Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The familiar rumble of Baby's engine has Jack pushing himself up off the curb of the sidewalk, wrapping his arms around his exposed middle as the brakes squeak ever so slightly. They need to be replaced, Jack thinks. He could do that, maybe offer it right now and avoid—

That. Dean's face when he gets out of Baby. Jack feels like his heart drops to his stomach. He rarely looks angry, and he's never looked this disappointed before, no matter what Jack has done. Dean looks pretty upset now. Jack can't remember the last time he got a lecture, and he knows—he knows he shouldn't have just— 

"It's almost in the negatives, Jack," Dean hisses, peeling out of his coat and holding it out towards him with a frown. "Are you crazy? And what are you wearing? Is that—did you cut up my shirt?" 

Jack glances down at his—okay, Dean's shirt. To be fair, it's just flannel, and it's not like Dean doesn't have about a million of those as it is. Yes, he may have taken some scissors and a sewing needle to it after getting lost on crop-top tutorials on YouTube. He can't help it that crop-top flannels are a thing, and Dean just so happened to have an abundance of flannels lying around. 

"Do you want it back?" Jack offers awkwardly, reaching out to take Dean's coat and slip it on, zipping it up. 

Dean instantly looks less upset, which means he was just worried about him being cold. Okay, sweet. The thing is, Jack doesn't really get cold anymore. Jack doesn't really get...anything anymore, as in all the discomforts of the world don't really seem to reach him. He can't pinpoint why this is strange, but he knows it is. Marcy would call him a fuckin' weirdo for it—with love, of course, she would insist. Claire never did like her. Jack really should listen to her more often; it could have saved him all this trouble. 

"No, I guess you can keep it," Dean says with a sigh, shaking his head. "You're buying me a new shirt out of your own money, though. Something nice." 

"Okay, fine." Jack huffs and bounces on his toes for a long beat, glancing back towards the house he's likely never going to step foot in again. He can hear the distant sound of laughter. "Can we go now?" 

"Yeah, come on," Dean murmurs, jerking his head as he gets back in the car. 

Jack instantly relaxes as he sits back into familiar seats, blowing out a deep breath as he tips his head back, eyes closed. The engine is still running, a muted growl that settles the knots of anxiety in his stomach. Any second now, Dean will start driving, and Jack will relax even more. 

Dean does not start driving. 

"Dad?" Jack asks warily, cracking open one eye to find Dean staring at him with a frown. He lifts his head and swallows. "Are you going to...go?" 

"You wanna talk about it?" Dean replies, his eyebrows raising as he waits. 

"Not really. Can we just—would you maybe...not tell Dad about this?" Jack mumbles, looking down at his lap. Dean is silent, so Jack groans and squeezes his eyes shut. "He already knows, doesn't he?" 

"He does," Dean confirms, lightly amused. "How many times have I told you? He knows everything. He knew the moment you snuck out." 

"Awesome," Jack says flatly, eyes snapping open. He glances at Dean with a scowl. "Does that man ever sleep?" 

Dean laughs, then clears his throat. "No." 

"So he just—why didn't he stop me?" 

"He woke me up, and I told him not to. C'mon, kid, you'll be eighteen tomorrow. We wish you would've just told us, but…" 

"Dad, you don't have to make me feel bad, okay? I feel bad enough as it is," Jack mutters. 

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad. Just wanna make sure you know you can tell us anything." 

"I know that, but I just—I wanted to…" 

"Be a little rebel?" Dean asks, sounding fond. 

Jack grimaces. "Maybe. I don't know. I shouldn't have come here. I knew it even before I went, between Marcy and the drugs, but I thought—I mean, I knew you and Dad would tell me it was a bad idea, but I didn't wanna hear it. It was stupid." 

"Yeah, well, we're all young and dumb once, in one way or another. Different ways for some, but still. You, uh—drugs, you said?" Dean flicks his gaze over him, lips twitching down. "Did you—" 

"A little." Jack bites his lip. "Just weed." 

"Ah," Dean says, lips twitching again. 

"Don't tell Dad that," Jack mumbles hopefully. 

Dean snorts. "It's our secret, I promise. S'not like I've never—and anyway, I'm pretty sure your high is blown to shit right now." 

"Yeah," Jack agrees, glum. 

"You sure you don't wanna tell me what happened?" Dean asks. He searches Jack's face, eyebrows furrowed. "Is this about some girl? A guy? Did Marcy make you think—" 

"Marcy and I aren't friends anymore," Jack cuts in, his hands fisting in his lap. 

"I—okay, so we're not cool with Marcy anymore, got it," Dean says agreeably. "Ya know, Claire never really liked her anyway." 

"Claire was right." 

"Yeah, she usually is. It's annoying, isn't it?" 

"So annoying." Jack groans and reaches up to rub his hands over his face, then blows out a deep breath and turns to stare miserably at Dean. "Do you remember—Ruse?" 

"The kid with the motorcycle?" 

"Yeah, that's the one." 

"Oh, hell, him again? Still? Jack…" Dean purses his lips, displeased. 

"He's so nice, Dad. You just don't like him because he has a motorcycle and you caught him with his hand up my shirt a year ago." 

"You were fifteen." 

Jack squawks and blurts, "Sixteen!" 

"Barely!" Dean retorts. 

"Oh, whatever," Jack grumbles, flapping a hand, ignoring Dean's scowl. "Anyway, that's not the point. Ruse has a girlfriend. She's—Dad, she's so pretty. They look good together. It's—it just makes sense, Ruse and River—they even—Dad, their names are cool together—their names—and I'm Jack—just Jack—who even named me such a—" 

"Okay, okay, woah," Dean interrupts, lifting one hand off the wheel. "Slow your roll there, buddy. Your mom named you, and you know that. You're named after two of your grandads. Jack Steven Kline. Jack, on your mom's side. Steven because that was Grandpa Bobby's middle name. And, well, your Dad is fond of...Steve, as a name, so." 

Jack huffs. "Those are two of the most generic names in the world." 

"What does names have to do with anything? Jack, names are just—it's fine. Jack's a cool name because you make it a cool name," Dean says, waving his hand around. "Come on, so what if Ruse and River are—Ruse and River? They'd be shitty names if they were attached to shitty people, and really, Ruse is kind of—" 

"Dad," Jack cuts in, sighing, "let the thing about Ruse go already. We were just kissing." 

Dean grunts. "Uh huh. I could've shot him. I will still shoot him. You want me to shoot him?" 

"No." Jack reaches up to scrub his hand up and down his face again. "It just—it was fine. We were all fine. Everyone was smoking and drinking, and it was fun. I mean, I only smoked, and I didn't do any of the—other stuff, but Marcy did. I told her not to, but she said I had a stick screwed up my ass." 

"One day, Jack, she's gonna look back and realize that you just cared about her," Dean says, his voice softening. 

