Chapter Text
It's still hard sometimes, looking at Jack. He reminds Dean of everyone they've lost. But he pushes through it. He has no other choice.
Jack still seems to grow faster than a normal child, which starts causing problems when it comes to clothes and when they're shopping; it's really hard to keep old ladies from looking inside a stroller and seeing Jack is growing faster than a weed. But he's also big enough now, that he can eat more solid food (he really likes bananas) and play a little.
Mom blogs (shut up) told him that he needs to talk to the baby, so he does just that. He tells Jack about Sam when they were growing up, he tells him a child appropriate version of their last few years (read: last few apocalypses; and you better not cause the next one, young man. And that's what scares Dean. Knowing that Jack is the most powerful being on earth. Now he's just a child who likes to play with blocks, but what happens when he grows up? What then? What if Dean fails at raising him? Is he really good enough for this?)
He tells Jack what he knows about Kelly (which, unfortunately, isn't a lot). And Cas. He tells Jack everything. From the moment Castiel, scary Angel of the Lord, tried to say hello to him at the gas station, making his ears bleed, to when Dean gave his dorky best friend Cas a mixtape.
Jack likes to listen to stories about Cas, they must share some profound bond, too, which may explain why Jack feels the safest when he’s close to where Cas's handprint was on Dean's shoulder.
Dean realizes at some point that he stopped looking at Jack as Lucifer’s son, but Cas's.
That gives him a little more faith for the future.
—
The two found a routine: eat, play, sleep, eat, play, sleep again. They go on walks when the weather is nice, read books or sing when it's too hot or raining. Jack becomes more interactive every day; smiling, cooing, laughing. It's adorable. If Cas could–
Dean is also doing better now. He has too, otherwise Sam is going to drag him to the bunker kicking and screaming. And most of all, Jack needs him. He tries to eat regularly and sleep as much as possible, though he still goes outside at night and talks to Cas.
But what he's most proud of is that he still doesn't drink. He hadn't had a sip of alcohol in over a month.
On more than a few grocery runs with Jack, Dean found himself standing in a liquor alley at the store with his hands shaking. He started reaching out for what was closest to him when Jack cooed at him and fisted his hands in Dean's flannel, bringing him back. One month sober, somehow. It might be the longest he ever was since he was around 20; and especially in the last decade. Sam even said he's proud of him; Dean spent that night crying at the beach, with a feeling of a comforting hand on his back, holding him.
He still doesn't know what it is, if he's crazy, delusional, but he's grateful for it every time it's there.
–
Things were weird before, but it just gets weirder with time. He’s got used to cold spots and the never leaving, but also never there, presence. And then things started moving around the house; toys he's sure were downstairs before he went to sleep somehow find themselves back in Jack's nursery the next morning.
Sometimes Dean wakes up with a blanket over him, even though it wasn't there when he laid down, because Jack was crying all night and he was so tired he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
He doesn’t tell Sam. Because of… reasons.
Instead, he puts Cas's trenchcoat somewhere safe - from the chair in the dining room (because it was there the whole time, he wouldn't let anyone touch it, couldn't get himself to do it either), to the bottom of a closet in Jack's nursery. Because Cas would want to keep a close eye on his son.
–
Maybe he is just crazy? Maybe he's completely lost his mind?
It's been almost three weeks since Sam left. They talk every night; Sam's hunting in Wisconsin with Eileen at the moment and he's still looking for a way to open back the portal and save Mary. Dean was really hoping Sam would move on. He's eventually gonna have to accept that Mom is gone. Lucifer killed her the moment the portal closed. But maybe it's good he believes she's okay, he can have faith for the both of them.
While Dean on the other hand, is having fucking hallucinations and trying to be really cool about it. Not like it's the first time he's seeing things that aren't there, but come on. This must be some cosmic joke. Like he couldn't have 5 minutes of peace.
Jack woke him up in the middle of the night, crying and Dean swears there was someone standing over Jack's crib before he came in here.
