Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

With Dean fresh from Hell, neither Sam nor Bobby really wanted to jump straight into hunting again.

But it was evident that Dean was restless—or perhaps just wanting a distraction from what happened. As it stood, he was pacing Bobby’s house and keeping an eye on JM as the kid watched the old cartoon reruns on the old ratchet TV.

“Bobby, I can’t keep watching this—Dean’s gonna wear a hole into your living room if he doesn’t let up,” Sam whispered, twisting a beer between his fingers. Bobby shifted with a grumble, “Yeah, but I mean, what can we do, Sam? He’d rather do that than admit anything about Hell to us.”

Sam pursed his lips, watching Dean still, “For two weeks, he’s done nothing but sit with Johnny or pace… He doesn’t need to talk but he can’t just be idle either.”

“Daddy, look,” JM looked up from the TV, lifting his hand to Dean, who finally ceased pacing over the creaking floorboards. He turned to JM, crouching down beside him, “What’s up, kid?”

”Look,” JM pointed back to the screen, where Wile E. Coyote was playing, “he’s like you,” he said. Dean scoffed, ruffling his curls, “Really? How so?” He leant on his hand and sat down on the carpet, pulling JM onto his lap, “He’s always running,” JM giggled at the screen, oblivious to Dean pressing his nose into his curls.

Bobby sighed, tapping his beer bottle, “Balls,” he cursed, turning into the living room. Sam looked from him to Dean and back to him and followed him into the kitchen, “Bobby?”

”I’ve got a safe house set up in Oregon,” Bobby set his bottle down, “it’s nice, used to be one of my hunting cabins, right by a lake and it’s quiet, surrounded by a forest,” he paused, “the problem is if Dean would go or not… And the fact that it’s a twenty hour drive there, which don’t include stops and sleep.”

”We could drive in turn,” Sam said, “me and you, Dean’s gotta sleep for Johnny to stay asleep, I don’t need much shut-eye anyway.”

Bobby inclined his head, “Well,” he muttered, “he’ll listen to you Sam, you talk to him.”

The conversation went about as well as any of their other conversations did.

The only reason why Dean had agreed to anything was because JM had heard lake and immediately thought about swimming, and thus began to shout about, jumping in Dean’s lap and swinging his arms about.

”It’d be a nice break—summer’s coming up and you don’t do so well in the summer, especially on hunts, so let’s have a week off, chill out with Bobby at his cabin and let Johnny see somewhere different than… Here.”

”Hey,” Bobby protested from the kitchen.

”Swimming!” JM shouted, twisting and grabbing at Dean’s shoulder, shaking him as best a four year old could, “Daddy, please? Please, can we go?”

Dean huffed, stroking back JM’s hair, “I—I guess, not like the world is ending or anything.”

“Well, it’s not like anything can get any worse,” Sam jested half heartedly, ruffling JM’s hair before he stood, turning back into the kitchen.

The next morning, they were off.

Bobby wanted to take one of his trucks because of the terrain but Dean said that the Impala had been through a lot and a muddy forest was nothing in comparison.

Dean did relent to not driving though, sprawling in the backseat with JM sat on top of him, tracing letters and numbers on his LeapFrog and showing Dean the little videos that it played.

Sam drove first, music coming from the radio quietly until they had to stop for Dean to take JM to the bathroom in a gas station. Then Bobby took over driving for a while.

Most of the roads were empty, seeing as Sam and Bobby wanted to avoid the city roads where they could and since school was still up, the families that were going to the forests or countrysides for a vacation were far and few in between.

It was quick to get to evening and by then, Dean had drifted off, even if JM was still awake.

”Hey, you okay back there?” Sam looked over the back of the seat, watching as JM looked up at him, nodding, “I’m bored,” he mumbled, setting his LeapFrog down on Dean’s chest.

Sam glanced at Bobby, “Why don’t you come up front? Sit with me and Uncle Bobby for a bit,” he said, shifting the seat and reaching his hands back. JM sat forward, catching himself in Sam’s hands.

He hauled JM up and over the seats, settling him on his lap, “And you can show me all the reading you’ve been doing with the street signs,” Sam leant forward, pointing through the windshield.

For an hour, whenever they passed signs, JM would read what he could to Sam, all up until he fell asleep in Sam’s lap.

When Bobby and Sam swapped again, at another gas station, Dean woke up.

It was about half two in the morning and they were a few hours into Wyoming, not too far from Sleepy Hollow.