Jack swallows. "Maybe. It's not like—she isn't even my best friend, or anything. Terrance would kill me. But I know how much her life sucks at home. She doesn't—her parents aren't like you and Dad. They don't care what she does, or where she goes, and they're never around. I thought she didn't like it, but I think she does." 

"She probably doesn't, not really," Dean tells him. "If her parents don't even try...yeah, she probably doesn't like it. Hell, that might be part of her problem, but that isn't—just because her life sucks in some ways doesn't mean that's an excuse to treat everyone around her like shit. She might not learn that for a long time, but when she does… Well, she'll have a lot of regrets, and I guess you'll be on a long list of 'em. And Jack, listen to me, you don't have to put up with it. You don't. Her life might not be fair, but it ain't fair for you to put up with who that turns her into that makes her treat you the way she does." 

"Yeah, that's basically what Claire said, too," Jack admits, frowning. "I didn't really see it because Marcy isn't—she's just a little...mean, really. I can handle that. It's not a big deal. I don't like some of the things she says to me, but I always figured she didn't mean most of it. But tonight…" 

Dean purses his lips. "What'd she do?" 

"Okay, so we were all smoking, and I was actually talking to River. Well, her and Ruse, I guess. They sort of trapped me in between them," Jack tells him, his face going hot. He must have looked like an idiot with how his head whipped back and forth between them, not sure who to look at because he wanted to look at them both. They're both so pretty. "Anyway, we were talking about graduation and college—and oh, by the way, I'm going to have to go to college far, far away now." 

"What, why?" Dean blurts out, strained. "I—of course your dad and I support whatever you wanna do, but—but you said—what happened to you wanting to go local?" 

Jack sighs, miserable again. "Ruse and River will also be going local, and I can't—I don't know how I'm even going to go back to school with them there. Please don't make me go back on Monday." 

"Okay, hey, relax. Whatever happened, I'm sure it's not that bad. C'mon, cough it up, what're you so damn embarrassed about?" 

"I spent a while with River and Ruse. I thought—I mean, I've had—you know Ruse and I were—" 

"Fraternizing." 

"We had a thing. It wasn't—nothing ever happened after that because he moved away, but then he moved back, and then I sort of...avoided him." 

"Good job," Dean praises. "That kid's bad news." 

"No, he's not. He's really, really nice. Dad liked him!"

"Your other dad is a poor judge of character. He's with me, ain't he?" 

Jack rolls his eyes. "I'm telling him you said that." 

"Hey now, let's not get hasty," Dean mumbles, his eyes bulging a little. 

"Anyway, we weren't ever—we didn't—it wasn't like we were exclusive, or dating, or—" Jack makes a low sound of frustration. "When he got back, I was nervous, I guess. I don't know. Marcy was in my ear about it, and I was worried because we hadn't talked about it, and then he suddenly has a girlfriend, so I tried to stop looking at him in the halls." 

"Oh, Jack," Dean says fondly. 

"It gets worse. Dad, they cornered me at the party. Both of them. I've talked to River a little bit at school, and I—I mean, I get it, why Ruse likes her. So it's not like I'm jealous. I think it'd be easier if I was jealous," Jack rambles. "Then they trap me at the party and start—I don't even know what they were doing. I hadn't talked to Ruse in...a while, and then they were suddenly both grilling me on why I stopped talking to him, and then they both started being so—I don't know—handsy, I guess?" 

Dean's face falls flat. "Handsy?" 

"Just—it wasn't like—Dad, I'm eighteen." 

"Tomorrow!" 

"Oh my god," Jack groans, smacking his forehead and rubbing it furiously. Dean's lips twitch, and Jack scowls at him. "Can we stop worrying about that part? The point is, they were being—weird. I mean, it was a good weird. I liked the weird. I really liked the weird. Plus, I was starting to get high, and everything was going really good for a while, and I was talking to them and sort of just—leaning on them both, and it was—Dad, it was nice, so freaking nice, but then Marcy just—she just—" 

"I almost don't wanna know," Dean admits wearily, preemptively wincing, as he should. "You kids and your drama. Okay, uh, lay it on me." 

"So, um." Jack's face gets hot again, and he clears his throat. "We were—do you know what a shotgun is? Uh, not...the gun." 

"You mean with—" 

"The weed? Yeah. You can—there are different ways to do it. The way Ruse and River did it was...um. Well, like a couple would do it, I guess. They did it. Right there. In front of me. Like, right in front of—"

"Alright, I get the picture," Dean says, rolling his eyes. "They made out, basically. Okay, that sucks."

Jack can think of a lot of words to describe what River and Ruse did in front of him, and sucks isn't one of them. He coughs. "Well, actually, I was...not upset about it. Like, at all. It was—" 

"Save your old man some peace of mind and don't finish that sentence," Dean mutters. 

"Right," Jack says, his face probably on fire at this point. "Anyway, River just—she… Dad, don't ask me why, but she did it to me, too. Right there in front of Ruse, who just watched. I mean, it seemed fine. I think. I don't really know because I was sort of distracted by—everything. And I think—I mean, I have no idea, but I thought Ruse was about to, um, do it to me, too, but then Marcy—"  

"Woah, Romeo, you mean to tell me you were about to make out with a couple? Like, both? Just—right there in front of G—uh, the universe and everybody? You serious?" Dean raises his eyebrows at him. 

Jack shrugs lamely. "It sort of just—happened. Please don't tell Claire. She'll never let me live it down. You know she won't." 

"Ah, come on," Dean teases. 

"Dad," Jack says, strained. 

Dean sighs. "Okay, okay, just between us. Go on. What'd that little shit Marcy do?" 

"Before Ruse could—" Jack clears his throat, eyeing Dean out of the corner of his eye. "Can you pretend I'm not your little girl for five seconds please?" 

"You're always gonna be my little girl," Dean replies immediately, and Jack huffs a soft laugh around the swell of warmth in his chest. It appears every time Dean and Cas are being especially sweet to each other, or to him, or when they say things about him like she's my son, or he's my daughter. 

"Okay, well, Ruse was probably about five seconds away from making out with your little girl, and you're just gonna have to get over it. Before you get annoyed about it, Marcy interrupted. Do you—Dad, you're not gonna believe what she said." 

"Jesus. How bad?" 

"Really bad," Jack says, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists again. "She spoke up and told Ruse it was a bad idea, since I'm in love with him, then said I was probably also in love with River since she kissed me, and apparently that's all it takes for me to be a whore for more." 

"She what?!" Dean bursts out. "And you didn't kick her ass right then and there? She still in there? I will go fight a kid right now. Don't think I—" 

"Dad, no. You'll go to jail." 

"Uncle Sam keeps bail money set aside for a reason, kiddo." 

"I thought that was for—" Jack chuckles weakly and shakes his head. "Leave it alone, Dad. I mean, thanks, but I...I had it. I mean, I didn't fight her." 

"What, because she's a girl and it's a guy day for you?" Dean grumbles, craning his head around to narrow his eyes towards the house. 