Now seeing things might be justified by lack of sleep, but the fact that the kid stopped crying babbling happily before he even got to him? Not so much. He's spent enough nights awake with him to know that.
The figure has disappeared within milliseconds since Dean appeared in the doorway, so there's no way to tell, really. Dean couldn't even tell what it looked like.
But the room is pleasantly cool.
–
It happens a few more times and Dean is getting worried. He thinks about Azazel, about him standing over Sammy's crib and feeding him his blood, preparing him. But there's no sign of a demon, of anything, as long as Dean can tell. The house is warded, nothing can get in, nothing can even track them; they're practically invisible here and outside with the hex bags Dean has on him at all times.
What the hell.
–
Jack started teething. He didn't nap today and he was fussy and irritable and refused to eat. His gums are swollen and Dean notices he's chewing on his little hands and toys. Nothing seems to help him and he doesn’t stop crying. And to top it off, Dean can't find his favorite teether. He's checked everywhere, every room at least 5 times and it's nowhere to be found.
And Dean had a few bad days too, since the night in Jack's room - and several more after that - he's having trouble falling asleep again, thinking about the possibilities. Not for the first time since they're here, he thinks the cabin is haunted, but if it's a ghost, wouldn't it try to hurt them by now? Scare them off? Maybe really, it was just his imagination. Remnants of his dream. There were no strange deaths here; few drownings maybe, but they weren’t connected to this place. They burned Kelly's bones. And Cas's.
The nightmares don't help. He wakes up gasping, like almost every night for the last six weeks, but now when it happens, there's someone sitting on a chair by the window, looking either at him or at the starry sky.
I will watch over you.
Dean blinks and it disappears. Every time.
Like it was never there.
Maybe it really wasn't. But then what is that comforting tingle running up and down his arm until he falls asleep again?
Losing his mind or not, it's still (slightly) better than trying to comfort a cranky baby on 2 hours of sleep for the entire day. He tried massaging Jack's gums, which helped, but not for long; gave him a cold washcloth to gnaw on but Jack didn't like it and started crying harder. He refuses every teether and Dean knows that if he only could find the right one-
"Shh, Jack. Hey, it's okay, buddy. I know it hurts," Dean whispers to him, voice breaking, as they once again enter Jack's nursery to look for what is their last hope and a cold, soothing breeze gently runs past them, out of the room. Jack doesn't stop crying like he usually does when he feels it and Dean is out of options. He can't help him. "I'm sorry, Jack." He finally lets emotions take over and tears spill out of his eyes.
Going back to the kitchen, ready to try giving Jack more Tylenol, he stops short. On the dining table is the mission teether. It wasn't there before, he knows that it wasn't.
Sighing in relief, he desperately reaches for it; it's even pleasantly cold, perfect for Jack. He gives it to the baby and hopes it will help.
Jack takes it and finally stops.
"Thank you," Dean breathes out to the empty room. Curtains move in response.
–
Dean decided he's had enough when one day they come back to the cabin after a day out. They were out for a few hours; Jack needs to interact with other children, so they went to a playground. Dean doesn’t usually risk being out of the cabin too long, but they're both bored of sitting surrounded by the same four walls all the time. When Jack fell asleep in the car, Dean decided he wanted to take a drive, it's been too long since he last did that. He fed Jack and changed his diaper on a beach. Then they went on a quick grocery run. It was a good day.
Back at the cabin Dean prepares and eats dinner and then gets Jack to sleep, like always. And it was a good freaking day. It really was.
Until he looked up in the mirror when he was brushing his teeth before bed. Behind him stands Cas, except he's without his trenchcoat. Dean stands stock still with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. Heart beating out of his chest. Cas opens and closes his mouth like he wants to say something, but no words come out.
"Cas…?" Dean breathes out and quickly turns around, toothbrush falling out of his mouth to the floor, but he ignores it. There's no one there.
"No, no, no. No! You were right here! Cas?!" He frantically looks around, nothing. He runs out of the bathroom and searches the house. He's not here.
