Chapter Text
It’s not unusual for Dean to find himself in a bar.
It’s his home away from home. Not that he had a home until recently. And even though they have the bunker now, it’s not the kind of home that Dean craves. There’s no window over the kitchen sink or plush carpet in the family room or a front porch where he can sit and watch the world be. There’s cool metal and slick hallways and impersonal bedrooms. That’s his home.
Before that, his home was various motel rooms. It was dusty hunting cabins that belonged to other people. It was Bobby’s house with its peeling wallpaper and outdated appliances and piles and piles of books. It was the Impala, and it still is, but now Dean is one step closer to being settled.
And before all of that, home was a house in Lawrence.
But somewhere along the way, home became the people in his life.
Home was never the place he was living. Not since he was four and fate hadn’t yet screwed him over.
Things are different now. Dean’s different now. A decade ago, or even five years ago, he wouldn’t have entertained the idea of seriously quitting hunting. He never let himself think about it for too long. Just like how he didn’t let himself think about a lot of things he wanted. It just left him feeling more hollow than usual. Motel mattresses were stiffer on those nights.
Hunting has been his whole life and it’s not like he made that decision. He’s good at it, sure, but Dean’s been trying to take stock in his life recently. Ever since things slowed down, ever since he spent an entire afternoon with Jack to find the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe and realized that made him feel more fulfilled than any hunt he had been on in years.
It’s hard for Dean to acknowledge that maybe he deserves more than the things he currently has. His whole life has been a game of wanting and yearning and hoping, and Dean’s good at repressing those feelings, but he thinks maybe he’s done silencing that part of himself. Maybe he’s ready to let himself have things.
Or maybe not. Which is how Dean found himself in a bar in the first place.
The break from hunting is nice, even if the bunker is starting to feel slightly claustrophobic. Dean has no idea how many thousands of square feet it actually is, but sometimes it feels like just another motel room with shrinking walls.
He bounces, grabbing his keys, and driving to the first shitty dive bar he can find. There might be nothing more pathetic than a small-town bar on a weeknight, but Dean’s fine with that. He thinks he might be just as pathetic. Maybe even more so.
“You look like crap.”
A woman sits next to him at the bar. She looks him up and down and he does the same. She has dark hair, light eyes, and reminds Dean so much of Pamela that it almost hurts. He briefly thinks about the perfect world Michael created in his mind where they ran a bar together, but quickly shakes himself of the thought. Instead, he focuses his attention on the woman next to him and gives her a half-hearted chuckle before turning back to his empty glass.
“Can I buy you a drink?” she asks and Dean knows this game.
He knows it all too well. He’s played it enough times over the years, though not so much lately. He can’t even remember the last time he had a one-night stand, let alone went out to a bar for the sole purpose of meeting someone.
The one-night stands were less appealing after his stint in hell, and they nearly tampered off entirely after he got out of purgatory. Sometimes it felt like he was carrying too much on his shoulders to even consider hooking up with someone. Like once he stripped his clothes, the women would see past his tattoo and scars and see through to his core that his soul once burned in hell.
“Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not really interested,” Dean says politely.
The woman barks out a laugh. “I’m not either,” she says, smiling. “But you look like you could use a drink.” She eyes his glass. “Another drink.”
Dean shrugs and she signals for the bartender. He leans over to her. “I’m Dean.”
“Jackie.”
Dean does a double take. “My, uh, my kid is named Jack.”
She raises her eyebrows. “You have a kid?” the woman, Jackie, asks.
Dean nods, glancing to the beer that’s placed in front of him. He nods at the bartender in thanks and takes a sip.
“How old is he?”
Dean pauses, considering how to answer this. He never truly knows, but it’s not like many people ask. “Two,” he says after a moment.
“Huh.”
“What?”
“You’re at a bar on a Wednesday night instead of at home with your kid.”
Dean nods, drinking more of his beer. A few days ago, he was considering cutting out alcohol for the week. Just to see how he’d feel. Just to see if he could do it. He failed yesterday so he figured he might as well drink tonight and try again next week.
Go big or go home, and Dean finds himself at a bar.
