in his bones he could do it on autopilot. It was a comfort in some ways; no matter what else was going on, he could always count on hunting some monster down to take him out of his head.Ā 

Ā 

The problem was, there wasnā€™t always something to do.Ā 

Ā 

As usual, Sam had done his job almost too well. Organizing the hunters to take out the Men of Letters had changed things. People seemed more coordinated in general now; people kept in touch or got in touch, even people Dean had never heard of before, phone numbers passed on from friends of friends. A lot of the time, it was easier to delegate than drive twelve hours themselves ā€” no sooner would Dean find something that looked like a case than Sam knew someone nearby who could take it.Ā 

Ā 

Maybe it was just them who had changed; Dad had never been the most talkative guy and Dean knew that he often rubbed people the wrong way. The only hunters heā€™d known growing up were the people who Dad hadnā€™t managed to piss off. Hell, even Bobby had been more personable than Dad and that wasnā€™t saying much. But since Mom came back, since the Men of Letters, it seemed like this whole new world had opened up. A hunting community that theyā€™d only ever caught glimpses of at the Roadhouse but never really been a part of.Ā 

Ā 

All that seemed to be left for Dean to handle were the ghosts. Nothing difficult or interesting, nothing like a bucket list item like Whaley House or the Winchester Mystery House. Just run of the mill hauntings, sad or scared people clinging to the life they no longer had and unable to move on, slowly turning angry and mean. And here Dean was, digging them up and putting them to rest, just like heā€™d been doing when he was a teen.Ā 

Ā 

The latest one brought him to the border of Nevada and California, near Fallon. Heā€™d been driving up from another ghost in Crystal Springs when heā€™d spotted the mention in the local paper of a guy who said heā€™d been chased out of his house by an intruder, only for the gossip-y waiter to lean over his shoulder and loudly whisper that it was the guyā€™s dead wife, apparently. Itā€™d barely taken half the night to button it up.Ā 

Ā 

Which didnā€™t explain why Dean was pulling up outside Casā€™ house the next morning.Ā 

Ā 

It was still early and the neighbourhood hadnā€™t quite woken up yet. A quick check of his watch showed that it was actually Saturday, which partially explained the empty streets.Ā 

Ā 

Dean pulled into the driveway, wondering why he was doing this at all. He should be heading home now, hitting the long road between here and Kansas; instead he was sitting in Casā€™ driveway, questioning his life choices.Ā 

Ā 

He didnā€™t have anything to show for himself this time ā€” he couldnā€™t exactly remember deciding to go to Casā€™ but heā€™d known somehow that if he stopped anywhere on the way, chances were that heā€™d take the turn towards the highway instead and be in the next state over before he stopped. Even now, he could barely make himself get out of the car.Ā 

Ā 

Itā€™s not like Dean had forgotten about Cas or the kid. Outside witchcraft, he didnā€™t think there was any way he could ever forget about Cas. Every quiet moment, heā€™d found his mind turning back to this place; the house, Casā€™ face, even the kid. Inevitably, heā€™d find something that reminded him of Cas in every place he went: an ugly yellow car on the street, an unseasonable raincoat, a warm smile on a scruffy face, a man bent over his child.Ā 

Ā 

And he couldnā€™t forget those images heā€™d seen that morning before theyā€™d left. Theyā€™d all run together in Deanā€™s mind, getting more and more jumbled as time passed. He couldnā€™t really pick out specifics anymore but it had left him with a sense of urgency, of unfinished business. He remembered what Cas had said, that Jack had shown him visions of peace in the future and that was part of the reason Cas had chosen to run away with him. It left him wondering now ā€”had Jack shown him all the future? And if so, why?Ā 

Ā 

Dean ran out of steam and courage as he reached the front porch; he slumped down on the stairs, watching the sun track across the street. The curtains of the house across from him twitched to the side, some nosy neighbor peeking out hurriedly. Seemed like Casā€™ neighbors didnā€™t take kindly to the rumbling of a loud engine at 8 in the morning on a Saturday.Ā 

Ā 

Dean sat for about five minutes, enjoying the quiet of the street, before the door behind him creaked open. Cas stepped out, wrapped in a fluffy blue bathrobe and looking at him curiously.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean, what are you doing here?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI just ā€”ā€ Dean sighed, looking down at the porch so he wouldnā€™t have to look into Casā€™ eyes. Casā€™ feet were bare; Dean didnā€™t think heā€™d ever seen him without shoes before. ā€œI donā€™t really know, man.ā€

Ā Ā 

Cas didnā€™t say anything. After a long moment, during which Deanā€™s stomach roiled, Cas came to sit beside him on the step. Dean could just see him out of the corner of his eye, knees propped up and hands folded together. He could tell Casā€™ face was angled toward him, watching Dean, before he turned to face the street.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhatever the reason,ā€ Cas said, ā€œIā€™m glad to see you.ā€

Ā 

They sat in silence for a little bit. The neighborhood was starting to wake up around them; Dean could hear doors opening and closing and a jogger ran past with their dog. Birds were tweeting in the trees around them, a particularly loud crow somewhere nearby cawing incessantly. Cas didnā€™t seem affected by any of it, seemingly content to sit beside Dean and absorb it all.Ā 

Ā 

Finally, Cas asked, ā€œWhat were you doing, before?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHunting,ā€ Dean said, ā€œI was down south then found a ghost on my way home.ā€

Ā 

ā€œAnd then you came here.ā€

Ā 

Dean sighed, looking down at his hands. ā€œYeah. I came here.ā€ Though god knew why. Dean still couldnā€™t make it make sense to himself. He snuck a glance at Cas; he was still staring out into the street, a distant look in his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean, I never want you to feel unwelcome anywhere I am.ā€ Cas hesitated, reluctance heavy in his tone. He looked at Dean and managed to catch Deanā€™s eyes before Dean could look away. ā€œBut thereā€™s a reason I stayed away.ā€

Ā 

Dean felt his chest go a bit tight. ā€œEnlighten me.ā€

Ā 

Cas sighed. ā€œI told you it wasnā€™t safe, not for Jack. Iā€™ve warded this place as best I can, but thereā€™s still danger out there. Things that would gladly take Jack and use him for their own purposes.ā€

Ā 

Dean looked down at the ground, unable to keep meeting Casā€™ eyes. ā€œSo, what, you think Iā€™m putting him in danger?ā€

Ā 

Dean could see Casā€™ hands tighten their grip on each other before relaxing. ā€œThatā€™s not what I meant. I meant that, because of what Jack is, danger will follow him. Itā€™s an unfortunate aspect of his life. Iā€™d like to protect you from that.ā€

Ā 

Dean made himself look at Cas. The sun was starting to beat down now, that California early summer heat beginning to gather in the air. It streamed across Casā€™ face, highlighting all the fine lights on his face; it made him look tired and a bit lost.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThatā€™s not your job, man,ā€ Dean said, ā€œyouā€™re not supposed to protect me.ā€

Ā 

Casā€™ expression turned wry, something warm in his eyes. ā€œWhy, because thatā€™s your job?ā€

Ā 

Dean frowned at him, unsure what to say. Because Cas was right, it was his job, had been since he was a kid. Protect his family and take out the ghost. Protect his family and save those civilians. Protect his family and find the money for the weekā€™s rent. But always, always, protect his family.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Cas continued to look at him, sympathy in his eyes. ā€œDean, youā€™ve spent your whole life trying to protect people. Sam, your family, everyone. Please donā€™t stop me from repaying the favor.ā€

Ā 

The word rubbed Dean the wrong way.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™s not a favor, man, itā€™s ā€” ā€ what he was supposed to do. He wasnā€™t doing anyone a favor, he didnā€™t really even expect gratitude. It was just a job, messy and hard, just like anyone elseā€™s.Ā 

Ā 

He thought there was something noble in hunting when he was younger. That it made him a hero, to risk his life for others, to put the nasty creeps in the dark down. Now, he knew it was harder than that, more complex. Sometimes the monster wasnā€™t the thing with fangs. But hopefully, at the end of it all, it meant something and he helped more than he hurt. A net positive, or whatever. That would make it all worth it.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNot a favor, then.ā€ Cas hesitated. ā€œYouā€™ve said weā€™re friends. Family. You protect your family.ā€ Cas paused, as if waiting for Dean to understand without him having to say anything else.Ā 

Ā 

And Dean did, he knew what Cas was trying to say. It just pissed him off a little, a flare of anger washing over his anxiety.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shook his head, looking back out at the street. ā€œDude, donā€™t turn it back around on me. Saying you left me ā€” us, you left us, because of us? To protect us? Thatā€™s why you left me and Sam unconscious in the sand, to keep us safe? You know that doesnā€™t make sense.ā€Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean, Iā€”ā€ Cas sighed. ā€œI know I hurt you. And Iā€™m sorry for that, I truly am. I never want to hurt you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWell, you always seem to do it,ā€ Dean muttered and immediately wanted to take it back.Ā 

Cas flinched away, clenching his jaw and looking out across the road. He didnā€™t protest, didnā€™t say that wasnā€™t fair. He never did, never bothered to try to defend himself when Dean ran his mouth and said shit like that, even when Dean knew he was doing it just to hurt Cas back. A lot of time, it made Dean mad, as if Cas cared so little he wouldnā€™t even bother to fight back. Now, it just made him sad and ashamed.Ā 

Ā 

Dean swallowed, cleared his throat, but the apology wouldnā€™t come out. ā€œWere you just gonna stay gone forever? Were you ever gonna come back?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas was looking away from him now, staring determinedly across the street. ā€œI couldnā€™t. Not if I wanted to keep Jack, keep you, all of you, safe.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed, slumped forward over his knees. ā€œSo, Iā€™m just supposed to pretend I never saw you, huh? Leave you to this and go back to my life.ā€ He snorted a bitter laugh. ā€œGotta say, this is not how Iā€™d thought this would end.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas finally looked back at him, something curious in his eyes. ā€œHow did you think it would end?ā€

Ā 

Bloody , Dean thought. Violent . Dean never expected heā€™d go out any other way. But heā€™d hoped for more, for Sam, for Cas. Maybe Sam could slow down a little, have a life. Maybe not the apple pie life, but a life. And hell, Cas was immortal, at least when he wasnā€™t hanging around with Winchesters. He could live forever. Dean wasnā€™t completely certain what heā€™d doā€”he couldnā€™t imagine Cas going back to Heaven now, not forever, even if theyā€™d ever bend enough to let him back in. But heā€™d be alive long after Dean was gone; thatā€™s all that really mattered to Dean.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t know,ā€ Dean said. ā€œNot this.ā€

Ā 

Cas sighed, too, mirroring Deanā€™s posture. ā€œI know this isnā€™t what you expected, Dean. But Iā€™ve found, in the past few years, that things hardly ever turn out how we expect them to.ā€

Ā 

Dean huffed a laugh, staring down at the ground. ā€œYou got a point.ā€

Ā 

They sat in silence for a bit longer. Dean let himself enjoy it; the birds, the sounds of people waking up around them, Casā€™ quiet breaths. He'd likely never be back this way again. Never see Cas again. It hurt like a bitch, but if thatā€™s how it had to be, thatā€™s how it had to be. Dean wasnā€™t gonna whine about it.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI am truly sorry, Dean,ā€ Cas said eventually, ā€œI know it may not always seem like it, but I don't actually enjoy fighting with you.ā€

Ā 

ā€œYeah, me neither,ā€ Dean said with a laugh. He bumped Cas with his shoulder; Cas looked up at him long enough for them to exchange smiling glances.Ā 

Ā 

The neighborhood was truly coming to life now. A minivan drove by, a pack of kids stuffed in the back and a clearly already stressed mom driving. Some guy in crocs and a dressing gown was out watering his flowers. Someone walked by with their dog, waving genially at them as they went. Dean could hear a lawnmower starting up in the distance.Ā 

Ā 

It was like stepping into TV Land or a dream. Nowhere Dean belonged.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGuess I should head out, then.ā€ Dean stood slowly, brushing off his jeans. His knees protested after so long bent in one position.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean,ā€ Cas said. Dean turned to see Cas looking at him with a stricken expression.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI ā€” ā€ Cas stopped himself, staring at Dean for a long moment. Dean was about to say something when he seemed to reach a decision. ā€œWould you like to come in? Just for a little while.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked at him, considering. ā€œThought you said that wasnā€™t a good idea, me staying.ā€

Ā 

ā€œJust for a little while,ā€ Cas said again. ā€œI know Jack would be pleased.ā€

Ā 

And there was a whole other problem. The kid. Dean liked him well enough, he thought. He was cute and he seemed sweet, endearing in the way all babies were. But seeing Cas with him, it did something to Dean. Something as simple as Cas holding or feeding Jack could be like staring into the sun. Dean found himself constantly having to look away, his chest tight with a feeling he couldnā€™t work out. He wasnā€™t sure how much of that he could take.Ā 

Ā 

But Dean didnā€™t want to leave, he could at least admit that to himself. He wanted to stay, to see Cas, to talk with him, just fucking sit silently next to him. Even just for a little bit.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, okay.ā€

Ā 

Cas seemed relieved, a smile spreading across his face.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOkay.ā€

Ā 

And they went inside.

Ā 

_

Ā 

There were many times that Dean had wished for the opportunity to just hang out with Cas. Theyā€™d managed it before, squeezing it in between apocalypses and personal crises, but theyā€™d so rarely had time to spend time together for the simple sake of spending time together. Heā€™d missed it.Ā 

Ā 

Of course, it was different with Jack there. Dean had never had much cause to be around babies. Hell, heā€™d never spent much time with kids in general and the ones he had were at least old enough to hold a conversation. Jack was an expressive baby, which meant a lot of staring, babbling, or shrieking, but you couldnā€™t exactly hold a conversation with him yet. That didnā€™t stop Cas, though; he responded to any sound Jack made as if it was a fully formed sentence, absolutely in tune with Jackā€™s needs. Dean had to wonder if something was going on there, if Jack was using images to communicate with Cas, if he could do that even without a touch.Ā 

Ā 

Because he knew that vision, or whatever it was, had to have come from Jack. Heā€™d known it as soon as he walked into the kitchen and saw the light coming in from the stained glass window, illuminating Cas at the coffee machine. The lighting, the look on Casā€™ face ā€”it was all the same as heā€™d seen in the vision. He shot a glance at Jack, sitting in his high chair with a toy, and saw Jack already watching him, something Dean would call curiosity on his face.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean?ā€ Cas asked. He was suddenly standing next to Dean, holding out a mug of coffee.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThanks,ā€ Dean said, shoving down his apprehension. He took a swig of the coffee. It somehow tasted exactly the same as the stuff from Garyā€™s; thick tar that Dean choked down with a rough swallow.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThatā€™s vile,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSorry,ā€ Cas replied with a wince.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shrugged and took another swallow. Caffeine was caffeine, even if it tasted like Cas was trying to poison him.Ā 

Ā 

Dean spent most of the day chatting with Cas or watching Cas with Jack. Heā€™d forgotten how needy babies were, all these years after Sam had grown. Dean remembered going through the same motions with him ā€”the feedings, keeping him occupied, playing, putting him down for naps, bathing. It was a full-time job, but one Cas seemed to have mastered. He didnā€™t ask Dean for help, maybe picking up on some of Deanā€™s discomfort, but he shot him glances every now and then, as if wanting to make sure Dean was still there.Ā 

Ā 

Dean watched Cas get up to put Jack down for a nap and wondered how the hell heā€™d done any of this with Sam when theyā€™d been young. The fact that Sam had made it out of toddlerhood in good health was a fucking miracle.Ā 

Ā 

Dean wandered around the living room, waiting for Cas to come back. The space was still mostly empty, bare aside from the playpen, the couch, the TV, and Jackā€™s toys strewn around the floor. Dean hesitated, glancing over his shoulder down the hall. He could faintly hear Casā€™ voice coming from the other room, speaking in that reasonable tone he used when trying to convince Jack to do something he wasnā€™t sure he wanted to do. The kid must not want to sleep. Cas had the right idea, though; heā€™d be a nightmare later if he didnā€™t get some sleep now.Ā 

Ā 

Dean turned back to the toys, quietly picking them up and placing them in the toy trunk in the corner. With that cleaned up, the room looked even more spartan. It could pass as a show home, if the realtor had decided to fill it with furniture they found on the side of the road instead of some nice stuff.Ā 

Ā 

He wandered a little bit, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he poked around. The only thing that caught his eye were the few photos on the mantelpiece above the fake fireplace. Dean paused next to them, looking them over. Claire was posed in one frame, mugging it up for the camera, clearly a selfie sheā€™d sent Cas at one point. Dean stuttered to a stop at the next one, grabbing it. It was the photo of all of them with Ellen, Jo, and Bobby from the first apocalypse, right before their failed attempt to kill the devil and Ellen and Joā€™s deaths. Dean stared at it. Theyā€™d all looked so young back then; Jo and Sam had still just been kids. His eyes lingered on Jo and Ellen, jumping over to Bobby. He wished he could remember them like this ā€” not happy, exactly, but determined, purposeful ā€” instead of how theyā€™d been at the end.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWe finally got him in the end,ā€ Dean murmured, dragging his fingers across their faces. He sighed and put the photo back down.Ā 

Ā 

The next photo was equally as surprising because Dean recognized it; not just the picture, but the frame as well. Heā€™d seen it just a few weeks ago on a shelf in Samā€™s room.Ā 

Ā 

Theyā€™d taken it about six months ago, right around Christmas time, when all four of them ā€” Mom, Dean, Sam, and Eileen ā€” had ended up in one place by accident. Dean had spent the weekend with Mom tracking down a rawhide in Brooklyn, Michigan and been heading back to the bunker when a snow storm hit, forcing them to pull off and get a room at a shitty motel. Somehow, in the type of innocuous miracle that usually never happened to Dean, it was the same motel Sam and Eileen had been staying in, coming back from their own hunt.Ā 

Ā 

Theyā€™d spent the night holed up together in a room, passing around shitty beers and pizza, watching crappy holiday movies on TV. Sam had snapped a photo at some point before the power had cut out. Sam was in the foreground, his arm around Mom, both of them cheesing it up for the camera. Behind them, Dean could see himself and Eileen huddled together on one of the beds. Eileen had been teaching him how to swear in sign language, he remembered.Ā 

Ā 

Sam must have come back for another visit, he realized. No other way this exact photo had made it here.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™s a lovely photo,ā€ Cas said from behind Dean. Dean jumped a little, turning to face him; heā€™d come back in so quietly that Dean hadnā€™t heard him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, it was a good night,ā€ Dean said, distractedly putting the frame back on the mantelpiece. ā€œSam come by often?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œA few times,ā€ Cas said. ā€œHe and Jack have a...connection. I believe Sam empathizes with Jackā€™s position.ā€Ā Ā 

Ā 

Dean remembered that day at the beach; he could get how Sam would feel empathetic toward a kid who lost his mom as a baby and who was born with abilities from a source of evil. It wasnā€™t quite Samā€™s own story but it was close enough. It made sense Sam would want to visit the kid, see how he was.

Ā 

He and Sam hadnā€™t talked about Cas or Jack since that day. Dean figured it was Sam trying to be kind; heā€™d noticed how quiet Dean had been on the drive back and had left him alone about it. He wondered when Sam had decided to come back and why he hadnā€™t said anything to Dean about it. He wondered if Sam had gotten the same talk about it not being safe to visit.Ā 

Ā 

He didnā€™t ask Cas about it, just in case the answer was no.Ā 

Ā 

The last photo was larger than the others, portrait size. It was a headshot of Kelly, smiling into the camera. It was recent, Dean thought, probably taken around the time that heā€™d met her. He honestly didnā€™t remember her very well; theyā€™d only met a couple of times and thereā€™d been a lot going on each time. Looking at the photo now, he realized that Jack had her eyes.Ā 

Ā 

Cas reached forward and carefully picked up the photo. He cradled it gently in his hand.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWe took this at the cabin up in Washington,ā€ he said, ā€œwe wanted something for Jack to remember her by.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean remembered that place, the cabin by the water. Theyā€™d searched the house and the property from top to bottom. He remembered the mural in the bedroom upstairs, clearly meant to be a nursery, filled with scattered baby supplies and a half built crib. The cabin had been dusty, a little shabby, but nothing a little TLC wouldnā€™t have fixed.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIt was a nice place,ā€ Dean said. ā€œI can see why you guys picked it.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas smiled sadly. He was still looking at the photo. ā€œKelly liked it. She felt at peace there. I thought if there was any place to raise her son, to ā€” ā€ he glanced quickly at Dean before looking away, ā€œto let her rest, it was there.ā€ He stroked his thumb over Kellyā€™s face before replacing the frame.

Ā 

A piece of a puzzle Dean hadnā€™t even known he was trying to solve dropped into place. Of course, of course that was it. It explained so much, so many of the unanswered questions that Dean hadnā€™t wanted to ask. Why Cas had gone off with Kelly in the first place, why he was here with Jack now, even why there was an underlying current of sadness in his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

Cas had fallen in love with Kelly, some kind of love at first sight thing. Dean remembered barging into the motel room theyā€™d been shut away together in and for the first time he wondered what heā€™d been interrupting. He remembered how Kelly had stuck close to Cas, how sheā€™d held his hand at the park, how Cas had placed himself determinedly between her and Dagon. He remembered, unwillingly, a part of him shying away from it, how the cabin had had only one bed. A fact that didnā€™t necessarily mean anything, considering Cas was an angel who didnā€™t need to sleep. But, looking at it from where Dean stood now, it was just another part of a larger pattern.

Ā 

Dean swallowed, studying the photo. She really was beautiful; sheā€™d seemed kind, from what Dean could remember. He hadnā€™t known her well but from what heā€™d seen, he could understand why Cas would have fallen for her.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œShe seemed really nice,ā€ Dean said, ā€œIā€™m sorry.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™ gaze came back up to him; his lips quirked in a soft smile, barely there. ā€œThank you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean said his goodbyes shortly after, staying just long enough for Jack to wake from his nap on Casā€™ insistence. Jack had still been blinking sleepily in Casā€™ arms when Dean walked out the door, blearily waving goodbye when Cas told him to. The two of them saw him off from the porch, Cas holding Jack up so they could both watch Dean pull away.

Ā 

Dean found a hunt on his way out east; some vamps living it up in Vegas, gambling and blood-sucking the night away. It was the kind of case that Dean would usually live for but he hadnā€™t been able to muster up any kind of enthusiasm for it, his mind turning to that little house in California over and over, like a loose tooth.Ā 

Ā 

Cas had fallen in love, something Dean hadnā€™t even known he could do. Dean hadnā€™t even figured that Cas could feel that kind of love; heā€™d spent so many years experiencing every other emotion under the sun, Dean had figured heā€™d given that one a pass. But here he was, love turned to grief after only a few short weeks.Ā 

Ā 

Maybe this had been there along and Dean had just missed it. Maybe Cas had come around to the idea of a happy life: a house, 2.5 kids, a dog, a wife. Heā€™d sure pursued it eagerly enough after Kelly came into the picture; how long had he been wanting that secretly, never mentioning it?Ā 

Ā 

And he suited it, was the thing. Dean could see how well he fit into that house, how heā€™d adjusted his life to fit around Jack and his needs. Cas seemed content, pleased to bring a smile to Jackā€™s face by reading him a story or feeding him a snack or passing him a toy. He loved that kid, Dean could see it, loved him with a passion that was staggering, clear as the sky was blue.Ā 

Ā 

Dean finished the hunt, slicing the last few vamps with extra viciousness. He slumped in the car afterward, bloody and tired, leaning across the seat with a sigh.Ā 

Ā 

He shouldnā€™t be so fucking surprised by this. The signs had all been there, heā€™d just been too blind to see them. Or maybe he had seen them; he just hadnā€™t wanted to understand them.Ā 

Ā 

Because heā€™d thought about it, hadnā€™t he. He and Cas in a little house with white siding, maybe a wrap-around porch. Sitting outside with Cas at night, watching the stars, Cas droning on about the constellations while Dean tried not to fall asleep. Making dinner in their kitchen, Cas patiently trying every dish Dean made. And going to their bed, the one they shared, at night, sleeping the whole night through in Casā€™ arms.Ā 

Ā 

Dean had lost track of the number of times heā€™d had to imagine just that, Cas next to him in the dark, his arms around Deanā€™s waist, just to be able to fall asleep at night.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d told himself it wasnā€™t possible, that he and Cas didnā€™t want the same things. It had been easier to think that Cas just didnā€™t feel love like that, than to acknowledge that Cas didnā€™t feel love like that for Dean. Dean couldnā€™t miss what he never had a chance of having.Ā 

Ā 

It was all moot, anyway. Dean knew he didnā€™t suit that life, the life of a civilian. Heā€™d tried it once, with Lisa and Ben, taking advantage of their kindness to shove his way into their lives. All it had led to was destruction and pain. And heā€™d figured it wouldnā€™t matter anyway, the fact that Dean couldnā€™t have that life. After all, Cas couldnā€™t have it either, too strange and alien to do so. If neither of them fit, at least they didnā€™t fit together, equally alike in their abnormality. He should have known Cas would succeed where Dean had failed.Ā 

Ā 

Dean heaved himself up from the seat and went to get a room for the night. He told himself heā€™d drive back to the bunker in the morning when he didnā€™t feel like death. So he didnā€™t have an excuse when he turned west instead of east, heading determinedly back to California.Ā Ā 

Ā 

The door was open when Dean arrived, Cas and Jack out on the porch. Cas didnā€™t seem surprised to see him, smiling at him while Jack waved.Ā 

_

Ā 

It was the beginning of a routine that Dean didnā€™t quite understand. Cas had told him that it wasnā€™t safe for Jack, for Dean, for anyone, if he visited. And sure, Cas had made some mistakes over the years, same as any of them, but he wasnā€™t usually cautious without good reason. Hell, Cas wasnā€™t usually cautious at all, throwing himself wholeheartedly into things that would give even Dean pause. So Dean knew there was a reason for it now.Ā 

Ā 

But he missed Cas, whenever he was on a hunt. And more and more, he missed Jack too.Ā 

The kid had grown on him surprisingly quickly. Dean still felt awkward around him but he was getting used to it; it didnā€™t take him by surprise anymore when Jack looked at him intently and Dean got a sudden desire to put on Peppa Pig or eat some banana. He was content to stay on the periphery, watching as Cas took care of Jack. Dean was happy to help make the food if Cas fed the kid. He could pick up the toys that Jack tossed and give them back but if the tears started to come in, that was Casā€™ job. Dean knew what he could do and what he couldnā€™t and Cas seemed happy enough to toe that line.Ā 

Ā 

Most of the time, Jack just wanted Cas anyway. The kid seemed to get looser with his control when he was sleepy and when it got close to nap time Dean would find his mind dancing with images of Cas, larger than life and glowing, until Cas picked Jack up to take him to the nursery.Ā 

Ā 

It was when Jack would get quiet that Dean was most uncomfortable. Sometimes, the kid would just go sad and Dean would feel the growing urge to call Mom and check in, along with an itch under his skin. Cas would gather Jack up into a big hug in those moments, coming to sit next to Dean on the couch.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHe misses his mother,ā€ Cas told him after one of those moments, looking unspeakably sad.Ā 

Ā 

Dean dared to reach out, during one of those moments, gently running his fingers through Jackā€™s hair. It was the first time Dean had touched him since that morning with the visions. He wasnā€™t sure if it helped, but Jack sighed and settled deeper into Casā€™ chest.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m sorry, kid,ā€ Dean said, his heart twisting in his chest. He wasnā€™t sure if it was his imagination that the mood in the house lightened a little quicker that day.Ā 

Ā 

Dean wasnā€™t really sure what he was doing, coming and going, a transient presence in their lives. Jack always seemed excited to see him, Cas quietly pleased beside him. Cas didnā€™t bring up Dean leaving again, past that first day, though sometimes heā€™d look at Dean, something a little considering, a little wary, in his face. But he never said anything so Dean decided to take what he could get before Cas realized the mistake he was making.Ā 

Ā 

_



ā€œYou feel like a werewolf, a rawhead, or a revenant?ā€ Sam asked as soon as Dean walked into the war room. He was annoyingly awake.Ā 