Jack purses his lips. "Well, no, I just—I kind of snatched Ruse's drink and poured it over her head. She tried to get up and—I don't know—fight, probably, but then she tripped over her chair, so I stepped over her and walked off. Um, more like ran. I left and called you." 

"Should've stepped on her head," Dean mutters under his breath. "Who the hell does she think she is? Calling my kid a whore! I'll—" 

"You and Dad call each other whores sometimes."

"I—how do you know that?" 

"Dad," Jack says, "you two are not very subtle. You get really distracted by each other and forget other people are in the room all the time." 

Dean tips his head from side-to-side, his gaze raised, a gesture of yeah, okay, can't argue that. "Well, Cas and I say that with love. There's a—difference."

"Yeah, I know. Marcy wasn't saying it with love," Jack declares solemnly. 

"No, kiddo, she wasn't. I'm sorry." 

"It's okay. My life is just ruined, that's all." 

"It's—Jack—" Dean visibly bites back a laugh, then he releases it and reaches out to put his hand on the back of Jack's head, affectionately shaking it. "Your life isn't ruined. It might feel like it is, but I promise you it's not. Just—you're scared. That's all it is. Listen to me, things are complicated and a little messy, but they're really important to you, so you're scared. It's normal. It's okay." 

"So...you're not making me go to school on Monday?" Jack tries weakly. 

"Yes, because the only thing that's gonna help is fighting for what's important to you, no matter the fear. You go in there on Monday and you walk right up to Rick and Rory—" 

"Ruse and River." 

"—and you tell them that they're important to you, and you see where it goes, okay?" Dean claps him on the shoulder. "You do it despite the fear. Kick the fear in the ass. Who knows? Could be the best thing you ever decide to do." 

Jack bites his lip, then hesitantly nods. "And if it is? What if I bring home Ruse again? River, too?" 

"I'll tell 'em to keep their hands to themselves and away from my kid," Dean says lightly. "But, if they make you happy, then that's what matters." 

"Right…" Jack nervously flexes his hands. Jesus, is he actually going to? What if— "Dad, I don't…" 

"You can drive Baby," Dean says, lips twitching when Jack's mouth drops open. "She's a good boost of confidence, and she's gonna be yours anyway, so you might as well get used to her. If—and it's a big if, because you're a goddamn delight—so, if things don't work out exactly the way you want 'em to, skip half the day and go for a drive. Baby'll never let you down, I promise." 

Jack stares at him with wide eyes. "You're serious?"

"Baby isn't a joking matter, Jack." 

"Oh my god, Dad." 

"What?" Dean chuckles when Jack just gapes at him for a little longer. "You gotta get her new brakes before Monday, though. That's the stipulation." 

"You're just getting a little too old to do it yourself, aren't you?" Jack teases. 

Dean huffs. "Hey, I catch enough of that shit from Krissy and Claire, so don't you start. But uh, well, my knees ain't what they used to be, that's for sure. Anyway, you gotta take care of her if I'm gonna give her to you. I won't sleep at night otherwise." 

"I promise," Jack says, sticking his pinky out with a grin. He hasn't done this in years, not since he was twelve, at least, but Dean responds like it was just yesterday. He reaches out and hooks their pinkies together, laughing when Jack bends down and kisses them, sealing the deal. 

"Come on, let's get you home," Dean tells him, pulling the car away from the curb. 

"Was Dad mad?" 

"Nah, he wasn't mad." 

"Am I in trouble?" 

"Jack, when are you ever in trouble?" 

"I feel like I should be in trouble," Jack admits, heaving a sigh. 

"Okay, you're grounded until you're eighteen." 

"Dad, that's tomorrow." 

"Yeah, well, I've always been a little spineless when it comes to you," Dean says, amused. "Besides, you've had a rough night, and I'm pretty sure you'll just tell us next time." 

"Yeah, okay, fair enough," Jack allows. 

They're not actually that far off from the house, so it isn't too long before they're pulling into the garage. It's always a little stuffy inside, but it smells like oil and metal, an aroma Jack feels like he grew up in. At times, he spent more time in the garage with Dean than he did his own bedroom, especially over the summer. 

When he was a kid, Dean and Cas would find him passed out on the standing toolbox so much that Dean started keeping a wrench out to clatter it against the outside of it to make Jack jerk awake. He stopped doing it after Jack fell off into the empty container behind it and freaked out when the lid shut on him. That's how Jack learned he has an irrational fear of—boxes, apparently, or just containers. It isn't claustrophobia, because small spaces don't bother him; it's just being trapped in something, for some reason. 

It's probably about one of the only things he's really, really scared of. It had only happened for a moment, but in that time, Jack had screamed his head off and gone into a full-blown panic attack, swift and hard-hitting. Dean had yanked the lid back and snatched him out, and to this day, Jack hasn't forgotten how pale and shaken he was about it. In fact, it must have really gotten to him, because he handed Jack off to Cas and left to go take a drive. He came back, though. He always does. 

Inside the house, Jack peels off Dean's coat and lazily tosses it on the coat rack by the garage door. They have to go through the kitchen to make it to the living room, and Cas is sitting on the couch with the lamp on, watching them come in without any expression whatsoever. Jack looks at Dean, who snorts and shakes his head. 

"Cas, tell the kid you're not gonna hang him up by his toes out back and beat him," Dean says, moving to plop down beside Cas with a groan. His knees pop as he goes down, and Jack's suddenly struck by how much they've aged. 

Scratch that, he's also really, really scared of them getting old and dying on him. It's a thought he shies away from. He does so now. 

"Of course not. I would never." Cas' eyebrows tug together, lips tipping down as he looks right at Jack, injured by the assumption. "Did you think I would?"

"I feel like you should," Jack admits, moving over to sink down into the recliner adjacent to the couch. He kicks off his boots and tucks his socked-feet up under him, resting his chin in his hand, his elbow on the arm of the chair. He frowns at them. "I knew it was wrong. I knew you both would have let me go if I just told you, but I also knew you'd both tell me why I shouldn't, and you'd be right, but I didn't want you to be right. Why are you two always right?" 

"Trial and error, mostly," Cas says, smiling softly now. "Did you have a bad night?" 

"It was—in the beginning, it was fine. Probably not the best place for me to be, but it's not like I was doing anything wrong." Jack pauses, then forces himself not to grimace. Okay, so smoking illegally is technically wrong, but he'll just...overlook that part. It was only a little. "Anyway, it went off the rails really fast. I should've stayed home." 

"Nah, you gotta live to learn, kiddo," Dean tells him, calm about it. He glances over at Cas. "By the way, Marcy is evil and dead to us now." 

Cas arches an eyebrow. "Ah, I see. Well, Claire never liked her anyway." 

"I should call her," Jack mumbles. He pulls his phone out of his pocket with a sigh, going to Claire's contact. It has been The Dads' Favorite for the last four years, and rightfully so. It's an ongoing, light-hearted argument between them that the other is the favorite, and Jack's pretty sure he's right that Claire is. She's kinda his favorite, too, so it only makes sense. The phone rings for a while, and he thinks she might be on a case, but then—

"Jack, it's eleven at night. The hell do you want?" Claire asks gruffly, voice rough with sleep. 