“So, your poor wife is just at home with your kid?”
“I don’t have a wife.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Don’t have one of those either.”
“Husband?”
His face burns. “I’m not gay.” The words feel like a lie even if they aren’t.
“Don’t need to be gay to have a husband,” she says, eyes locked on him. He keeps his focus straight ahead. “Boyfriend?”
“I’m straight,” he says, finally looking back to her. Now that really is a lie. At least he thinks it is. Sometimes Dean really just doesn’t know anymore so he tries to not think about it.
“Right,” she says, chuckling slightly. She takes a sip of her own beer. “So, who’s watching Jack while you’re off at the bar?”
Dean’s face heats up and he looks away. “My friend. Jack’s other dad.”
Silence. “Jack has two dads?”
“Yup.”
“You and your friend?”
“My brother helps out with the kid too.”
“Is Jack biologically yours?”
“Nah. My buddy. Um. His brother is Jack’s biological dad. But he’s, like, the actual fucking devil. My friend took Jack in when he was born. And me and my brother were already roommates with him so we help out with Jack where we can.”
“So, Jack isn’t your kid.”
Dean stiffens. He looks at Jackie again finally. “What?” His voice is much sharper than he intended.
Jackie raises up her hands in defense. “No offense, dude. But it sounds like your friend is the kid’s dad and you’re just kinda along for the ride.”
“No.” Dean straightens his posture and turns his whole body toward her. “No. It’s, well, it’s hard to explain. But he’s my kid. I’d die for him, you know? I’d kill to protect him. I think I’d do just about anything.” A pause, and then firmly, “He’s mine.”
“Then why are you here and not at home with him?”
Dean sighs and turns back to the bar. Back to his drink. He takes another sip. His relationship with Jack, though complicated and always on his mind, wasn’t even the reason he came here tonight. It wasn’t in the forefront of his thoughts. It wasn’t the reason he came looking to forget. His brain was stuck on something else. Someone else.
“Cas.”
“Cas?”
“My buddy.”
“Jack’s other dad.”
“Yup,” Dean says. He takes a longer drink this time and deliberately does not look over at Jackie. Thankfully, she seems to get it.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you were straight.”
“Yeah, well, so did I.”
“Damn, a girl tries to get laid with some rando she meets in a bar and turns out he’s got enough baggage to fill the Grand Canyon.”
“Wait, I thought you said you weren’t interested.”
“I’m not, not interested.”
Dean rolls his eyes and turns back to his beer, wondering how he spent the past two decades playing this hook up game. It’s way too complicated and unfulfilling when he could just spend a quiet night in the bunker with his family and be way more satisfied.
“Well, sorry, but I’m definitely not interested. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Jackie chuckles. “Tell me, Dean, you think you’ll audition for real housewives of Kansas? Something tells me you have a shot.”
He doesn’t say anything, but rewards her with a sarcastic grin and eye roll.
“What about Cas?”
Dean tries not to flinch at the sound of Cas’s name. “What about him?”
“How does he feel about you?”
Dean shrugs. “Dunno.”
“Well, how long have you guys been friends?”
“About a decade. He pulled me out of a really dark place.”
Jackie stares at him, but he deliberately does not look at her. “So, you guys have just been buddies for the past ten years? And now you live together and are raising a child together?”
“That sums it up.”
“God, men are stupid,” Jackie chuckles to herself, turning back to her own drink. “And you’re certain this Cas has no feelings for you whatsoever?”
“Yup,” Dean says.
A sliver of doubt, or maybe it’s hope, tugs on his heart. Sometimes he wonders if Cas returns his feelings. He’s heard of angels falling in love with humans before. Hell, he’s seen it. And he knows Cas cares about him and loves him like a brother. But it seems like every time angels develop human emotions, the world nearly falls apart.
Dean doesn’t want to be responsible for the destruction of man all because one angel fell.
“Have you ever asked Cas how he feels?”
Dean whips his head over. “Are you fucking crazy?”
Jackie laughs, resting a hand on Dean’s arm. He looks down at it, frowning. “The worst that can happen is that he doesn’t feel the same.”