"Fuck!" Dean punches the bathroom wall, right where Cas was standing, again and again and again, destroying some of the green tiles he always kind of hated anyway, covering them in his own blood and screaming, choking on his own breath from crying so hard.
His hands start shaking and he stops, leaning his forehead against the cold tile, sobbing.
"Where are you, Cas?"
Dean slips down to the floor, back against the wall and covering his face with his bloody, shaking hands. Drawing in breath hurts inside his chest, his feet and hands start to tingle and it fucking hurts. He tries to stand up but he feels dizzy, his legs give out and he falls back to the floor, barely missing hitting his head against the toilet. He's losing control over his own body.
"Damn it!"
His mind and heart are racing. He's so fucking scared. He knows it's a panic attack, he just needs to focus on something, anything.
He grabs his arm and digs his fingernails in until he can feel the pain and he focuses on it. He screws his eyes shut and tries to breathe. In and out. In and out. It shouldn't be this hard, he was doing it his whole life, come on, Dean.
It's okay, you're okay, for fuck's sake. It's just a stupid panic attack over a stupid apparition. But the thought makes him nauseous and he just manages to get to the toilet before he throws up.
Exhausted, he leans back against the wall. With time breathing gets easier, pain starts fading. Dean finally gets up and standing on shaky legs he looks at himself in the mirror. At his red face and puffy eyes, the blood from his hands smeared on his face. He scrubs it clean, then he takes out a first aid kit from under the sink and patches up his hand. And his arm
He's glad Jack didn't wake up. He still goes to check up on him. It's quiet in the nursery and Dean is surprised to see Jack awake, looking up at him with big blue eyes, tiny hands reaching out.
"Hey, buddy. Sorry if I woke you up. Did I scare you?" He whispers as he takes Jack out and into his arms, head against his left shoulder, like always. "You should go back to sleep." Dean sits on a rocking chair next to the crib, holding Jack close, and he hums, waiting for Jack's breathing to even out. He's so tired, he just wants to lay down to sleep and never wake up. This all is too much.
–
Dean doesn’t go to sleep that night. He puts Jack back in his crib, turns the baby monitor on and he goes out to his usual spot on a beach. He wishes he had something to drink, or at least smoke. But he doesn't, so he lays down on the cold sand and looks at the sky and presses on his bandaged hand till it hurts.
He lays there for a long time, not saying anything, not praying like every other night. Just breathing, letting tears run down his face.
The sun begins to rise and Dean is still there, his tears eventually dried out, but blood started soaking through the bandages a few hours ago. He didn’t get up. Not planning to until he necessarily has to (until Jack wakes up).
He had a lot of time to think.
"I can't do this anymore, Cas," he whispers into the colorful sky.
–
In the afternoon Dean calls Sam.
"Heya, Sammy. What are you up to these days? You doin' okay?"
"Hi, Dean. Yeah, Eileen and I just finished up a case in Utah. How 'bout you? I was thinking about visiting you guys," Sam says, trying for casual but Dean can hear the question, uncertainty in his voice.
"That's actually why I'm calling…"
"Really? Did something happen-?"
"What, I can't just want to see my baby brother?" Dean chuckles.
"No, of course. Sorry. Just that… it's been almost a month and you never mentioned anything," Sam sounds a little sad and Dean feels guilty. They were inseparable their whole lives and now…
"Yeah… sorry 'bout that, Sammy. You can visit anytime you want, you should know that."
"Thanks, Dean. But really, did something happen? You sound… you okay?" Silence. "Dean?"
"Yes, no. Yes. Everything's great! I just…" fuck, this is harder than he expected. "I just wanted to… take a little break," he says quieter, maybe Sam won't hear it. Maybe it's a bad idea.
But he does.
"Wait, wait, wait-" Sam chuckles and Dean is confused. What? "Are you- Dean, are you asking me for help? You?"
"Uhh- no? Yes. Maybe? Shut up." Sam laughs. "I was just wondering if you could stay with Jack for a few days, I wanted…" he looks at the jar on the windowsill. "I need to do something," Dean mumbles again. It all would be so much easier if he could just do it. Without talking about it to anyone.