"Is it? Oh…" Jack sighs. "Sorry, I didn't realize it had gotten that late. I was just calling to tell you that you were right about something. It's fine. It can wait."

"No, no, I love being told I was right about something. What was it this time?" Claire says, sounding much more awake all of a sudden. 

"I'm not friends with Marcy anymore." 

"Ooooh, I never liked her. Told you." 

Jack mhms. "She's not a nice person." 

"What'd she do?" Claire asks sharply. 

"It's a long story that you don't need to know the details of, but the point is...well, you were right. I'm going to start screening all the people I want to get close to through you first. Would that be okay?" 

"Yeah, I'll sniff 'em out. I got you." 

"Thanks," Jack mumbles. 

Claire hums. "You okay, kid? You sound like someone launched Felix out a window." 

Jack frowns at the mental imagery of someone throwing his pet snake out a window. 

"Marcy called him a whore," Dean speaks up, raising his voice so she can hear him. 

"She what?" Cas snarls, his head snapping up. 

"She what?" Claire echoes in the same exact tone. 

"Dad, come on," Jack groans. 

Dean huffs. "I promised I wouldn't say why, not that she didn't say it." 

"You can't keep a secret to save your life!" 

"Oh, bud, you do not get to talk to me about that."

"I'll kill her," Claire offers. "You want me to kill her? I can make it look like an accident." 

"I'll help," Cas adds shortly. 

"No one's killing anyone," Jack grumbles, though he's struggling not to smile. "It's fine. I already handled it. I poured beer on her and stepped over her when she tripped. She probably got beer in her eye, so really, it's perfectly fine." 

"You're so soft. You should've kicked her teeth in. I can still kick her teeth in. I know that little shit is eighteen already. I'll do it," Claire mutters. "Sam has bail money set aside, ya know."

"Pump the brakes, Clairvoyance," Dean calls out, laughing a little. "Jack's a big girl. He can handle himself. But uh, if you wanna send Marcy some shit in the mail, I could help." 

"You're speaking my language, Destination," Claire replies. "I'll text you later." 

"Dad, please don't let them do that," Jack begs, looking at Cas, his last hope. 

Cas sighs. "I won't let them do that, Jack." 

"You're no fun, Cas," Claire complains. 

"I'm hanging up now," Jack announces, then does exactly that before Claire can start demanding more information about what happened. 

"Jack, I hope this goes without saying, but what Marcy said—it's not true. She's an unkind girl, and she doesn't speak the truth," Cas murmurs. 

"I know, Dad," Jack replies. "Thank you, though." 

"It's late," Cas says. "You should be in bed. We can talk about this more in the morning if you feel up to it. I can tell you're still upset." 

Jack's not actually tired. He often...isn't, these days. It's starting to get very strange, even for him. 

Obviously, his life is a little weird. One of his best friends—Gertie—is a werewolf. His Uncle Sam is kind of a witch sometimes, and he helps run a network of people who hunt monsters, which includes Jody, Donna, Claire, Kaia, Patience, sometimes Alex, and his Aunt Eileen, as well as others he knows. Pretty much all of the family friends, like Krissy and Max, are hunters. 

People in the life. 

Jack grew up knowing about it. Dean and Cas explained it to him when he was six, as well as they could at the time. He understands why they kept some of the details to a minimum until he got older, because as far as he knew when he was a little kid, sometimes monsters were real, but that didn't mean they were all monsters. It was partially to explain things about the Fitzgeralds, as well as Kaia and Patience, and it was partially to explain what his dads were doing sometimes with all the books and lying over the phone about being cops and talking about weird things Jack didn't know existed yet.

He didn't really understand—seriously understand all of it—until he was fifteen. They answered his questions honestly. They took him when he was sixteen and got him an anti-possession tattoo when he'd asked for one. They told him some stories from their own history, but even to this day, Jack thinks they've kept some details from him. 

He doesn't think they do it maliciously. When Jack expressed interest in hunting, they didn't overly encourage it or put it down. They talked to him bluntly about it, admitting their own feelings towards it. Dean said outright that he worried the life could snare people, trap them, even if some people wanted to be trapped. Either way, when he insisted that he wanted to know more about it, they let him spend a summer at the Bunker with Claire and Kaia, learning all about it, with the rules that he had to call them every day and he couldn't go on a case. He could do research, though. He could learn how to fight and shoot a gun. And he did. 

When summer was over, Jack went home and announced that he wanted to be a Veterinarian. The truth of it was, Jack had wanted to be that since he was nine, and that hadn't changed just because he took a peek at another possible career path. 

So, yeah, Jack knows his life is a little weird. A lot weirder than the lives of most of his peers. Gertie is one of the few in his age group who gets it, and there's nothing he can't talk to her about. He's confessed to her that things have been weird with him, because she knows what it feels like to feel weird. She doesn't have the answers, but she has suggested talking to his dads, or even his uncle. 

The thing is, Jack has no idea how to explain it. Cas says he should be tired. Jack hasn't slept in four days. He's not hungry, even if he still eats and enjoys it. He doesn't get too cold, or too hot. He knocked into the corner of a desk at school last week and didn't even feel it. How does he explain that? Any of it. 

All his life, he has been normal, even if his life isn't. His dads are normal. They're human. He knows they wouldn't treat him any differently for any of this, but it's not normal and human—the way he's been lately. He likes his weird life, loves it, but he also likes having the best of both worlds. He doesn't want to give up the normalcy, especially against his will. 

So, he says nothing. He gets up and goes to bed. He lays there and doesn't sleep. Can't sleep. He stares at his clock and watches the minutes tick by. 

At 4:37am on his birthday—unbeknownst to him, the exact time he was born—his mind breaks open, and his eyes start to glow. 

"I just want to be a kid," Jack says softly. 

Dean releases an explosive breath. "Well, I've got some good news and some bad news. Good news, you are a kid. Bad news, you aren't just a kid." 

"If I could be…" 

"What?" 

"What would happen to me?" Jack looks at him, his eyebrows furrowed, curious. 

"Um, you'd be a kid, I reckon," Dean says. "Don't ask me what that's like. I barely remember. But uh, kids don't have to—well, kids who have a life they should don't have to worry about a lot of things. Ya know, that's on the people taking care of 'em. They just get to be. Grow, learn, be looked after." 

"Hm." Jack tilts his head slightly. "Cas would look after me." 

"Yeah." Dean nods easily. "'Course he would. He already does." 

"But as a child." 

"That, too." 

Jack holds his gaze. "Would you?" 

"Would I, uh—you mean if you were a kid? Like, an actual four-year-old?" Dean asks in surprise, his eyebrows rising. When Jack nods, he clears his throat and nods back. "Yeah, sure I would, Jack. I know I haven't—I know I've made a lot of mistakes with you, but I want us to be okay, too. You're—I mean, you're my—you're—" 

"I've always regarded you as a father, no matter the complications of our history. You know that." 