”Daddy,” JM muttered, rubbing his head against Sam’s chest as he pulled the back door open. Dean sat up, rubbing his eye as Sam bent down, “Look who’s awake again, the both of you,” he smiled, handing JM to Dean, who pressed a kiss to his forehead and held him against his chest.

”We’re getting gas and going, unless you want something to eat, you’ve been out for the better part of ten hours, surprisingly.”

Dean shook his head, “Nah, I’m okay, not hungry,” he justified before Sam could argue. Sam rolled his head at the near blatant lie but stood up and closed the door.

Bobby returned not too long after, having gotten food for Dean anyway. “Eat it, don’t complain, don’t whine or moan, I don’t wanna hear it,” he said, starting the car up.

Dean leant back against the seat, resting his feet on the other end. JM sat on his lap, leaning against his father and taking the fries offered to him and the occasional bit of chicken.

By three, he was asleep and Dean wasn’t far behind.

Half six, Dean was awake again, running his fingers down JM’s back and staring out the window, watching the lights go.

Sam was asleep against the door, head knocking against the window every now and then, every time Bobby went over a pothole or an uneven patch of road.

Occasionally, Bobby would look in the rear view, just to see Dean was alright, listening to him quietly hum Hey Jude to a sleeping JM.

”I remember when you first brought Johnny home,” he muttered, hands shifting on the steering wheel. Dean let out a little hum to show he was listening, glancing up to meet Bobby’s eyes in the mirror. “All you did was sing Hey Jude to the kid, almost drove me nuts but I figured if it was keeping you sane then I could deal.”

Dean looked away from the window, at Bobby, “I used to have to do it with Sammy, too, it was either that or leave the radio on—in the car of the motel, didn’t matter as long as there was noise, if it was quiet, he couldn’t sleep… Guess the same goes for Johnny, difference is that I have to be asleep for Johnny to stay asleep, otherwise he wakes up,” he paused, lifting his hand higher to gently untangle JM’s curls, “guess it’s something to do with my heartbeat…”

Bobby laughed, “Same thing happened with you and Sam—you were fine with me but apparently, on the road, if John wasn’t sleeping then neither of you two were either.”

”Genetic thing,” Dean paused a moment then gave a half laugh, “actually, thinking about it now, whenever I was with Cassie, she was always hyper aware of when I woke up.”

”Speaking of Cassie,” Bobby began, an edge to his voice. “Don’t, Bobby,” Dean interrupted, “just don’t…”

Oregon was rainy, like it tended to be, pattering onto the Impala in a soothing sort of way. It misted the windows and for a while, all JM did was draw animals in it while Dean watched and tried to point out things outside.

The forest, though, was what really captured JM’s attention, his little finger pointing out every animal he could see.

”Deer! Antler deer! Uncle Sammy, it’s you!” JM looked to Sam in the front seat, who laughed at him. “I’m not a deer, Johnny,” he protested with amusement, hands shifting on the wheel slightly.

”No, you look like one,” JM insisted, looking to Dean for a moment, “Daddy showed me your old photos with your bangs, you look like a deer in them, Uncle Sammy.”

”Really, Dean?”

He shrugged, “He said that Dad, uh—Johnny, what did you say Grandpa looked like?” He jostled JM a bit to grab his attention, “Like a mastiff,” JM answered, making doggy ears with his hands at his temples, puffing his cheeks out.

Bobby looked back at him, smiling, “Well, he ain’t wrong, could never quite put my finger on what your dad looked like.”

”Okay then,” Sam lowered his head, “what does Uncle Bobby look like?” He asked, ignoring Bobby’s sideways look. “Like a beaver,” JM said after a moment, tilting his head.

Dean and Sam laughed but Bobby was none too pleased.

”Yeah, okay kid,” he scoffed, shaking his head. Dean smiled, hands absently messing with the loose threads of JM’s shirt.

There was a spike of fear in the scent that filled the car and then—

”Woah! Woah!” Sam shouted, the Impala swerving. Dean’s arm held JM tight to his chest and the other locked with his hand gripping the seat in front of him like a vice.

”Cas, what the hell?!”

Castiel looked out the window then at Dean, “Where are we?” He asked, brows furrowing. Bobby looked between them before his gaze settled on Dean. Dean licked his lip, sighing, “Oregon, Cas, Oregon—ever heard of a vacation?”

”A vacation? What for? Dean, the—“

”Yeah, I know, but Cas, I’m human, everyone in this car is human but you and we need breaks, I don’t think the apocalypse is gonna happen full swing if I take a week off, alright?”

Castiel shifted under Dean’s glare, his gaze going to JM, who was almost hiding himself in Dean’s jacket. The two hadn’t actually met yet, apart from a brief glance when Castiel showed up in Bobby’s kitchen at almost three in the morning.