"Do what?"
"I was locked up with a newborn for almost 2 months, Sammy. I need some grown up time, if you know what I mean," he jokes, making Sam groan.
"Ew, Dean. Seriously?"
"Oh, hell yeah. A man has needs." Sam makes a gagging noise and Dean laughs. He misses his brother. They really need to see each other more.
"God, you're annoying... We need to rest and the drive is almost 20 hours, so. We'll be there in… two days. See ya."
"Wait, wait, wait- we? Eileen? Aww, Sammy," he brings on his best 'annoying brother voice', because it's his civic duty. "Did you finally get yourself a girlfriend? Do we need to have The Talk?"
"No. Shut up, I'm hanging up."
"Oh, come on, lover boy!" Sam mumbles something and hangs up, leaving Dean laughing harder than he had in… months. It feels good. But then he looks at the jar again and his joy dies.
–
Sam arrives in the morning two days later, just like he said, and Dean decides to stay another day so they can catch up, he shows Sam and Eileen where everything is in the house, tells them what Jack likes and dislikes, what time he eats, sleeps and everything. They can call anytime if they need anything.
They eat pizza for dinner and watch a movie; it's nice. And Eileen is great, he hopes she and Sam will figure out their shit soon, they're so clearly into each other. How much longer are they planning to keep this up?
And the next morning, Dean is packed and ready to leave. The jar safely in his duffle.
He kisses Jack's forehead and in response he gets a gummy smile.
"Bye, kid. I'll be back in a few days, okay? Uncle Sammy's got you."
"Uncle?"
"Yeah? Or just Sam? Whatever."
"No, I like it," Sam chuckles and then there's a shit eating grin on his face and Dean already hates what he's going to say next. "Does that make you his dad?"
"What? No! I'm not- no!" He wasn't expecting that. Fucking Christ. "I'm not his dad, what the hell, Sammy!?"
Sam laughs at his face, "just asking. What are you then?" He calms down but his eyes still glow with humour. Dean looks at Eileen for help but finds the same exact look on her face. Traitor. He rolls his eyes at them.
"Just- Dean. Just Dean. I don't know. But I certainly ain't his daddy. Seriously, what the hell."
"So you clothe him, feed him, raise him. And you're just. Dean. Sure, if you say so." Sam nods very seriously, but Dean sees him biting back a smile. Bitch.
But Dean knows how to make his stupid smirk disappear. "Come on, Sam. Walk with me to the car." He turns to Eileen and grins. He says, as well as he tries to sign "bye, see you soon" correctly. He thinks he did good, if anything the smile on her face tells him as she signs back.
He waits until they're beside the impala, "so, lover boy," Sam groans, exactly the reaction Dean was hoping for. He gestures at Jack in Sam's arms, "this will be a good practice for you two, for the future, you know." And Sam looks panicked. It's priceless, holy shit. Dean bursts out laughing.
Sam looks back at Eileen to make sure she didn’t read Dean's lips, but she's not looking at them, instead she's heading back to the cabin. Probably to give them some privacy.
Sam turns back to Dean, "I told you we're not-" he hisses.
"Sure, if you say so," Dean repeats back at him, at which Sam does a full body eye roll.
Dean opens the car door and slips inside. He waves at Jack one more time and starts the engine.
"Kiss Eileen for me, would you, Sammy?"
"Oh my god, just go. I hate you. So much right now." Sam starts going backwards but doesn't turn around; Jack keeps waving at Dean and mumbling something.
"You love me," Dean gives him his best shit eating grin and speeds away.
Three hours into the drive he glances at his open duffle in the passenger seat, the jar peeking out of it, and asks out loud,
"So, where to, Cas?"
–
He stops after a 15 hours drive at a random motel in Wyoming for the night, he didn’t sleep much the previous nights and he doesn’t want to cause any accidents when he falls asleep behind a wheel.
There's a bar across the street, he can see it from a window in his room. His hands start to shake with the need to drink and this time there's no newborn tugging on his shirt to stop him.