"I do know, Jack, and maybe you don't know, and I know I fucked up showing it, but I saw you—I see you as my… Well, you're my kid." 

"Except I'm not just a kid." 

"Yeah, well, semantics. Whatever." 

Jack huffs a quiet laugh and leans his head back against the seat, smiling. "We're going to be okay." 

"S'good," Dean mumbles. "I'm glad."

"And you'd look after me if I was actually four years old, completely?" 

"I would." 

"I love you, Dean." 

"Yeah, kid, love you."

It comes to him in snatches, pieces cracked apart and shoved away slotting back into place, memories folded down unraveling to fill in the void. 

He remembers existing inside his mother. He remembers choosing Castiel to be his father. He remembers being born. He remembers the progression of everything—all of it—that happened afterwards, everything he did, everything they did. He remembers dying. He remembers becoming God.

He remembers that conversation with Dean in the car, staring at him, feeling so many different things about too much to really sort through it all. The world was so loud around him, in him, and he had just wanted… 

This. Precisely what he got. Precisely what he chose. 

It was a hastily made decision, yes, but he'd been certain. He'd wanted to be the child he never got to be. He'd wanted to have that opportunity, just as his mom had wanted him to have it. He'd wanted things to be simpler—as God, with Dean, in life. 

It's not a decision he would make at this age. He made it at four when he didn't understand the effect it would have on others. The horror of it, the reality, hits him with the force of a traitorous slap. It was selfish of him, he now knows. He—he uprooted so many things. He forced those around him to—to—

He didn't know any better, and it's still not fair. 

Jack launches himself from the bed, stumbling for the mirror in the corner, staring at himself. He looks younger than he was and also as old as he ever has been. He stares into his eyes and sees them glimmer with light, something inward and other. Chuck. Amara. The power of God and of the Darkness. 

It was that power that secured his memories, that put a block between his access to said powers. He'd folded it all away, hidden in a little box that wouldn't reveal itself until he technically became an adult. Eighteen. No longer a child in that he can legally be considered an adult, and now, he looks back on what he did as a kid and feels guilt lurch through him. 

"Oh god," Jack breathes out, then laughs, laughs, laughs so hard that he's crying. 

He sits down on the floor with his arms wrapped around his legs and his face pressed to his knees, and he cries. He got everything he wanted, everything, and it was so selfish of him. He remembers the way Cas looked at him as a child, especially in the beginning—the grief on his face. He remembers, fuzzily, being small and holding onto Dean who whispered low and desperate come back, come back, Jack, come back. 

Dean and Cas had fought so much at the start, and sure, they always fight, but he was the reason it was that bad. He turned everything on its head, left everyone behind—Cas, Dean, Sam—and they had to pretend like it was okay. They never even told him, and why would they? Why would they burden him with this guilt? They should have. They've loved him this whole time, when they should have hated him. 

He took their son away from them for years. Replaced him with a different version like that made it any better. He didn't even—he hadn't even asked, not really, if that's what they wanted. He hadn't even said goodbye. 

The sad part is, Jack misses them. Has missed them. This part of him that's been hidden away, it misses them with an ache that shouldn't be able to hurt him, but does. He's still himself as he was raised to be, but the before—the child he was, he's that once more, too. And, just like then, just like through all these years, he wants his parents. 

"Jack?" 

As if summoned, they're at his door, moving into his room. Dean looks tired, but alert and alarmed. Cas looks worried, but not exhausted. He wouldn't, because he's an angel. They never told Jack that either, and he can't blame them. Angel is just one step closer to Lucifer, to more questions, to things they likely couldn't explain, not as he was. 

They come closer, and Jack stares at them, crying and aching. He looks at the gray in their hair, the wrinkles around their mouths and eyes, the way they've aged. Almost fourteen years. He's been with them—raised by them—for almost fourteen years, and simultaneously hasn't seen them in just as long. 

"Castiel," Jack says when Cas crouches down in front of him, and he thinks Father, he thinks Dad. 

"Jack, what—" Cas stops and looks at him, and then he exhales and rocks back. "Oh." 

"I remember," Jack confirms. 

"You—" Dean's face is in the process of falling slack with understanding when Jack looks at him, and then he goes rapidly pale, his eyes wide. "Oh. You remember. You—you—" 

Jack sees their stricken expressions, and his own face crumbles, a wet sob escaping him as he hangs his head. He chokes out, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Dad, I'm so sorry," and he keeps chanting it to both of them, because he is, he is. 

"Okay, okay, hey...it's okay," Dean whispers, suddenly kneeling right on the other side of him, opposite of Cas. They're both touching him, soothing him, and he doesn't deserve it. "What do you have to be sorry for, huh? It's okay, kid." 

"Jack, please talk to us," Cas murmurs, cupping the back of his head. "We want to reassure you, but we don't actually know what's—wrong, exactly." 

"Learning you're God is enough, Cas, don't you think?" Dean snips. 

"He's apologizing to us, Dean, so there seems to be another issue," Cas retorts, snipping back. 

Oddly, this soothes Jack into a croaky laugh, because no matter what, he can always count on them to be the them they are with each other. Bickering and still endlessly in love. As big as a thousand universes. That never changed, not his whole life, either of them. He thinks I've missed you so much, then starts crying harder. 

"Come on, buddy, you gotta give us something here," Dean mumbles, starting to sound a little panicked. He gets frantic about the tears. Always has. "You can cry, of course you can, but just—" 

Jack lifts his head, letting out a shuddering breath, and he looks at Cas first. "I didn't even tell you goodbye. You were so—you must have been so—"

"Oh, Jack, no, don't do that to yourself," Cas whispers, carding his fingers through his hair. "I won't lie to you. Of course I missed you. Even still, you're my child. You are my child no matter your shape. I only hoped that it was a choice you made because you wanted it. Did you want it?" 

"Yes," Jack admits. "It was selfish of me, but yes."

"Fuckin' told you," Dean mutters. Then, "Wait, what do you mean it was—" 

"I never asked what either of you wanted. What Sam wanted. I just—" Jack cuts his gaze to Dean again, his vision blurring. "I forced you, Dad. Dean. I—"

"Dad," Dean says firmly. He reaches out and gently swipes the falling tears away. "I'm your dad. I've always been your dad, Jack, and that ain't gonna change now. You listen to me, and you listen good. You didn't force me to do anything. You were four, and you decided you wanted to be just four, and you deserved to be that, if you wanted it. We took care of you 'cause we wanted to, kid, not because we had to. Trust me, parents can—they can not do that. I could have just as easily left you with Cas and never looked back, and I started to because I was so scared of how much I didn't want to. Not a day goes by that I'm not thankful for every second I've had with you and Cas, before you shrunk and after." 

 "I was just a kid," Jack whispers. "I didn't know it then, but I was just a kid. I'm sorry." 