”I’m Castiel,” he said, seemingly ignoring Dean. JM looked up at Dean, sitting up against him. “Go on,” Dean nudged him gently and JM looked back at Castiel, “I’m John Martin…”

”Yes, everybody I’ve met calls you Johnny or JM, I assume it’s in an affectionate way.”

JM nodded, “Uncle Sammy calls me Johnny all the time,” he pointed to Sam, whose heart had only just began to calm. “Hey, Cas,” he greeted meekly.

Castiel then looked back to Dean, who looked… Irritated to say the least. “Where are you staying?”

Dean bit the inside of cheek, clearly hoping to restrain a storm of curses and possible hits at the angel for the sake of JM looking curiously between them.

”At Bobby’s cabins—one of them, you’ll see… Bobby,” Dean lifted JM, handing him to Bobby in the front before turning back to Castiel and lowering his voice, “if this car had crashed, forget that this car is my baby, okay? If this car had crashed and Johnny had gotten hurt at all, Angel or not, I would’ve beaten you into the ground, don’t you ever go popping into this car again, you got it?”

Castiel frowned, “Well, you wouldn’t be—“ he stopped when he saw Dean’s hand tensing, flexing against the seat, “—yes, I understand.”

”Good.”

It was awkward silence after that, save for JM asking questions, though he graciously ignored Castiel’s mysterious appearance.

Eventually, when the forest was growing a bit denser and darker, JM reached over Bobby’s shoulder, “Daddy,” he whined, grabbing at Dean’s sleeve until he took him from his uncle and sat him back on his lap.

”Up here,” Bobby said, nodding toward a break in the trees, “there’s a lake right past here and my cabin’s right next to it.”

”So much for a safe house,” Dean muttered, “not very easy to get to.”

Bobby looked at him and sometimes, Dean could really see where Sam’s bitch face came from, “Well, it was my hunting cabin once, Dean, didn’t really have the need for anyone else to come up here.”

Sam turned the Impala up the road, slowing as the cabin finally came into view. It looked nice, all dark oak and leaves that hadn’t gone from fall.

“Let’s hope whoever was here last cleaned up.”

Chapter Text

The inside of the cabin was clean, thankfully.

The carpet was a little out of place and it was all a little dusty, but otherwise well kept. It made sense seeing as it was Bobby’s—most hunters had a rule not the bite the hand that fed them.

“Okay, kid, here we go,” Dean pulled his jacket from over JM’s head, having shielded him from the wind and rain outside.

Sam, despite having only been in the rain for the better part of five seconds, had managed to get soaked. Bobby was saved by his hat, mostly, but his clothes were a bit damp and Castiel had simply teleported into the cabin, so he was bone dry.

”You guys get comfortable,” Bobby said, shaking his hat briefly before putting it back on his head, “I’ll grab the things out the trunk.”

”Cas, go help him,” Dean said, looking to the angel standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room doorway. Castiel looked at him, furrowing his brows, “Why do I have to?”

”Because Sam’s already soaked, somehow and I’ve got a kid. You’re also an angel and can dry yourself off in a blink, so,” Dean gestured to the door, ignoring Castiel’s grumble as he headed after Bobby. “Did you really just use Johnny to get out of going back outside?” Sam asked, looking at Dean with a poorly hidden smirk.

Dean ruffled JM’s hair as he set him down, letting him explore the downstairs, “Wouldn’t you?” He gave Sam a questioning look and, upon Sam’s not of agreement, he laughed, following after his son and directing him away from the basement door. “I’ll get Bobby to lock that.”

He rounded the corner back into the hallway just as Sam came down the stairs, “How many rooms?”

”Three,” Sam answered, rubbing a towel he found over his hair until it was a frizzy mess. He’d grown out of his curls but if he wasn’t careful, it’d still go frizzy sometimes.

”Great, just hope Cas doesn’t stick around at night,” Dean sighed, watching as JM began sticking his head in the cupboards in the kitchen. “Well, he doesn’t sleep, does he? Chances are he’ll either watch one of us sleep or just sit down here and wait…”

Dean tilted his head, turning when the door opened and a soaked Bobby came in with a few of the duffles and Castiel followed him with the rest.

”Thanks, Bobby,” he said, taking one of the duffles from the man as he grumbled about the rain. “Yeah—you two pick your bedrooms?” Bobby looked between him and Sam. Dean looked back at his brother, who just shrugged.