The first sip of whiskey pleasantly burns in his throat as he swallows and he has to close his eyes in relief. At first it's cold, but then he can feel its bitter warmth washing over his tongue. It settles in his chest and blossoms, sending it to his belly, his cheeks, leaves his lips tingling, making the corner of his lips turn up as he sighs.
"You two need a room?" Asks a deep voice from behind the counter, startling Dean.
"Sorry, what?" The man gestures at his empty glass. "Uh, no?" He answers uncertainty and the man laughs gravelly, sending chills down Dean's spine.
"You want another one…?" The man asks, waiting for him to fill in.
"Name's Dean. And yeah." He hands the glass to the bartender, careful not to let their fingers brush.
"Here you go. I'm Mark."
Dean takes a sip, "thanks, man"
Mark tosses a cloth over his shoulder and leans against the counter, "so, you just passing through? I don't think I ever saw you here before."
"Uh, yeah. Just staying the night, gotta head back on the road tomorrow."
"Where are you heading?"
Dean pauses, downs the drink and passes the glass to the bartender again, asking for another. He can already feel his head getting lighter, he almost forgot what it feels like, but he didn’t drink for a long time. It's easier now, getting drunk.
"I don't know," he answers, looking down at the liquid swirling in the glass.
"You don't know?" Mark actually sounds curious, or he just met so many people like Dean here he can really fake it.
"Just needed a break."
"From what? Job? Girl?" Dean looks up at him, and Mark holds up his hands, "if you don't mind me asking. There's not a lot happening here, entertain me." Mark winks. Wait. Is he flirting? No-
"From life," Dean says and downs another glass. And another. Maybe whiskey wasn't a good idea. He asks for another one.
"That's deep. Wanna tell me why?"
"Not really."
"Suit yourself," Mark chuckles again and leaves to tend to other customers. When he comes back, Dean's drunk enough he can't really stop himself. Whiskey was a bad idea. Shit.
"My… my best friend died. Two months ago." Mark's face quickly changes from flirty to sympathetic.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Dean."
"He had a kid coming. Kinda. And then both him and the kid's mom died. On the same day he was born." Dean buries his face in his hands. "I… I adopted him." He laughs without humour, "it's actually the first time I drink in the last two months, you know. Didn’t want to be like my old man," Dean says and then downs what was left in a glass, pushes it over the counter to the bartender. "Guess I'm no better than him. I left the kid for a few days with my brother, said I needed some fucking 'alone time' or whatever." Dean can feel tears filling up his eyes and he blinks them away. "Because I couldn't tell him the truth. Fuck." He motions for Mark to give him a drink; the man hesitates, but gives it to him. "I should have told him, Cas was his best friend, too. He'd want to come," Dean says to himself. "Fuck."
"What are you planning to do…?" Mark takes his glass, giving him another one, this time filled with water. "Drink this." Dean does.
"I need closure. I keep seeing him, feeling him, I can't live like this. Not again."
"So, what a road trip has to do with closure?"
"I'm looking for a place to spread his ashes, some place he would like."
"That's nice," Mark says, giving him a small smile. Dean groans, his head is pounding, stomach clenching. He should have eaten something.
"God, I'm gonna feel like shit tomorrow."
Mark laughs at him. "Yeah, probably."
"Sorry. That's probably not the 'entertainment you were hoping for," Dean says, taking out his wallet to pay.
"Every bartender is a therapist," Mark winks amd gives him a genuine smile. "Take care of yourself, Dean.
"You too."
It's after midnight when Dean stumbles out of the bar and, after an embarrassing fight with a room key, into his motel room, where he drinks another glass of water and drops onto a bed in his clothes. After a thought he sits up and takes off his boots and jeans. If he's gonna suffer the least he can be is a little more comfortable.
–
A phone ringing wakes him up way to fucking early and he groans, hiding his head under a pillow trying to muffle out the noise.
"Fuck off," he moans in despair.