"We're not," Cas says softly. "Jack, we aren't sorry to have given you this chance. Despite missing you as you were, we didn't love you any differently, and all we wanted was for you to be happy. And you've made us so, so happy as well, always." 

"I'd do it again. All of it," Dean adds. "Go ahead. Shrink down right now. Round two. I'd do it again and again, a thousand times." 

Jack laughs—it cracks in his throat, but it is a laugh, and they both smile at him. "I've missed you," he rasps. "Me. The before me. I've missed you both." 

"We haven't gone anywhere, kid," Dean murmurs. 

"And we won't," Cas vows. 

Jack folds into them and hugs them both for a long, long time. They hold him and let him cry. 

Sam, Eileen, and Maura arrive a few hours later. They had apparently been coming to visit anyway, unannounced as they sometimes do, and really, they couldn't have chosen a better time. 

Maura, who is nine and just as sassy as her parents, flicks her hair and says, "So, you're God now? That's boring, Jack. Couldn't you be something cooler?" 

"I—you know, I honestly didn't get a choice in the matter," Jack admits. 

"Well, you're still my cousin, right?" 

"Yes." 

"Fine, you're cool again," Maura declares, like that settles everything. She grins at him. "I'm going to get on your games now." 

"Hey, don't mess up my rank!" Jack calls after her. 

"No promises," Maura sing-songs as she skips off, her high ponytail bouncing as she goes. 

"Sorry," Sam offers sheepishly. "She overheard the phone call I had with Dean. She was eavesdropping, the little sneak. She's as bad as her mom about reading lips, too, so she caught a few things." 

Jack smiles, despite himself. Maura not knowing about the life was impossible, purely because she's the nosiest child in the world, Sam says. By the time she was three, she had known as much as she could understand at the time, and her stance on it—according to Dean—is absolutely hilarious. She finds most of it boring, and she's decided she's going to marry rich and inherit a castle that way, so she can be a queen. No school. No hunting. No, she's just going to marry 'some dumb guy, probably' and take him for all his money and property. 

Dean finds this absolutely marvelous. Eileen is in full support, if that's what her baby wants to do. Sam has files of different career paths all laid out in case she changes her mind, but he doesn't force her to read them. He couldn't if he tried. Maura doesn't like to read. What Maura Mary Winchester likes is being the center of attention, the one who gets exactly what she wants, and the best without having to do anything other than exist. 

Everyone adores her.

"It's okay," Jack murmurs, looking at Sam, his chest pinching. "I know I just saw you two weeks ago, but is it strange for me to say I've missed you?" 

"No, Jack, that's not strange. C'mere," Sam says softly, reaching out to draw him in a hug. 

Despite the fact that Cas and Dean have repeatedly told him that he doesn't need to apologize, Jack still can't stop himself from saying, "I'm sorry, Sam." 

"Dean warned me you'd do that." Sam claps him on the side of the neck, pulling back to smile at him, sporting some wrinkles of his own. "It's okay, Jack, and that's Uncle Sam to you." 

"It was almost Uncle Daddy Sam," Jack recalls with a wince. "Sorry about that." 

Sam chuckles. "It's fine. I knew what you meant. I think—well, we all knew what you meant. It's what you wanted. You know, if it helps, we started out looking into ways to age you back up, I guess, but then—for the first time in our lives—we decided not to meddle with the will of cosmic beings. I guess we finally had one worth believing in." 

"Ah, shit," Jack chokes out, his eyes stinging, and he knows he sounds like Dean—he often does—but he can't help it. He pulls Sam back into a tight hug as Dean busts out laughing behind him. 

"So, family meeting," Dean chirps a few minutes later as they all file into the living room. 

"Those are always fun," Eileen agrees wryly. "I vote we leave the nine year old out." 

"That's if she's not listening in," Sam mutters with a suspicious look towards Jack's room. "It's like living with a damn spy." 

"She gets it from her daddy," Dean teases, his favorite thing to say to Sam. He finds it delightful that his niece is—in his words—'a little bit different, like her dear ol' dad'. 

"No, no, she gets that from her mom," Sam argues, signing towards Eileen. 

Eileen beams. "That's my mini-me. I'm so proud."

"Maura is wonderful," is Cas' addition, because he adores Maura for many reasons, but specifically because she says Cas is her favorite uncle, just to get Dean all up in arms about it. Frankly, leaving Cas and Maura to their own devices is something of a danger; it always ensues chaos, which Dean insists is something that Maura gets from her dad. 

That one, Sam doesn't argue. 

"Anyway, so," Dean says, clapping his hands together, "my kid's got all his memories back. He's God now. Again. Whatever." 

"She," Jack corrects. "God feels like a woman thing."

"Okay, she's God now. Again. Whatever," Dean amends, bobbing his head. He pauses. "Wait, like the—the dog-fish. Huh." 

Jack's eyebrows furrow. "The—what?" 

"You did this thing when you were a kid. Uh, you still got Castle Kline up in your closet?" 

"Yeah, why?" 

"Well, you had this whole—story for it, I guess. There was this dog, Spot, who was sometimes a fish. When she was a dog, she was a she. When he was a fish, he was a he. Sometimes, Spot wanted to be a dog, and sometimes Spot wanted to be a fish." 

"Dad, I don't think that had anything to do with me being God. I'm pretty sure it was just my early onset gender crisis." 

"Well, maybe," Dean allows, waving a hand, "but it still fits. God's a woman. Makes sense." 

"Ah, maybe not...that, exactly," Jack says cautiously, frowning. He swallows. "I mean, yes, but no. It's—I am a girl, and God feels like a girl thing to me, but I also don't want to...be God. I do want to be a girl at times, though." 

Cas hums. "Yes, I understand what you're saying. Do you plan to lock away that part of you again?" 

"Should I?" Jack whispers. He scans his gaze over all of them. "I didn't ask last time, and I should have. I can do things. I have the power to do things. I can get rid of every awful thing in the world. Dad, I can give you your wings back. I can—everything you despised Chuck for not doing, I could do. I could answer prayers. I could—" 

"Jack," Cas says gently, "the world is…the way it is. You could do many things and stop so much suffering, and in the same breath, you could do something that doesn't benefit others. Free will is very important, I've come to learn. Life. People are meant to experience it. Not everything is good, and not everything is bad. What we despised about Chuck was that he had the power, and instead of using it to do good, he used it to interfere with Sam and Dean, to make them suffer perpetually." 

"I could make sure that never happens again," Jack murmurs, darting his gaze between Sam and Dean. 

They look at each other, then Dean says, "Kid, it's been a while since we've suffered because of Chuck, and because of you, I haven't suffered in that long. You already have made sure of that." 

"Besides," Sam adds, "the story should write itself. Whatever happens will happen. The whole point is that there isn't a point until we make one, and everyone is different. What's good to me isn't going to be good to a man three states over, and why am I any more important than him? I'm not. Messing in things—it can—well, it could get messy." 

"More to the point," Cas continues, "you don't want to. You became God to save the world, not to control it. Do what you want to, Jack." 