Ā 

Dean rubbed his sleep-bleary eyes. He hadnā€™t seen Sam much in the past few weeks. Theyā€™d taken advantage of being in the bunker at the same time to stay up late catching up on the latest season of The Walking Dead. Dean had crawled into bed sometime after 1, still broken up over Glenn.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDude, did you sleep?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah,ā€ Sam said, slowly. ā€œDean, itā€™s almost noon.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean grunted, sitting at the table and hunching over his coffee, slurping it down with desperation. Sam snorted.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou want me to leave you two alone together?ā€ he asked with a laugh.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œShut up, Sam,ā€ he muttered and took another loud sip.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWerewolf,ā€ Dean said after a moment. ā€œFull moonā€™s soon.ā€ And it had been weeks since heā€™d gotten to do anything that wasnā€™t a ghost.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThen youā€™re heading to Colorado Springs,ā€ Sam said, ā€œhave fun.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Colorado Springs wasnā€™t too far. If he left soon he could hit town around nightfall and do some poking around. There was still about a week before the full moon; heā€™d probably just be able to button it up in time.Ā 

Ā 

And then heā€™d already be heading east. He could just keep pushing on, heading out further and further until he hit the ocean.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou gonna see Cas after?ā€ Sam asked, apparently having developed the ability to read minds sometime in the night.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Deanā€™s eyes snapped to him; he wasnā€™t even looking at Dean, seemingly totally absorbed in his laptop. ā€œWhat?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Sam snorted, glancing up at him. ā€œDude, youā€™re not subtle.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI ā€” look, I donā€™t know. Maybe,ā€ Dean said. He wasnā€™t sure how heā€™d given himself away; they still hadnā€™t talked about Cas and Jack, although Dean knew Sam had been by again and Sam must know the same about him. He felt uncomfortably exposed, having it dragged into the light.Ā 

Ā 

He knew what he was doing wasnā€™t right. It wasnā€™t right for him to use Cas ā€”and increasingly, Jackā€”as some stop gap or fix. He knew he wouldnā€™t have the normal life heā€™d wanted and heā€™d made his peace with that. He knew he wouldnā€™t grow old with Cas beside him and heā€™d made his peace with that, too. But everytime he went to see them, he could pretend that he could have it all, for at least a few hours, before he returned to reality. He could look at Cas and let himself, for a few minutes at a time, just the tiniest sliver of time, that Cas could be his.Ā 

Ā 

It was terrible, wishing for that with Cas while Cas was clearly still grieving Kelly. Everytime he did it, he worried that Cas would see, somehow. If he did, that would be the end of it, Dean knew that. Either Cas wouldnā€™t let him come back or Dean would stop coming, too ashamed to look Cas in the eye or be anywhere near Jack.Ā 

Ā 

As more time went on though, the more Dean knew: he wouldnā€™t be able to stop himself from coming back, no matter how ashamed he felt. Cas would have to make him go.Ā 

Ā 

But Sam didnā€™t seem interested in having a heart to heart about any of it. He simply threw Dean an amused look and said, ā€œWell, if you do, tell him I said hi. And give Jack a hug for me. Oh, and tell Cas I checked out that podcast he mentioned and it was really good.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œUh, yeah, sure.ā€ As if Dean was going to encourage their dorky podcast hobby. Cas had gone on and on about some podcast episode about bees; Dean had listened to him because he was a sap, but heā€™d definitely caught Jack nodding off. ā€œYā€™know, you could just tell him yourself.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Sam grinned at him. ā€œYeah, I will.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean snorted and took an exaggerated slurp of his coffee, just for the joy of seeing Sam shudder.Ā 

_

Ā 

When Dean pulled into the driveway, he could see Jack and Cas on the small front porch. Cas was sitting on the front step, looking very human in his casual clothes, sprawled with one knee up on the front step. Dean could just see Jack past him, toddling slowly around the front porch from railing to railing. Both of their heads perked up with the approach of the engine and Dean could just see Jack flailing his arms. As soon as he got out of the car, he could hear Jackā€™s excited babbling, not yet forming into recognizable words. Cas responded to it anyway, saying ā€œYes, Deanā€™s here.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack shrieked loudly enough it scared a bird in the giant tree by the road. Dean bit down on the automatic smile; he waved as he approached the porch, a grin breaking out when Jack waved back so hard Cas had to catch him so he didnā€™t fall over.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, Cas.ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

Cas smiled at him, that gummy one Dean secretly always wanted to see, wide enough that his eyes crinkled. It always hit Dean in the gut, making him breathless, every time Cas welcomed him so easily. Dean was the interloper here, he was the one who didnā€™t belong, trying to force himself into a spot he didnā€™t fit. But Cas never treated him like that, always appearing happy to see Dean. ā€œHello, Dean.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, kid,ā€ Dean said to Jack, settling beside Cas on the front step, leaning back on the railing. The box of muffins heā€™d brought went beside him, nestled against his hip.Ā 

Ā 

Jack waved at him frantically, toddling over and semi-falling against Deanā€™s shoulder. Dean brought up a hand, pressing it against Jackā€™s back to keep him steady. As always, a little lump formed in Deanā€™s throat at the warm press of that tiny body against his.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCareful, kid. I know youā€™re the most powerful baby ever but I bet falling down still sucks,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

Jack giggled against him and Dean could feel the kidā€™s emotions start to seep into him through the tough. He was happy, blisteringly happy. To be outside, to see the birds jumping around in the front yard, to have Cas close, to see the Impala, even, but mostly to see Dean. There was that familiar moment of dual sensation, Dean both within and outside his body at the same time. Within his body, he could feel how this jacket was a little tight around his shoulders, could feel the uncomfortable clammy sweat building up on his skin. But he could also feel his soft little hands pressing against the hard cloth of Deanā€™s jacket, little fingers running along the mend Dean had put in the arm of it last week when the werewolf had taken a swipe at him.Ā 

Ā 

He felt safe and happy. In the end, Dean wasnā€™t certain if those were Jackā€™s feelings or his own.Ā 

Ā 

He looked back up at Cas, who was watching them with a soft smile, a smile which grew when he caught Deanā€™s eyes.Ā 

Ā 

Maybe it was both him and Jack. And maybe that was fine.Ā 

_

Ā 

They spent the afternoon out there, Dean slowly baking under the California sun and talking with Cas about nothing at all. This little porch on this particular afternoon felt like an oasis. It didnā€™t feel right to bring up any of the hunts Dean had been on recently or to wade into any painful territory. Cas seemed genuinely happy for once, that sad undertone missing from his smile. So Dean talked about about the dumb action movie he and Mom had seen recently, about the long-ass book he was reading, ribbed Cas for gossip about the neighbours, and basked in the mischief in Casā€™ eyes when he spilled the beans about Nathan and Josephā€™s latest antics.Ā 

Ā 

Jack continued to toddle around between them, leaning against one or the other between circuits. He seemed to be getting a bit steadier everytime and there was a surprisingly focused look on his face, for a baby. It was almost like he was practicing, like he knew he wanted to get better at walking as fast as he could.Ā 

Ā 

One moment Dean was watching Jack toddle around the porch, the stuffed bunny toy Sam had gotten him held unsteadily in one hand. The next moment, Jack and toy were gone, with a familiar fluttering sound Dean hadnā€™t heard in years.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shot up out his slouch.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat the fuck?ā€ he said, craning his head around as if heā€™d find Jack hiding in the shrubs beneath the front window. Since when had Jack been able to fly? Jesus, he could be fucking anywhere. He might not even be on the same continent and how the hell was he going to know how to get home?Ā 

Ā 

Cas sighed and rolled his eyes, apparently not feeling any of the panic that was descending on Dean.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHang on,ā€ he said, and also disappeared with a flutter.Ā 

Ā 

Dean sat there on the porch alone for a second, feeling like an absolute idiot with his legs sprawled out and the box of muffins still beside him. He was just about to stand, his panic increasing with each moment alone, when both Cas and Jack appeared before him, Jack held securely in Casā€™ arms.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHow many times have I told you,ā€ Cas said, eyeing Jack sternly, ā€œif you want to fly, I have to come with you. Itā€™s not safe to fly alone at your age.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack seemed to wilt a little under Casā€™ stern look, making a sad burbling noise and holding his bunny closer. Cas sat back down, Jack still in his arms.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™s alright, Jack. I love you. I just want you to be safe.ā€ Cas pressed a kiss to his forehead, which seemed to perk Jack right up. Cas set him down, but Jack seemed content to sit in his lap rather than clamber around.Ā 

Ā 

Dean could still feel his heart pounding in his chest, gradually slowing now they were both back. ā€œWhereā€™d he go?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas shot him a wry look. ā€œThe roof. He loves it up there. Itā€™s my own fault. We were reading Goodnight Moon and he wanted to actually say goodnight to the moon, so...ā€ Cas trailed off, an embarrassed look on his face.Ā 

Ā 

Dean couldnā€™t help but laugh, the panic finally receding into a wash of humour. ā€œSo you took him up to the roof.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYes,ā€ Cas admitted reluctantly, still embarrassed and not meeting Deanā€™s gleeful eyes. ā€œIt seemed a better compromise than actually going to the moon.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean felt his eyes widen, the smile fade from his face. ā€œWait, you can actually go to the moon?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas shot him that partly annoyed look that Dean remembered so well from the early years of their friendship, the one that meant Iā€™m a celestial wave of fucking intent, you idiot, of course I fucking can . A wave of gleeful awe washed over Dean; he recognized the feeling from that time heā€™d had his memories wiped, every time Sam had told him about Cas. A freaking angel is my best friend. Awesome. Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo what, he can actually fly now?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

Cas shook his head, eyeing Jack with rueful good humor. ā€œNot very well. Heā€™s still learning how to bend space and time. I think heā€™ll have a better grasp of it in a few years.ā€Ā 

Ā 

And that was a thought ā€” a time travelling, teleporting toddler. The world wouldnā€™t know what hit it.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou should take him to see the dinosaurs. Kids love dinosaurs.ā€ Although what theyā€™d do if Jack wanted to bring one of them home, Dean had no idea. Wasnā€™t exactly room for a massive killer reptile on a cozy block in the ā€˜burbs.Ā 

Ā 

Jack squirmed a little in Casā€™ lap, gingerly edging himself down to the porch and making his way over to Dean. He climbed into Deanā€™s lap like a tree, hauling himself up with Deanā€™s hand on his back to steady him. He settled with a huff, and slapped his hands on the muffin box, looking at Dean with an imploring expression.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œRight now, I think heā€™d like a muffin,ā€ Cas said dryly and Dean couldnā€™t help but laugh.Ā 

Ā 

Jack would do stuff like this sometimes, acting like a completely normal kid one second and then whipping out the godly powers the next. It had thrown Dean at first and honestly still did a lot of the time. But watching Jack carefully take crumbled bits of muffin from Deanā€™s palm, mashing them speculatively between his fingers before stuffing them in his mouth, he had to wonder if all kids werenā€™t like this in a way. Surprising, unpredictable, and yet lovely for it.Ā 

Ā 

Jack stuffed more muffin in his mouth and grinned up at Dean with a mouth full of crumbs. Dean couldnā€™t stop himself from reaching out and touching him, straightening his hair, wiping some crumbs away.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGood job, kid,ā€ he said.Ā 

_

Ā 

They went inside for dinner. Jack ate voraciously, not at all slowed down by the bits of muffin heā€™d had earlier. An episode of Paw Patrol later and that energy was all gone, Jack slumping over on the couch.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThink itā€™s time for bed,ā€ Dean said. Jack whined in protest but let Cas pick him up without struggle.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI think youā€™re right,ā€ Cas said. Jack whined again, lifting his head to glare at Cas. Cas looked back. ā€œIf you donā€™t sleep now, youā€™ll just feel grumpy later. Dean will still be here in the morning.ā€ And Cas shot a look at Dean like heā€™d track him down and drag him back if he wasnā€™t. Dean held his hands up in surrender.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSure thing. I love sleeping on your awful couch.ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™ll get him settled. You pick something to read.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas left the room with the kid, leaving Dean in the living room.

Ā 

There was a small but growing collection of picture books on the little shelf next to Jackā€™s toy trunk. Some were clearly quite old, probably gifts from neighbours whose kids were grown, while others were new, recently purchased. Dean started to rifle through them. There were some classics in there ā€” Robert Munsch, Doctor Seiss, Peter Rabbit ā€” but there were some new ones too that Dean didnā€™t recognize ā€” And Tango Makes Three, Donā€™t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus. He was flipping through one simply titled I Want My Hat Back when he spotted it.Ā 

Ā 

It was worn, clearly used before it had come to Jack. Dean picked it up and flipped through it, noting the dog eared pages, the pictures slightly worn away with time. Some pages near the end were dotted with little circles of water damage and Dean suddenly had the sense he was holding a book that someone somewhere had cried over.Ā 

Ā 

Cas came back into the room, stopping next to him. Dean held up the book in his hands.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou read him The Velveteen Rabbit yet?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas shook his head, his fingers running over the spines of the books on the shelf. ā€œNo, not yet. I wanted to wait until he was a little older and could have a better understanding of the message the story conveyed.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGood,ā€ Dean said, decisively shutting the book and putting it back on the shelf with relief. ā€œThat book fucked me up when I was a kid.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas squinted over his shoulder at him. ā€œ The Velveteen Rabbit ?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, man. Itā€™s creepy,ā€ Dean said, defensively. And it had been. Dean could still remember the illustration of that fucking horse toy, the rabbitā€™s button eyes, with a shiver down his spine. Heā€™d read it again, years later when he was around twelve, carefully selecting books at the library to steal for Sam. He remembered sitting in those plastic block chairs that always seemed to litter the kids sections of libraries everywhere, trying not to cry along with the rabbit after heā€™d been thrown away. Something about the story, about the concept of being real, had scared Dean deeply; heā€™d ended up shoving the book to the back of the shelf, hiding it behind a bunch of others in the hopes it wouldnā€™t be found.Ā 

Ā 

He wasnā€™t going to tell Cas all that though, judging by the measured way Cas was looking at him, Dean wondered if he already knew, in that way he always seemed to know Deanā€™s deepest secrets without Dean ever having to say a word.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œRead him this one,ā€ Dean said, pointing to a random book, just to break the silence he could feel descending.

Ā 

Cas nodded in consideration, seemingly willing to let whatever heā€™d been thinking go. Dean heaved a silent sigh of relief.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThis is one of his favourites,ā€ Cas said, pulling the book from the shelf. It was that stupid one Dean had bought, he realized, one of the times heā€™d visited, so desperate not to show up empty-handed and not sure what the hell a kid would like. ā€œHe quite enjoys the mouse.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAwesome,ā€ Dean said. He couldnā€™t say that he knew anything about the mouse in that story, or what a Gruffalo was, but it was nice that Jack appreciated it.Ā 

Ā 

Cas looked up at him, a familiar considering light in his eyes. ā€œWould you like to read it to him?ā€Ā 

Ā 

It was the first time heā€™d asked that question; Dean usually managed to duck away or start doing something else before the question could even emerge. But heā€™d known, somehow, known it was coming. And he still didnā€™t know a good answer or how to react beyond the way his stomach dropped.Ā 

Ā 

Dean was shaking his head before Cas even finished. ā€œI donā€™t, I mean, thanks, but, umā€¦ā€ he trailed off, mutely shaking his head.Ā 

Ā 

Cas studied him. ā€œDean,ā€ he said, a kindness in his voice that made Dean want to yell. ā€œItā€™s just a storybook.ā€Ā 

Ā 

And, see, Cas was right about that. It was just a storybook, not even 20 pages long. God, sitting in a rocking chair and reading a book to a baby might actually be the easiest thing heā€™d ever done.Ā 

Ā 

But it was also impossible. Dean had vague memories of Mom reading to him in those fuzzy years before she died, memories he could never really be sure he didnā€™t just make up, convinced by Dad to believe in the untouched perfection of his life before the fire. He had the barest handful of memories of Dad doing it after the fire, only a few times before heā€™d forgotten that Dean was a kid who wanted that kind of thing. Mostly, he remembered teaching himself to read on the few picture books theyā€™d received from well-meaning folks at the motels theyā€™d stayed in, stumbling over the words so Sammy could get his story time. Sammy was a little kid and little kids got story time at night. And if Dad couldnā€™t do it, then Dean would, no matter how many tears of frustration he shed at his own lack of understanding the printed words in front of him.Ā 

Ā 

To revisit that now, to do that with Casā€™ kid, it felt like ripping something open inside of him, some wound he hadnā€™t even known was there. God, he hadnā€™t even done that with Ben, though Lisa had on the nights when Ben still let himself get treated like a little kid instead of a kid that was too cool to be babied. Lisa had never asked him too; maybe, sheā€™d known he couldnā€™t. Maybe sheā€™d known how heā€™d always hidden downstairs during those occasional story times, far enough away he could only hear the barest hint of their voices in that big house.Ā 

Ā 

The house he was in now was small, compared to herā€™s. Heā€™d still be able to hear Cas reading, no matter how far he went, unless he left completely. Sitting outside like a stray dog, because something as small as a storybook about a mouse was enough to undo him completely.Ā 

Ā 

Cas was still looking at him, patiently, as if heā€™d be willing to wait forever for Dean to pull himself together long enough to say something. That patience somehow unlocked the words stuck in Deanā€™s throat.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI ā€” I donā€™t,ā€ he started, haltingly. He grit his teeth. ā€œI donā€™t know if thatā€™s a good idea, Cas.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou donā€™t have to read to him,ā€ Cas said, because Cas was always endlessly forgiving of Deanā€™s failings, ā€œbut would you like to come sit with us, anyway? I know Jack would love that.ā€Ā 

Ā 

He couldnā€™t, Dean knew he couldnā€™t. And yet he found himself nodding, his feet following Cas to Jackā€™s bedroom anyway. He leaned awkwardly against the changing table, Cas taking the rocking chair. But Jack started to squirm, making grabby motions in Deanā€™s direction and Dean found himself settling on the floor next to the crib, poking his fingers through the slats for Jack to grab.Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™ voice rumbled, pitching up and down as he read the voices of the different characters. Jack seemed enthralled and delighted. Dean barely heard the words Cas was saying, too absorbed in the sound of Casā€™ voice, the glances he shot Jack every time he finished a page, the sleepy focus on Jackā€™s face, determined to make it to the end of the story.Ā 

Ā 

Soon enough, Cas was folding the book shut, putting it aside. He stood, leaning over the crib, and pressed a kiss to Jackā€™s forehead. Jackā€™s hand, still wrapped loosely around Deanā€™s finger, tightened briefly, and Dean could feel the pulse of contentment and safety emanating from him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI love you,ā€ Cas said, just as he did every night Dean had seen him put Jack to bed. The words resonated with something deep inside Dean, clear as bell, and he abruptly found tears lining his eyes. He blinked them away quickly, hoping Cas wouldnā€™t notice.Ā 

Ā 

Dean stood, taking his turn leaning over the crib. ā€œGoodnight, kid,ā€ he said, his voice rough. Jack blinked at him sleepily when Dean ran his fingers over his cheek, turning into the touch with a sigh. Dean tucked his blanket a little more securely around him, unable to stop himself from rubbing his hands over Jackā€™s soft tuft of hair. ā€œSweet dreams.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas was leaning in the doorway when Dean turned around. There was a look on his face, something complicated that Dean couldnā€™t remember seeing there before. It was almost desperate, but that wasnā€™t quite right.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhatā€™s wrong?ā€ Dean asked, quietly so he wouldnā€™t disturb Jack.Ā 

Ā 

The expression faded from Casā€™ face, folding away beneath a small smile. The sadness that had been missing that day was back. ā€œNothing. Nothingā€™s wrong.ā€Ā 

_

Ā 

Dean had almost forgotten about Crowleyā€™s little problem until he called one morning before dawn, Deanā€™s phone vibrating across his nightstand and waking him from a deep sleep.Ā 

Ā 

He answered the phone without bothering to look at the caller ID. ā€œWhat?ā€ he growled.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOh, Iā€™m sorry,ā€ Crowleyā€™s irate voice said over the line, ā€œam I interrupting your beauty sleep?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean groaned, rubbing his eyes. ā€œWhat do you want?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI want to find and kill the Prince of Hell threatening to take over hell and rain fire and brimstone down on Earth. But thatā€™s just me.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed. ā€œYou mean, whatā€™s his name ā€” ā€Ā 

Ā 

Crowleyā€™s voice was cold as ice. ā€œAsmodeus.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, thatā€™s it.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDonā€™t tell me youā€™ve forgotten.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean rolled his eyes, reaching over to flip his lamp on. ā€œI havenā€™t forgotten, just havenā€™t seen any sign of him.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWell, I have,ā€ Crowley said, snippily, ā€œword is, heā€™s in Kansas City. Naturally, I thought of my favorite Kansans and wondered if you might use some of your oh so precious time to take a look.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean frowned, rubbing his forehead. It was too early for this much sarcasm. ā€œWho pissed in your wheaties this morning?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHas it ever occurred to you that my foul mood, let us say, may be somewhat related to this errand? That waging a war against a Prince of Hell might be tad stressful? Considering the fate of the world and, more importantly, my throne, lies in the balance and the two morons Iā€™m unfortunately forced to rely on are less than helpful?ā€ Crowley was practically shouting by the end of his tirade. Dean held the phone away from his ear.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOkay, Jesus, weā€™ll go look,ā€ Dean said, ā€œyou have any idea where to start or should we just check the entire city?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI can do you better,ā€ Crowley replied, suddenly sweet all over, ā€œI have an address.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œText it to me,ā€ Dean said. ā€œAnd try to cheer up, okay? It canā€™t be all bad.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Crowley took a deep breath on the other side of the line. Dean took great pleasure in hanging up before Crowley could start shouting again.Ā 

Ā 

Frankly, Dean was starting to get a little tired of this Asmodeus shit. Theyā€™d been all over the country the past year following these stupid leads from Crowley and never even spotted the guy. Heā€™d start to wonder if this whole thing was some trick Crowley was playing on them to keep them amused if the guy didnā€™t seem so genuinely freaked out about it.Ā 

Ā 

There was nothing for it. Dean hauled himself out of bed, threw some clothes on, and packed his bag.Ā 

Ā 

Dean wasnā€™t arrogant enough to think that heā€™d be able to handle a yellow eyed demon on his own. But Sam was busy all the way down in Florida and Eileen had gone up to Canada to visit a friend. The only person who might be close by was Mom. The last thing he wanted to do was bring her anywhere near a Prince of Hell, but there wasnā€™t much of a choice; if this turned out to be legit, Dean would need the backup.Ā 

Ā 

As luck would have it, she was in the middle of driving to the bunker from Missouri. A few hours later, Dean was sitting in a diner in Kansas City, watching her approach the door. She spotted him through the window and waved to him with a smile. He got up to give her a hug as she reached him.

Ā 

ā€œHey, Dean,ā€ she said, sliding into the booth across from him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, Mom,ā€ he said. ā€œHowā€™s it going?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGood,ā€ she said, grabbing the menu he slid to her. ā€œFinished up in Indianapolis early.ā€ She grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. ā€œIā€™ve been getting some hiking in.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou hike?ā€ Dean asked with a laugh.

Ā 

She shrugged. ā€œWell, I am sixty-four. I figured Iā€™d give it a try.ā€ She smiled. ā€œIā€™m glad you called.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThat bad, huh?ā€ he asked.

Ā 

ā€œDean.ā€ She slapped his arm while he snickered. ā€œBut yeah, it was.ā€Ā 

Ā 

They put in their order before Dean turned the conversation to Crowleyā€™s early morning request. There wasnā€™t much to explain ā€”Mom had checked out her fair share of leads on Asmodeus in the past year, same as he and Sam.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAre you sure about this?ā€ Mom asked, looking at him closely.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shrugged. ā€œYeah. Might be nothing, always has been so far, but itā€™s worth a look.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t like working with demons,ā€ Mom said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, neither do I, but Crowley, yā€™know, heā€™s different now, heā€™s not just some demon,ā€ Dean said, a little uncomfortably. He wondered if he should try to explain their history with Crowley, how heā€™d gone from enemy to ally and back so many goddamn times it made Deanā€™s head spin.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™s complicated,ā€ he decided to say instead.Ā 

Ā 

Mom shot him a narrow look.Ā  ā€œHe's a demon, Dean. Itā€™s not that complicated.ā€

Ā 

Dean prayed she would never find out about the Mark or what it had done to him. There were a lot of things Sam and he had silently agreed to never bring up to her, but that was one of the big ones for him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, I guess. But heā€™s been there for us, at least lately. You remember what he did for Cas.ā€

Ā 

Mom frowned, a mix of guilt and shame crossing her face. Dean hadnā€™t meant to remind her of that night, or the fact that Cas had almost died because of her actions. He knew she felt bad about it, knew that sheā€™d had a conversation with Cas about it, one that Cas had called unnecessary and awkward with a hunted look on his face. But whatever they had talked about, it had clearly made Mom feel better and Dean thought he knew her well enough by now to know that only an apology would manage that, no matter how unnecessary Cas had deemed it.Ā 

Ā 

The address Crowley had sent him led to a building smack dab in the middle of Kansas Cityā€™s sprawl, some new development that didnā€™t really match the rest of the town around it. Dean had been to Kansas City before but it always seemed to change every time he came through, like most larger cities. Give him a small town anyday, where the same people and same places had been there for what felt like his whole life, even if heā€™d only visited twice.Ā 

Ā 

Mom had grinned when sheā€™d read the address ā€” Campbell St.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWeā€™ll fit right in,ā€ she said, shooting him a smirk.Ā 

Ā 

The building was on the verge of being complete, the scaffolding still standing and making it look more menacing than it was. They cleared the first floor together but the building was six stories high; it would take too long to clear if they didnā€™t split up. Mom clearly had the same idea, gesturing him up to the third floor while she stepped out onto the second.

Ā 

There were plastic sheets hanging off some of the windows still as Dean cleared the rooms, flapping loudly in any passing breeze. Dean wished they werenā€™t there, not just for the noise they made that could easily cover up the sound of footsteps creeping up behind him but because they blocked the breeze. It was just edging toward fall now but you wouldnā€™t know it here and Dean could feel sweat starting to glue his shirt to his back.Ā 

Ā 

It didnā€™t take him long after clearing the third floor to suspect that there had never been a demon here. The look on Momā€™s face when they reunited up on the sixth floor confirmed it.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo sulfur, no bodies, nothing,ā€ she said, shaking her head. Dean sighed and tucked his gun away.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGoddamit,ā€ he growled.Ā 

Ā 

Mom looked at him closely. ā€œYou sure you can rely on this Crowley guy?ā€Ā 

Ā 

And honestly, Dean didnā€™t know. He knew Crowley had changed over the years ā€”no way the guy heā€™d met way back would have helped save Cas or ever would have put his neck on the line for anything that didnā€™t directly benefit him. But Dean had better things to do than go on wild goose chases around the country. Heā€™d tentatively agreed to be at Casā€™ place in time to go apple picking with Jack. At this rate, heā€™d miss it.Ā 

Ā 

Dean cursed again and dug out his phone, dialing Crowley with a few angry clicks.Ā 

Ā 

Shockingly, Crowley actually answered.