But the phone doesn't stop. It keeps ringing and Dean vaguely remembers he left his brother with a baby and anything could've happened. And he did tell him to call anytime.
"Fuck..." Dean rolls out of bed without opening his eyes and looks for his jeans on the floor, takes the phone out of a pocket. "Hello?"
"You sound miserable. How much did you drink?" Sam sounds worried, he was so happy when Dean stopped drinking.
"Too much. How's it going? You didn't set anything on fire yet?" He puts him on a speaker and pulls his pants on, then goes over to his duffle and looks for pain killers.
"We're good. Jack is a little angel." Dean snorts. That be is. "We're going on a beach after breakfast, just wanted to check in with you. So, what's up? Where are you?" Dean can hear Jack babbling in the background with Eileen and smiles.
"Nothing really. Drove all day and stopped to get some sleep in Wyoming…"
"... and got drunk."
Dean sighs, rubbing his eyes with his hand, "Sam…"
"You were doing so good, Dean. What happened?"
"I'm…" going crazy? Sorry? Tired?
"Is it about Cas?" Sam asks quietly, like he's speaking to a frightened animal.
"Yeah," he breathes out. He then swallows two pills with water and takes out the jar from a duffle, looks at it as he sits at the edge of a bed; watches as the dark ash swirls inside. "I need to tell you something." Sam hums, waiting. "I'm… I left because… I want to spread Cas's ashes. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I forget sometimes that he's- he was your best friend, too. You should be here," Dean finishes, feeling guilty. And kind of nauseous.
Sam is quiet for a long moment, before, "I get it, don't worry."
"You do?"
"I really do… where are you going to do it?" Sam asks softly.
"I'll tell you when I find it."
"Okay. I'll talk to you later, go eat something."
"Alright, mom."
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
–
The sun is setting down when Dean finds it. It's perfect. Just outside of Kansas of all places; tall grass, a meadow full of so many colorful flowers, with an old windmill with a garden not too far away, near a quiet brook. It's a nice touch, a real calm, zen sort of place. It looks especially amazing at this time of a day. Perfect.
Dean gets out of the car and takes a picture, sends it to Sam and waits.
He leans against Baby's hood and just looks around. Sam texts him back a few minutes later.
It's beautiful, Cas would love it.
He would. He really would.
It takes Dean another few minutes to finally take Cas's ashes out of the car. He opens the jar and tips it a little sideways, spreading it over the meadow as he goes forward, walking towards the brook.
When it's empty, he sits on a patch of grass by the water and he takes out of his jeans pocket a pack of cigarettes and a lighter he bought at a gas station earlier. Switching one bad habit for another. He lights it up and inhales.
It's just like at home, at the beach.
So he prays. He says goodbye.
–
Dean doesn’t come back right away, for no particular reason. He just missed life on the road. It's nice to just drive, with no direction. Not having to worry about anything.
So of course it had to end sometime.
Sam calls.
"Uh, Dean?" He sounds panicked and Dean's heart picks up a beat.
"Sammy? What's wrong? What's happening?"
"You… uh, you didn't tell me Jack has powers?''
What?
"What are you talking about?"
"We were playing and he… he started moving toys. With his mind. I think." Then he starts babbling."I mean, obviously he has powers, he's a nephilim. But he's just a couple of months old, I thought he wouldn't yet-? Did he use them before? How is he doing it? What else can he do? What if he can't control it-"
"Sammy, don't put him under a microscope just yet," Dean says, trying to stay calm even thought it's a big deal. A huge freaking deal. "He moved toys?"
"Um, yeah? He was playing with a Fit-A-Shape toy and one block was on the other side of the room, because he threw it earlier. And then moments later it was in his hands. Just like that. He just held out his hand and-" he makes a pffsh noise. "You're saying… he didn't do that before?"
Dean stays silent, thinking about it. Then he bursts out laughing. It was just Jack. Obviously.
Just Jack. Moving things around the house, making the air around comfortable for himself.
And the broad shouldered figure was just his imagination. He didn’t sleep much and was seeing things. It makes sense.
It has to.