Dean doesn’t say anything. He knows much worse things can happen. Have happened. Dean’s not interested in any of that. They just got rid of Michael and Lucifer for good. They restored Jack’s soul. Things are good right now and if Dean has to live in silence to have peace, then so be it.
Long ago, years ago, Cas asked him if he would rather have peace or freedom. Maybe Dean won’t ever know freedom, but at least he has this. At least he has peace.
“I think I should get going,” Dean says.
Jackie sighs, finally moving her hand off Dean’s arm. “I can’t tempt you to stay?”
Dean cracks a smile, shaking his head. “I’ve got family waiting for me.”
“Hang on,” Jackie says, grabbing a pen and writing her number down on a napkin. “Here.”
“I’m flattered, but I promise I’m not interested.”
Jackie rolls her eyes, shoving the napkin forward. “If you ever need to talk. I fell in love with my best friend too once. I know exactly how you’re feeling. I know how it eats at you.”
Dean stares at his drink. He fiddles with the napkin in his hand. “How did it end?” he mumbles, not daring to look over.
Jackie’s quiet for a while before resting a hand on Dean’s arm again. Friendlier this time. More comforting. “Not everyone gets their happy ending.”
It never occurred to Dean how far he had actually fallen until he started thinking about it. Until Cas started being the first thing Dean thought about when he woke up, and the last thing on his mind before going to sleep. He used to go on hunts without caring that he might not make it out alive, and now the idea of dying without seeing Cas one last time is almost as bad as the physical pain itself.
Dean’s a wimp and he’s whipped and he’s got it so bad for Cas that he’s sure there’s no way it isn’t obvious. There’s no way in hell Cas doesn’t know about his feelings. Hell, he probably knew before Dean did. Dean only figured it out very recently, but now that he thinks about it, he thinks maybe these feelings go back a long time. There’s a reason why everything Cas does has always struck Dean harder than everyone else.
He’s in love with his best friend. And Dean has no idea how to tell him.
He doesn’t even know if he wants to say anything. The idea of dipping his toes in the gay water is terrifying, but the idea of going through it with Cas doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, Dean thinks he would enjoy figuring out all of that with Cas. The idea excites him. It’s not the first time the idea of gay experimenting has been intriguing to Dean, which really makes him wonder if he’s truly as straight as he says.
Probably not. Straight people don’t tend to fall in love with their best friend of the same gender.
Dean thinks about Jackie as he heads into the bunker. He thinks about how if he were ten years younger, he wouldn’t have even hesitated before taking her up on her offer. Hell, he would have been the one propositioning her. But in the past few years, the idea of hooking up with random women sounds less and less appealing.
And even though Dean is looking at his sexuality in a new light, the idea of hooking up with a man doesn’t sound appealing either.
Maybe it’s the fear. Maybe it’s the internalized homophobia. Or maybe it’s the fact that the only person he wants to do anything with is Cas.
Cas is sitting in the library when Dean gets in. He takes his headphones off and closes his book as Dean walks toward him.
“Late night?” Cas asks.
Dean nods, yawning. He plops himself down in a chair across from Cas and rubs his eyes. He feels somewhat ashamed and hopes Cas can’t smell the bar on him or sense the presence of a napkin with a woman’s phone number in his pocket.
“Why don’t you go to bed, Dean?”
“I will,” Dean says, yawning again. He taps his fingers against the table, glancing around the room before letting his eyes settle on Cas. “How’s the kid?”
“Good. He’s sleeping.”
“Again? He never slept this much before he took on Michael’s grace.”
“I think getting your soul fully restored also takes a lot out of you,” Cas quips. “If he needs to rest then we let him rest.”
“Of course,” Dean nods. He hesitates. “Sammy?”
“Also sleeping. But he found out I was keeping his nightmares at bay. He was not happy.”
“Damn it,” Dean sighs.
“Dean, I think we need to just give him time to grieve.”
“Yeah, but it’s been a month. We haven’t gone on any hunts. Don’t you think he should be feeling better by now?”
“Humans mourn differently.” A beat. “How long did it take you to mourn your father? Bobby?”