Jack swallows. "I want—I want to be God. I want to be this me, and the me I was before I remembered. I don't want to forget again. I just…" 

"You don't want the power," Dean says quietly, his lips quirking up. "You don't want to do Godly things. You want to just be...you." 

"Yeah," Jack breathes out. 

"So," Dean muses, spreading his hands. 

"Be you," Cas says, smiling. 

"Okay," Jack replies, the ache in his chest easing. He closes his eyes and slips inward, cupping that power that filters the whole, overarcing beginning and end of creation right into him. In that, he doesn't need to eat, or sleep, or feel pain, or be anything other than power. He is the world, and all it could be, and he just wants to be him. So, as is his power to do so, he leaves the world to its whims, and he locks it away where it isn't his anymore. It should belong to him only as it does everyone else. He exhales, then opens his eyes and smiles. "I'm me." 

Monday morning dawns bright and early, and Baby rumbles through the student parking lot, drawing a few eyes since it usually never goes here. Jack's always just been content to be a car-rider when her dads picked her up, or she'd just catch a ride with Marcy or Terrance. 

Speaking of, Terrance appears at her side the moment she walks into the school, his eyes wide. He whacks Jack on the shoulder, gaping at her, and Jack worries for a split second that he knows she's God, somehow. Well, she isn't, but she sort of is. 

" Dude," Terrance hisses, "you and Marcy fell out? You kissed River? You almost kissed Ruse? You didn't call me about any of this?! I fuckin' knew I should have gone to that party; I knew it. I said to myself, I said, Terrance, Jack is going to need you; they always need you—" 

"It's she today, actually." 

"—she always needs you, and Marcy is a vulture, an evil vulture feasting on the carcass of—" 

"Terrance," Jack says, smiling, "you couldn't even come. Your mom would have killed you, and you couldn't say you were staying over at my place because your mom always calls my dads to check, and I was sneaking out." 

"You fuck up and lie to your mama one time when you're ten, and she doesn't trust you from that point on," Terrance mutters. "A joke in bad taste incoming, but be glad you don't have a mom to worry about that kinda shit." 

"Very bad joke. Poor taste," Jack agrees, then she laughs anyway when Terrance winks at her. "How did you hear about it?" 

"Svettie told me. You know they're the school gossip. They apparently watched it all happen. You dumped a drink on Marcy?" 

"I did. She called me a whore." 

"That bitch," Terrance mumbles, smacking his teeth. "Obviously you get to keep me in the divorce, because you're my favorite anyway." 

"Terrance, you barely spoke to her. You didn't like her, did you? I'm just now realizing this."

"Yeah, no, she gave me bad vibes. Plus, okay, you know I get jealous. I'm the best friend here, not her. What if I told you that I didn't like her, and then she made you feel like you had to choose, and then she made up lies about me because her hair is full of lies and she's got that shit on hand, and then you started pulling away from me, and then what would I do? Jack, what would I do? I would have been lost without you, you know that. So, I kept my chill and hung back and waited in the wings. 'Cause I'm a chill guy, who is in no way, shape, or form crazy and attached to my best friend." 

"Uh huh," Jack says, lips twitching. "Sure you're not. You know I wouldn't do that, right? I wouldn't let anyone get in between us. You're already Claire-approved and my dads like you. Honestly, I struck gold with you." 

Terrance flashes her a bright grin. "And you didn't even have to dig that far. Also, Claire likes me? You sure? I would so—" 

"We both know you wouldn't, but also don't joke about it," Jack cuts in quickly. "She's gay and also basically like my older sort-of sister." 

"Well, she's kinda scary anyway." Terrance shrugs lazily. "Your dads are cool, though. You think they'd be down to adopt me? My mom's a pain in the ass."

"A joke in very bad taste incoming, but Dads can be annoying, too, so be glad you don't have to worry about that part," Jack tells him. 

"Ah, I love it when we bond over having dead parents. What a Monday," Terrance teases. A beat later, he reaches out to grab Jack's shoulder and swiftly turn her around. "Oop, girl, don't look now, but there goes River and Ruse." 

Jack immediately looks, her eyes darting over to them, then quickly away. "Oh, they look so nice." 

"You're adorable." Terrance leans around her, then smacks his teeth. "Okay, they haven't noticed you yet. What's the play here? Are we ducking and dodging? You gonna talk to them?" 

 "Talk. I'm gonna—" Jack weakly looks back, then groans and faces Terrance again. "I don't know how, but I sort of—promised my dad I'd try." 

"Your dad is encouraging you to have a threesome?"

"He doesn't know it, but technically, yes." 

Terrance sighs. "You sure they ain't looking to adopt another kid?" 

"Terrance, can you focus please?" Jack mumbles, her heart starting to pick up pace as she peeks over her shoulder again. She gave up being God for this shit? Being a regular person is awful. Her hands are starting to sweat. "Oh, I can't. I can't just—" 

"Okay, no, I ain't hearing all'a'that," Terrance cuts in sharply. He reaches out and puts his hands on her shoulders, holding her gaze. "Look at me. You are so hot right now. You're the hottest person in this school. Everyone wants to fuck you. I want to fuck you." 

Jack's eyebrows crinkle together. "Terrance, you're asexual. You don't wanna fuck anyone." 

"Exactly. That's how powerful you are right now," Terrance quips. "Now, remember, you're hot. You're nice. You're so fucking sweet. You're smart, and funny, and anyone would be an idiot not to be in love with you instantly. Everyone's in love with you. I'm in love with you." 

"Terrance, you've been in love with your next door neighbor since we were fourteen." 

"Yeah, and Valarie doesn't know I exist, so really, it's time for me to move on. Boom, I just fell in love with you instead; that's how in-loveable you are, okay? Now, turn around, walk up to them, and go get your couple." 

"If you were in love with me, you'd be trying to stop me from doing that," Jack points out. 

"We can be a foursome. I'm down for it. Now, stop stalling. Go," Terrance says urgently, giving her a little shove. As she starts to walk away, he whisper-yells after her. "Good luck! You got this!"

Jack's face burns, and she stuffs her hands in her jacket pockets, chewing the inside of her lip. Dean's words play on a loop in her head. Kick the fear in the ass. Who knows? Could be the best thing you ever decide to do. She listens to the words over and over in her mind and takes a deep breath before she walks up to River and Ruse, her heart racing. 

When Dean had handed her the keys to Baby this morning over breakfast, he'd said, "You got it, kiddo. And, if not, Baby's got you." 

"Sure, Dad," Jack had mumbled weakly. "Thanks."

"That's my girl," Dean had replied, then kissed her on the top of her head and gave her a thumbs up as she went out the door, his other hand holding onto Cas', so he could only offer one. 

It's all she needs. 

"Hey," Jack says when River and Ruse turn to look at her at the same time. That's a good place to start, right? Hey. Simple. Easy. 

River's gaze is warm when she smiles. "Hey, Jack. You look cute. Something different with your hair?"