Ā 

ā€œAny luck?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo, asshole, thereā€™s nothing here,ā€ Dean snapped. ā€œItā€™s just an empty building.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™re sure thereā€™s no sign?ā€ Crowley asked, more urgently.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDude, Iā€™ve literally been hunting demons my whole life.ā€ Dean regretted saying it immediately, catching the wince of Momā€™s face. ā€œI think Iā€™d know.ā€

Ā 

ā€œDammit,ā€ Crowley said, and hung up the phone. Dean stared at it for a second, but no, the call had definitely been ended. Unbelievable.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDouchebag,ā€ he muttered, just in time for Crowley to appear in front of him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCharming,ā€ Crowley said sarcastically.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat the hell are you doing here?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œApparently, good help is hard to find,ā€ Crowley said, glancing around the unfinished room with distaste, ā€œI came to look for myself in case you missed something.ā€

Ā 

ā€œWe didnā€™t miss anything,ā€ Mom said, sounding pissed. Crowley turned to her with a smirk.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAh, Mother Winchester, how delightful. Youā€™ll forgive me if I look for myself.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean flung his hands up in the air. ā€œHey, knock yourself out. But weā€™re leaving.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo soon?ā€ Crowley asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThis is a waste of time, Crowley!ā€ And Dean had better places to be. ā€œWhy the hell does this matter, anyway?ā€

Ā 

Crowleyā€™s eyes narrowed. ā€œMaybe I havenā€™t properly impressed the gravity of the situation on you, Squirrel. Asmodeus ā€”ā€

Ā 

Dean rolled his eyes, abruptly finished with this whole thing. He needed to be on the road; he didnā€™t have time for this. ā€œYā€™know, Iā€™ve heard just about enough about Asmodeus. You show up at our door, asking for our help, and weā€™ve given it, out of the goodness of our hearts. But I never even seen this guy. No hunter has! You got us chasing our tails here and for what?ā€

Ā 

Crowley stared at him, his brows raised. ā€œYouā€™re saying I made him up?ā€

Ā 

ā€œYou are a demon,ā€ Mary said, as if that explained it.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYes, thank you, I have noticed,ā€ Crowley said, smiling facetiously. Dean wanted to smack the look off his face. ā€œAnd, admittedly, I am also a liar, many times over. But Iā€™m not lying to you now.ā€

Ā 

ā€œNot exactly convincing, man,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

Crowley spread his hands wide. ā€œWhat would I gain? I am but a simple creature after all. All I really want is to keep my position.ā€

Ā 

ā€œYeah, sure,ā€ Dean said, rolling his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAsmodeus is a Prince of Hell; youā€™ve seen the damage they can do.ā€ Crowley let his gaze, very unsubtly, track over to Mary. She glared at him, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. It took all Dean had not to actually smack Crowley for that one.Ā 

Ā 

He looked back at Dean, apparently not noticing Deanā€™s growing desire to beat him. ā€œAnd thatā€™s before he got his hands on a nephilim.ā€

Ā 

Dean froze, all other thoughts draining from his head. ā€œWhat did you say?ā€

Ā 

Crowley watched him closely, all humor and artifice gone from his expression. ā€œHeā€™s the son of Lucifer. You really think heā€™ll let him go?ā€

Ā 

ā€œDean?ā€ Mary asked, her eyes flicking between the two of them, confused. He hadnā€™t told her, Dean realized. He knew Sam had mentioned that theyā€™d found Cas, but he didnā€™t know if she knew about Jack at all.Ā 

Ā 

Dean took a step closer to Crowley, looming over him. ā€œYou come anywhere near them ā€”ā€

Ā 

Crowley had the nerve to roll his eyes. ā€œRelax, Squirrel, Iā€™m not moving onto your turf. I couldnā€™t care less what happens to Angel and his tyke, but I thought you could use the reminder.ā€ He leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNeither of them are safe. Not so long as Asmodeus walks the earth,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

Horrible images raced through Deanā€™s head ā€”some yellowed bastard in Casā€™ little home, staring at everything that made it good with contempt. Cas hurt or dead, because Dean knew to his core that Cas would never let anything happen to Jack while he was still breathing. And Jack taken, gone beyond all hope of salvation. God .Ā 

Ā 

Dean deflated, hanging his head in defeat. ā€œFine.ā€

Ā 

Crowley smiled, clearly satisfied. ā€œGlad we had this talk.ā€ And he disappeared.Ā 

Ā 

Silence fell, the only sound the flapping of the plastic sheeting in the wind.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean?ā€ Mom asked again. She was watching him closely, worry heavy in her face.Ā 

Ā 

Dean blinked at the blank space Crowley had been then shook his head. ā€œWe should go.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Mom followed him back out to the cars. Dean could tell that she was watching him closely, clearly angling for an answer, but he had none to give.Ā 

Ā 

He couldnā€™t believe it had taken Crowley to remind him, freaking Crowley . Jack was special, Dean knew that. There were people after him, Cas had told him as much. But somehow Dean had never connected that with Crowleyā€™s mad hunt for Asmodeus until heā€™d laid it all out. The thought of some slimy yellowed eyed son of a bitch finding Jack and taking him, moulding him into some weapon like Azazel had tried to do with Sam ā€”it was revolting.Ā 

Ā 

Losing Jack would break Casā€™ heart, Dean knew that. The kid was Casā€™ world, his everything. He didnā€™t know if Cas would survive anything happening to him.Ā 

Ā 

Dean couldnā€™t let that happen, couldnā€™t risk it. And if that meant that he ran down the dumbass leads Crowley fed him, then so be it. Heā€™d do it, if it kept Cas and Jack out of the line of fire. Ā 

Ā 

Mom joined him at the Impalaā€™s driverā€™s side door, looking up at him narrowly.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat was that about?ā€ she asked, ā€œA nephilim?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed, leaning on the roof of the car. ā€œItā€™s Jack.ā€

Ā 

ā€œWho?ā€

Ā 

ā€œKellyā€™s kid, Jack. We found him. Heā€™s living with Cas.ā€

Ā 

Momā€™s eyes went wide. ā€œAre they alright?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, yeah, theyā€™re good.ā€

Ā 

ā€œAnd the kid?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean couldnā€™t help a smile. Jack had fallen asleep against his side, the last time heā€™d been there. Dean had held absolutely still through the rest of the movie, so as not to wake him, Cas fighting a smile the whole time.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHe's good too. Cas is taking care of him.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Mom smiled back, looking relieved. ā€œIā€™m glad. But this Asmodeus character is after him?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean nodded. ā€œJackā€™s got a lot of power. Cas is keeping him safe, but ā€”ā€

Ā 

ā€œBut heā€™s looking for them,ā€ Mom finished.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGuess so,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

Mom put a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. ā€œIā€™ll help however I can. Just let me know.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI will. Thanks, Mom.ā€ He hesitated then grabbed her in a hug. Her arms squeezed around him and he felt a measure of calm return to him. He started planning his route out to California; he doubted heā€™d make it in time for the apple picking, but he wanted to see the two of them, make sure they were alright with his own eyes. He had a creeping fear in his chest that he just couldnā€™t shake, like Asmodeus had somehow found them just by dint of Dean thinking about it. He knew he wouldnā€™t shake it completely until he saw them in person, happy and secure.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d be busy in the coming weeks, hunting Asmodeus down. He wasnā€™t sure how to go about finding a demon who clearly didnā€™t want to be found, but heā€™d done harder things. He wanted one last visit with Cas and Jack to carry him through it.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d take care of this for Cas. Cas had enough on his plate already, he shouldnā€™t have to worry about this too. If that meant he didnā€™t see Cas and Jack as much as he wanted to in the meantime, then thatā€™s just how it had to be. This was what Dean was for, to be the sword and shield protecting the good things of this world against the bad.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d keep them safe. There wasnā€™t another option.Ā 

Chapter 3: THE GHOST PART 2

Chapter Text

Cas was on the porch when Dean arrived, watching him pull into the driveway. Dean was tired; Kansas to California was always a long haul but heā€™d spent the drive this time around with images of the house empty and Cas and Jack gone or hurt dancing in his mind. Heā€™d slept terribly, nightmares keeping him up even more than usual.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI know, I know, Iā€™m late,ā€ Dean said, walking up the driveway to Cas. ā€œI was on a hunt, Iā€™m sorry.ā€

Ā 

Cas watched him approach, a hint of confusion on his face. He looked fine, just like he always looked; no cuts or bruises, no distress or fear. Dean almost sagged with relief. Part of him wanted to grab Cas, hold him tight, but it would only make Cas ask questions he wasnā€™t sure how to answer.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean, I understand,ā€ Cas said, ā€œI figured it was something like that.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean hesitated, briefly toying with the idea of explaining exactly what heā€™d been up to. But he didnā€™t want to bring even the name of Asmodeus into this house, this sanctuary. This place was safe from demons, there wasnā€™t anything here that could hurt Jack or Cas. Heā€™d felt it here before, sitting on the porch or in the kitchen insideā€”like nothing could hurt them inside this house, like it was holy. And maybe in a way it was, made so by the presence of so many angels in one place.Ā 

Ā 

Cas could worry about every other monster in the world. Dean could handle this one.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œJack was a little upset,ā€ Cas said, ā€œbut I think heā€™ll forgive you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean let himself smile back. He could let his worry go for now; right now, he wanted to be here. ā€œWhere is the little guy?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œInside.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean happened to glance to the side as he stepped onto the porch and noticed a few cigarette butts lying innocently on the ground, half under the porch.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou smoking now?ā€ Dean asked jokingly.

Ā 

Cas rolled his eyes. ā€œNo, itā€™s Claire. She was in the area last week and came to visit. I keep forgetting to clean those up.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Another reason to be upset about being late; it had been a long time since Dean had seen Claire.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI didnā€™t know she smoked.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas sighed. ā€œI didnā€™t either.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean shot him a look. ā€œAnd I bet you werenā€™t too happy to find out.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo, but Claire is an adult and can make her own choices,ā€ Cas said, sounding very reluctant. ā€œEven if they are bad for her health.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked at the cigarette butts again, shrugging. ā€œGuess you could always heal her lungs anyway.ā€ He glanced at Cas, who was looking back with a cagey expression. Dean snorted. ā€œYou already did.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas mumbled something under his breath and headed to the front door. Dean grinned and followed. Figured there were perks to having an angel as your pseudo-dad.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI thought kids liked those vape things these days,ā€ Dean said, slipping out of his jacket as he went inside. Cas shot him a laughing look, brow raised.Ā 

Ā 

Dean frowned. ā€œShut up, I know things.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI know you do,ā€ Cas said, indulgently.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Dean pointed a finger at him. ā€œI am not old.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI know you arenā€™t.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™re way older than me, man.ā€

Ā 

ā€œI know I am.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOlder than dirt.ā€

Ā 

ā€œSo Claire has told me.ā€

Ā 

Jack was set up in his playpen and he did look a little upset, morosely making his bunny toy bounce along the floor. His mouth was turned down in an exaggerated pout. Cas glanced from him to Dean, his face expectant.Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed and went to sit beside the playpen, groaning internally as he eased down to the floor. His back was really not thanking him for the long drive today.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, kid,ā€ he said. Jack didnā€™t look at him, just kept bouncing the bunny.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDid you have fun picking apples?ā€ Dean tried. Jack, again, didnā€™t respond. Dean glanced back over his shoulder at Cas, watching them with a slight knit in his brow. He met Deanā€™s eyes and nodded encouragingly.Ā 

Ā 

Dean turned back to the kid, still stubbornly pretending he wasnā€™t there. He could feel a low mood hanging over the house, something sad and lonesome. It reminded him of motel rooms growing up, after Dad left for a hunt and Dean and Sam were left looking at each other across the bed Dad would never use.Ā 

Ā 

He hesitated, unsure what to do, then reached out and placed his hand, gently, so gently, on Jackā€™s back. He felt so tiny, so infinitely fragile, under Deanā€™s hand. It seemed like it shouldnā€™t be possible, that someone could ever be so small.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m sorry I couldnā€™t come with you,ā€ Dean whispered. He let his hand start to rub over Jackā€™s back. ā€œI would if I couldā€™ve.ā€

Ā 

It seemed so hollow suddenly, this whole production. Heā€™d heard somewhere that all boys grow up to be their fathers. Heā€™d told himself a long time ago that he would never become his father, no matter what. There were things his dad had given him that he was proud ofā€”his loyalty to his family, his protectiveness of them, his courage. But he didnā€™t want to be the unsmiling task master, shouting in peopleā€™s faces to keep them in line, giving orders that no one understood and refusing to explain. When he saw that fucked up future version of himself courtesy of Zachariah, it had been like a nightmare come true, seeing his father wearing his face. So heā€™d made that promise to himself and then heā€™d broken it over and over, ever since.Ā 

Ā 

Dean wondered if his dad had felt like this, coming back from hunts, seeing the resentful sadness on Samā€™s face, the stoic acceptance on Deanā€™s. Caught between the knowledge that being away had been necessary and the longing to be there with his kids.Ā 

Ā 

He hadnā€™t made any promises to Jack; he wasnā€™t the kidā€™s father. And it wasnā€™t the same as his own childhood; Jack hadnā€™t been alone, heā€™d had Cas with him. But this felt like a failure anyway.Ā 

Ā 

A hand landed on his shoulder, Cas suddenly beside him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œJack,ā€ he prompted, softly, ā€œBe kind.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack didnā€™t do anything for a long moment, continuing to bounce his bunny stubbornly. Then he leaned back against Deanā€™s hand and hesitantly held the bunny out to him. Dean took it, carefully, knowing it for the gift it was.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThanks, kid,ā€ he said. And apparently, all was forgiven.Ā 

_

Ā 

ā€œWhat the hell are you going to do with all of it?ā€ he asked, staring at the almost overflowing bucket of apples sitting innocently on the kitchen counter.Ā 

Ā 

Cas looked at them a little uncertainly. ā€œIā€™m not entirely sure. I made a pie this morning but it barely seemed to make a dent.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean stared at him. ā€œDude, you bake?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™ve found it restful,ā€ Cas said. ā€œAnd Jack enjoys helping.ā€ Dean wasnā€™t sure what help a baby could provide when it came to baking; he didnā€™t exactly have fine motor skills yet. But then again, Jack was no ordinary baby; maybe his magic powers made him a master chef.Ā 

Ā 

That said, Jack didnā€™t seem too interested in baking at the moment. Heā€™d demanded to be picked up, going so far as to fly into Casā€™ arms when Cas didnā€™t do it fast enough and now he was happily plastered against his side. He also wanted Dean close, apparently, constantly reaching out grabby little fingers to hold onto Deanā€™s shirt. Subsequently, Dean was forced to stand very close to Cas, close enough they were constantly brushing up against each other. It was incredibly awkward; Dean kept finding his eyes snagging on Casā€™, or his lips, or his jawline. Dean knew he was truly going crazy when he thought he saw Casā€™ eyes doing the same.Ā 

Ā 

He should just take Jack; then theyā€™d both be able to have some space. But something always stopped him when he thought about actually holding Jack, some mental block that wouldnā€™t let him hold out his arms and accept that smallest of burdens.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œBut who eats it? I thought everything tasted like molecules to you.ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIt does,ā€ Cas said, ā€œthough some molecules are worse than others.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOh yeah?ā€

Ā 

Cas shook his head seriously. ā€œSomething in the molecular structure of parfaits renders them truly inedible. Jack doesnā€™t like them either.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean snorted a laugh. ā€œSo what, you just hype Jack up on sugar all day?ā€ Not like Dean could judge; he and Sammy had a similar diet when they grew up and theyā€™d turned out fairly healthy.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œJack has a little, but usually I give it to the Smiths.ā€

Ā 

It took Dean a moment to place the names. ā€œRight, the Superbowl neighbors. Bet you must be pretty popular with them.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSometimes they give me casseroles in trade,ā€ Cas said with a harried look. Dean tried not to laughā€”Cas slyly disapparating some poor housewifeā€™s casserole and feigning enjoyment the next time he saw her was too funny.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWould you like to try a slice?ā€ Cas asked, a little nervously.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œUh, yeah, of course,ā€ Dean said, ā€œgimme the pie.ā€Ā 

Ā 

They had to negotiate with Jack for Cas to be able to walk and grab the pie. Jack seemed to agree with the notion, as long as they all got to sit at the table together as Dean ate.Ā 

Ā 

A perfectly warmed piece of pie was placed in front of Dean, a slowly melting scoop of vanilla ice cream placed jauntily on top. Dean glanced up at Cas, hovering nervously beside him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œTen out of ten on presentation,ā€ Dean said. Cas didnā€™t crack a smile, looking at Dean with a hunted expression.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSeriously, Cas, chill out. Iā€™m sure itā€™s great,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

Cas sighed and threw himself down in the seat next to Dean. He watched anxiously over his folded hands as Dean took a bite.Ā 

Ā 

Dean chewed consideringly, nodded, swallowed.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCas,ā€ he said, ā€œI got bad news for you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas sighed, loud and long. ā€œItā€™s terrible, I know.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou been feeding this to people? I think that might be a crime. Good thing you arenā€™t eating those casseroles, theyā€™re probably trying to get you back.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou try cooking something without being able to taste what it actually tastes like for humans.ā€ Cas hung his head. ā€œI donā€™t know what Iā€™m doing wrong. I follow the recipe exactly.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean considered the pie in front of him. It really was terrible; something had gone horribly wrong with the consistency, leaving the filling both grainy and slimy. It was a terrible mouth feel and far, far too salty. But there had been something...Dean hesitated and gingerly bent off a piece of the crust, slowly putting it in his mouth.Ā 

Ā 

It was perfectā€”buttery, flaky, everything a pie crust should be.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDude, the crust is amazing,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

Cas stared at him, apparently stunned. ā€œIs it?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYes!ā€ That was what had so surprised Deanā€”the perfection of the crust, like something out of a cooking magazine, had given a deceptive perception for the rest of the pie. Martha Stewart herself could not have made a better pie crust.

Ā 

Dean looked at Cas, shaking his head. ā€œDude, the crust is the hard part. How can you make a perfect crust but the filling tastes like dogshit?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™s not that bad,ā€ Cas said, uncertainly.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIt really is.ā€ Dean glanced at the pile of apples then looked back at Cas. ā€œYou wanna make another one?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas looked skeptically at the slice in front of Dean. The ice cream had melted in a sad little puddle on the plate. ā€œI donā€™t know. Maybe I should try something else.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDude, donā€™t give up,ā€ Dean urged, ā€œbesides, pie is the best dessert there is.Ā 

Ā 

Cas still looked skeptical. Dean leaned forward on his elbows.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œListen,ā€ he said, ā€œbetween your crust and my filling, I bet we can make the best pie in the state. Right, Jack?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack giggled and clapped his hands, clearly on board and happy to be included.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSee?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas looked at them both, his mouth turning up in a smile. ā€œYou think so?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, I know so,ā€ Dean said. ā€œWith Jack here to help us? Weā€™re gonna nail this shit.ā€ He glanced quickly at Jack. ā€œStuff. Weā€™re gonna nail this stuff.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas chuckled. ā€œThen I guess we best try.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThatā€™s the spirit.ā€Ā 

Ā 

The filling came together incredibly easy, Dean following the recipe Cas had copied down from a neighbor who swore by it. It was a simple recipe; the hardest part was peeling and slicing all the apples needed. Cas watched Dean like a hawk through every step, a deep frown on his face.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t understand,ā€ he said, ā€œI did the exact same thing.ā€

Ā 

Dean snorted. ā€œYou really didnā€™t.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas already had some pie dough chilling in the fridge. It was simple to roll it out and assemble in the dish. They even made the top crust a lattice; Jack was assigned to help with weaving them through, but mostly just ended up throwing them on the floor.Ā 

Ā 

The pie went into the oven soon enough and they settled at the kitchen table to wait.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo I noticed something a little odd coming in,ā€ Dean said. ā€œThereā€™s smoke all around from the fires but clear skies when I got out here.ā€ It had been a bad year for forest fires already, especially in California. Luckily, there wasnā€™t one very close to Eureka so far but Dean worried it was only a matter of time. Heā€™d expected smoky skies, though, the smoke blowing in from the fires further south and east. But there hadnā€™t been anything, just clear blue skies as soon as he got past Wildwood.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYes,ā€ Cas sighed.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThat wouldnā€™t be becauseā€”ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas glanced at him, a wry look on his face. ā€œIt is.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean glanced at Jack; he was playing with a few apples left over from the filling, determinedly mashing the apples in his hands. ā€œHow?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas studied Jack, the same fondness that always came across his face when he did settling in. ā€œI donā€™t think he means to do it on purpose. I think itā€™s just an aura that he puts out. Heā€™s happy and it makes the weather, even the very atmosphere, change.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean remembered reading Good Omens , before the book had been ruined by actually living the apocalypse. He remembered that part, when the witch lady was poking around for the antichrist, how the kidā€™s aura was so big she couldnā€™t sense it. He had to figure that Jack was giving Adam a run for his money.Ā 

Ā 

It would take a while for the pie to finish baking so they relocated to the living room. Dean booted up an episode of Paw Patrol on instinct. It was far and away Jackā€™s favorite show; Dean had seen so much of it now he was starting to form opinions about it. He dreaded knowing enough that he had a favorite character.

Ā 

Jack only made it through the first fifteen minutes before he started to list against Deanā€™s side.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHow you doing, kid?ā€ he asked, hesitantly touching his fingers to Jackā€™s shoulder. He almost pulled them away when Jack immediately made a small sad noise.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHeā€™s tired,ā€ Cas said, knowingly. He was perched on the rocking chair by the window. ā€œBut heā€™ll be cranky as soon as I pick him up and take him to bed.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAw, cā€™mon, kid. You donā€™t want to sleep?ā€

Ā 

Jack made another small noise, settling a little further into Deanā€™s side. His eyes were sliding closed but he kept stubbornly opening them, determined to keep watching the TV.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI think I have an idea,ā€ Cas said. He picked Jack up, who started whining immediately, just as Cas had predicted. Cas sat at the other end of the couch and proceeded to lie down, inching down slowly until he was stretched along it.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou want me to move?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo, thatā€™s okay,ā€ Cas said, glancing at Dean, ā€œunless you mind.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo, youā€™re good,ā€ Dean said, and sat very, very still as Cas stretched his legs across Deanā€™s lap. They were a warm weight across Deanā€™s lap, pressing into him lightly. He was too conscious of his own hands, unsure where it was alright to put them. In the end, one ended up on the arm of the couch and the other on Casā€™ shin. If Cas minded, he didnā€™t show it.Ā 

Ā 

At the end of the whole maneuver, Jack was lying across Casā€™ chest, his face turned toward the TV. He conked out immediately, like hitting a light switch.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThatā€™s incredible,ā€ Dean said. Cas laughed softly.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI think he just wants to be close.ā€

Ā 

They watched the episode for a few minutes in silence. They were getting close to the end of the episode, time for a character to learn or impart a moral lesson to the audience. Dean understood why the show was structured like thisā€”Cas had given him a lecture before on the necessity of story-telling in the education of childrenā€”but it didnā€™t make for compelling TV for adults.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™ve been thinking about Jackā€™s future,ā€ Cas said, suddenly.Ā 

Ā 

Dean glanced at him. The sun shining through the window fell perfectly across his face, tilted on the arm of the couch to look at Dean, lighting his eyes an unearthly blue. ā€œOh, yeah?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas glanced from him down to Jack, still peacefully asleep. ā€œI know that socialization is important for young children. According to the things Iā€™ve read, his needs are being met so far, but heā€™ll need to start socializing with peers in the next few years.ā€

Ā 

ā€œYou mean pre-school?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAmong other things.ā€ Cas glanced at him quickly. There was something harrowed in his face, some deep insecurity unburied and shown to the light.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m not sure I know what to do,ā€ he said, quietly.Ā 

Ā 

Dean frowned. ā€œWhat do you mean?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas sighed. ā€œI meanā€”I donā€™t have a background to start from. Iā€™m making this up as I go. You saw Jack today; he was worried, upset. I tried my best but I didnā€™t know how to soothe him. I-I wonder sometimes if Iā€™m missing something. Iā€”ā€ Cas shot him a look, full of resignation. ā€œI know I am.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean shook his head. ā€œCas, I donā€™t know what youā€™re talking about. You did great with Jack. Iā€™m the one who messed that up.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo, Dean, you didnā€™t,ā€ Cas said. He placed a hand on Jackā€™s back, rubbing it gently. ā€œYouā€™re wonderful with him,ā€ he said, so softly Dean almost couldnā€™t hear him.Ā 

Ā 

It was, frankly, a staggering phrase. Dean knew for a fact that he wasnā€™t wonderful at anything, except maybe hunting. When it came to Jack, he was flailing in the dark the majority of the time, hoping he didnā€™t irrevocably fuck things up and knowing he was every time. He couldnā€™t even hug Jack, for fuckā€™s sake, couldnā€™t read to him or do anything any halfway normal adult could do without feeling like he was going to break. There was nothing wonderful about that.Ā 

Ā 

But Cas was still looking miserable, eyes heavy with self-doubt, and Dean couldnā€™t just leave him hanging like that, whatever his own problems.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat do you think youā€™re missing?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™s eyes flicked between Dean and the TV, before fixing somewhere in the corner of the room. Misery twisted his face into a desperate frown.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCas, heyā€ Dean said, squeezing his hand on his shin. ā€œIā€™m not gonna judge, man. What are you missing?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas hesitated a moment longer. His gaze finally tracked back to Dean, looking at him steadily.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œA human soul,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOkay. But youā€™re an angel,ā€ Dean said, slowly.Ā 

Ā 

Cas looked away again. ā€œI worry thatā€™s the problem.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWait a minute,ā€ Dean said, shaking his head, wondering if that would make what Cas was saying make sense. It didnā€™t. ā€œAre you saying you donā€™t think youā€™re a good dad? Just because youā€™re not human?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas sighed, so deeply Jack actually sunk on his chest. His brow twisted with anguish.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t understand human life, human emotion, not in the same way someone whoā€™s been human all their life does,ā€ he said, in a manner of confession. He fixed Dean with haunted eyes. ā€œWhat if I'm doing Jack a disservice?ā€

Ā 

Dean wondered how long Cas had been thinking like this. Was this recent, prompted by something he hadnā€™t mentioned? Or worse, right from the beginning, Cas accepting the responsibility of raising Jack out of his love for Kelly, all the while convinced he was going to fail?Ā 

Ā 

Dean wanted to shake Cas. He didnā€™t understand how Cas couldnā€™t see how well he was doing with Jack. Jack wanted for nothing. It went beyond the physical stuffā€”he had the toys and the house and the food, but it was so much more than that. It was the certainty that he was cared for. That heā€™d wake up and Cas would be there. That when he needed a hug or a kiss, he would get one. That when he was hungry he would be fed and when he was bored he would be played with and when he was tired his dad would take a nap with him. Cas was the foundation on which Jackā€™s world revolved. There was no way Cas didnā€™t know that.Ā 

Ā 

And yet, apparently, he didnā€™t.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCas,ā€ he said, uncertain what to say. But Cas was looking at him with desperation, clearly asking Dean for something.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCas, you know Iā€™m the last person who can give you advice about this. Sam and I, itā€™s not like we grew up normal. And I-I havenā€™t done too well with the whole dad thing in the past.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Lisa and Ben were suddenly in the room with them, ghosts of failures past. Dean met Casā€™ eyes, the two of them here the ones who had wronged them the most. He could see the guilt Cas carried over it, still, all these years later. He figured something like that didnā€™t just go away; it certainly hadnā€™t for Dean.Ā 

Ā 

He sighed. ā€œI figure I donā€™t have a lot of good examples of fathers. Bobbyā€™s probably the closest I got and he was good to us. But when I think of good dads, I figure youā€™re right up there.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas nodded but he didnā€™t look satisfied. That same misery was still knitting his brow.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat brought this on?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

Cas sighed. ā€œIā€™m worrying, more and more, about Jackā€™s powers. Heā€™s using them less than he used to. Sometimes he goes days without drawing on his grace at all. Iā€™ve tried asking him if somethingā€™s wrong but he hasnā€™t said anything. He just avoids them.ā€Ā 

Ā 

He glanced back at Dean. ā€œI donā€™t want Jack to view his powers as a burden or something...corrupt. I want him to know heā€™s good. Despite who his father was, how he came into the world in the first place.ā€ He glanced back down at Jack. ā€œHeā€™s good.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Youā€™ll never, ever, hear me say that you, the real you, is anything but good, Sam had told Dean, as Dean stood above him, prepared to swing that scythe. Hearing something so similar coming from Cas now, it was enough to make Deanā€™s heart twist. Because he hadnā€™t believed Sam then, mostly gone from the Mark but still conscious enough to know it, and he didnā€™t really believe it now. But it had had enough of an effect on him, even lost to the Mark as he was, that heā€™d spared Sam. He had fought the Mark to save him based on that. That wasnā€™t nothing.Ā 