“You know, some days it feels like I’ll never stop mourning.” He thinks about seeing his dad recently, in the bunker and kissing his mom and scolding him for not having a family. He thinks about his family now, Sam, Cas, and Jack, and how they feel more like family than his dad ever felt. “But that’s different from the apocalypse world hunters.”
“Sam took them on as his responsibility. They looked up to him.”
“And they died on his watch,” Dean sighed, nodding. He intimately knows the pain of losing someone you take responsibility for. He knows Sam is hurting and it kills him inside that there’s nothing he can do to change that.
“How are you, Dean?”
Cas’s eyes pierce through him, as usual, and Dean stares back. “I’m good, you know. No damage from Michael.”
“Yes, I know, I checked,” Cas says. “I mean emotionally.”
Dean looks away. “I’m fine.”
“Is that why you were out drinking?”
His face burns. He feels caught. “You know me, man. It’s what I do best.”
“No, it isn’t, Dean. I can tell you’re agonizing over something.”
Dean finally looks back at Cas. He watches as Cas scans his face, studying him. Dean doesn’t back down. Sam made a joke once that the two of them should go pro when it comes to staring contests. Dean just likes any excuse to look into Cas’s eyes for as long as possible.
“If I tell you I’m fine, will you drop it?” Dean asks.
“For now. As long as you’re not in any danger.”
“Then I’m fine,” Dean says. He flashes Cas a wide smile. “How are you doing, man?”
“I’m also fine.”
“Are you actually fine or are you just saying you’re fine because I said I’m fine?”
A subtle smile pulls at Cas’s lips. He shrugs his shoulders and leans back in his chair. “Why don’t you go to bed, Dean?”
Dean smiles in response. He stands up slowly and moves around the table to where Cas is seated. He’s pretty sure Cas will be here when he wakes up. Cas tends to stick around more ever since Jack came into the picture. But a part of him also wants the confirmation that Cas will stay.
But Dean can’t force the words out of his throat so he settles for patting Cas’s shoulder once before walking away.
He turns back just before he leaves the room and catches Cas watching him. Dean offers him a single nod because that’s all he has to give, and then ducks into the hallway.
He pauses outside of Sam’s door, wondering if he should check on Sam. He thinks back to when they were kids and Sam would be holed up in bed and Dean would check in on him frequently. He tries the knob. Locked. Dean sighs and moves down the hallway.
He pauses outside of Jack’s door next. The door is cracked and Dean peaks his head in. He spots Jack curled up in bed, snoring softly and clutching the teddy bear Cas bought him a while back. He notices one of Jack’s blankets on the floor and frowns. Dean sneaks into the room, picking up the blanket and covering Jack’s sleeping form.
Dean knows he’s at fault for their relationship, and it’s just another piece of guilt that eats at him daily, but looking down at the kid makes Dean’s heart nearly leap out of his chest. He’s always felt so much love when it comes to his family, but the emotions that Jack wrings out of him always catch Dean off guard.
Jack was drawn to him from the beginning, and taken to following him around like a puppy. Even when Sam was the one fighting for the kid and Dean was the one threatening his life, Jack still worshipped Dean the way Dean worshipped his own dad. He’d catch a look in Jack’s eye, and the familiarity of it struck Dean so hard that it almost made him snap out of his anger.
Almost. In the end, the only thing that snapped Dean out of his anger and grief was getting Cas back.
Dean knows he could have always treated Jack better. It was hard at first when the grief was fresh, and Cas and his mom were gone. But things have settled now. His family is alive and in one piece. And Jack is still just as clingy, if not perhaps more. Sometimes it’s easy for Dean to forget that Jack is essentially just a toddler.
He stands over Jack, staring at his face and watching him sleep. He tucks the blanket around Jack even tighter, as if it could offer any protection.
“You’re safe, Jack,” Dean murmurs, watching his chest rise and fall. “We’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Jack doesn’t flinch, just keeps on sleeping. Dean’s eyes catch on the nightlight in the corner, shaped like an angel. He found it in a thrift store for a dollar, laughed, and didn’t hesitate for a second before buying it.