"She styles it differently on a girl day," Ruse announces, but he would know. Jack had told him that in her bedroom when they were both sixteen, and Ruse had said I like your hair like that, and Jack had said it started out as a girl day, then switched halfway in, but I'm too lazy to style it to the way it looks when it's a boy day, and then five minutes later, it didn't matter because Ruse had his hands in Jack's hair, kissing and kissing and kissing. 

Then Dean busted in, because he's the worst sometimes, even if he's not really at all. 

"Do you style it differently when it's not a girl or boy day?" River asks curiously. 

"Yeah," Jack admits. "And thanks for—um, saying that it's—that you think it's—" 

"You're welcome," River cuts in, smiling. 

Ruse hums. "Hey, we missed you when you left Saturday night. We wanted to tell you happy birthday in person." 

"Right...sorry about that," Jack mutters, grimacing. She sighs and fiddles with the strap on her bag, inwardly chanting kick the fear in the ass, kick the fear in the ass, kick the fear in the ass. "Listen, I...um, I'm sorry about Marcy. She's not a very nice person, as it turns out. You live and you learn, I guess." 

"True," Ruse agrees neutrally. 

Jack blows out a deep breath. "She—she shouldn't have said—well, she shouldn't have said a lot of things, honestly—calling me a—well—" 

"It's okay," Ruse says, his lips curling up into something playful. "No, seriously, it's fine. Between you and me, we're all whores, really." 

"The way she meant it, though… Well, that was fucked up," River tells her bluntly. "I'll kick her ass if you want." 

"I—no, that's okay," Jack manages to say, her voice strangled and high. 

River grins as Ruse chuckles and says, "You sure? River's a spitfire. She'll make you do a spit-take when she's fucking somebody up. I've seen it. Very fun. Actually, she's just very fun to watch all the way across the board. She's not like that for just anybody, ya know." 

"Ah," Jack chokes out. Her face is prickling with heat, and she has no idea what they're talking about anymore. If her heart would calm down for five seconds, that would be awesome. 

"Oh, stop teasing her," River mutters, elbowing Ruse in the side. She sighs and reaches out to peel Jack's hand away from the strap on her back, letting it dangle between them. She squeezes it. "Look, here's the thing. When Ruse and I started messing around, he was still pretty hung up on you, which I knew, and I was fine with. You were avoiding him at the time, and it was—well, it hurt him, honestly." 

Ruse clears his throat. "I was handling it." 

"Shut up," River says, rolling her eyes. "He was not handling it. We got pretty close and started dating, and ya know, accidentally in love and all that, but the thing was, he was definitely not handling his thing with you. I thought, hey, let me check Jack out and see if they're bad news, so I started talking to you, and you turned out to be great. I liked you from the start, and I figured you were just nervous because of how you and Ruse left things." 

"Yeah, pretty much," Jack admits sheepishly, glancing at Ruse apologetically. "Marcy was kind of in my ear, too, and then you started dating River, and I liked River, so I just—just—" 

Ruse's face softens. "It's okay. Misunderstandings happen. I was totally fine." 

"He was not totally fine," River corrects. "He's so gone on you, Jack. It's adorable." 

Jack blinks at her. "And you're just...okay with—you don't—you aren't—" 

"Well, it's kind of hard being mad about it when you sort of get it," River says. "I might've accidentally started sporting a tiny crush on you, or whatever."

"Big," Ruse retorts. "Very big. She's just as gone on you as I am." 

"Okay, so—and here's the thing—I told Ruse that we couldn't just...not try, even if we got shot down. I mean, we're into it, and we've got two hands for a reason, and throuples happen all the time these days, so why not, right?" River rambles, a little breathless.

"That's actually how she said it to me, by the way," Ruse admits fondly. "We were both hinting at it anyway, and River's kinda impatient, so she just went for it. Told me we would do it together and either get rejected together, or...not. The party seemed like a good place to try, and it seemed like you were...into it, and—" 

"I was," Jack says quickly. "Yeah, no, I was. I really was, I promise. Marcy just—I thought that you two wouldn't be—that I was overstepping and—" 

"No, no, definitely not," River assures her, squeezing her hand again. "Actually, if it hadn't hurt your feelings the way she said it, we would have probably been more relieved to hear what she said." 

"My feelings don't actually feel all that hurt anymore," Jack announces, because they don't. She doesn't think she's ever gonna feel hurt again. 

Ruse hums and reaches out tug on one of her curls by her temple, smiling. "Yeah, I guess you could say things are looking up." 

"Do you remember Baby?" Jack blurts out. 

"Your dad's car?" Ruse asks, blinking. 

Jack smiles. "Mine, now. He, uh, kind of gave her to me. Anyway, he also told me if talking to you two didn't go well, I could skip school and take Baby for a drive." 

"You told your dad about us?" River asks, beaming. 

"Wait, which dad? The one who—" 

"Yeah, the one who caught us kissing." 

"Oh, hell," Ruse breathes out. 

River is still beaming. "Ruse, she told her dad about us! This is—this is good." 

"Mr. Winchester does not like me," Ruse mumbles.

"I'm gonna make Mr. Winchester love me," River declares, bobbing her head. "You snooze, you lose, Ruse. Anyway, Jack, so I take it you're not skipping today, because this has gone really well." 

Jack bites her lip to try and hide a smile. "Well… Actually, I was thinking we should all go for a drive."

"Naughty," Ruse teases. "What would Mr. Winchester think? In his car, too." 

"We're not gonna tell him," Jack says decisively, nodding her head. "Ever. Like, we can never tell him. But uh, you two could come over for dinner, if you want. My dad makes really good meatloaf, and it's meatloaf Monday. And, well, if you're serious about all of us dating, you're gonna have to meet them if we're ever going to date outside of school." 

River smiles. "That's sweet. Even at eighteen, they still—well, my parents don't... It's sweet." 

"Yeah, River's parents suck," Ruse agrees, blunt and to the point. River just nods. "That's okay, though. Mine suck a little less. Just a little." 

"Mine don't suck at all," Jack admits. "Although, I should warn you, my family's a little...weird." 

"Eh, all families are," River says easily, shrugging her shoulders and moving, tugging on Jack's hand to get her to follow. 

"You have no idea," Jack mumbles, lips twitching. 

Ruse chuckles. "We can worry about that later. For now…" 

"A drive," River murmurs, winking over her shoulder at them. 

Jack shares a look with Ruse, her face prickling when she sees the grin he's giving her. As they move down the hall, Jack catches sight of Terrance, who's grinning and waggling his eyebrows. As she moves past, he holds his hand down and out, and Jack quickly slaps it and keeps it moving, stifling a laugh when Terrance muffles his own. 

Dean had said that she had it, and if she didn't, Baby had her—an extended metaphor, she's assuming, for him and Cas, because Baby has always held a sense of home in her frame, and to Jack, Dean and Cas and all the family Jack has is home. 

Turns out, even when she does have it—kicking fear in the ass—Baby still has her. 

Jack goes for a drive.