Ā 

He hoped that Jack never learned to distrust himself, the way Dean had. He hoped that Jack never looked at himself and saw only the evil inside him, nothing of value coming to light. He hoped he spent his whole life, however long it was, decades or eons, knowing that at his core, he was a good person, even if he fucked up now and then.Ā 

Ā 

If Jack could grow up believing that heā€™s not a monster or a tool or a soldier, that he was just a kid, that would all be down to Cas.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHe knows that. He knows that because you tell him that, everyday,ā€ Dean said. ā€œThat means something.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œBut is it enough?ā€ Cas asked.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œLook, man,ā€ Dean sighed, ā€œhaving a human dad doesnā€™t automatically mean theyā€™re awesome. I mean, look at my dad. He did his best, butā€”ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean cut himself off before he could finish, the words choking in his throat. But his best hadnā€™t been good enough, was the awful end of that sentence. Not if it left Sammy hungry so many times, not if it meant Dean was so twisted and desperate to protect Sam that it drove him to sell his soul and trick Sam into letting an angel possess him. His dadā€™s best hadnā€™t meant jack shit, not if his best was leaning into Deanā€™s ear and telling him heā€™d have to murder his own brother.Ā 

Ā 

It was an awful thought, a terrible thought. Ungrateful, part of him hissed. And what right did Dean have to think that anyway, when heā€™d done no better? He only had to look as far as Ben to know thatā€”the kid who loved him, whether Dean deserved it or not, and who Dean had repaid by bringing violence into his life and then wiping his memory.Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked at Jack, sleeping soundly on Casā€™ chest. He was just like Sammy at that age, sweet and innocent. And hadnā€™t Dean wished him gone anyway? Hadnā€™t Dean spent a year thinking of this child and how he must be evil, the taint of Lucifer living on his son, despite the fact he was just a baby? Hadnā€™t he still been distrustful when heā€™d met him, seeing a potential monster, despite the fact that Cas adored him and would do anything for him?Ā 

Ā 

At least Dean hadnā€™t told Cas those thoughts, hadnā€™t hurled those accusations or made insinuations or demands. Save him or kill him. At least he was different from his father in that way.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean?ā€ Cas asked quietly. Dean turned his eyes from Jack, suddenly unable to stomach looking at him.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™re a good dad, Cas,ā€ he said, ā€œbeing human ainā€™t got nothing to do with it.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean hesitated, then gently eased Casā€™ legs off his own, their weight suddenly a prison instead of a comfort. He needed to get up, to do something to release this terrible energy inside of him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean,ā€ Cas repeated, more urgently. He started to sit up, Jack making a disgruntled noise on his chest at the motion.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, you donā€™t gottaā€”ā€ Dean started. Cas reached out and grabbed Deanā€™s arm. Dean froze under the grip, staring at Cas.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI do,ā€ Cas said, gripping Deanā€™s arm tighter. ā€œDean, the burden put on you as a child, it wasnā€™t fair.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean tried to yank his arm away, utterly certain he didnā€™t want to hear anything else Cas was going to say. Cas let his arm go, only to transfer his grip to Deanā€™s hand, wrapping his fingers around it. Dean stiffened, muscles locking up tight, even as his fingers, driven by some instinct he hadnā€™t realized he had, curled automatically around Casā€™.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean, listen to me,ā€ Cas said, as if Dean could do anything else, ā€œYou should not have had to carry the burdens you did, not so young. You were a child, Dean. You should have been free to grow up at your own pace, make mistakes, make your own choices about your life. Some of the blame for that lies with your father, some with my brothers and sisters. But please, Dean,ā€ Cas squeezed Deanā€™s hand, which had the unfortunate effect of making Deanā€™s gaze jump from the floor to Casā€™ face. It was full of compassion and understanding, the brows tilted gently upward, his mouth soft, and those eyes always so goddamn blue. Dean could lost in that.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œPlease know it wasnā€™t fair,ā€ Cas finished.Ā 

Ā 

Dean couldnā€™t move, couldnā€™t speak past the lump in his throat; he elected to nod mutely instead. Gingerly, he squeezed Casā€™ hand back. Cas eased closer on the couch, folded his leg up to sit a little closer. Dean could feel his heat all along his side, could feel Jackā€™s tiny body nestled between them.Ā 

Ā 

Dean almost choked on the wanting surging inside him. He wanted to reach out and wrap his arms around Cas, bring him closer until they were occupying the same space. He wanted to tuck his face into Casā€™ neck, resting against his shoulder, and let the world go by for a little while, safe in that darkness. He wanted Jackā€™s little fingers wrapped up in his shirt, his little head resting against Deanā€™s chest, safe and protected in the small space between them.Ā 

Ā 

Cas squeezed his hand again, bringing Dean back to reality. ā€œDean?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean nodded again, glancing quickly at Cas before he looked away, thumbing the tears from his eyes. His body was a maelstrom of emotion, swirling and confusing; he felt skinned alive, flayed open completely before Casā€™ eyes. It was uncomfortable but there was also something pure in it, something almost medicinal. As if Cas was lancing the wound and wrapping it tenderly so it can heal without a scar.Ā 

Ā 

Iā€™m so glad it's you , Dean would say if he could, not entirely sure what he meant by it. I'm so glad.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThatā€™s what I want for Jack,ā€ Cas said, after a long moment, mercifully refraining from asking if Dean was alright. ā€œI want him to be a child. And when heā€™s ready, he can decide what to do with his life, just as any child should. My job is to give him the room to make that choice when he wants to, free of expectation.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAnd you thought you weren't a good dad,ā€ Dean managed to get out, rough and choked. He made himself meet Casā€™ eyes; he looked surprised, of all things, as if Deanā€™s words had finally managed to make it through. Cas blinked at him, his expression shifting into something abashed and vulnerable and so much better than the misery that had been there before, even in its fragility.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThank you, Dean,ā€ he whispered.Ā 

Ā 

Dean wanted to grab him, to tell him over and over, until Cas believed him. Youā€™re good, youā€™re a good dad, a good person. I donā€™t care about the things youā€™ve done or the mistakes youā€™ve made. If anyoneā€™s good, itā€™s you.Ā 

Ā 

But Dean couldnā€™t speak and in any case, he didnā€™t know if Cas would let himself hear him; they were too alike in that regard. So he settled for holding Casā€™ hand, a miracle itself, and hoped that was enough.Ā 

Ā 

Pie in front of a stained glass window

_

Ā 

The pie, finally cooled, was delicious. Because of course it was.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œBest in the state,ā€ Dean said, taking another bite. Jack, his face smeared with pie filling, clearly agreed.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou can take the rest home with you,ā€ Cas said. His chin was ducked toward the table, his eyes nervously flicking to Deanā€™s and away. Apparently, Dean wasnā€™t the only one still peeled raw from their conversation. ā€œShare with Sam and Mary.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked at him, looked at Jack, and he promised himself that he would finish this thing. Heā€™d hunt Asmodeus down and heā€™d end the bastard. Only then would his family truly be safe.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

Of course, it was easier said than done.Ā 

Ā 

Step one was figuring out how to kill the bastard at all. Every yellow eyes had taken all they had to killā€”the Colt, the Lance, or Jackā€™s powers. Only one remained and Dean wasnā€™t letting Jack anywhere near a demon, not even to kill it.Ā 

Ā 

But Sam had made a suggestion, after Dean had looped him in.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat about the demon bomb?ā€ heā€™d asked.Ā 

Ā 

Dean frowned across the war table at him. ā€œWe still have one of those?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, we buried it somewhere here. That thing fried regular demons. Maybe itā€™ll work on Asmodeus.ā€Ā 

Ā 

It meant theyā€™d only have one shot at it, and there was the distinct possibility it might not even work; these types of magic spells always seemed to crap out right when you needed them most. But it was better than anything else they had.Ā 

Ā 

Which led to step two: find the bastard.Ā 

Ā 

Lead after lead turned out to be nothing, dead ends and phantoms in the wind. Theyā€™d agreed not to risk any more people than necessary, which left them having to check out every lead themselves rather than passing them onto Samā€™s hunter network. It was grueling work, hours in the car driving to nowhere places with nothing to show for it. But Dean kept at it. Nothing else mattered more.Ā 

Ā 

He knew, in some distant way, that he was following a path worn well by his dad, many years before. He did his best to ignore it.Ā 

Ā 

They were in Jonesboro, Arkansas, now, running down a rash of missing persons. Coupled with some mysterious cattle deaths in the surrounding county, Dean had figured it was worth the long drive.Ā 

Ā 

Dean slotted the car into park outside the warehouse the friends of two the missing people had identified as the place they had picked up some temporary work with a shipping company. The place looked deserted but he knew that there would be a night watchman somewhere inside theyā€™d have to avoid.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou ready?ā€ he asked. Sam nodded, tucking the demon bomb securely into his bag. They probably wouldnā€™t need it, but it was better to be prepared.Ā 

Ā 

They entered the warehouse by a side door, easing it open gently to try and avoid any creaking. They creeped down the hall, Dean leading the way. It was dark and creepy, as all warehouses were at night. But it didnā€™t seem like anything out of the ordinary and Dean could feel his eagerness for the hunt waning.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey,ā€ Sam whispered behind. Dean glanced back to see him studying a nearby doorway, his flashlight fixed on the ground.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat is it?ā€ Dean asked, keeping an eye down the hallway.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSulfur,ā€ Sam said, crouching down to get a closer look. He looked up at Dean. ā€œA demonā€™s been here.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWell, Iā€™ll be damned,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

The tension that had been fading sprung back up, full force. Dean put his hand on his gun; heā€™d filled it with devilā€™s trap bullets. It wouldnā€™t work on Asmodeus, not really, but it would probably startle him enough to give Sam a chance with the bomb.

Ā 

They continued down the hallway; it wasnā€™t long before they heard the sound of voices. They exchanged glances and shifted direction toward them.Ā 

Ā 

They ended up in a small hallway, looking out into the main loading dock area of the building. There was a group of people standing at the far end, none of whom looked like the night watchman. Which would be, of course, because the night watchman was lying face down in a pool of blood a few yards away.Ā 

Ā 

These were probably their demons, then. Unless theyā€™d happened to stumble across some warehouse robbery in progress.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCan you hear what theyā€™re saying?ā€ Dean whispered.Ā 

Ā 

Sam shook his head. ā€œSomething about power, I think, but I donā€™t know.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed, straining to hear. The hosts were all pretty nondescript and he couldnā€™t see any of the people theyā€™d been looking for among the little group. The most distinct guy was the one talking, some douchebag looking fella head to toe in white; Dean could just barely pick out a southern drawl when he spoke.Ā 

Ā 

The guy shifted a bit, bringing him into clearer view. Dean froze. The guy had a very distinct scar running over his nose and left cheek. The beard, the long hair, the scarā€”

Ā 

ā€œWhat is it?ā€ Sam asked.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shook his head, still peeking around the corner. ā€œI know that guy. The KFC looking guy.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Sam raised his brow. ā€œFrom where?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t know,ā€ Dean whispered and suddenly it fell into place where heā€™d seen him before.Ā 

Ā 

It had been months now, since the vision Jack had given him. To be honest, Dean had mostly forgotten about it, the details lost and smeared over time as all things were in memory. But he knew that face, heā€™d seen that face then, grinning at him.Ā 

Ā 

Much as it was grinning now. Dean came back to himself and found himself staring directly into the manā€™s eyes. And he wasnā€™t the best at reading lips, but he was good enough to be able to pick out his own name.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWe gotta get out of here,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat?ā€ Sam asked beside him.Ā 

Ā 

Before Dean could say anything else, a voice came from behind them. ā€œThat wonā€™t be necessary,ā€ it drawled.Ā 

Ā 

Dean turned, scrabbling for his gun. He brought it up to bear and neatly shot a hole through the guyā€™s head.Ā 

Ā 

His head rocked back with the force of the shot, but that was all. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, fixing Dean with a disappointed look, even as blood trailed down his face from the wound.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNow, thatā€™s just rude,ā€ he said, and his eyes flashed yellow.Ā 

Ā 

A part of Dean, the part that lived forever watching his house burn while his mother died screaming, froze in terror. He could hear Sam make a strangled gasp next to him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAsmodeus,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

The demon dipped his head in a genteel bow. ā€œGuilty as charged.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat do you want?ā€ Dean asked, still holding the gun on him, for all the good it would do.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI believe it was you who wanted so desperately to make an introduction. Dean and Sam Winchester, as I live and breathe,ā€ Asmodeus said.Ā 

Ā 

Dean could just see Samā€™s hand inching toward his bag. If he could keep Asmodeus talking, then maybe they had a shot of taking him out, right here and now.Ā 

Ā 

But Asmodeus was already speaking again. ā€œI apologize for the early departure, but I have things that need attending to. But if youā€™d be so kind,ā€ he smiled, the scar on his face twisting, ā€œsay hello for me.ā€Ā 

Ā 

He was gone, the hallway in front of them stretching empty. Dean whirled; the other demons were also gone, the loading dock empty beside the dead night watchman.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat the hell was that?ā€ Dean asked, checking every corner.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t know, man,ā€ Sam said, warily following behind Dean, ā€œBut we better let Crowley know. And try to figure out what the hell they were doing here.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Crowley was predictably pissed, hanging up on them shortly after Dean told him Asmodeus escaped. Dean sighed and tucked his phone away, noting his legs seemed a little quivery, like heā€™d been running flat out for miles.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat do you think he meant? Say hello? To who?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

Sam sighed, shooting Dean a worried look. Dean could see beads of sweat across his forehead, the tiniest shake in his hands. ā€œI donā€™t know. But I bet itā€™s nothing good.ā€Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

They spent the rest of the night searching the warehouse and came up with nothing: no clue why Asmodeus had been there, no idea what the demons were planning, squat.Ā 

Ā 

Dean drove back to the bunker with a knot in his chest, every other breath feeling like a struggle. It was hard to read Asmodeusā€™ comment as anything other than a threat, the question was just who it was meant for? Did Asmodeus know they were working with Crowley?Ā 

Ā 

Or was it meant for Cas? Had Asmodeus figured out somehow that Dean was seeing him?Ā 

Ā 

Dean couldnā€™t see howā€”heā€™d been careful, beyond careful. He didnā€™t even have Casā€™ phone number, didnā€™t even know if he had a phone. The only ones who knew where Cas was were Claire, Sam, and himself. No one else had any idea where he was, or that he had a nephilim with him. Beyond that, the house and property were warded, with Cas constantly touching them up or adding more. Jack never left the house without a ward drawn on his skin or a hex bag jammed in his carrier. Dean just couldnā€™t see how the demons could have found them.Ā 

Ā 

But they could have, somehow. Something might have happened to Cas and Jack, while Dean was out here chasing after his own tail. He could picture it in his mind; the front door hanging open, the house empty, wards broken, blood on the walls, the crib destroyed.Ā 

Ā 

Dean knew there was no hope of him sleeping by the time they reached the bunker. He paced in his room for a few hours, trying to work off the excess energy but he could just feel himself winding tighter and tighter. Eventually, he abandoned his room and headed back toward the garage.Ā 

Ā 

He stopped when he noticed a light on in the war room; Sam was at the table, hunched over his laptop. He glanced up with a knowing expression when Dean entered.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAre you off?ā€ Sam asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah,ā€ Dean said. He didnā€™t need to say where.Ā 

Ā 

Sam nodded. ā€œDrive safe. Try to sleep at some point.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean nodded, but he already knew he was going to be busting his ass to get out west as soon as possible. He couldnā€™t rest until he saw Cas and Jack with his own eyes and the images of catastrophe dancing in his head were put to rest.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

The drive out was exhausting; Dean eventually pulled off the road to grab a few hours of sleep when he got so tired he couldnā€™t see straight anymore. It wasnā€™t restful, filled with nightmares and strange sounds and voices. He woke up feeling just as tired as he had when he went to sleep.Ā 

Ā 

He reached Eureka, turning off the highway into the town proper, following the same path heā€™d followed so many times. It took him a few blocks to realize what the decorations in the store windows and the lawns of houses were for.Ā 

Ā 

He glanced at his phoneā€”October 31, Halloween. Wonderful. Who knew the kind of creepy shit that was going to crawl out of the woodwork this year.Ā 

Ā 

Even driving hard, it was still early afternoon by the time he pulled onto Casā€™ street. The neighbourhood had gone all out for Halloween; lawns were littered with styrofoam gravestones and cobwebs, front stoops covered with carved pumpkins. There was a skeleton in a top hat on Casā€™ neighbourā€™s porch and further down the street was some kind of inflatable dinosaur.Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™ house was much more understatedā€”a single pumpkin with a grinning face and some bats dangling in the front window.Ā 

Ā 

Cas opened the door with a harried look on his face. For a horrible moment, Dean thought all his imaginings had come trueā€”Asmodeus had found them, Jack was gone, kidnapped. But Cas didnā€™t say anything, just put a finger to his lips in a gesture for Dean to be quiet and gestured him inside.Ā 

Ā 

Turned out, the bats hanging in the window were not cardboard cutouts, as Dean had assumed, but actual, real-life bats.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThey havenā€™t woken up yet,ā€ Cas said, staring at them warily, ā€œIā€™m hoping to convince them to fly away and not come back.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHow the hell did they get in here?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

Cas looked at him, then looked at Jack. Jack was sitting in his playpen, playing with his blocks with a very satisfied air. Right. Magic baby.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWell, you did say you were worried about him feeling like he shouldnā€™t use his powers,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

A smile broke out across Casā€™ face. Dean was relieved to see it; heā€™d been so worried about the demons heā€™d barely even thought about their last conversation and how Cas had had a hard time looking at him afterward.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI suppose I have brought this on myself,ā€ Cas said. Dean bumped shoulders with him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œRegrets?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

Cas looked at him, that sad undertone creeping back in under his smile. ā€œNone.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Which of course wasnā€™t true; Dean knew Cas had as many regrets as he did. But looking around this perfect little house, at the magic boy playing on the floor, Dean had to figure that Kelly was the biggest one.Ā 

Ā 

Dean still felt a little wobbly with the relief of seeing Cas and Jack perfectly alright, like his knees might give out at any second. He tried to make it look natural, staying upright long enough to slowly collapse next to Jackā€™s playpen.Ā 

Ā 

Jack was so absorbed in his toys he didnā€™t notice Dean until he was sitting on the floor. His eyes snapped to Deanā€™s face, breaking into a massive smile and throwing his hands in the air with a shriek.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, buddy,ā€ Dean said. Jack enthusiastically waved his arms up at him. Dean picked up the stuffed bunny that was always glued to Jackā€™s side and started bouncing it around in the air. Jack wobbled to his feet and followed after it, giggling all the while.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d needed this, Dean realized. He could feel himself settling, feel the anxiety and dread that had been dogging his steps for the last few weeks retreating. Playing with Jack, hearing his laughterā€”Dean hadnā€™t realized how much heā€™d come to rely on the simple joy it gave him.Ā 

Ā 

He glanced up and noticed Cas sitting on the couch, watching them. That same distant sadness Dean had noted so many times had gathered on his face again, predictable, like the rain clouds rolling in. Dean wished he knew what to do to make it disappear for good, to prevent it from ever coming back. But to do that, heā€™d have to find some way to save Kelly or bring her back from the dead. And there was always a price for that, and it wasnā€™t one Dean was willing to pay, not if it meant putting Cas or Jack at risk. It was selfish, but it was true. So all Dean could do was try to bring Cas out of it, for as long as he needed to.Ā 

Ā 

Ā ā€œYou got plans for the night?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

Cas nodded. ā€œJack wants to go see the dinosaur the Bashirā€™s put up.ā€Ā 

Ā 

So that was what the inflatable thing was down the block. ā€œStill into dinosaurs, huh?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œVery much so.ā€ Cas said seriously, though his eyes were mirthful. ā€œWeā€™ve watched Land Before Time every day this week.ā€

Ā 

ā€œDude, you showed him that? Doesnā€™t Littlefootā€™s mom, yā€™knowā€”ā€ Dean trailed off, dragging his thumb across his throat.Ā 

Ā 

Cas shot him a dark look. ā€œYes. Itā€™s surprisingly difficult to find childrenā€™s media that doesnā€™t include parental death.ā€

Ā 

Dean shrugged; there was a reason heā€™d stuck with Looney Tunes and Scooby-Doo as a kid. Heā€™d found that absurdity was better than reality a lot of the time, and a hell of a lot more comforting.Ā 

Ā 

Dean finally let Jack catch up with the bunny, laughing as Jack snatched it to his chest. The movement unbalanced Jack a little bit, making him stagger on his feet. Dean reached out hurriedly, putting his hands on either side of Jack to steady him. Which meant that when Jack threw himself against Deanā€™s chest, Dean had no choice but to wrap his arms around him to catch him.Ā 

Ā 

It was the first time Dean had really held Jack. Heā€™d helped around the house, picking up toys, selecting books to read, cleaning up after snack time, but heā€™d only let himself go so far when it came to Jack. Feeling Jack fall asleep beside him on the couch was hard enough, poking at some fragile place within; the thought of actually holding him was unimaginable. It wasnā€™t Deanā€™s place.Ā 

Ā 

And here he was, Jackā€™s tiny body pressed against his chest. He was so small; infinitely fragile, even knowing the power he carried. He leaned into Dean, laying his head on Deanā€™s shoulder with a soft sigh. Dean had to blink hard against the heat in his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, I missed you too,ā€ he whispered.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWe were about to have dinner,ā€ Cas said from behind them. He was watching them from the couch, that same sad smile on his lips.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSure,ā€ Dean said, awkwardly craning his neck so he could hold Jack and look at Cas at the same time. Jack seemed content to stay where he was, leaning further and further into Deanā€™s chest. Dean hoped Cas didnā€™t mind; heā€™d never suggested Dean hold Jack before, had rarely pushed Dean to be more active with Jack aside from that time with one time with the bedtime story. But Cas didnā€™t say anything, just kept watching them.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDo you want to feed him?ā€ Cas asked.Ā 

Ā 

Dean froze. Well, that answered one question. ā€œI donā€™tā€”I donā€™t know, manā€”ā€

Ā 

Cas actually had the gall to roll his eyes, fixing Dean with a fondly exasperated look. ā€œDean, youā€™ve seen me feed him a dozen times. You know what he likes.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€”okay,ā€ Dean said, unsure what else he could say. Itā€™s not like feeding a baby was hard; heā€™d mastered it when he was four. He looked down at Jack. ā€œYou wanna eat?ā€

Ā 

Jack gave an enthusiastic shriek, directly into Deanā€™s ear. Dean winched at the volume, distantly hearing Casā€™ chuckle behind them.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œTake it thatā€™s a yes.ā€

Ā 

Dean ended up carrying Jack into the kitchen, the kid refusing to release his hold on Dean until he was being placed in his highchair. His little arms around Deanā€™s neck forcibly brought him back to his own childhood, carting a tiny Sam around in his arms, Deanā€™s four year old legs stumbling under the weight.Ā 

Ā 

Dean had to clear his throat when he put Jack down, emotion surging and choking him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGood job, kid,ā€ he said, ruffling Jackā€™s hair. Jack babbled happily and slapped his hands on the chair tray.Ā 

Ā 

Cas had disappeared somewhere in the house, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen. Dean rifled through the cabinets and rustled up the ingredients for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, giving Jack his half cut up in little squares. Crusts off, because Dean had tried to force a baby Sam to eat them enough times to know that bread crusts were one of the worst things in the world to give a kid. He also cut up a banana, putting the slices into a little plastic bowl he put on Jackā€™s tray.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHowā€™s that?ā€ he asked. Jack didnā€™t bother answering, his mouth full and his hands already smeared with peanut butter and bits of banana. Dean took a seat and tucked into his own half of the sandwich.Ā 

Ā 

Cas came back into the kitchen from wherever heā€™d been, a mess of yellow and black fabric in his hands.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œJackā€™s costume,ā€ he said in response to Deanā€™s curious frown.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAnd whatā€™s yours?ā€ Dean asked, looking him over. Heā€™d changedā€”heā€™d been in his sweater-dad look when heā€™d opened the door but now he was wearing some baggy beige monstrosity Dean couldnā€™t figure out.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m a beekeeper,ā€ Cas said, spreading his arms. The costume seemed to expand, surrounding him in a beige cloud. The look was completed with a wide brimmed hat Cas donned, pulling the net down over his face.Ā  ā€œisnā€™t it obvious?ā€

Ā 

Jackā€™s costume, it turned out, was a bee. The fuzzy costume looked massive on Jack, making him look like a black and yellow striped blob with tiny plastic wings that happened to have a babyā€™s face poking out the top. Cas patiently talked him into putting on the little cap with antenna, which Jack allowed to be strapped on with poor grace.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou gotta get a photo of this,ā€ Dean said, trying not to laugh out loud. They posed in front of the stained glass window, the fading light giving Casā€™ costume a bit of color. They looked happy, Dean thought, although Jack was already picking at the strap of his cap. Cas looked about fit to burst, smiling widely into the camera, obvious even through the netting.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDo you have a costume?ā€ Cas asked.Ā 

Ā 

Dean gestured down at himself, wearing his usual outfit of flannel and denim. ā€œYouā€™re looking at it.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas shot him a scoffing look. ā€œThatā€™s not a costume, Dean.ā€

Ā 

ā€œOkay, then Iā€™m dressed up as Sam, if he had a reasonable haircut,ā€ Dean said with a shrug.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat? I donā€™t really have anything else.ā€ Heā€™d left in such a hurry heā€™d just grabbed the same duffle bag heā€™d taken with him out to Arkansas, dirty clothes and all. Though, actuallyā€”

Ā 

ā€œI think I have a monkey suit,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™ expression turned thoughtful. ā€œThat might work.ā€

Ā 

Dean headed back out to the car, grabbed his suit and hurriedly changed in the bathroom. He studied himself in the mirror. It was just a normal black suit and white shirt combo, nothing special. The shirt was a little wrinkled and he had to keep adjusting the jacket so it covered the ketchup stain on the chest, but it was passable. If he threw his sunglasses on, he could probably look like he was supposed to be from Men in Black or something, although then heā€™d have to live with being that douchebag wearing sunglasses at night.Ā 

Ā 

He left the bathroom, found Cas and Jack sitting on the couch in the living room, Jack flopping around on his back. He wasnā€™t getting very far; he was almost completely round in his costume.Ā 

Ā 

Dean came to a stop in front of them, striking a pose with his fingers folded to make the shape of a gun. ā€œHowā€™s that?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œVery impressive,ā€ Cas said, smiling indulgently. Jack even clapped his hands together in excitement, squirming on his back so he could see Dean.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI might offer one suggestion, though,ā€ Cas said, an oddly nervous look on his face. He leaned over and grabbed a something from the other end of the couch, hesitating before holding it out to Dean.Ā 

Ā 

Dean recognized it immediately; it was Casā€™ trench coat, folded neatly in a bundle. Heā€™d figured Cas had gotten rid of it when he ditched the whole outfit, throwing it away never to be seen again. Dean had found himself missing it from time to time; as much as Cas rocked the dad outfits, Dean had a special fondness for the trench and suit look.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™ll be cold tonight,ā€ Cas said, bringing Deanā€™s eyes back to his face. There was a faint smile lingering on Casā€™ lips, but Dean could see the hesitancy in his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSure,ā€ Dean said and took the coat. ā€œThanks, Cas.ā€Ā 

Ā 

He shrugged into the coat easily; it had always been a little over-sized on Cas so it fit pretty okay on Dean, though the sleeves were a little short on him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYā€™know, the lookā€™s not quite complete,ā€ Dean said, shooting Cas a grin as he took off his tie. Cas laughed when Dean flipped it around, sliding it back on so it was backwards.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo oneā€™s going to know what you are,ā€ Cas said. He stood, taking a step closer to help Dean straighten his collar. Dean could feel the heat of his fingers through the fabric.Ā 