Cas didn’t find it as amusing, but Jack seemed pleased with it and now he sleeps with it every night. Another moment where Dean’s reminded of Jack’s real age. Children sleep with night lights. Monsters don’t.
He leaves Jack’s room, walking down the hallway and to his own. He pulls the napkin with Jackie’s number out of his pocket and stares at it for a moment before ripping it up and tossing it in his trash can. There’s no way in hell he’d ever talk about his problems with a stranger while sober. And he doesn’t need the trouble of holding onto a woman’s phone number. And even though Cas wouldn’t say anything, never said anything in the past, it still feels like a betrayal of some sort.
He changes quickly before climbing into bed, wondering if things can ever be different. He imagines being in an actual house, Jack having an actual bedroom, Sam going on morning runs around the neighborhood, and Cas having a garden in their backyard. He imagines wiping the dirt off Cas’s cheek before kissing him. He imagines sharing a room and a bed with Cas, curling up with him every night and running his fingers through his hair. He imagines being able to kiss Cas freely. He imagines being able to express himself, to not have to silence himself anymore. He imagines sharing a life.
A random, loud noise tears Dean from his thoughts. The bunker is always making unnecessary and interrupting noises. Even the silence is undercut by a soft, mechanical hum.
It’s not a home. It’s not a place to raise a child. It’s not meant to bring Dean happiness. Safety, yes. Comfort, no.
Dean falls asleep wishing for something different. Something more.
Despite going to bed well past midnight, Dean wakes up just after nine in the morning. He groans, somewhat exhausted, but quickly shakes himself out of it. He’s used to only getting a few hours of sleep, but this past month without hunting has gotten him used to sleeping longer. He can’t say he dislikes it.
He finds his way into the kitchen, staring in the fridge before deciding on waffles. Jack ordered waffles at a diner once, promptly decided they were his favorite food, and began asking Dean to make waffles nearly every morning. So, Dean bought a waffle maker. In fact, he splurged for a Star Wars themed waffle maker. The look on Jack’s face was worth it. And the look on Cas’s face when Jack hugged Dean and thanked him… A mix of fondness and gratefulness and a little bit of hope. Dean thinks he’d do just about anything to see that look on Cas’s face again.
Dean doesn’t even need to look up the recipe anymore. He could make waffles with his eyes closed. He knows he doesn’t have to put in the effort that he does. He could just buy a box of frozen waffles from the store or some premade mix so he doesn’t have to make it from scratch every morning.
But Dean hates that idea. He grew up on canned and frozen foods because that’s all his dad cared enough to provide. But Dean’s been a lousy enough dad to Jack as it is. Jack deserves the world and Dean yearns to give it to him. If that starts with homemade waffles every morning, then he is more than happy to oblige. But it’s not like it’s a hardship. He enjoys cooking for his family.
“Waffles again?”
Dean looks up from his bowl of flour to see Cas in the doorway, squinting at him. He smiles. “You know it. You wanna crack some eggs for me?”
Cas doesn’t answer, but instead walks to the fridge, grabbing the eggs and meeting Dean back at the counter. It’s nothing short of remarkable; an angel of the lord, once a warrior of heaven, and now standing in a kitchen cooking breakfast for his son. Dean wonders if he can choke on the feeling.
“You think it’s okay for Jack to be having waffles this much?” Dean asks.
“What do you mean?” Cas asks. He doesn’t look up from where he one-handedly cracks an egg into the bowl.
“He has them every morning. Is that healthy? Shouldn’t he have more variety in his diet?”
“He could have more variety,” Cas allows. He looks up, meeting Dean’s eyes. “But he likes waffles. I don’t see the harm in allowing him something he wants and enjoys.”
“But is it healthy for him?”
“I guess there could be healthier alternatives. Perhaps we can try whole grain waffles.”
“Yeah, I’ll pass. But I’ll get the kid to have some fruit today or something.”
“I was researching multivitamins for children,” Cas says. “They have gummies that come in different dinosaur shapes. I think Jack would like that.”
“Dinosaurs, huh? I could get on board with that.”