Ā 

Dean grinned at him, slipping his hands into the coatā€™s pockets. Cas hadnā€™t cleaned out the pockets when heā€™d retired the coat; he could feel little scraps of paper, receipts, the odd coin Dean knew heā€™d stuffed in there himself once upon a time.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThatā€™s okay,ā€ he said, looking into Casā€™ eyes. He was close, so close Dean could swear he could feel his breath, escaping from Casā€™ lungs into his own. ā€œWeā€™ll know.ā€Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

Walking around the neighborhood was fun, if a little awkward. Halloween had never meant anything good to Dean growing up; it usually just meant a night looking after Sammy, who would complain the whole night through that they werenā€™t allowed to go trick or treating like the normal kids, or it meant a hunt with Dad because the creepy crawlies always got more active around that time of year. And it also meant the anniversary of Momā€™s death, the day their normal lives ended was right around the corner. It had been hard to get into the festive spirit, knowing that.Ā 

Ā 

The closest heā€™d ever gotten to a normal Halloween had been with Lisa and Ben. He remembered helping Ben make that wendigo mask, evenings spent in the garage together trying to get it just right. Theyā€™d almost gotten away with it too, but Lisa had looked at it with something fearful in her eyes before asking Ben if he didnā€™t want to dress as a pirate instead. Dean hadnā€™t thought about it beforehand, that something that seemed fun for Ben would be scary to Lisa, the one whoā€™d seen a monster take the likeness of her son. Luckily, Ben was obsessed with the Pirates of the Caribbean movies then and was just as happy to go out as a knock off Jack Sparrow, same as five other kids on his block.Ā 

Ā 

Dean had joined them for a little bit, out of costume and out of place. It had been a few months since Sam had gone into the cage at that point and Dean was still a mess most days. With the anniversary of Momā€™s death right around the corner, he hadnā€™t been able to handle being out for too long. He stayed just long enough to walk the length of the street with them, eyeing each neighbour and passing family for black eyes, before turning back to the house.Ā 

Ā 

It was different this yearā€”Sam was safe, Mom was alive. Cas was beside him instead of winging off somewhere in the universe, presumably never to see Dean again.Ā 

Ā 

But in some ways, it was the same. Cas and Jack were known in the neighbourhood, with neighbours stopping to say hello, waving, and making faces at Jack to make him laugh. Cas knew these people; he asked about their health, about their families, had clearly spent time with them. Dean could place a few of them, having seen them in passing over his previous visitsā€”Lenny and his dog (both currently dressed up as tacos for some reason) from around the corner, the Vuongs from a few houses down. But most people didnā€™t know him at all, looking at him curiously. Probably wondering what the hell he was doing here with Cas and Jack, trying to make it look like he actually belonged.Ā 

Ā 

But Cas had a story already in place, one he trotted out so seamlessly, Dean knew he must have thought it up beforehand.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThis is my brother, Dean,ā€ Cas said in response to those curious looks and each time Dean would have to grit out a smile and shake the hand offered to him.Ā 

Ā 

He knew it was his own damn fault; it had been the cover story heā€™d used when heā€™d first shown up in town looking for Cas. He couldnā€™t fault Cas for running with it.Ā 

Ā 

It had always been safer, anyway, to think of Cas as a brother. To ignore the way looking at him sometimes made Deanā€™s heart pound in his chest, to bury all those times heā€™d lain awake at night thinking about him. It didnā€™t give him anything, to think about how he could feel his heart breaking every time he lost Cas, the despair and grief cutting him anew, no matter how many times it had happened before. It didnā€™t give him anything to obsess over those moments heā€™d gotten to touch Cas, to linger on those moments theyā€™d stand so close Dean would barely have to move to hold him.Ā 

Ā 

He didnā€™t always know the best way to express himself and sometimes he got lost in it all, but he wasnā€™t stupid. He knew damn well what he felt for Cas, had for a long time; it was nowhere even close to the realm of brotherly.Ā 

Ā 

But Dean was a coward. He hadnā€™t been able to say it back in that crypt, all those years ago with the words screaming in his mind and clogging his throat. He hadnā€™t been able to say it when he was facing annihilation and Amara. As if words like need and brother were anything close to what he wanted to say.Ā 

Ā 

There would be no point in saying anything about it. Cas didnā€™t feel the same way; the last thing he needed, on top of raising a child and dealing with his own grief for Kelly, was to have to manage Deanā€™s own inappropriate feelings. It didnā€™t matter how close they stood, or how Cas somehow managed to look handsome in his stupid costume, or how much Dean had wanted to kiss him back at the house. Cas was out now, one foot fully in a normal life. If the only room in that life for a broken down old hunter like Dean was as a brother, then heā€™d take it and heā€™d be damn grateful.Ā 

Ā 

They wandered around door to door for a couple of hours, until Jackā€™s little bag was weighed down with candy and the sun was starting to lower toward the horizon. Dean spent those hours hyper-alert, staring around every corner, muttering Christo under his breath whenever they passed a group of people. He noticed Cas was just as focused, glancing over his shoulder, jerking his head around at every sharp movement. Dean wondered, again, if he should tell Cas about Asmodeus, warn him about their encounter, his mysterious words. But this Cas, watchful and wary, was Cas already on his guard. Dean didnā€™t see how it would help for Cas to know that another demon may or may not have threatened him.Ā 

Ā 

It was a weak defence and Dean knew it. But he just couldnā€™t bear to bring it up, not while Jack was clearly having fun and Cas was already so stressed.Ā 

Ā 

Jack put up a fuss when Cas said it was time to go home, making those little whining noises he made when he was working himself up to a big cry. Dean reached over and rubbed his fuzzy hat, making the antennas wiggle.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œRelax, kid, itā€™ll be better when youā€™re older and you can stay out after dark.ā€

Ā 

That didnā€™t seem to make Jack feel better, but he did slump against Casā€™ chest with a dejected sigh rather than burst into tears, so Dean would jot it down as a win. It also made Cas smile, losing the hunted edge to his face.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHow about we go see the dinosaur again, huh?ā€ Dean said, nudging Cas with his elbow. ā€œItā€™ll make him feel better.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas nodded. ā€œI agree.ā€Ā 

Ā 

They swung by the dinosaur on the way back, now lit up in anticipation of full darkness. Dean figured it might be a local Halloween attraction, judging by the crowd it had drawn. Or maybe people just liked lights; Jack certainly seemed to, staring in awe until Dean noticed his eyes started to blink open more and more slowly.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHome, I think,ā€ Cas murmured.Ā 

Ā 

Dean rifled through the candy bag on the way back, unwrapping a Mars bar and popping it into his mouth. Jack pouted sleepily at him from his perch against Casā€™ shoulder.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œRelax,ā€ Dean said, ā€œthereā€™s still plenty left. Besides, you just started mastering fruit, I think candyā€™s a bit beyond you. Maybe wait til next year.ā€

Ā 

They arrived back at the house and Cas started Jackā€™s bedtime routine. Dean changed back into his own clothes, hanging the trench coat by the door. He quietly cleaned up in the living room and the kitchen, listening to the soft tone of Casā€™ voice in the nursery. He was so distracted with putting dishes away he didnā€™t notice Cas in the doorway until he called his name.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œJack wants to say goodnight to you,ā€ Cas said. He was still wearing his beekeeper outfit, rustling with every step he took back down the hall.Ā 

Ā 

Jack was wrapped up securely in his crib, wearing his favorite dinosaur onesie and curled around his bunny.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou have a good night, kid?ā€ Dean asked, leaning on his elbows over the crib. Jack made a sleepy noise, waving his fist in the air.Ā 

Ā 

Dean caught it gently, let Jack wrap his fingers around Deanā€™s index finger. ā€œYeah, me too,ā€ he said. ā€œBut you gotta sleep, okay? Then tomorrow you can have a piece of candy. If Daddy says you can.ā€Ā 

Ā 

He looked up at Cas, hanging back in the doorway. For a second he thought Casā€™ eyes had a watery sheen to them, but he figured it must just be the light reflecting off them.Ā 

Ā 

Jack mumbled something, his eyes sliding shut. Dean laid his little hand down and backed out of the room.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI should probably get back on the road,ā€ he said to Cas in the hallway. Heā€™d already stayed longer than heā€™d meant to. He wasnā€™t honestly sure what heā€™d intended when he drove out here; heā€™d been so out of his mind with panic, all he could think about was getting here at all.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™s late,ā€ Cas said, looking at him uncertainly. He was standing close to Dean, lowering his voice to a whisper so as not to disturb Jack. Dean could feel his heat again, like a moth to flame, touch his skin to Casā€™.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNah, I should go,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

Cas nodded, something reluctant in his expression. ā€œThank you for coming. Jack had a good time.ā€ He paused. His tongue darted out to wet his lips; Dean felt his eyes follow it.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWe both did,ā€ Cas finished. His eyes were very blue; Dean seemed to realize it anew every time he saw Cas.

Ā 

Dean needed to get the hell out of here, he realized distantly, before he did something so stupid heā€™d regret it for the rest of his life.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, me too.ā€ He turned and headed for the door, slipping into his coat.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean,ā€ Cas said; he held out a bag of candy. ā€œJack canā€™t actually eat any of this yet. He wonā€™t notice.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHell, I ainā€™t gonna bring it up,ā€ Dean said. He took the bag, putting it on the passenger seat within easy reach, tossing his suit into the back in a pile. Cas stood in the open doorway, lifting his hand in farewell as Dean drove away. Dean couldnā€™t stop himself from glancing back at him, only stopping when he reached the corner and had to turn.Ā 

Ā 

He wanted to get back to the bunker, restart the search for Asmodeus. They had to be better prepared next time, not let the bastard get the drop on them. Then he could come back and see Cas and Jack again.Ā 

Ā 

It was a long haul, so he stopped at a gas station just out of town to fill up, picking his way through the candy as the tank filled. Casā€™ neighbors gave out pretty good shit; there were even a few full sized chocolate bars in the mix. Dean was impressed, taking a big bite out of a Snickers.Ā 

Ā 

The gas station was mostly empty; it being a Wednesday night, there werenā€™t many people on the road aside from locals heading home. He was probably the only person from out of state in the entire place.Ā 

Ā 

The pump clunked and Dean headed inside to pay. It was the place heā€™d first found Cas in, all those months ago, he finally realized. The attendant was the same person heā€™d talked to then, though she apparently didnā€™t remember him, judging from the bored look on her face as she rang him up.Ā 

Ā 

Dean took his time heading back to the car, getting back into the driverā€™s seat. He wasnā€™t looking forward to the long drive home, hours spent in the dark, leashing the part of himself heā€™d let out tonight.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d made a mistake, letting himself acknowledge, even just briefly, the way he felt for Cas. He shouldnā€™tā€™ve thought about what he did, let himself look at Cas like that. It wasnā€™t right; Cas didnā€™t feel the same way, he was mourning someone he loved. Dean had no right to be thinking what he was, to be looking at his friend like that, to be reading into Casā€™ actions. He needed to put it all away; some time gone should let him bury it again and then heā€™d be okay. Cas didnā€™t have to know.Ā 

Ā 

He pulled out his phone, checking the time. He could make it to Nevada tonight if he drove hard, but he probably wouldnā€™t make it much further before he had to stop for the night.Ā 

Ā 

He hesitated for a long moment, telling himself he shouldnā€™t. Then he pulled up the gallery on his phone.Ā 

Ā 

The pictures heā€™d taken earlier popped onto the screenā€”bee and beekeeper, smiling in the kitchen in the fading light. Cas had insisted on at least one photo with all three of them before they headed out. Dean wasnā€™t very good at selfies, but it wasnā€™t too badā€”Deanā€™s face was large in the foreground, doing his best Cas frown, Cas behind him holding Jack up so it looked like he was perching on Deanā€™s shoulder.Ā 

Ā 

Dean flicked to the next one and knew immediately it was going to be his favorite. It was Cas and Jack in the kitchen. Cas had paused between shots to lift the netting of his hat and press a kiss to Jackā€™s forehead. Dean had taken the picture right as Jack squealed with laughter, all chubby cheeks and squeezed shut eyes.Ā 

Ā 

There was a life Dean could just see, the view covered in grime and muck, just beyond the horizon. A life where Dean got to stay and watch Jack grow up. Where Dean got to be there when he said his first word, when he had his first slice of pizza. A life where Dean got to show Jack his favorite movies, hear about his day at school, teach him how to drive. A life where he didnā€™t leave at the end of the night, his memory foam mattress waiting for him in the loft upstairs.Ā 

Ā 

It didnā€™t look like the life heā€™d wanted, once upon a time. Cas wasnā€™t his wife and wouldnā€™t ever think of him in the way Dean wanted him to. Jack wasnā€™t his biological child. He didnā€™t even know if Cas wanted him to try and fill that kind of role. But Dean knew what he wanted and it felt like waking up from a long sleep, wiping the dust from his eyes and really seeing .Ā Ā 

Ā 

He wanted to turn around, go back into town, and spend the night. He wanted to not leave the next morning. He wanted to play with Jack, watch some cartoons with him, help Cas attempt to make another pie and make fun of him if it turned out bad. He even wanted all the awkward moments when Dean couldnā€™t quite manage to keep his longing to himself, when it spilled over into long looks and stifled touches because at least that meant Cas was in reach, even if Dean could never cross that distance. He wanted it all, so badly he could taste it.Ā 

Ā 

He should be used to it by now, wanting what he couldnā€™t have. It still hit like a blow.Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed, putting his phone away. He started the car and had just reached the edge of the lot, waiting to make a right turn, when he heard the sirens.Ā 

Ā 

A firetruck rushed by, heading back into town. Traffic had just started moving again when two more whizzed by, sirens screaming in the night.Ā 

Ā 

Dean watched them go, a feeling of dread pooling in his gut. He noticed the other people at the gas station glancing at each other before going back to their business. He should do the same, he knew. Heā€™d bothered Cas and Jack enough for one night.Ā 

Ā 

He hesitated and made a left turn back into town. He could still faintly hear the trucks somewhere ahead of him as he did so, taking the familiar route back to Casā€™ house.Ā 

Ā 

His dread grew deeper, the closer he got. By the time he was a few turns away, he could see the smoke billowing into the sky. By the next turn, he could see the light of the flames glowing in the night. By the next, he could smell the smoke coming in through the car vents.Ā 

Ā 

He pulled to a stop on the corner of Casā€™ street, staring at the light of the fire trucks further down. He hurriedly put the car into park and leapt out, running down the street.Ā 

Ā 

The neighbors were all crowded around on the road, staring up at the inferno burning where Casā€™ house had once stood. Fire fighters were strewn around, trying to douse the flames before they spread to another property. The house was done for, Dean could tell; theyā€™d be lucky if there was anything left.Ā 

Ā 

He spotted a paramedicā€™s van parked next to the fire trucks, but he could only see paramedics milling around. No Cas, no Jack.Ā 

Ā 

Dread twisted inside him, crawling up his throat, choking him. He grabbed the person nearest him, someone he didnā€™t recognize. ā€œDid anyone come out?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t know,ā€ the guy said, staring at Dean, ā€œI just got here.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean?ā€ Another voice asked, one that sounded vaguely familiar. It was Mrs Bashir, the one with the glowing dinosaur, waving her hand at him through the crowd. He vaguely remembered meeting her and her wife on their second go around before they headed home.Ā 

Ā 

He shoved his way through the crowd to her.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI thought it was you,ā€ she said. She seized his hand. ā€œOh, my dear.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat happened?ā€ Dean asked, turning to look back at the house. The fire crackled and spat, hungrily consuming everything in its path. He could hear the glass of the windows shattering in the heat. Cas would be devastated about the stained glass window; he was always staring at it with a peaceful expression.Ā 

Ā 

He vaguely noticed Mrs Bashir was dragging him forward, to distracted by the flames to think much of it. He only cottoned on when they were practically at the fire truck.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThey were wondering how many people were inside,ā€ she said, ā€œWe said three, butā€”ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo, I-I went to go get some things,ā€ Dean said. They were wondering how many people were inside, they didnā€™t know for sureā€”maybe that meant Cas and Jack werenā€™t here. Maybe theyā€™d managed to fly away before the fire got too bad. Or maybe it just meant the firefighters hadnā€™t found them yet.Ā 

Ā 

The thought almost buckled Deanā€™s knees.Ā 

Ā 

Things started to go a bit hazy. He knew the firefighters were asking him questionsā€”who was inside the house, where would they have been locatedā€”but Dean could barely hear his own voice providing the answers. All he could see were the flames.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™re sure there was only Mr Jepsen and the baby inside? No one else?ā€Ā 

Ā 

The question cut through the fog. ā€œYeah, why?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

The firefighter shook his head. ā€œSome of the neighbours mentioned seeing a few other people through the window. They said there was some kind of altercation, yelling, then the explosion happened. We think it might have been a gas leak that started it but it seems odd.ā€ He looked at Dean, something shrewd in his expression. ā€œThe police are going to want to talk to you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

That brought Dean back to reality. An altercation, yelling, an explosion. Knowing who was involved, that sounded like something supernatural. Something or someone had caught up to them here, demon or angel, Dean wasnā€™t certain. The explosion though, that sounded angelic. Maybe Cas had managed to skewer one of the dicks before he escaped. Or maybe Casā€”Ā 

Ā 

Dean suddenly couldnā€™t breathe. It took all he had to nod to the firefighter, waiting until heā€™d disappeared looking for an officer for Dean to talk to before Dean slipped away into the crowd. There was no reason to stay and every reason not toā€”it had been a long time since Dean was an actively wanted man but he didnā€™t want to take any chances, especially when he didnā€™t have his FBI badge on him.Ā 

Ā 

There were two possibilities here, Dean thought, convincing himself to keep breathing. Either Cas and Jack had escaped, in which case theyā€™d find nothing in the house, or they hadnā€™t. Maybe Cas had triggered the explosion to cover their escape, some trap heā€™d sent up along with the wards. Or maybe that was Cas burning out back there, his grace fueling the fire.Ā 

Ā 

The thought drove the air from his chest; Dean raced back to the Impala, dropping into the driverā€™s seat with a strangled gasp. No, it couldnā€™t end like this. He couldnā€™t accept that Cas was dead, Jack maybe with him. He wouldnā€™t accept that, not unless it was confirmed beyond any shred of a doubt. Until then, Cas and Jack were alive and they needed his help.Ā 

Ā 

Dean got out of town as fast he could without drawing attention to himself. The neighbors would know what his car looked like and no innocent person had a reason to flee a fire; he knew he would have just jumped to the top of copsā€™ list of suspects as soon as he drove away. He pulled over on a deserted side road near the docks. He didnā€™t want the cops to find him and although he knew it would be fairly easy to get lost in the woods around here he also didnā€™t want to stumble onto some gangā€™s grow-op and get himself shot either.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d been praying non-stop, leaning over the steering wheel to stay upright at every stop light. He could feel every breath rattle in his lungs, harsh exhales reverberating in the car. His prayers and thoughts were mixing together until he couldnā€™t tell the difference between the two, just a very ending litany of please please please .Ā 

Ā 

He tried to get his breathing under control, to bring some sense of order to his thoughts, and did the only thing he could think of: he called Sam.Ā 

Ā 

Dean almost lost his mind, waiting as the line rang. Two rings passed like an eternity and Dean was seized with the sudden certainty Sam would not pick up and Dean would be left with zero options.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d never been more thankful to be wrong, Samā€™s voice coming on the line after the third ring.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, Dean, whatā€™s up?ā€ He sounded loose, relaxed, like heā€™d been having a good night.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSam,ā€ Dean said, the only thing he could say. His voice was ragged and raw.Ā 

Ā 

Samā€™s tone immediately sharpened, taking on that in-control quality Dean desperately needed to hear. ā€œWhatā€™s wrong?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™sā€”ā€ Dean had to gasp for a breath over the crushing sensation in his chest. ā€œItā€™s Cas and-and Jack, something happened.ā€

Ā 

ā€œWhat? Dean, what happened?ā€

Ā 

Dean gasped another breath. ā€œI donā€™t know, man, there was some kind of fight or something and now the house is on fire andā€”I donā€™t know where they are, I donā€™t know where they are, Iā€”ā€

Ā 

Dean leaned over the steering wheel, digging his forehead into the leather with a groan. ā€œI left them, Sammy. I left them.ā€

Ā 

The one thing he was never supposed to do, abandon his family, and heā€™d left them, all because he was too weak to deal with his own stupid emotions. He never should have left them. Or he never should have come back in the first place.Ā 

Ā 

He knew, suddenly, with utter certainty, that this was his fault. Asmodeus. It must have been. Heā€™d followed Dean somehow, magic or something else, heā€™d followed Dean and he had led that bastard right to Cas and Jack.Ā 

Ā 

Oh god. All this time heā€™d been worried about turning into his father and heā€™d become his mother instead.Ā 

Ā 

Images started to churn together in his mindā€”Jack and Cas, yes, but further back too: Cas looking up at him from the floor, his face bloody, his hand on Deanā€™s sleeve; Cas looking over his shoulder, apologizing, in front of a swirling portal; Cas looking at him over a ring of flames telling him to run. And over it all, his dad pressing Sam into his arms while his mother burned screaming in the other room, yelling for him to take Sammy and run, go Dean go! Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean!ā€ Sam shouted in his ear. Dean came back to himself, hands clenched on the steering wheel and the phone, breathing fast, his heart pounding.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean, are you there?ā€ Sam asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œMm-hm,ā€ Dean managed to say.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOh, thank god,ā€ Sam breathed. ā€œI need you to calm down, okay? Take some breaths.ā€

Ā 

Dean focused, trying to pull himself together. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his breath in and out in deliberate intervals. He didnā€™t have time to fall apart like this, he castigated himself. Cas and Jack were in danger, the least he could do was keep his shit together.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m here, Sammy,ā€ he said, finally. He sounded steadily, at least marginally.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOkay, good,ā€ Sam said, obviously relieved. ā€œNow, explain what happened. What do you mean Jack and Cas are gone?ā€

Ā 

ā€œI mean, theyā€™re gone, Sam!ā€ Dean exclaimed, ā€œthe house is literally on fire!ā€

Ā 

ā€œOn fire?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, there was, I donā€™t know, an explosion, they said. I justā€”I left and when I came back the place was up in flames and no one knew where Cas and Jack were.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Sam was silent for a long moment. ā€œYou donā€™t thinkā€¦ā€

Ā 

ā€œNo, Sam. I donā€™t, I canā€™t.ā€ Dean took a breath. ā€œCas isnā€™t dead. Heā€”theyā€™re out there, somewhere. I know they are.ā€

Ā 

Sam sighed. ā€œWith his wings, he could be anywhere. And weā€™ve got no way of tracking them.ā€

Ā 

It felt like being back where they started when Jack had been born. No idea where they were, if Cas was alright or what on earth was happening to him. And now Jack was embroiled in that mess too

Ā 

ā€œWhat the hell are we going to do, Sam?ā€ Dean asked, his voice breaking. A few years back, Dean would not have asked that question easily. He was the older brother, he was supposed to protect Sam, have a game plan, not the other way around, no matter how much Sam didnā€™t like it. But this was his brother, his family, and Sam always knew what to do.Ā 

Ā 

Sam sighed, deeply. When he spoke, his voice was no-nonsense, absolutely controlled.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThereā€™s no sense in you staying there. Cas could be anywhere, he might not even be on this continent anymore. Do you think you can drive back?ā€

Ā 

ā€œYeah, I can do that.ā€ Dean was exhausted and wired. He wanted to find Cas, he needed to start the search; the thought of sitting in a car, even one cruising down the highway as fast as he could go, was awful, disgusting in its uselessness.

Ā 

There was a long beat of silence over the phone; Dean realized Eileen was probably there and Sam was explaining what was going on.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSam?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œMomā€™s in Utah,ā€ Sam said aloud. ā€œIā€™m gonna tell her whatā€™s going on, get her to meet you.ā€

Ā 

Dean closed his eyes, pressing his head into the steering wheel hard. ā€œNo, Sammy, you donā€™t have to do that.ā€

Ā 

ā€œWell, weā€™ve already texted her, so.ā€

Ā 

Dean sighed. ā€œFine.ā€

Ā 

ā€œIā€™ll see you soon, okay? Iā€™m gonna start looking for any omens, any signs at all. Iā€™ll even call Crowley, see if heā€™s heard anything.ā€ Sam paused, then continued in a softer tone. ā€œWeā€™ll find them. We will.ā€

He sounded so certain, so absolutely sure, like his words could shape reality. Dean swallowed. ā€œThanks, Sammy. Call if you find anything, okay?ā€

Ā 

ā€œYeah, I will.ā€

Ā 

Dean started up the car again, getting onto the highway and flooring it. He drove in a haze for hours, passing over the Nevada border without even realizing it until he was an hour past Reno.Ā 

Ā 

It was all too muchā€”Cas and Jack in the wind, maybe hurt, maybe captured, maybe dead. If Dean thought about it too much, it made his chest go tight, his vision blurry. Cas would tear him a new one if he knew he was driving like this, he thought suddenly with a manic laugh.Ā 

Ā 

Their house was gone, their little house. The house Cas had made for Jack, where heā€™d bathed him and fed him and loved him. That sanctuary, complete with bare walls, stained glass, and the worldā€™s most uncomfortable pull-out couch. All gone.Ā 

Ā 

Their life in that place had been sweet and peaceful, made that way through hard work and love. And now it was gone, destroyed in a moment. They didnā€™t deserve that. Where would they go, now? Where would Jack grow up, where would be safe for him?Ā 

Ā 

Dammit, Cas, where the hell are you? Ā 

_

Ā 

Dean prayed to Cas, on and off, all night. He was half-convinced he even prayed in his dreams, crammed in the back of the car somewhere just across the Utah border. He called Sam as soon as he woke up.Ā 

Ā 

There hadnā€™t been any good news during the night. Sam had no clues so far. No omens, no signs, other than the big storm that suddenly rolled into Northern California as Dean was driving out, something that hadnā€™t been predicted and had people buzzing on the radio. But other than that, nothing at all, nothing that gave any clue as to where Cas and Jack were. Crowley didnā€™t have anything either, though apparently he had some choice words that Sam didnā€™t bother to repeat to Dean.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHeā€™s pissed,ā€ Sam had said over the phone. Dean had looked at the rising sun, just starting to peak over the horizon.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, he can join the club.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Mom met up with him early, outside a little restaurant, one of those fabricated boxes just off the side of the highway. She hugged him as soon as he got out of the car. Dean hugged her back and they stayed there for a long while, just holding on.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou drove all night?ā€ she asked.Ā 

Ā 

Dean nodded, silently, his nose digging into her shoulder.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou must be exhausted. Do you want to stop and eat?ā€

Ā 

Dean shook his head. He had to get back to the bunker as soon as he could. At least Cas could find him there.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOkay,ā€ Mom said, pushing him back to look at his face. She brushed her thumb over his cheek, forcing a smile. ā€œIā€™ll get us something to go and weā€™ll get back on the road.ā€

Ā 

Dean nodded, leaning back on the car and watching her head inside. He waited about twenty minutes, watching the other cars go by, his mind curiously blank.Ā 

Ā 

Mom came back, styrofoam containers and cups in hand. She set them down on the roof of the car and held out her palm expectantly. ā€œGive me your keys.ā€

Ā 

ā€œWhat?ā€

Ā 

ā€œIā€™ll drive us back. Give me your keys.ā€

Ā 

ā€œWhat about your car?ā€ Dean asked, glancing across at the mostly empty parking lot.Ā 

Ā 

Mom shook her head. ā€œDonā€™t worry about it; I have a friend in the area, heā€™ll drive it back.ā€

Ā 

Dean was usually ravenous for any details about Momā€™s life: who was this friend? How had they met, did they know each other well? But he was tired and he was hungry and he just wanted to go back to the only home he had. So he got back in the car on the passenger side, mutely accepting the food.Ā 

Ā 

He managed a few bites of his food before his stomach twisted up too much to eat more. He stuck with coffee after that, nursing it until his stomach behaved.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDid Sam tell you what happened?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah,ā€ Mom said. He could see her glance at him out of the corner of his eye. ā€œDo you want to talk about it?ā€

Ā 

ā€œIā€”ā€ he sighed, hating how his breath trembled on itā€™s way out. He looked at her again. She looked tired, deep bags under her eyes. And there was something deeply weary lingering in her eyes. He realized it was a new day now, November 1. Tomorrow would be the anniversary of the night they lost everything, that Mom died and their house burned and Sam was given a burden heā€™d never manage to fully put down. Sheā€™d dropped everything to come and get him, like he was a teenager whoā€™d gotten in something stupid over his head. And Dean was going to put all this on her too?Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNah,ā€ he said, turning back to face the window.Ā 

Ā 

Mom reached out and put her hand on Deanā€™s arm. ā€œOkay. Weā€™ll figure it out. Just try to get some sleep right now, okay?ā€

Ā 

ā€œOkay.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean leaned his head against the window glass, the cool touch refreshing to his fever-bright mind. He just couldnā€™t stop his thoughts from racing, around and around, endlessly pursuing him. He kept thinking about the night before, the way Jack had leapt into his arms, playing a little trick to get Dean to hold him. That undercurrent of sadness in Casā€™ eyes, even as he smiled at Dean and Jack.Ā 

Ā 

The photo of Kelly would be gone now, he thought. Burned up in the fire, along with everything else they owned. The knowledge almost brought Dean to tears. At least theyā€™d had photos of Mom, the ones Dad had kept at work. Jack and Cas wouldnā€™t even have that.Ā 

Ā 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, prayed, Cas, if you can hear me ā€”

Ā 

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He dug it out, expecting it to be Sam, but it was a text from an unknown number. Dean almost put his phone away before he saw the text preview.Ā 

Ā 

It said simply, weā€™re fine

Ā 

Dean stared at him, unlocking his phone to bring up the text history. Heā€™d never received a text from the number before.Ā 

Ā 

Who is this? He texted back. He waited and waited, staring at the phone, willing something to happen. He could see Mom glancing at him curiously, but he just kept staring.Ā 

Ā 

Just as he was about to give up on a response, another text came in. Weā€™re fine , it said again, promise .Ā 

Ā 

Dean hesitated, then dialed the unknown number, a wild suspicion in his chest. The number rang out to voicemail. By the time Dean lowered the phone, another text had come in.Ā 

Ā 

Canā€™t talk now, busy. Weā€™re FINE. It was followed by a string of emojis: an angel, a baby, a running guy, and a whole row of grinning devil faces.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean?ā€ Mom asked, glancing at him. ā€œWhat is it?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™s-itā€™s Cas,ā€ Dean said, hardly able to believe it. ā€œHe and Jack are alright, but theyā€™re running from demons.ā€Ā 

Ā 

where r u , Dean texted back, his fingers going so fast he had to go back and fix it multiple times.Ā 

Ā 

There was another long pause, no response. Deanā€™s stomach started to sink, staring at the blank phone screen. What if the demons had caught up with Cas before he could reply? What if Cas had taken a moment to respond to Dean, trying to reassure him, and that was when a demon got the drop on him?Ā 

Ā 

Dean tried not to crumple over in the passenger seat.Ā 

Ā 

where r u , Dean texted sent agan.Ā 

Ā 

Dean waited, staring at his phone, but no reply came. He brought the phone up to his lips, holding the top edge against his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut.Ā 

Ā 

Be safe , he prayed. Please be safe . He had to hope Cas was still out there somewhere, listening.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

Days passed with only the occasional text from Cas, terse and to the point. Dean read everyone over and over, trying to glimpse something, anything, past the few words Cas was sending. He learned not to send things like where are you and is the kid okay and come to the bunker, as those kinds of texts always resulted in long, harrowing, silences.Ā 

Ā 

It must be Asmodeus, it had to be. Another yellow eyed demon coming after Deanā€™s family. The same yellowed eyed demon Dean had just run into. Say hello for me , Asmodeus had said. Dean thought he understood what he meant now.Ā 

Ā 

It all added to the feeling boiling inside him, the one he hadnā€™t been able to shake since the fire. This was his fault, he just knew it. No way it was a coincidence, the demons finding Cas just after Dean had finally laid eyes on Asmodeus. He should have known better than to go to Cas after that. He shouldnā€™t have gone to visit, no matter how worried he was, should have kept hunting Asmodeus until he was dead on the ground and Cas and Jack were safe, even if it had taken years. If heā€™d done that, theyā€™d still have home.Ā 

Ā 

By day, he researched and researched, desperate to find something that could help. By night, he stared at his phone in the dark of his room, willing it to ring or chime with a text. And he wanted to drink desperately, drink until he forgot everything, everything heā€™d ever done to the people he loved. But he didnā€™t dare, not even at night, because what if Cas called him, needing help, and Dean was too drunk to go to him? He couldnā€™t risk it; he wouldnā€™t fail Cas, not again.Ā 

Ā 

About a week after the house burned, all communication from Cas stopped. Dean prayed and prayed, even got down on his knees, but nothing came. Cas had been caught, Dean realized. The demons had caught up with him, they had taken Jack and Cas was dead because he had to be for Jack to be taken at all; heā€™d never let a demon lay a finger on Jack otherwise.Ā 

Ā 

The others accepted the news of lost contact stoically, Sam and Mom exchanging worried glances.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIt doesnā€™t necessarily mean anything,ā€ Sam said, carefully, ā€œhe might just be busy.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean swallowed and didnā€™t say anything. He obediently sat at the table for the rest of the night helping with research and then went to cook dinner for everyone. The bunker was busy these days, all hands on deck to help with the search. When they werenā€™t researching, they were out checking out omens looking for leads; theyā€™d even roped in Jody and Claire to help them, checking out leads out west.

Ā 

They were all still fighting; if Cas was still out there, he was fighting too. Heā€™d never give up.Ā 

Ā 

And even if Cas wasnā€™tā€”the thought knocked the breath from Deanā€™s lungs but he had to acknowledge itā€”Jack was. Asmodeus wanted him alive. Jack wasnā€™t safe, he wasnā€™t unharmed, but heā€™d be alive. Dean would find him and heā€™d protect him, if it was the last thing he did.Ā 

Ā 

Dean got down on his knees again that night, folding his hands in prayer. He stayed down there for a long time; he wasnā€™t sure if he actually ended up praying anything, slumped on his knees, head bowed. But he stayed there, silent and begging, until he crawled exhausted into bed.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

Dean was in the car, driving into Smith Center to grab a pizza. Everyone was back at the bunker, Charlie and Sam arguing over whether they should put on Lord of the Rings or Wonder Woman, Cas huddled up with Claire and Mom by the mess of the board game still strewn across the table. Dean wanted to be back before Jody and Bobby arrived; he knew theyā€™d be hungry after a long day on the road.Ā 

Ā 

He pulled into the pizza joint, throwing the car into park. The passenger side door opened and Cas climbed in.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThought you were back at home?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

Cas looked at him for a long moment. His face was dirty, streaked with smoke and blood. He looked like heā€™d just come out of a warzone. And in his armsā€”

Ā 

Jack looked up at Dean, his face screwed up, a breath away from tears. Dean immediately reached over, cupping his palm against his cheek, trying to rub the smoke away. Jack felt real, warm and alive under Deanā€™s hand. They both looked real, exhausted and windswept and awful, still in the same onesie heā€™d been wearing when Dean had left that night, but real.Ā 

Ā 

Dean opened his mouth to speak but Cas reached between them and covered it with his hand before he could.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDonā€™t say my name,ā€ he whispered, ā€œsomeone might be listening.ā€

Ā 

Which was an incredibly disturbing thought, but Dean had had his dreams invaded one too many times to ever think his mind was secure. But that meantā€”it had to meanā€”that they were really here. They were alive and they were here, taking shelter in Deanā€™s dream.Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™ hand eased away from his face, his eyes boring into Deanā€™s. Dean nodded and Cas sat back in his seat, slumping against the door of the car.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAre you okay?ā€ Dean asked.

Ā 

Casā€™ gaze softened, glancing from Dean to Jack. ā€œYes. For now.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack whined, a little sob escaping as he buried his head in Casā€™ shoulder. Dean couldnā€™t help himself; he reached out and put his hand on the back of Jackā€™s head. Jack sobbed again, tears squeezing down his cheeks making tracks through the smoke.Ā 

Ā 

With each tiny sound, Cas seemed closer to tears himself, dampness gathering along his lash line. Dean didnā€™t know if heā€™d ever seen Cas cry.Ā 

Ā 

He brought his other hand up, putting it on Casā€™ cheek, turning him to look at Dean. Casā€™ face was wrecked, absolute devastation clear in every line.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, hey,ā€ Dean whispered. He acted on instinct, curling his arm, pulling Cas closer until he was held against Deanā€™s chest, Jack pressed between.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œItā€™s gonna be okay,ā€ Dean said into his hair, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He was wearing the trenchcoat, Dean realized; he must have grabbed it from the peg at the door. He could feel Casā€™ fingers curling in his jacket. ā€œItā€™s gonna be okay.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI was supposed to protect him,ā€ Cas said into his shoulder, voice rough as gravel.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, you did,ā€ Dean said, ā€œhe wouldnā€™t be here if you hadnā€™t.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHeā€™s exhausted.Ā  We havenā€™t been able to stop for more than a moment. Heā€™s not used to it.ā€ Dean could feel Casā€™ fingers tighten in his jacket. ā€œHe shouldnā€™t have to be used to it.ā€

Ā 

Dean remembered that, the exhaustion that came with being constantly on the move, remembered being small and not able to understand why Daddy wouldnā€™t let them stay in one place longer than a week, even when the places were awful. Too young to understand why they couldnā€™t go home and see Mommy, just knowing that Mommy and the house were gone and that if he asked Daddy about it again it would just make him cry. Heā€™d learned to stop asking and then heā€™d learned to stop talking altogether.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWeā€™re gonna fix this,ā€ Dean swore, an oath whispered fiercely into Casā€™ ear. ā€œWe will.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas drew back a few inches, his hand still wrapped up in Deanā€™s jacket, Deanā€™s arm sliding down his shoulder. He still looked devastated.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI canā€™t drag you into this,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™re not dragging me into anything. I want to help,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou canā€™t, Dean. This foe is beyond you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean felt his stomach twist up in knots. ā€œItā€™s Asmodeus, isnā€™t it.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas squinted at him, sudden suspicion in his face. ā€œHow do you know that name?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€”ā€ Dean looked up at the roof of the car, guilt welling up and taking away his words. But Cas deserved to know. ā€œI shouldā€™ve told you.ā€

Ā 

Cas was staring at him. ā€œTold me what?ā€

Ā 

Dean swallowed, closing his eyes in shame. ā€œThis is my fault, Cas. I knew Asmodeus was looking for; weā€™ve been helping Crowley search for him for the past year.ā€

Ā 

Unseen, Cas sighed. ā€œDean, I knew Asmodeus was out thereā€”ā€

Ā 

Dean shook his head, opening his eyes to look at Cas. Casā€™ face, even bloody and dirty, had gone soft. He was trying to reassure him, when Dean was the reason his son didnā€™t have a home.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWe ran into him,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

Cas sat bolt upright, eyes wide and tense. ā€œWhat?ā€

Ā 

ā€œRight before I saw you,ā€ Dean admitted. ā€œWeā€™d been searching for him, but that was the first we saw him. We ran into him and...he must have followed me or something. I led him right to you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean hung his head, shame choking him. ā€œIā€™m sorry.ā€Ā 

Ā 

A hand landed on his arm, a warm weight squeezing gently. ā€œDean, you canā€™t know thatā€™s what happened.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean shook his head. ā€œNo, I do know, I do know that.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean, look at me,ā€ Cas said, waiting until Dean met his eyes before he continued. ā€œItā€™s just as possible that they found us another way. Maybe my wards failed or a demon spotted me and Jack. Thereā€™s no way to know for sure.ā€

Ā 

ā€œCas, I know what happenedā€”ā€

Ā 

Casā€™ grip tightened, shaking his arm. ā€œDean,ā€ he snapped, ā€œstop trying to make this your fault. It doesnā€™t matter how the demons found us. What matters is dealing with them.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean swallowed his guilt, smarting from the rebuke. Cas was right, though; Deanā€™s feelings in all this didnā€™t matter. Heā€™d screwed up, failed his family, just like he always did. Now it was time to move on and solve the problem.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat are you going to do?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

Cas seemed to relax a bit, his stare turning down a notch or two. ā€œKeep running. Until I find somewhere safe.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCould you fight them?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas sighed. ā€œThereā€™s no guarantee I would win. Even with my grace whole, I was never powerful enough to face a Prince of Hell. With the Colt destroyedā€”ā€

Ā 

ā€œWe donā€™t need the Colt,ā€ Dean interjected.Ā 

Ā 

Cas frowned. ā€œWe donā€™t?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWe still have one of the demon bombs, that Kevin made. If we use that, wonā€™t that take him out.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas looked at him consideringly. ā€œIt might. But it might not.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œBut isnā€™t it worth a shot?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas hesitated, then shook his head reluctantly. ā€œI canā€™t risk a confrontation, not unless I know I can best him. Thereā€™s too much at stake.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOkay, fine. But at least come to the bunker. Itā€™s the safest place there is,ā€ Dean said. He didnā€™t like to think he was begging, but he was, he knew he was. Heā€™d get down on his knees if he had to, cling to Cas until he came home with home. Anything to get the two of them safe.

Ā 

But Cas shook his head. ā€œItā€™s too obvious. If what you tell me is true, then the demons know about the connection between us. Theyā€™re probably watching you and the bunker, waiting for us to arrive. With the demons this close, it wouldnā€™t be safe.ā€

Ā 

ā€œScrew safe, we can handle it,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean,ā€ Cas glared at him, hard, ā€œI wonā€™t risk you, any of you. The only reason I came was to let you know that weā€™re okay. Thatā€™s all.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked away, feeling the words like a slap across the face. He knew that heā€™d fucked up, leading Asmodeus to them, but it hurt to hear Cas say it, for him to confirm how much he couldnā€™t trust Dean now.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo you keep running,ā€ Dean said, flatly.Ā 

Ā 

Cas nodded. ā€œFor as long as necessary.ā€

Ā 

Dean looked back at him, his face dirty and bloody and dear. His gaze dropped to Jack; his tears had dried, the tracks running clear through the dirt, his little face twisted with more misery and exhaustion than a baby should be able to carry.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou canā€™t keep it up forever. Look at you, look at Jack.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas rested his hand on Jackā€™s head. The kid sighed deeply, sagging underneath the touch.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWeā€™ll have to,ā€ Cas said. He looked at Dean for a long moment, something unreadable in his eyes. ā€œStay safe, Dean.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean woke up and laid there staring at the ceiling for a long, long time. It was still early, early enough the sun hadnā€™t yet risen. Cas would be long gone by now, winging somewhere else across the globe, far beyond Deanā€™s reach. All Dean had was his phone, clutched in his hand, the hope that heā€™d drop into another of Deanā€™s dreams at some point, and the remembered feeling of two of them in his arms.Ā Ā 

Ā 

It wasnā€™t enough. Dean couldnā€™t accept that this was how it ended, Cas and Jack helpless on the run with the rest of them sidelined, just waiting to hear the news of something gone horribly wrong. Or maybe hearing nothing while years passed, left only with uncertainty and doubt to keep them company in the long nights to come.Ā 

Ā 

This was on Dean. He wasnā€™t foolish enough to think otherwise, no matter whatever Cas said to try and spare his feelings. Dean didnā€™t always have the best track record but he liked to think that he did his best to fix his mistakes.Ā 

Ā 

He wouldnā€™t let Cas do this on his own. Dean was done waiting.Ā 

_Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo, he wants to go it alone,ā€ Sam said. He sighed and put his head in his hands.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, pretty much,ā€ Dean said. Heā€™d found Sam slumped over the table in the war room when he finally pried himself out of his bed, clearly having been there all night. Sam had roused at the scent of fresh coffee and here they were.Ā 

Ā 

Sam sighed again, loud and long. ā€œHeā€™s so fucking stubborn.ā€

Ā 

Dean snorted. ā€œYou can say that again.ā€

Ā 

ā€œSo what do we do? Just sit on our hands and wait?ā€

Ā 

ā€œHell, no.ā€

Ā 

Sam looked up at him. ā€œThen what?ā€

Ā 

Dean leaned forward on his elbows. ā€œWay I see it, we got two options. One, we sit on our asses and let Cas stay in the wind and who knows what happens. Twoā€”ā€

Ā 

ā€œWe go on the offensive,ā€ Sam finished.Ā 

Ā 

Dean pointed at him. ā€œBingo.ā€

Ā Ā 

ā€œAnd what does that mean, exactly?ā€ Sam asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCas said demons were probably keeping an eye on us, casing the bunker or something.ā€ A thought that made Deanā€™s skin crawl, but at least it could come in useful. ā€œI saw, we set a trap.ā€

Ā 

Sam stared at him ā€œHow?ā€

Ā 

ā€œTheyā€™re looking for Jack, right? Angel activity? There must be some way we can make it seem like theyā€™re here.ā€

Ā 

Sam looked thoughtful. ā€œThat...might work, if we can swing it. Okay, so we make it look like Jackā€™s here. We can set up devilā€™s traps, booby traps, whatever.ā€ Sam looked at Dean. ā€œYou know Asmodeus is gonna show.ā€

Ā 

Dean grinned sharply. ā€œThatā€™s the idea.ā€

Ā 

_

Ā 

Dean explained the plan, such as it was, to Eileen and Mom the next morning when they rolled in from their latest leadā€”a bust, just like all the others.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m not expecting anything here,ā€ Dean finished with, ā€œSam and I, we know what weā€™re getting into. But you donā€™tā€”ā€

Ā 

Eileen was already waving her hands to get Dean to shut up before heā€™d gotten halfway through the sentence.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou guys always keep all the good stuff to yourself,ā€ she said, with that spark in her eye that had told Dean right from the beginning that she was a keeper. ā€œYou know Iā€™m in.ā€

Ā 

Beside her, Mom nodded. Her expression was nervous and determined, a little smile quirked on her lips. ā€œMe too. You know I love killing demons.ā€

Ā 

Dean exchanged glances with Sam. This was almost too easy; heā€™d expected at least some kind of protest, or an insistence on clearing up the plan first before they did anything else.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œGuysā€”ā€

Ā 

ā€œDean,ā€ Mom said, leaning toward him across the table, looking at him earnestly. ā€œIf we do this, get the demons off their back, give that kid a chance to have a life?ā€ She shook her head. ā€œThatā€™s worth it.ā€

Ā 

Eileen nodded. ā€œWhat she said.ā€

Ā 

Crowley, wonder of wonders, was also on board.

Ā 

ā€œAbout time you two decided to do something about this,ā€ he said, voice droll over the phone.

Ā 

ā€œFuck off, Crowley,ā€ Dean said, rolling his eyes. ā€œYou gonna help or not?ā€

Ā 

Crowley snorted. ā€œYou need something to bait the trap, correct? I believe I can do that.ā€

Ā 

He refused to explain further until a few days later, appearing outside the bunkerā€™s front door with a jauntily raised eyebrow. Seemed the prospect of the death of the last Prince of Hell had put him in a good mood. Dean could relate.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOne bait, right here,ā€ Crowley said, placing a metal flask in Deanā€™s hand.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhatā€™s this?ā€ Dean asked, his fingers going to the lid.

Ā 

ā€œDonā€™t open it, Crowley hissed, slapping his fingers away. ā€œThat bottle is warded but it's useless once you open it.ā€

Ā 

ā€œAnd?ā€ Sam prompted.Ā 

Ā 

Crowley rolled his eyes. ā€œItā€™s angel grace. A few years old, but the wards have kept it intact.ā€

Ā 

ā€œAngel grace?ā€ Sam asked, exchanging glances with Dean. ā€œWhere the hell did you get it? And why?ā€

Ā 

ā€œNever you mind that,ā€ Crowley said with a smarmy grin. ā€œOld plans and safeties, nothing that matters now. But heā€™s looking for angel grace, correct? I suspect this will do the trick.ā€

Ā 

ā€œDo you think heā€™d sense it? When we open it?ā€ Dean asked.

Ā 

ā€œDepends how close an eye heā€™s keeping,ā€ Crowley said, consideringly. ā€œYour average demon may not.ā€

Ā 

ā€œWait a minute,ā€ Sam said, ā€œI think I have something that might help, something the Men of Letters had. Mitch showed it to me; they picked it up from a witch when they were clearing a coven stateside. He said the witch was using it to boost her powers, that it amplified her magic.ā€

Ā 

Dean glanced down at the grace bottle. ā€œYou thinkā€”ā€

Ā 

Sam shrugged. ā€œYeah, it might. Itā€™s worth a shot at least.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™d best be sure,ā€ Crowley warned, casting a dark glance at the grace bottle. ā€œAngels are in short supply these days. One shot is all you might get.ā€Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

All in all, it didnā€™t take a whole lot of time to prepare. The bunker was well-stocked. Guns were loaded with devilā€™s trap bullets, Super soakers filled with holy water, bags of salt placed at convenient points throughout the bunker. The plan was vague, as all their best plans seemed to be. Open the bottle of grace, boost it, and wait for the demons to roll in. Then theyā€™d just have to keep them coming until Asmodeus arrived, at which point they could blow the bomb. Easy peesy.Ā 

Ā 

There were a million things that could go wrong of course, but Dean was choosing not to focus on those. Instead, heā€™d decided to try and focus on the outcome that he wanted. Speak his reality, or whatever.Ā 

Ā 

After they killed Asmodeus, Cas and Jack could be safe again. They could find another house somewhere; it wouldnā€™t replace the one theyā€™d lost, but Dean was sure Cas would turn it into a real home. And then Jack could grow up and not have to spend his childhood looking over his shoulder.Ā 

Ā 

It was the only gift Dean could give them, the only way he could make up for what heā€™d done. He had to fix this.Ā 

Ā 

Sam stopped beside Dean, his arms full of bags of salt. Dean was leaning on the war room table, staring at his phone.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou heard anything from him?ā€ Sam asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo,ā€ Dean said. Cas had been quiet since the night of the dream. Dean wondered if Cas had meant that dream as some kind of goodbye, just like last time. Our paths are diverging. Ā 

Ā 

Well, yeah, maybe. But at least Dean was going to do something this time and not just sit on his ass.Ā 

Ā 

Sam was still watching him as Dean tucked his phone away in his jeans.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou sure about this? Not telling him?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

Dean nodded. ā€œNo point setting a trap for Asmodeus with fake Cas and Jack if we just drag them right into the fight.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah,ā€ Sam sighed.Ā 

Ā 

Mom came back into the room, coming up further in the bunker.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHow are we looking?ā€ Dean asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSeems okay,ā€ she said. ā€œWeā€™ve laid enough salt lines and traps that if anything comes in through those hallways, theyā€™ll be stuck. Eileenā€™s still finishing up in the dungeon.ā€

Ā 

It was a long shot, Dean knew that, even with all the traps in the world, there was a big chance they didnā€™t come out of this in one piece. But they had home advantage. The bunker was a fucking rabbit warren; it had taken Dean weeks before he felt like heā€™d grasped the layout of the place. The demons wouldnā€™t know what to expect, which meant they were already ahead in the grand scheme of things. With the bomb in hand, they might actually have a chance of pulling this off.Ā 

Ā 

Dean couldnā€™t stop himself from checking his phone again. Heā€™d sent Cas a text hours ago, the first heā€™d dared to send since the dream, simply asking u okay? It wasnā€™t what Dean really wanted to say. Heā€™d agonized over that text this morning, wondering what he could say that would be safe, that wouldnā€™t make Cas come running, wouldnā€™t clue him into the plan. Dean wasnā€™t stupid enough to think that their plan would go off without a hitch. He knew there was a not so small chance that something went horribly wrong and Dean ended up demon-induced paste on the floor. It made him want to say goodbye, say something, to Cas, to Jack, before whatever happened happened.Ā 

Ā 

But Dean had missed plenty of chances over the years. Either said the wrong thing or said nothing at all. This time wasnā€™t going to be anything different. He could live with that, if they were safe.Ā 

Ā 

Eileen came back into the room, dusting salt off her hands.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAll ready,ā€ she said. She came to stand next to Sam, who put his arm around her in a motion that had clearly become automatic.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWe going to do this?ā€ Mom asked.Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked around at the four of them, all turned toward him with expectant faces, gathered here for a common goal. Eileen had never tangled with a demon of this calibre before and the rest of them had each been destroyed in their own way by a yellow eyed demon. They all had reasons to be afraid, to back out. But Dean could see the determination shining in their faces and he knew in that moment that they were going to pull this thing off.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah,ā€ Dean said. For Cas. For Jack. ā€œLetā€™s kick it in the ass.ā€Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

The power-booster thing that the Men of Letters had given Sam didnā€™t look like much. Dean wasnā€™t sure what it was made of, but it reminded Dean a little of a large ball of elastic bands, wrapped around each other until they formed a perfect sphere.Ā 

Ā 

Sam placed it carefully on the war room table. Dean pulled out the flask of grace and a small bowl and put them down next to the sphere.Ā 

Ā 

He wondered briefly whose grace it was; Crowley had said heā€™d gotten it years ago, maybe even before the Fall. Dean wondered if heā€™d ever met the unlucky bastard. He wondered if Cas had known whoever it was and figured he probably did. Cas always seemed to know every angel they ran into through that sixth sense of his. Heā€™d probably recognize it even now, stuffed into a bottle rather than a human vessel.Ā 

Ā 

Cas wouldnā€™t like what they were doing here, Dean knew that. The fact that they were burning up the grace of one of his siblings to do it was just the icing on the cake.Ā 

Ā 

Dean exchanged glances with Sam, Mom, and Eileen. Eileen had the demon knife in hand, held in a loose, slashing grip, clearly ready to use it. Mom had super soakers slung about her chest, a gun with devilā€™s trap bullets in her holster and her Enochian brass knuckles adorning her hand; she looked like anti-demon Rambo, Dean thought with an internal laugh.Ā 

Ā 

Sam had a gun and the bomb, tugged into his shoulder bag. The plan, such as it was, meant the others would distract Asmodeus in any way they could, giving Sam the opportunity to set it off. Then theyā€™d be home free, four for four on Princes of Hell.Ā 

Ā 

Dean gave them all one last look, meeting the grim nods and determined gazes with his own. Then, he uncapped the flask, upending it over the bowl.Ā 

Ā 

He wasnā€™t totally sure what to expect; he remembered Annaā€™s grace from all those years ago, kept safe in that tiny vial, turning into a blinding river of light as soon as it was let loose. This grace poured out slowly from the flask, viscous and thick like tar with blurry edges, hard to look at. It glowed so brightly Dean had to squint his eyes against the glare, forcing them open to make sure the grace actually ended up in the bowl.Ā 

Ā 

It swirled like a living thing in the bowl, edges creeping up the sides periodically as if looking for a way to escape. But the bowl was warded; the grace had nowhere to go.Ā 

Ā 

Nothing happened for a long moment, long enough that Dean worried that theyā€™d got something wrong, that the whole plan was dead in the water before theyā€™d even started.Ā 

Ā 

Then the grace started to glow, brighter than before. Each minute it got a bit brighter, until it was like theyā€™d captured a piece of the sun in that bowl, shining out like a beacon.Ā 

Ā 

Dean and Sam stayed beside the table while Mom and Eileen secreted themselves in their predetermined positions around the room. They made themselves wait, Dean doing his best to watch the corners and the entryways for incoming demons. A few minutes was all they could risk, theyā€™d agreed. A few minutes to attract the demonsā€™ attention; hopefully that would be enough. Leave it any longer, Sam had said, and the grace would blow out, probably taking the bunker and all of them with it.Ā 

Ā 

They waited, the grace glowing brighter and brighter and finally Sam reached out and grabbed the little spell sphere, pulling it away. The grace stopped glowing so brightly, receding to its original level. Dean blinked spots out of his eyes in time to see someone appear just behind Sam.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSam,ā€ he barked; Sam was already whirling around, a handful of salt forcing the demon back with a hiss.Ā 

Ā 

The other demons appeared just as silently; Dean counted five before he had to dodge a blow.Ā 