“I think it would be beneficial for you to take a multivitamin too,” Cas says. “My grace isn’t as strong as it once was. If needed, I don’t think I could resurrect you like I would have once been able to.”
Dean frowns at the bowl of waffle batter in front of him, focusing on stirring. He tries to not think about how much Cas has sacrificed, given up, lost because of him. He knows that if Cas never pulled him out of hell, he’d still be that powerful angel who once destroyed a gas station and blazed into a barn in Illinois without a care.
But he would also just be Castiel the angel. And Dean thinks that Cas is happier being a part of their little makeshift family. At least he hopes Cas is happy.
“But is it normal for Jack to eat the same thing every day?” Dean asks, sidestepping the comment about Cas’s failing grace.
“It’s certainly within the parameters for normal two-year-old children.”
“Yeah, but Jack isn’t exactly normal.”
“I suppose he’s not.” Cas pauses. “But he’s okay. He’s good.”
Dean glances up. A soft smiling is pulling at Cas’s lips and Dean can’t help but grin in response. He didn’t know what it would be like to have a kid running around, and he used to wish Jack was never born, but having him here is a goddamn miracle. Watching Cas become a father has been one of Dean’s greatest joys in life.
“He is good,” Dean says, definitively.
Before Cas can respond, Jack walks into the room, his hair ruffled up from sleep and one sock missing. Dean grins at him, pride exploding in his chest.
“Hey, kid,” he smiles. “Give me five minutes and I’ll have a stack of waffles with your name on them.”
“With whipped cream?”
“Yeah, buddy, whipped cream too.”
Jack rewards him with a smile, sitting down at the table. He slouches over and Dean wonders if that’s bad for his posture. He briefly thinks back to being a kid and various school nurses checking him for scoliosis. He worries for all of thirty seconds until he remembers Jack is half angel and can heal any problem in the blink of an eye.
The thought doesn’t entirely put his mind at ease. He still worries. He wonders if his dad ever worried about him this much.
Probably not. John seemed a little busy grieving and abandoning him and Sam in random motel rooms to actually worry about either of them having scoliosis. Actually, the fact that John had Dean hunting monsters and playing around with guns before he was even double digits just proves that he really wasn’t thinking about his children’s safety.
And then Dean is hit with a wave of guilt over the fact that they’ve brought Jack out on hunts. Jack’s gotten hurt on hunts. Jack has died before. Dean never wants to feel that kind of helplessness again. He never wants to watch his child die ever again.
He puts extra whipped cream on Jack’s waffles. He has to. They got a second chance. They got their son back, and now he eats homemade waffles for breakfast every morning. Dean could cry at the sight.
“What are we doing today?” Jack asks, mouth full of waffle. He has a small amount of whipped cream on his cheek. Cas, sitting across from him, leans over with a napkin to wipe it off.
“What do you wanna do?” Dean asks. He’s already pulling veggie bacon out of the fridge and setting it on the stove for Sam.
Jack doesn’t respond immediately, instead choosing to take another bite. He chews thoughtfully, swallows, and says, “I want to go fishing.”
“Fishing?” Dean asks.
“Yeah,” Jack says. “I really liked when we went last time. Maybe I’ll even catch one this time.”
“Fishing it is then,” Dean says. He catches Cas’s eye, who’s smiling back at him.
Since taking a step back from hunting, they’ve been spending more time together as a family. Dean made a list of fun family activities for the four of them to do, and they’ve slowly but surely been crossing each item off the list. They let Jack pick what they do. Dean’s happy to do any activity that allows Jack to just be a kid, and Cas seems to be happy if Jack’s happy. And if Cas is happy then Dean is also happy.
Sam isn’t as happy lately. Dean knows he just has to let Sam mourn at his own pace. He’s taken part in a few family activities, but he mostly just stays in the bunker. He reads old books, organizes the bunker’s inventory, cleans out random storage closets that haven’t been opened since they moved in, and generally keeps to himself.
Dean’s worried, but he knows Sam will be okay. Sam’s been through worse, survived a lot worse. His threshold for pain is high, possibly too high, and Dean hopes he can pull himself out of this funk soon enough.