Ā 

Dean quickly realized this was amateur hour, the first wave of disposable demons Asmodeus had sent it. Dean had the upper hand within a minute, tackling the demon to the ground and stabbing him with an angel blade. He looked up to see Mom bashing another demon in the face with her brass knuckles in time for Eileen to finish it off with the demon knife.Ā 

Ā 

Soon, they were standing in an empty room littered with demon bodies. But it was only a matter of time, he knew, before reinforcements came.Ā 

Ā 

Sure enough, another five demons appeared within seconds, one appearing right beside Dean already in the middle of a swing. Dean ducked and came up behind him, the angel blade taking care of the rest.Ā 

Ā 

None of the demons flooding in really posed a problem for any of them, they were weak and unskilled and they went down easy. But Dean could see Asmodeusā€™ strategy here; send in the disposable soldiers to waste time and energy, so that he showed his ugly face, he was fresh to the fight while they were already tired.Ā 

Ā 

Dean took down another demon, his impatience making the strike more vicious than heā€™d intended. He glanced around the room, checking on the others, and saw a new face by the doorway from the library, staring out over the carnage.Ā 

Ā 

Looked like Asmodeus had finally decided to grace them with his presence.Ā 

Ā 

Dean cursed, digging for the remote in his pocket. They only had a bit of time before Asmodeus realized heā€™d been played and then heā€™d be gone in the wind again and this all would have been pointless.Ā 

Ā 

His fingers closed around it; he pressed the play button by feel. Samā€™s voice boomed out over the speakers theyā€™d put around the bunker, the pre-recorded exorcism starting. All the minion demons started to shriek, some falling to their knees or slapping their hands over their ears.Ā 

Ā 

Asmodeus alone seemed unaffected; his yellow eyes glared down at Dean from the steps, terrible knowledge settling on his face.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThe nephilim isnā€™t here, is he?ā€ he said, descending the stairs.Ā 

Ā 

Dean grinned nastily. ā€œTake a wild guess.ā€

Ā 

Asmodeus sighed, straightening the cuffs on his ridiculous white suit. ā€œIā€™d hoped not to have to deal with you directly. But I suppose I should have known better.ā€

Ā 

ā€œWhat, you scared?ā€ Dean goaded.Ā 

Ā 

Asmodeus shot him a dark look. ā€œHardly. I just have better things to do.ā€

Ā 

Sam had made good use of Deanā€™s distraction; Asmodeus had been so focused on Dean, he hadnā€™t even noticed Sam grabbing it out of his bag. His eyes only tracked to the Sam when he threw the thing at the ground.Ā 

Ā 

The bomb exploded, a wave of light and holy fire flashing through the room. The demons trapped in the exorcism were immediately roasted, screaming and going up in flames, disappearing into nothing. Asmodeus threw up a hand, flinching away from the wave, shielding his face with his arm. Dean could see the spell burn into his vessel, the edges of that pure white suit crisping and smoking. When Asmodeus lowered his arm, there were burns all along it and across his face, blood trickling from his nose and ears.Ā 

Ā 

But he was still there, still standing, still glaring at Dean and Sam with murder in his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

Shit. The bomb hadnā€™t worked. Their best chance and theyā€™d blown it.Ā 

Ā 

Asmodeus threw up his hand and Sam went flying across the room, slamming into the map table.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSam!ā€ Dean shouted. Dean had just about brought his gun up to bear when Asmodeus threw him as well. He smashed into the wall, hitting hard and lumping down to the floor. His vision wobbled for a second, but he could still see clearly enough to watch Mom leap forward, stabbing an angel blade into Asmodeusā€™ back. He screamed, whirling to backhand her across the room. He turned straight into the demon knife; Eileen jabbed it into his gut, twisting it on the way out.Ā 

Ā 

Asmodeus screamed again, the noise like a physical wave. His eyes were blazing yellow, his lips curled in a bloody snarl.Ā 

Ā 

They were hurting him, Dean realized, more than they had been able to hurt Ramiel with the same weapons. Maybe the demon bomb hadnā€™t killed him outright, but it had wounded him, apparently pretty severely. Maybe they didnā€™t need another heavy hitter like Michaelā€™s lance; if they kept at it long enough, maybe they could take him down like this, like wolves bringing down a moose.Ā 

Ā 

Dean could see the same thought occurring to Sam; he could also see the abject terror on Samā€™s face when Asmodeus seized Eileen by the throat.Ā 

Ā 

Eileen was a scrapper; she barely even panicked, hardly even blinked at the sudden lack of air. She stabbed him again, catching him in the meat of his arm. He shouted with pain, his hand opening automatically and dropping Eileen to the ground.Ā 

Ā 

He recoiled a step, which gave Dean the space he needed to shoot.Ā 

Ā 

The bullet caught Asmodeus in the chest, rocking him back a step. He looked down at the bloody hole in his chest, fixing Dean with a glare.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œEnough of this,ā€ he said, taking a step forward. Deanā€™s stomach sank; he could see that it was harder for Asmodeus, like he was walking through a strong tide. But he was still walking, which meant the devilā€™s trap bullet hadnā€™t been totally effective.Ā 

Ā 

Asmodeus curled his hand into a fist and Dean felt something break inside him. He couldnā€™t tell what it was, but it was bad, judging by the unending wall of pain that ripped through him. He was on the ground but didnā€™t remember getting there, everything gone except for the wail of pain through his body. It was all he could do to twist slightly to the side so he wouldnā€™t choke on the blood in his mouth.Ā 

Ā 

The room went in and out of focus. He could vaguely see Asmodeusā€™ shoes advancing toward him, hear Sam shouting his name. Everything started to run together: the noise of battle, angry yelling, a crashing sound like something splintering. His vision came in flashes, glimpses of objects and faces and blood, there was so much blood around him.Ā 

Ā 

He was dying, he realized distantly. He was dying.Ā 

Ā 

A pair of shoes appeared before his eyes. He managed to turn his head, heaving his eyes open to look up. Asmodeus stood above him, staring down at him contemptuously.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI thought you might be a bit more impressive,ā€ he mused, ā€œbut youā€™re only human, in the end.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean stared up at him; the demon seemed to take up the whole room. He couldnā€™t see Sam, or Mom, or Eileen. He could only pray they were alright, that theyā€™d make it through this, even if Dean didnā€™t.Ā 

Ā 

He barely noticed the lights flickering or the lightbulbs bursting with sharp pops. He barely heard the thrum of thunder, dimly heard through the bunkerā€™s thick walls. But he did notice the deceptively soft flap of wings and the way Asmodeusā€™ face suddenly sharpened with both fear and desire.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou wonā€™t touch them,ā€ Cas growled.Ā 

Ā 

Dean managed to lift his head from the floor, his body screaming out as he did. Cas stood behind Asmodeus, glaring hard at the demon. As Dean watched, the lights flared, Casā€™ eyes glowing an electric blue. The shadow of his wings, fully formed, stretched across the wall, larger than life.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThere you are,ā€ Asmodeus said; his fear had faded, far outpaced by desire. Dean swiftly understood whyā€”Jack was strapped to Casā€™ chest, secured in a little sling and glaring at Asmodeus with just as much intensity as Cas was.Ā 

Ā 

God, no. They werenā€™t supposed to be here, the whole point of this was that they werenā€™t supposed to be.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCas,ā€ Dean tried to say, but his voice just gurgled in his throat.Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™ eyes jumped to him, that electric blue still shining out like searchlights in the night. It turned his face into something alien, forbidding. The kind of thing Dean would have been terrified of ten years ago.Ā 

Ā 

Asmodeus used the moment of broken concentration, leaping forward. There was an angel blade in his hand, suddenly, swinging right for Cas. Dean tried to cry out, but he neednā€™t have; Cas was already dodging to the side, his own blade meeting Asmodeusā€™ with a harsh clang.Ā 

Ā 

The fight passed in flashes for Dean, illuminated by the flickering lights and the red emergency lights. He had to fight to keep his eyes open, the lids stubbornly falling shut every other second. But he had to watch, had to see Cas come out of this alright. No other option could be allowed.Ā 

Ā 

One moment, Asmodeus had Cas on his back foot, a quick slash opening a tear in Casā€™ trenchcoat. The next, Cas was pushing back hard, an upraised hand throwing Asmodeus across the room.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou canā€™t win this angel,ā€ Asmodeus said, picking himself up, ā€œgive me the nephilim and Iā€™ll let you live.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œKiss my ass,ā€ Cas snarled.

Ā 

Dean realized suddenly that it wasnā€™t just the way his eyes kept slumping shut that was making the fight seem so disjointed; Cas and Asmodeus were actually disappearing periodically, reappearing to clash blades across the room from where theyā€™d just been standing. They were flying, Dean realized, using their wings to try and get an advantage over each other.Ā 

Ā 

And Asmodeus was faster, Dean realized with horror, by the smallest margin. He managed to catch Cas on the thigh before Cas could dodge, then landed another blow to Casā€™ shoulder, Cas ducking forward to protect Jack.Ā 

Ā 

Cas barely seemed to feel it, his face set in a snarl, eyes wide and focused. But Dean could see the trajectory of this fight, now; if Cas didnā€™t get an advantage, soon, then this would be over.Ā 

Ā 

Dean writhed desperately, trying to turn. The movement re-ignited the pain in his body; darkness narrowed his vision to a pinprick, the flickering lights making everything look unreal.Ā 

Ā 

No, no, he couldnā€™t pass out now. He needed to find his gun and shoot this bastard. The devilā€™s trap bullet had slowed him, not for long, but enough. If Dean could get him again, maybe that would be enough for Cas to get away.Ā 

Ā 

Run, you stupid bastard , Dean thought as loud as he could, hoping it would get to Cas. Take the kid and go. God, heā€™d been stupid to lure Asmodeus here. Heā€™d been so sure it was the only way, but here Cas and Jack were, right in the path of the hurricane.Ā 

Ā 

Cas actually snarled, rough and animalistic. ā€œIā€™m ending this,ā€ he said, his voice thrumming with his grace, shaking the room.Ā 

Ā 

Asmodeus must have thought Cas was talking to him and smirked back, circling Cas slowly.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThe only thing thatā€™s ending is you,ā€ he said. Who the hell was writing this guyā€™s dialogue anyway?

Ā 

Dean felt his eyes slide closed again, fighting to get them back open with every ounce of will he had left. He could see his gun, just a few feet away; an impossible distance, when Dean couldnā€™t feel his hands anymore.Ā 

Ā 

His eyes popped open at the crack of a gunshot. He could see Sam, suddenly, standing by the war table, bloody but unbowed, his smoking gun pointed straight at Asmodeus. Asmodeus was bent over, hands on his stomach.Ā 

Ā 

He glared up at Sam, flinging his hand out to send him thumping back into the table. Was it Deanā€™s imagination, or was the shove weaker than before.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œStop getting in the way,ā€ Asmodeus said, right before an angel blade sprouted in his throat.Ā 

Ā 

Asmodeus choked, blood falling from his mouth, staining his no-longer pristine suit. He dropped the angel blade, scrabbling at the one in his throat.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™re no archangel,ā€ he choked out, ā€œyou canā€™t kill me.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas leaned in close, placing a palm on Asmodeusā€™ head.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m enough,ā€ Cas said and his eyes went yellow.

Ā 

Dean felt the breath literally stop in his chest. But the shades were different; it wasnā€™t yellow, it was gold, gold eyes, just the same as the light shining from Jackā€™s eyes.Ā 

Ā 

They had the same fight face, Dean realized vaguely, watching Asmodeus scream, veins lighting up with gold as he burned from the inside out. In the end, there was barely anything left of him, just a pile of ashes on the floor. Four for four, Dean thought with a grin. Take that, universe.Ā 

Ā 

Dean let his eyes slide closed. He didnā€™t have to watch anymore; they were safe and Cas would keep them that way. Dean wasnā€™t needed anymore.Ā 

Ā 

A hand clamped down on his left shoulder, bruising. Dean struggled to open his eyes again.

Ā 

Cas was glaring down at him, his eyes were blue again, just that normal blue Dean found himself getting lost in so many times.Ā 

Ā 

Maybe it was okay for Dean to think that now, to say it, here at the end. Suddenly, nothing mattered more than saying it, but only one word came to mind.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCas,ā€ he said; somehow, he managed to lift his hand, bloody and terrible, to hold Casā€™ sleeve. ā€œCas.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDonā€™t you dare die on me, Dean Winchester,ā€ Cas said, his eyes going electric blue, and everything disappeared in a wave of light.

_

Ā 

When Dean came back to himself, the pain was gone. He felt far away from his body, as if there was a layer between him and itā€”a fact he knew to be grateful for, considering what little he could feel. But he could breathe again and feel all his limbs. That wasnā€™t nothing, considering heā€™d been certain he was going to die on the floor.Ā 

Ā 

It took a long time to be able to open his eyes, his eyelids curiously heavy. A beige ceiling slid into focus. He flicked his eyes around the room; Sam was slumped wearily in a chair next to the bed Dean was lying in. Behind Sam, there was a familiar desk. They were in Deanā€™s room, he realized, his memory foam mattress soft beneath him.Ā 

Ā 

Dean flicked his eyes back to Sam, blinking slowly. Sam wasnā€™t looking at him, fiddling with something on his phone with a furrow in his brow. He looked a little banged up still, a cut above his brow, bruises darkening on his face.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDid we win?ā€ Dean asked, his voice rough. Sam straightened with a jerk, looking at Dean with wide eyes.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDean?ā€ he asked.

Ā 

ā€œYeah, Iā€™m still here,ā€ Dean said, clearly his throat roughly. Sam leaned over him, filling Deanā€™s vision with a close up view of his shirt before he sat back, a glass of water now in hand.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHere, drink this,ā€ Sam said.Ā 

Ā 

Dean struggled up onto an elbow and managed a few swallows before he had to lie back down. The pain that had been lingering on the outer edges of his mind was now very clearly present, gleefully throbbing under his skin.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOw,ā€ he said, weakly.Ā 

Ā 

Sam snorted. ā€œYeah, I bet. What were you thinking?ā€

Ā 

Dean shot him a tired glare. ā€œYou did the exact same thing.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, well, at least I didnā€™t almost die for it,ā€ Sam said. He was trying to keep his voice light but his eyes were haunted, staring at Dean as if he were a thirsty man seeing water for the first time in days.Ā 

Ā 

Dean smiled at him, going for an insouciant look. ā€œCā€™mon, Sam, you thought that guy was gonna take me out? I have some pride, not gonna let myself get killed by Colonel Sanders. I donā€™t even like KFC.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Sam snorted a laugh, looking down at the bed with a smile. His fingers were picking away at the blanket, nervously. ā€œOkay, tough guy. How are you feeling?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œLike a demon tried to rip my insides out,ā€ Dean said with a groan.Ā 

Ā 

Sam shot him a wry look. ā€œThatā€™s probably because he did try. But everythingā€™s right where it should be now. Cas did what he could, but nuking Asmodeus took a lot out of him. He said he needed a bit to recover before he could fix you all the way.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHeā€™s here?ā€ Dean asked, a sudden bolt of adrenaline jolting down his spine and almost forcing him upright. He had the sudden urge to leap out of bed, run through the bunker until he could see Cas face to face.Ā 

Ā 

He remembered what heā€™d been thinking, that instant before heā€™d passed out. The absolute certainty, that kind of speak-now-or-forever-hold-your-peace energy flowing through him, trying to spill words out of his mouth like blood.Ā 

Ā 

It was gone now, leaving an empty space behind. Or, not empty. Full. Full of all the words, slowly compacting again under the pressure of the ocean of Deanā€™s bullshit, until it was like they were barely there at all.Ā 

Ā 

Sam shot him a look, something between pitying and exasperated.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah. I think heā€™s back in the library,ā€ he said, his expression shifting to something a little more wry, ā€œdude, heā€™s pissed. Ripped us all a new one.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean would have liked to see that. Knowing Cas, he probably went off as soon as he could, glaring them all down, signing along for Eileen and lecturing them like they were kids while an actual kid was still strapped to his chest, sucking his thumb.Ā 

Ā 

And with Deanā€™s luck, he was just waiting for Dean to wake up before he started in on him, too.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œShit,ā€ Dean muttered.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYeah, Iā€™d get ready if I were you,ā€ Sam said.Ā 

Ā 

Well, at least it meant heā€™d see Cas soon, even if it was only to have him scream at him. Or worse, looking disappointed at him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHowā€™s everyone else?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

Sam nodded. ā€œWeā€™re okay, nothing we couldnā€™t handle. Cas wouldā€™ve healed us too if he could have.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean hated to think that any of them were still hurting because of him, to think that Cas was so drained that he couldnā€™t risk healing someone else, that Dean had brought him to that point.

Ā 

But a part of him was proud of Cas for taking on someone like a Prince of Hell and coming out on top. That was Cas all over, punching outside of his weight class with a baddie he should never have been able to take on, and coming out on top anyway. Two out of three wasnā€™t bad when it came to these yellow eyed bastards.Ā 

Ā 

Dean felt his eyes getting heavy again, the space between blinks getting longer and longer. Sam was talking about something else, maybe clean up or something. Dean could barely understand him, exhaustion pulling him down.

Ā 

He suddenly felt a hand on his arm and heaved his eyes back open. Sam was looking down at him, a smile pulling at his lips.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m going to let you sleep, let everyone else know youā€™re alright.ā€ He stood.Ā 

Ā 

Dean reached out, grabbing his arm weakly.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œTell Cas...ā€ he started, then trailed off. He didnā€™t know how to finish that sentence, the words failing him.Ā 

Ā 

Sam studied him. ā€œIā€™ll tell him you want to see him.ā€ Which was as true as anything, Dean figured. Trust Sam to know.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m glad youā€™re okay, man,ā€ Sam said, giving Dean one last smile before he left the room quietly. Dean tried to keep his eyes open for a few minutes, just to see if he could, but it was a lost cause and he drifted back to sleep.Ā 

Ā 

_

Ā 

Hours seemed to pass, Dean drifting in and out. He didnā€™t have the energy to do much beyond open his eyes and stare around the room before heā€™d feel weariness pushing his eyes back closed. Once, he managed to sit up and finish the glass of water Sam had left him, which he was quite proud of himself for accomplishing.Ā 

Ā 

He drifted back to consciousness, the thick tar of sleep pulling at his limbs. There was a weight against his side that hadnā€™t been there before, warm and moving slightly, bumping against Dean with its motions. Dean blinked his eyes open blearily, glancing down.Ā 

Ā 

It was Jack, sprawled against him on the bed. The kid was holding his own feet, wiggling to try and bend them to his mouth. He was making soft sounds to himself, little murmurs of half shaped syllables as he pulled at the fabric of his onesie.

Ā 

Jack looked different from the dream a few days before. Heā€™d been cleaned up at some point, all the dirt washed away leaving only clean skin behind. He was wearing a different onesie, too, speckled in flying saucers instead of dinosaurs. His bunny toy was tucked into Deanā€™s elbow, he noticed, as if Jack had wanted to give him something to sleep with.Ā 

Ā 

Dean moved his hand, pressing it against the side of Jackā€™s head. His hair was soft and Dean knew if he could lean over and hold Jack properly, heā€™d be able to smell that clean, sweet, scent that only babies seemed to have.Ā 

Ā 

Jack cooed up at him; he couldnā€™t seem to be able to make up his mind between pressing against Deanā€™s hand or against his side. He opted to grab Deanā€™s fingers in his own, rolling into Deanā€™s chest with a little sigh.

Ā 

ā€œHey, kid,ā€ Dean whispered, his voice rough. He could feel his throat start to close up, tears gathering in his eyes.Ā 

Ā 

Heā€™d honestly thought heā€™d never get this again. Heā€™d thought that dream might have been it, Cas and Jack gone forever, never to be heard from or seen again. Heā€™d only really held Jack one time, one time then he was ripped from Deanā€™s arms forever. He wasnā€™t sure how he would have lived with that, a sucking wound in his chest. And now Jack was here, pressed against his side as if nothing had happened, peaceful and safe.Ā 

Ā 

Dean sighed, his breath shuddering on its way out. He heard fabric shifting and glanced to the side. Cas was sitting in the same chair Sam had been in; he didnā€™t even pretend not to have been watching Dean.Ā 

Ā 

He looked surprisingly okay, considering he had just been a contender in the prize fight of the decade. His clothes were rumpled; Dean could still see blood streaked across the places Asmodeus had wounded him, tears in the fabric gaping wide. But his face looked fine, free of blood or bruises or dirt, although Dean would swear there were new lines there that he hadnā€™t seen beforeĀ 

Ā 

Dean looked away quickly, embarrassed to have been caught in tears like a little kid. There wasnā€™t any subtle way to hide them, so he ducked his head into his shoulder to wipe them away on his shirt.Ā 

Ā 

Cas graciously didnā€™t say anything, looking away toward the door.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHow are you?ā€ he asked after a moment, his voice quiet but toneless.Ā 

Ā 

Dean cleared his throat, looking back at Cas. Cas was still staring at the open door.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œFelt better,ā€ Dean said, ā€œfelt worse. How are you guys?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas nodded. There was something absent in his expression, remote, like he wasnā€™t truly in the room with Dean. Dean felt a chill, not knowing what it meant.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œJackā€™s alright,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

The full force of Casā€™ gaze fell on him suddenly, pinning him to the bed. His eyes bored into Dean and Dean wondered that heā€™d ever thought there was anything remote about Casā€™ face; he was wholly present and he was wholly pissed.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYouā€™re an idiot,ā€ Cas said.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCasā€”ā€

Ā 

ā€œWhat were you thinking?ā€ The toneless voice was gone. Cas sounded raw, angry, the barest inch away from shouting.Ā 

Ā 

Dean grit his teeth, trying to hang onto his own temper. ā€œI was thinking we could help.ā€

Ā 

ā€œHelp by baiting a demon?ā€ Cas demanded, glaring at him, ā€œby getting yourself killed?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo one got killed!ā€ Dean protested.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOnly because I showed up,ā€ Cas hissed, leaning forward in his chair.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œMinutes, Dean, minutes. That was all you had left. If Iā€™d gotten here just a bit later, if the fight with Asmodeus had lasted a bit longerā€”ā€ Cas cut himself off, looking away with a furrowed brow. His jaw was so tight he could chew through steel.Ā 

Ā 

Dean knew Cas wasnā€™t wrong; heā€™d known, sprawled out there on the floor, how close death was. He wondered if the reaper had been in the room with them by the time Cas had healed him, waiting to take his soul to the Empty, just like Billy had wanted.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHowā€™d you know, anyway?ā€ Dean asked, after an uncomfortable silence. ā€œTo show up?ā€

Ā 

If anything, Casā€™ frown went tighter.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou prayed to me,ā€ he growled, voice flat.Ā 

Ā 

Dean hadnā€™t thought he had; but by the time Cas had shown up, heā€™d been so loopy from the pain he probably wouldnā€™t have noticed doing it. He really had no idea what prayer sounded like to angels but he couldnā€™t imagine Cas had heard anything good.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDo you have any idea how much you risked by doing this?ā€ Cas demanded. ā€œYou all could have been killed.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean met his glare stubbornly. He knew that; he wasnā€™t an idiot, no matter what Cas thought. Heā€™d known the risks. But sitting here, Cas alive to be pissed at him, Jack warm against him, it was hard to argue with the results. ā€œIt was worth it.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Casā€™ eyes narrowed. ā€œWould it have been worth it if Mary had died? Or Eileen? Or Sam?ā€Ā 

Ā 

The thought shook Dean, just like he knew Cas wanted it to. Dean had never been one to deal in hypotheticals but that didnā€™t mean he hadnā€™t thought about it before. Dad or Sam. Cas or Sam. Mom or Sam. And always, always, Sam had come out on top in Deanā€™s mental math, even when Sam himself didnā€™t want it that way.Ā 

Ā 

Dean wondered if Cas was thinking about that too, the way he was looking at him right now. If he was remembering all the times Dean had let him down, choosing Sam over him.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shook his head, banishing all those other realities and their nightmares. ā€œIt didnā€™t happen like that.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIt could have,ā€ Cas said, relentlessly.

Ā 

ā€œBut it didnā€™t!ā€ Dean snapped.Ā 

Ā 

Cas rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo, it didnā€™t,ā€ he said, sarcastically, ā€œinstead, youā€™re the one bearing the brunt of this moronic decision. Which brings me back to my original question: what were you thinking?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked away from Casā€™ glare, glancing down toward Jack. The kid was still slumped against his side, idly playing with Deanā€™s fingers. Dean could feel that heā€™d picked up on the energy in the room, though, his little body tense, his tiny brow creased. Kids always saw more than you thought they did.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou really gotta ask me that?ā€ Dean asked, glancing back up at Cas.Ā 

Ā 

Cas glared at him for another long moment before sagging in his chair. He looked back toward the door, that remote expression returning. He seemed frighteningly distant, closer to how heā€™d looked when theyā€™d first met, untouched by emotion.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo, I donā€™t,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

They sat in silence for a long moment. Dean wasnā€™t sure what to do; heā€™d known Cas would be angry and he figured he was welcome to it. God knew Dean had been pissed at him when Cas had pulled shit like this, walking into the fire like he was invincible. But Dean couldnā€™t bring himself to regret what heā€™d done, not with the way it had turned out.Ā 

Ā 

Cas was still looking at the door when he spoke next, sounding quietly resigned. ā€œYou didnā€™t have to do this, Dean.ā€

Ā 

Dean sighed. ā€œCas, I get it, you think Iā€™m an idiotā€”ā€

Ā 

Cas looked back at him, sharply, stopping Deanā€™s half-assed justifications in its tracks.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou thought you had to make amends, is that it?ā€ he asked, tone matter of fact.Ā 

Ā 

Dean froze. ā€œWhat?ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œFor what happened in Eureka.ā€ Cas watched him keenly, eyes fixed on Deanā€™s. ā€œYou still think thatā€™s your fault.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean didnā€™t know what to say, staring at Cas blankly. Yes, he did think Eureka was his fault. His fault the house was gone, his fault Cas and Jackā€™s safety had been put in jeopardy, his fault the kid was tuckered out in Deanā€™s bed rather than home taking a nap in his own. They had lost everything because of Deanā€™s stupidity, everything.Ā 

Ā 

Cas sighed. ā€œI already told you, that wasnā€™t your fault. You didnā€™t have to put yourself in danger toā€”atone.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThatā€™s not why I did this,ā€ Dean said, barely managing to keep his tone civil. Cas was stomping all over the parts of Dean he usually let lie quiet, unseen. Dean wasnā€™t stupid enough to think that Cas didnā€™t know about them; hell, most of them Dean had shown him. He was used to Cas looking at him and seeing straight through him, all the bullshit and lies falling away before Casā€™ eyes, like shadows before the sun. He still remembered when they met, Cas twisting the metaphorical knife, you didnā€™t think you deserved to be saved?

Ā 

Dean remembered what it was like back then, every conversation like a minefield, unsure which of Deanā€™s most harrowing secrets Cas was going to trot out next. But it had cleaved Dean to him, he could see that now. Formed a basic and unshakeable foundation of honesty and trust that Dean had had with so few people over the years, he could count them on one hand. That foundation had gone so deep, nothing could break it, not even the two of them, no matter how hard they tried.Ā 

Ā 

But Cas had learned tact over the years. Heā€™d learned to save those moments of eviscerating insight for special occasions, when Dean was falling to pieces or was making an ass of himself and needed someone to set him straight. Dean wondered which Cas thought it was now.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI wanted to help, keep you guys safe,ā€ Dean insisted.

Ā 

Cas ignored him, continuing as if Dean hadnā€™t spoken at all.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAnd if you ā€˜fixed your mistakeā€™ by dying along the way that was, what, an acceptable loss?ā€ Cas asked, casually, complete with air quotes.Ā 

Ā 

Dean stared, all the defiance drained out of him, at a complete loss for words. He hadnā€™t thought about it so deliberately, trading his life for Cas and Jackā€™s. But heā€™d be lying if he said the thought, amorphous and ill-formed, hadnā€™t crossed his mind, quickly buried under plans and anxiety. When heā€™d been lying there on the floor, bleeding out, the math had made sense; Deanā€™s life was a small price to pay if it meant keeping Cas and Jack safe.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThatā€™s notā€”thatā€™s not what I was doing,ā€ Dean said. It sounded weak, even to him.Ā 

Ā 

Cas looked away, grinding his jaw. ā€œIā€™m going to tell you something, Dean. And I need you to listen, really listen to me.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean swallowed. He didnā€™t know if he wanted to hear this, if he wanted to know what Cas thought he needed to hear, not when he was in this mood. He wasnā€™t even looking at Dean, staring toward the door as if he wanted to be someplace else.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOkay.ā€

Ā 

Cas sighed. His eyes dropped closed. ā€œJack loves you. Just like he loves Sam. Just like he loves me.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean swallowed again and stared down at Jack. Jack was looking back at him already, his chubby, little face solemn. He met Deanā€™s eyes steadily, without blinking, his fingers tight around Deanā€™s.Ā Ā 

Ā 

A feeling started to bloom in Deanā€™s mind, in that peculiar way Jack had of pressing his emotions on the people around him. Dean could see himself suddenly, larger than life, wreathed in light. He saw himself doing things he knew heā€™d done: making a sandwich, mowing the lawn, eating a chocolate bar, putting blocks in a pile with a focused expression. And he saw himself doing things he hadnā€™t: leaning under the hood of the Impala with a blond teenager, pointing out components; wiping tears from his eyes at a high school graduation ceremony; tucked up in bed with a toddler, arm wrapped around him and a picture book in hand.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Dean came back to reality with a gasp, still staring down at Jack, barely visible through the blur in his eyes. His gaze jumped back up to Cas. He was watching Dean closely, something compassionate bleeding into his expression.Ā 

Ā 

Cas continued, voice rough, ā€œAnd I know, that can be hard to accept. It took me a long time to realize that was the emotion Jack felt around me.ā€ His eyes fell away from Deanā€™s. ā€œI still donā€™t really believe it most days.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean frowned at him, blinking hard. A tear streaked down his cheek and he wiped it away in frustration.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDude, what are you talking about?ā€ he asked, voice gruff. ā€œOf course Jack loves you. Youā€™re his dad.ā€

Ā 

Cas shook his head mutely, looking back at Dean. All shreds of distance had fallen away, leaving only devastation behind. Dean realized suddenly that Cas hadnā€™t been trying to remove himself from the room or finding it hard to look at Dean. Heā€™d been trying not to fall apart.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI have failed in almost everything I have ever done. Everything I touch falls to pieces. And Iā€™ve done my best with Jack, with all of this, butā€”ā€ Cas stuttered to a stop, taking a deep, shaking, breath.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDo you have any idea how it felt to arrive and find you like that? To know youā€™d only done it because you felt responsible for my failure?ā€ Cas asked.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shook his head, desperately. He started the pain-staking process of sitting up, tired of having this conversation lying down. He ended up leaning against the headboard, Jack cuddled against his hip.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCas, you didnā€™t failā€”ā€ he started to say.

Ā 

Cas glared at him, emotion in his eyes that Dean never wanted to see there. ā€œYes, I did. Kelly asked me to look after her child. He chose me to look after him. How exactly have I done that? By allowing demons to hunt him around the world? By dragging him to a fight against a Prince of Hell and relying on Jackā€™s powers to defeat him? Heā€™s a year old, Dean!ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean flinched away, misery descending on him just as strongly as it had when heā€™d first realized what heā€™d done. ā€œI know, I messed up. I put him in danger and Iā€™m-Iā€™m sorry.ā€

Ā 

ā€œDean, thatā€™s notā€”ā€ Cas sighed, ā€œthatā€™s not what Iā€™m saying, not at all. You think itā€™s your job to protect people, but itā€™s not.ā€ He studied Dean for a long moment. ā€œI told you before, why I left with Jack. To protect him, to protect you and Sam. But that wasnā€™t the only reason.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked at him, dread pooling in his gut. He didnā€™t want to know what other reason Cas had to leave, what reason Cas had to always leave. There was always something, something that drove the people Dean loved away. And he knew what the common denominator was.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat else was there?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas took a deep breath, let it out. He deflated with it, leaning forward on his elbows, folding his hands and staring at the floor.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI left,ā€ he said, ā€œbecause I didnā€™t want to make us your problem. Dean, youā€™ve spent your whole life being deprived of the ability to make a choice for you , to choose what you want. Your childhood, the war you were enlisted in as a child, the apocalypse, the Mark, the Darkness. The list goes on.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas looked up at him, and a smile broke across his face, sad and knowing. ā€œBut then Lucifer was dead. And you were free. There was no danger to your family, no crisis on the horizon. Youā€™d reached the end of the line.ā€Ā 

Ā 

He swallowed heavily, looking away again. ā€œI could have gone to you, I knew that. But the last time I brought a crisis to your door, I destroyed your life.ā€ He looked back at Dean, cutting off his automatic protest with a glance.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI did. You were happy with Lisa and Ben, or were on your way to it. And then you got involved with what I was doing with Crowley, and it ruined everything for you. I ruined everything.ā€ Cas shook his head. ā€œI couldnā€™t do that again.ā€

Ā 

Dean wasnā€™t sure what to say to that. That was all so long ago, he barely thought about it anymoreā€”the fury heā€™d felt at then Casā€™ deal with Crowley was non-existent now, overshadowed by Deanā€™s own dealings with Crowley. And Lisa and Ben, they had been Deanā€™s responsibility, not Casā€™. Cas hadnā€™t done anything to them that Dean hadnā€™t asked him to.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œCas, that wasnā€™t your fault. I know I was pissed then, butā€”that wasnā€™t all on you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas shook his head, clearly not hearing him. He fixed Dean with another pained look.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œJack and I, weā€™re not your responsibility,ā€ Cas said, gravely, ā€œso I will heal you, and then weā€™ll go.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Deanā€™s breath shuddered in his lungs. So this was it. Cas was going to leave again, going to take Jack far away, and Dean would never see them.Ā 

Ā 

Something broke inside Dean. For a second, he worried it was one of the injuries Cas had already healed, coming spontaneously undone. He could feel heat rushing through him, running up his throat, through his lungs. There was something bubbling inside him, a volcano about to erupt. He could barely feel his limbs, could barely feel Jackā€™s body pressed against him, wriggling and making noises of distress. Dean rested a hand on Jackā€™s head, hoping to take some measure of peace in his warmth, but it just made that something inside him churn harder.Ā 

Ā 

Dean opened his mouth and it poured forth, the mess inside him spilling out into the day.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œNo, please,ā€ Dean said, he begged, he fucking begged , ā€œplease, donā€™t. Iā€™m sorry. Iā€™m sorry I brought them after you, Iā€™d-Iā€™d do better next time, I wouldnā€™t screw up like that again, I swearā€”ā€

Ā 

Casā€™ grabbed him by the arm, shaking him. His face was desperate, staring at Dean in concern. ā€œDean, Iā€™m not punishing you. Iā€™m trying to let you go.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t want to be let go!ā€ Dean shouted. Jack whimpered next to him, working himself up to a cry. Dean glared at Cas, staring back at him with a stunned expression.

Ā 

ā€œYou want me to choose a life, be happy or what the fuck ever, then I choose! I choose this one, you and me and Jack,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

Cas shook his head. ā€œDean, you donā€™t want thatā€”ā€

Ā 

ā€œDonā€™t tell me what I want!ā€ Dean shouted, ripping his arm out of Casā€™ grip.Ā 

Ā 

Cas glared at him, his hand curling into a fist. For a wild second, Dean thought Cas might take a swing.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou think I donā€™t know you? You think I havenā€™t seen your dreams, your deepest desires? I know you better than anyone, down to the depths of your soul.ā€ Cas stopped, a look on his face like he was about to pick a scab on a wound.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat I am, what we are, has no place in what you want,ā€ Cas said.Ā Ā 

Ā 

Dean glared at him. The mess was still inside him, churning and churning, and every word Cas said made it go faster. What the actual fuck was he even talking about? Yeah, Cas knew him, Dean knew that. Cas was a lodestone, a fixed point, for Dean. Of course he fucking knew him. But apparently, he also didnā€™t know jackshit, otherwise he wouldnā€™t be so stupid about it all.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWell, if you know me so well, then explain this,ā€ Dean demanded. He propped himself up with a hand beside Jack so he could lean out over the bed, seized Cas by the trenchcoat and yanked him in. He got one last look at Casā€™ eyes, wide and confused, before he was kissing him.Ā 

Ā 

It was not a great kiss, by any means. Dean could feel his arm shaking underneath him, barely able to support his weight. Jack had slid a bit with Deanā€™s shifting on the bed, so a not inconsiderable part of Deanā€™s mind was worried about crushing him. And Cas was frozen, absolutely stiff, like a freaking board, as if he didnā€™t even know what kissing was.Ā 

Ā 

But it was also the best kiss of Deanā€™s life, which was the kind of sappy bullshit Dean was reduced to now in his old age.Ā 

Ā 

Dean broke the kiss but he lingered, keeping Cas close. He could feel Casā€™ breath against his lips, his stubble against his cheeks. Casā€™ eyes were still wide open and staring at him; Dean wondered if Cas had closed them at all and resisted the urge to laugh hysterically in the face of the absolute absurdity that was his life.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat are you doing?ā€ Cas murmured. Dean could feel the words against his lips.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œMaking my case, man,ā€ Dean whispered back. He retreated to the bed, letting Cas go so he could do so without crushing Jack. He needed to be stable to do this. This was all or nothing If he fucked this up, he got a feeling he wouldnā€™t get another chance. Luckily, all that mess churning inside was just as eager to come out. For once, the words actually came easy, the cork finally popped, the dam broken.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™m in love with you, okay?ā€ Dean said. He swore he actually saw Cas stop breathing. ā€œHave been for frigging years. And I know you just lost Kelly and you donā€™t feel the same, and thatā€™s fine, I accept that. But I am begging you, man, begging . Iā€™ll get down on my fucking knees if I have to.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean paused, having to take a breath before he continued. It was almost harder to say than the big L word.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDo not leave me,ā€ he said.Ā 

Ā 

Cas stared at him, his mouth literally hanging ajar. Clearly, regardless of what he said about knowing Dean, he had not seen that coming.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou canā€™t love me,ā€ Cas said. Dean was so taken aback by that that he felt the churning inside him finally spin to a stop.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWell, I do, so...there,ā€ Dean said, lamely.Ā 

Ā 

Cas started shaking his head, so rapidly Dean worried it might fly off. ā€œDean, youā€™ve seen the worst things I have ever done. Some of them Iā€™ve done to you, to your family. You canā€™t love me after that.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAgain, I do, soā€¦ā€ Dean trailed off with a shrug. Never in Deanā€™s wildest imaginings had he thought this was how Cas would react. Disgusted, maybe. Uncomfortable, definitely. But not honestly fucking confused and staring at Dean like he was insane.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI donā€™t understand,ā€ Cas said, his voice very small.Ā 

Ā 

Dean couldnā€™t help but laugh. ā€œItā€™s not that hard, buddy. I just love you.ā€ It was like he couldnā€™t stop saying it, now that heā€™d said it once, the phrase bubbling to the tip of tongue every other second. I love you I love you I love you , until they ran into one word that just meant Cas.Ā 

Ā 

But Cas was shaking his head again. ā€œNo, you must be confused. Dean, you know me.ā€ He swallowed, his face twisting up in a miserable frown. ā€œThereā€™s nothing worth loving here.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean couldnā€™t stop himself; he practically leapt forward, ignoring the scream of half-healed muscles, and dragged Cas over to the bed. Cas came willingly, biddable and meek, something shell-shocked in his face. Dean settled back on the bed with a relieved sigh.Ā 

Ā 

Jack had rocked around with all the movement and was clearly unhappy about it, flailing his arm in the air with a loud whine. Cas gathered him up seemingly on autopilot, cradling him in his lap and rubbing his tummy even as he continued to stare at Dean.Ā 

Ā 

Dean leaned forward and seized Cas by the shoulders. It was a good place to grabā€”Cas had wide shoulders and Dean needed something to keep him upright. He returned Casā€™ stare, needing every word he was saying to land.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHey, hey, you listen to me. You are not a failure. You are not broken, or defective, or bad.ā€

Ā 

Dean shook him every other word, as if the motion would help what he was saying get through.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThat is not you,ā€ Dean said. ā€œIt never has been. I need you to believe that.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAll I do is break things,ā€ Cas whispered.Ā 

Ā 

Dean shook his head. ā€œAre you even hearing yourself, man? Where have you been? You saved us, all of us. You just killed a frigginā€™ Prince of Hell, saved my life. Iā€™d literally be dead without you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

But the words didnā€™t seem to help, Cas shrinking away even more, dropping his gaze from Deanā€™s. ā€œI know my powers are usefulā€”ā€

Ā 

Dean gave him a hard shake, Casā€™ eyes snapping back to him. ā€œIā€™m not talking about your powers, man, screw ā€˜em. I donā€™t care about those. You could lose all that tomorrow, it wouldnā€™t change anything. Iā€™m talking about you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas was still looking at with disbelief written across every plane of his face. Dean didnā€™t know what to do; he needed Cas to understand him, to accept what he was saying, more than he needed to breathe. If he couldnā€™t do this, have the people he loved believe that he loved them, that what was he good for?Ā 

Ā 

I still donā€™t really believe it most days .Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked at him at Cas, sitting there in front of him. He looked so small, a worn man in a ruined trench coat with his baby in his lap. He looked exhausted and frightened and desperate for something to keep him going. He looked like someone Dean recognized, someone he saw in the mirror every day.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou know I can feel it, right?ā€ Dean said, ā€œHow much Jack loves you. I saw it that morning, after we slept over. He showed me.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Because thatā€™s what that vision had been, hadnā€™t it. It had been love, overflowing out of Jack and into Dean, like water from a cup.Ā 

Ā 

Cas almost seemed to sway, like a tree in a strong wind.Ā 

Ā 

Dean continued. ā€œAnytime Iā€™m around him, I feel it. That kid loves you so goddamn much. Youā€™re everything to him.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack burbled in Casā€™ lap, in clear agreement. Dean grinned as Jack grabbed Casā€™ hand, still rubbing his tummy, pulling it up so Jack could nibble on his fingers.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSo, donā€™t say youā€™re not worth loving. Your kidā€™s pretty smart. Think heā€™s got the right idea,ā€ Dean said. Heā€™d gotten it right, he could already tell. Cas was starting to believe him, the desperation fading into something that looked an awful lot like hope.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou want this,ā€ Cas said, ā€œMe and Jack. Thatā€™s what you want.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean shrugged. ā€œHey, Iā€™ll say it until Iā€™m blue in the face. You wanna go to Siberia, Iā€™ll come with you. Iā€™ll go with you to Antarctica, to the Sahara, hell, Iā€™ll even go to the freaking moon. I want to be there while Jack grows up. I want to be there when he learns to talk, I want to be there when he goes to school, I want to be there when he finally figures out how to time travel and we go to the fucking future or whatever, meet some Vulcans. I want to do that with him and I want to do that with you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

He swallowed, hard, that churning inside him whipping back into life. His voice shook on the next words. ā€œThese past months, being in that house with you, have been some of the best of my life. Okay? Thatā€™s what I want.ā€

Ā 

Dean blinked, looking away from Cas. ā€œJust donā€™t leave me, man. Donā€™t leave me.ā€Ā 

Ā 

A long beat of silence, then a hand settled gently on Deanā€™s knee. He looked up to meet Casā€™ eyes.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œIā€™ve never wanted to leave you. Never.ā€ The words had the tone of a vow.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œThen, donā€™t,ā€ Dean said.Ā 

Ā 

Cas snorted. ā€œCan it really be that simple?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Dean shrugged. ā€œI donā€™t know. Feels like all I do is make things complicated. But maybe we can try?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Cas nodded, something considering in his face. ā€œI think Iā€™d like that.ā€ His expression had softened into something painful to look at. If Dean was a different man, he might call it holy.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYā€™know, I can feel it, too,ā€ Cas said, ā€œhow much Jack loves you.ā€

Ā 

Dean scoffed, looking away. ā€œDonā€™t say that.ā€

Ā 

Casā€™ hand squeezed his knee. ā€œItā€™s true. He always gets so excited when you visit. He senses you miles away and he wonā€™t calm down until he sees you.ā€Ā Ā 

Ā 

Dean looked at him, at them. Jack was still happily nibbling away at Casā€™ fingers, his face blissful.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYou think?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

Cas smiled, warmly. Unexpectedly, the sad undercurrent was gone. ā€œI know so.ā€ His hand squeezed Deanā€™s knee again. ā€œJust like I know I love you.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œBuh-what?ā€ Dean said, extremely gracefully.Ā 

Ā 

Cas didnā€™t give him a chance to ask the question again or to ask any of his follow-up questionsā€”since when? What made it happen so Dean could do it again for the rest of his life?ā€”leaning forward to cut him off with his lips.Ā 

Ā 

It was terrible, again. Their knees were in the way and Jack was squealing with delight between them. Cas couldnā€™t seem to bring his lips together properly, spread wide in a grin Dean desperately wanted to see.Ā 

Ā 

But it was also the best kiss of Deanā€™s life, so. He wasnā€™t exactly complaining.Ā 

Chapter 4: THE SON

Notes:

Lal: Then why do you still try to emulate Humans? What purpose does it serve except to remind you that you are incomplete?
Date: I have asked myself that, many times, as I have struggled to be more Human. Until I realized, it is the struggle itself that is most important. We must strive to be more than we are, Lal. It does not matter that we will never reach our ultimate goal. The effort yields its own rewards.
Offspring, 03x16, Star Trek The Next Generation

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

Chapter Text

Jack was outside, watching the little frogs in the pond, when Daddy got home.Ā 

Ā 

Jack remembered vaguely, in the way he remembered all things from when he was a baby, when they first came here. They had lived in the small building that Grandma stayed in when she visited, which Daddy jokingly called the mother-in-law suite to make her laugh and Daddy blush. Theyā€™d had to tear the old house down, he remembered, because of the damage from the fire, long before heā€™d been born. But he could still feel the memories settled in its bones; the man who had lived here before them, bearded and grumpy and kind, and the two boys, just like him, who had learned to call this place home over the years.

Ā 

This pond hadnā€™t been here when theyā€™d moved in and the ground had been littered with parts of old vehicles which sang of memories of their past owners. Those cars were gone now, taken further down the lane, and now the pond was here and full of life. The frogs had come shortly after the pond. Jack wasnā€™t entirely sure how they had gotten here; heā€™d woken up one morning and there they were. But he had been dreaming about frogs just the night before after watching The Princess and the Frog. He suspected, and Daddy did too, that he himself might have put them there in his sleep. Theyā€™d made a silent promise not to tell Daddy.Ā 

Ā 

Now, Jack laid on his belly, watching the frogs and tadpoles in the water. The tadpoles had just started to emerge from their eggs in the last few days, little bodies almost invisible in the water. They had all watched the tadpoles being born and Daddy had dubbed it all ā€˜disgustingā€™. But he was sitting here next to Jack anyway, now, watching the tadpoles swim with him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDid you name them?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œTheyā€™re called Jeremiah,ā€ Jack said. He ducked his hand into the water. The tadpoles swam around his fingers, occasionally bumping into him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWhat, all of them?ā€ Daddy asked.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œYes.ā€ Jack looked up at him. Daddy was sitting cross-legged, one hand on Jackā€™s back and the other holding his book. It was a long chapter book, one Daddy had brought back from his work along with a pile of shorter books for Jack. His favorite was The Dread Cat; it reminded him of the black cat that had started to appear on the back porch last summer, the one Daddy had fed so often she had never gone away. Jack called her Dread in his head, although she liked to lay around and watch the mice rather than chase after them. She still hissed at him more often than not when he went to pet her, but he didnā€™t blame her. Sheā€™d had a hard life.Ā 

Ā 

Jack had named the frogs after his favorite song on the mixtape Daddy had given him for his birthday last year. Theyā€™d listened to that song all night long, Jack doing his best leap frog jumps with Uncle Sam while Daddy cried with laughter across the room.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDid you want to name one?ā€ he asked.

Ā 

ā€œSure,ā€ Daddy said, putting his book to the side. ā€œWhich one?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack thought about it, then pointed at one of the frogs sitting across the pond from them. Heā€™d sensed that that one was not quite satisfied with the name Jeremiah. ā€œThat one.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Daddy squinted his eyes to stare at the frog. He had that special look in his eye, the one that meant he was about to make a very funny joke. ā€œWhich one?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack pointed again. ā€œThat one!ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSorry, buddy, I canā€™t see it. Which one is it?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack picked himself up, standing to put his hands on Daddyā€™s cheeks to point him in the right direction. ā€œOver there, that one!ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack suddenly found himself grabbed and tugged into Daddyā€™s lap. His arms surrounded Jack, holding him tight while he pressed kisses and blew raspberries on Jackā€™s cheeks. Jack howled with laughter.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDaddy, stop!ā€ Jack shouted, still laughing.Ā 

Ā 

Daddy pulled him into a hug with a grin, pressing another kiss to his hair with a laugh. ā€œYeah, yeah, okay. I think I see him now. How about Yoda, is that a good name? Heā€™s kinda like a frog.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack looked back at the frog in question, leaning against Daddyā€™s chest. ā€œI think he likes it.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Daddy snorted. Jack could feel him smiling against his hair. ā€œWell, Iā€™m glad.ā€Ā 

Ā 

A tingling raced up Jackā€™s spine and he looked toward the driveway. The wards Daddy had painstakingly put around the property had just been crossed. ā€œDaddyā€™s almost home.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAbout time. I swear, they keep him longer every night.ā€ Daddy said that everyday. Heā€™d complained before that Daddy could just fly home from work, that it would be quicker. Daddy always replied that heā€™d learned to enjoy driving and he wanted to enjoy the privilege of doing so. That always made Daddy go quiet and put a soft look on his face.Ā 

Ā 

It wasnā€™t long before they could hear the engine of the car rumbling down the driveway. The Impala came to a stop just beside the house and Daddy stepped out, juggling another pile of books in his arms.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWeā€™re by the pond, babe!ā€ Daddy called, absently pressing another kiss to Jackā€™s head. Daddy made his way over, gently nudging Dread out of the way as she circled his feet, meowing.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI told you shouldnā€™tā€™ve fed that thing,ā€ Daddy said, like he always did.Ā 

Ā 

Daddy knelt beside him, putting the pile of books down on the grass beside him with a sigh.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œShe was hungry,ā€ he said, simply, kissing Daddy.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œSheā€™s a mangy stray, of course she was hungry,ā€ Daddy replied, before kissing Daddy again. Jack wasnā€™t sure why Daddy complained about Dread so much; heā€™d lost count of the number of times heā€™d caught Daddy sneaking her into the house for a snack or a pet. Considering Jack couldnā€™t count very high yet, maybe that didnā€™t mean much, but he suspected it did.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHi, Jack,ā€ Daddy said, stooping over to kiss Jack on the forehead.Ā 

Ā 

That, Jack remembered. Daddy hovering over him every night, kissing him, telling Jack he loved him. Heā€™d seen it in his head, before heā€™d properly met Daddy, after Mommy was gone. It had been the first thing Jack had ever wanted, besides his Mommy.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œHi, Daddy.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWatching the frogs?ā€ he asked.Ā 

Ā 

Daddy grinned at him. ā€œWeā€™ve got a Yoda, now,ā€ he said, pointed at the frog.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI see,ā€ Daddy said, very seriously.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œDaddy, can we have pizza for dinner?ā€ Jack asked.Ā 

Ā 

Daddy looked at him, narrowly. ā€œWeā€™re going to have pizza for dinner tomorrow, remember? With everyone else?ā€Ā 

Ā 

Jack remembered. It was his birthday tomorrow and Uncle Sam and Aunt Eileen, Grandma, Aunt Jody and Aunt Donna, and Claire and Alex and Kaia were all going to make the trip to celebrate. Daddy had been griping and running around trying to figure out where they were all going to stay for weeks.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWe canā€™t make my mom sleep on the couch,ā€ he kept saying. Daddy would just sigh and remind him that the girls had volunteered to sleep in the living room, something which Daddy dubbed ā€˜a disaster in the makingā€™. Sometimes, Jack thought he acted grumpy and said stuff like that just so Daddy would go over and kiss him.Ā 

Ā 

Jack was excited. His family visited often but not always all at the same time. It would be nice to have them all in the same place at once.Ā 

Ā 

But for now, he wanted pizza. ā€œWe can have pizza both nights?ā€ he proposed.

Ā 

Daddy, as he had known he would, backed him up.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œWe could have pizza both nights,ā€ he repeated, looking closely at Daddy. He wrapped his arms a bit more securely around Jack, leaning over to balance his chin on top of Jackā€™s head. Jack put his bottom lip out, mimicking the expression he knew Daddy was making.Ā 

Ā 

Daddy sighed, looking at them both with fond exasperation. ā€œWhat if we had tacos tonight? You like tacos.ā€Ā 

Ā 

ā€œOh, hell yeah,ā€ Daddy said and Jack agreed, nodding decisively.Ā 

Ā 

They stayed by the pond a little longer, watching the frogs and tadpoles. He knew that most of the tadpoles swimming in the pond now wouldnā€™t survive into adulthood. It was sad, but Daddy had explained that it meant the time they had together now was all the more precious for it. It made Jack want to spend as much time by the pond as possible, staying out late with Daddy until the sun started to creep low and the crickets were singing and Daddy complained of not having enough light to read by.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œAre you ready to be six?ā€ Daddy asked him.Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI think so,ā€ Jack said. He knew that he didnā€™t really have to age, not if he didnā€™t want to. Heā€™d thought about it, staying little forever; there were certain positivesā€”heā€™d never grow so large that his Daddies couldnā€™t hold him or he couldnā€™t fit in Grandmaā€™s lap or on Uncle Samā€™s shoulders. Claire could keep calling him pipsqueak, although he suspected she might do that even when he was a big boy.Ā 

Ā 

But there were things he could only do when he was olderā€”Daddy refused to take him to see anything beyond the Milky Way until he was a teenager and Daddy kept talking about teaching him to drive and work on the car, but he couldnā€™t do that yet. And it would probably be nice to stay up past eight, which Daddy never let him do no matter how many times he made the walls bleed (Daddy blamed that habit completely on Daddy for letting Jack watch The Shining once and only sighed deeply whenever he did it. After a while, it just wasnā€™t fun anymore).

Ā 

Being six meant being in first grade. Jack had enjoyed kindergarten, for the most part. He didnā€™t always understand the other children and heā€™d found it hard to make friends. He knew most of them hadnā€™t had the experiences heā€™d hadā€”losing a Mommy, losing a house, having people out to hurt him, or having two Daddies instead of a Mommy and a Daddy.Ā 

Ā 

But Daddy had told him that was normal, to wonder where he fit in and struggle to find his own space.Ā Ā 

Ā 

ā€œI never understood other kids when I was your age,ā€ he said. ā€œYou just keep being you and youā€™ll be fine.ā€Ā 

Ā 

Being himself meant being an angel, a human, and most importantly, a son. He was his motherā€™s son and one day he would visit her in Heaven. He was the son of the father heā€™d chosen beyond that fatherā€™s comprehension, the son of the father whoā€™d come to him just as skittish and stand-off-ish as Dread and cleaved just as closely. He was nephew and grandchild and bizarre little brother, at least according to Claire.Ā 

Ā 

When Jack had been young, so young he hadnā€™t yet been born, heā€™d saved his motherā€™s life. His world had been so small then compared to what it was now. His world had expanded as heā€™d grown, and would continue to do so for the rest of his life, however long that would be. And through it all, he would remain himself, with his family, and his house, and his little pond.Ā 

Ā 

Jack didnā€™t know who else he could be, so he supposed that was just fine.Ā 

Notes:

I like to think it takes Dean literal years to figure out that Cas and Kelly were never together. Jack probably has to tell him.

You can listen to the mixtape that Dean made Jack on Spotify: JackTraxx