Sam comes into the kitchen a few minutes later, going straight for the coffee maker.
“About time you join us,” Dean says. He gestures to the stack of waffles and veggie bacon in the center of the table. “Eat up. We’ve got big plans today.”
“Hunting plans?” Sam asks, not turning around.
Dean spares a glance to Cas sitting next to him before looking at Sam again. “Fishing plans. Kid wants to go fishing so we’re going fishing. Pack your rod.”
“I don’t have a rod.”
“Well, I have four so it’s fine.”
Sam finally turns around. Finally looks at him. “Dean, I’m leaving.”
Dean blinks at him. “On a hunt?”
“No.” Sam closes his eyes and sighs. “I have to get out of here for a while.”
Swallowing past the fear and the twenty-two year old inside of him who wants to beg Sam to stay, Dean asks, “How long will you be gone?”
Sam lets out a hysterical laugh, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. But I have to go. I can’t be here anymore. Every time I look around, I just see blood. I see Maggie’s body and I-”
“Sam, come on, that’s not your fault,” Dean sighs, standing up. “I’m the one who said yes to Michael. I’m the one who brought him here.”
“And I’m the one who brought the apocalypse world hunters here,” Sam snaps. “I promised to protect them. I promised them our world was better than theirs. They were my responsibility.”
“So, what, you have to get away from your family because of it? We’ll go with you Sam.”
“No.” Sam shakes his head. “I have to do this on my own.”
Dean sighs, knowing there’s nothing he can say. Sam’s made up his mind and that’s that. “Do you at least wanna stay for breakfast?”
“I’m already packed. I was gonna leave now.”
“You wanna take the car?”
Sam gives him a sad smile. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I mean that I can’t have anything hunting related. I have to really be on my own.”
Dean nods, glancing back to Cas and Jack. They’re wearing matching frowns and Dean takes a second to marvel at how similar they look. He turns back to Sam. “Let me walk you out.”
They’ve done this dance before. They’ve taken time apart before when one of them really messed up or things were really bad. Dean doesn’t like it, hates that he won’t have Sam in his line of sight, but trusts that Sam will come back to their family soon enough.
“Okay,” Sam agrees softly.
“No.” Jack pushes back from the table.
“Jack,” Cas starts.
“No,” Jack repeats, walking up to Sam. “You can’t leave. You’re family and family always sticks together.”
“Jack, it’s okay. We have to let Sam make his own choices,” Dean says. He drops a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “But he knows that we’re always here for him. He knows he has a home to come back to.” He locks eyes with Sam.
“It’s only temporary, Jack,” Sam says.
Jack nods, tears in the corners of his eyes. He takes a step forward and wraps his arms around Sam. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, buddy. I’ll miss all of you.”
It takes a little bit of coaxing to get Jack to let go of Sam. Dean walks Sam to the garage, Sam carrying a duffel bag and backpack. Sam takes a random set of keys for one of the cars and Dean insists on taking a look at the engine before letting him drive off. Once Sam’s bags are in the car and he’s about to get in, Dean pulls him in for a hug.
“You sure you wanna do this?” Dean asks.
Sam nods. “I have to.”
“I get it. I don’t have to like it, but I get it.”
“I know,” Sam laughs wetly, pulling back.
“You know you can come home any time you want.”
“I know.”
“And don’t be afraid to call.”
“I’ll call,” Sam promises.
“Good,” Dean nods, taking a step back and watching Sam climb into the car.
“I’ll see you,” Sam says.
Dean nods again, suddenly unable to find his voice. He gives one last wave and watches at Sam drives out of the bunker, down the street, and eventually becomes so small that he disappears entirely. He thinks back to a night nearly twenty years ago when Sam drove off to California and left Dean standing alone in the middle of a road.
But it’s different. Dean’s not alone this time. He knows Sam will come back eventually. And he’s still got a few family members in his corner. He’s still got Cas and Jack.
His heart feels like it’s carving itself out of his chest, but at least he’s got Cas and Jack.
When Dean comes back to the kitchen, he’s greeted with the sight of Cas hugging a crying Jack.
“Buddy,” Dean sighs, walking over and resting a hand on Jack’s shoulder. He makes eye contact with Cas over Jack’s head. Cas shakes his head.
It’s been a lot of this lately. Jack being extra emotional, extra childish. Cas’s theory is that with the lack of danger, Jack is finally letting his guard down and allowing himself to act more like his age.
Dean stands to the side, uselessly, before moving his arms up to wrap around Cas and Jack.
His dad would have never done this for him. His dad would have never held him as he cried. Hell, Dean probably wouldn’t have done this for Jack a year ago. He thinks back to the first few months after Jack’s birth, where Cas was dead and Dean was just a shell. He thinks back to how shitty he acted toward Jack, who was just an infant even though he didn’t look like it. It almost kills him to think how much pain Jack was in during those first few months. Dean should have been there for him. He should have wrapped this boy in his arms and promised him the world.
Maybe Dean’s not that kind of person. Maybe he’s not that kind of father.
Or maybe he wasn’t before. But he can be now. He can change. Cas certainly changed. Ten years ago, Dean would have never thought that angel, practically made of marble, could have become a father. He would have never predicted that he’d find the angel once so devoted to God, now sitting in a bunker night after night, watching over his family.
Jack’s whimpers taper off after a few minutes. He’s crushed in between Dean and Cas, head tucked against Cas’s shoulder while Dean has his head hooked over Jack’s. His hands settle on Cas’s back and Dean holds him just as tight.
This is his family and Dean loves them so fiercely he wonders if it might break him.
“It’s okay, kid. You’re okay. We’ve got you,” Dean murmurs into Jack’s hair. He looks up to Cas who has a soft smile on his face.
Jack squirms his way out of the hug and Dean drops his arms. “Dean, I understand if you want to leave too.”
Dean frowns. “Why would I be leaving?”
Jack wipes at the tears on his face. “I know I’ve done a lot of bag things-”
“Jack,” Cas sighs.
Jack holds his hand up and Cas falls quiet. “I used to be a monster. I might still be. And if you can’t be around me because of that then I understand.”
Dean hunches over slightly so he can stare directly into Jack’s eyes and places a firm hand on the back of his neck. “Jack,” he says. “Sam didn’t leave because of you. He’s going through his own shit.” Jack stares at him, unblinking. “You are not a monster. I am not leaving. Okay?”
Jack nods. “Okay.”
Dean pulls him into another hug. “Sam just needs time alone. But he’ll come back. Family always comes back.”
“Okay,” Jack says again. He holds onto Dean just as tightly. “Can we still go fishing?”
“Of course.” Dean smiles, letting go and taking a step back. “Actually, what if we made a little vacation out of it?”
“Vacation?” Jack asks, perking up.
“Yeah,” Dean says, feeling just as bright. Cas is smiling softly at him and Dean thinks he could live off that smile for a hundred years. “Rent a little lake house. Teach you a thing or two about chopping firewood.”
“I would like that, Dean,” Jack smiles.
“Good. Go start packing.”
Jack gives both of them one last smile before darting out of the kitchen. Dean chuckles as he watches him go and then turns back to Cas.
“Dean, if this is too much of an inconvenience-”
“It’s not like we have much else going on,” Dean says, cutting off Cas immediately. “Besides, I want to do this. I want good things for him.”
And you, Dean thinks. I want you to have good things. I want you to have the things you deserve, the things you want. You sacrificed everything and I wish I had more to offer you.
But Dean doesn’t say any of that. Maybe one day he’ll find the courage.
Cas smiles. “So do I.”
“Then it’s settled.”
Dean walks over to the doorway of the kitchen. He taps his fingers against the wall and hesitates before looking back at Cas. Maybe this is the first step toward repairing things. Maybe this is the first step toward something new. Nothing’s broken, but things are definitely not where they’re supposed to be. Dean can feel it, deep in his gut and pulling at his chest. Things are supposed to be different. He can feel the tectonic plates of his whole world shifting around and he knows. He knows he knows he knows. He looks at Cas and thinks we’re supposed to be something more to each other.
Maybe one day they will be.