”I figured Dean should have the one with the double, right? I mean, we all know JM won’t sleep without him,” Sam reasoned. The one with the double also happened to be the biggest, so Dean wasn’t complaining but he felt bad since Bobby would be giving up a decent bed for a less than decent bed all because Dean had JM.

Bobby nodded, “Makes sense, that kid’s glued to you like nothing else, I don’t know how you deal half the time.”

”Uncle Bobby, that’s mean!” JM shouted from the kitchen, pulling his head out of a cupboard and bounding into the hallway. He stopped in front of Bobby, who stared down at him with amusement in his eyes. “Is it?” He asked, and JM nodded, “Daddy doesn’t have trouble with me, do you?”

Dean smiled at him, leaning down to pick him up, “Nope,” he said definitively, “Daddy could never have trouble with you,” he turned his head to the side as JM leant forward to kiss his cheek and wrap his arms around his neck.

Castiel had an irritated look on his face but, like Dean said, he dried himself off in a blink, handing the bags to an apologetic Sam.

”If the weather keeps up like this,” he began, “I don’t think it’ll count as a vacation,” he shook his head, looking from Sam to Dean, his eyes flickering to JM. “Cas, don’t bring the mood down any lower than it already is and besides, Johnny loves the rain.”

”Mhm,” JM nodded, lifting his head when he heard his name. “Look, if it’s sunny tomorrow, we can swim in the lake, how’d you like that?” Dean offered, gently coaxing JM’s arms from around his neck. He nodded again, “Yes, yes! Swimming!” He bounced in Dean’s arms and only stopped when Dean told him he’d put the TV on for him.

Castiel disappeared a few hours after that, stating he had business somewhere in Heaven to attend to.

Dean was lounging on the sofa with JM asleep on his chest, watching the show on the VHS tapes that Sam had insisted on bringing. If Dean remembered, it was Charlie’s Angels—Sam had a major obsession with it as a kid and still rewatched it sometimes, when he had time.

He jolted when he felt something poke his stomach and was about to get off the sofa but when he saw it was just Sam, he cursed at him.

”Sorry, figured you’d want a beer while Johnny’s still out,” Sam smiled, leaning on the back of the sofa and handing a bottle to Dean, who sipped it gingerly. He hadn’t really drank since having JM, not unless he was getting stitches or a joint reset or his bones realigned.

He rounded the sofa and took a seat as Dean lifted his legs enough for him to, letting them fall onto his lap.

”Is—is that Cassie’s ring?” Sam tilted his head, watching Dean’s finger twist a little silver ring. It was attached to a necklace that JM always wore, usually tucked beneath his shirt. Dean looked at him, “How do you know?”

”She wore it a few times when we last saw her, it’s like… A swan head or something, isn’t it?”

Dean hesitated, nodding, “It’s not her parents or anything, she said she found it at a thrift shop…”

”You stole it?”

Dean pursed his lips, deciding to not answer, which was an answer in and of itself. Sam scoffed but his lips quirked into a half smile, “So, Johnny’s duffle, those old shirts, that little handkerchief—it’s Cassie’s?”

”It’s stuff she wouldn’t miss,” Dean defended, furrowing his brows. He sat up slightly, not enough to jostle JM and he tried to keep calm so the kid didn’t wake up. Sam lifted his hands in surrender, “I’m not judging, Dean, I mean, I still carry half of the trinkets Jess had—smells like her, right? Just nice to have a reminder she used to be here.”

Sometimes, Dean forgot just how much Sam adored Jessica. He nodded, “Yeah, I mean,” he scoffed, “Cassie mostly smelled like her hair routine, but it was nice, y’know? Mixed with like, cherries and sweet tea.”

Sam smiled, “I remember… Actually, I remember the first time we met her, like ever, she smelt like newspaper.”

Dean laughed lightly, “And ink.”

”And ink,” Sam agreed, “I kinda miss her.”

”How do you think I feel?” Dean looked down at JM subconsciously, twisting his curls around his finger gently. When he had JM, he thought he was prettiest kid in the world, the spitting image of Cassie. Sure, he dressed like Dean and liked the same music but he looked like Cassie, he had all her patience and, sometimes, all her attitude. It made Dean’s heart hurt sometimes.

”Did you ever think about having kids with Jess?”

Sam looked at him, “Briefly… I mean, after college, obviously. She was gonna have debt because she refused to let her folks pay it off,” he paused, “no debt now, but no Jess,” his eyes trailed the floor, as if he were memorising the grain, “I think if we did, they’d definitely look like her.”

Dean’s nose twitched. He hadn’t intended on making Sam upset. “Jess was pretty, and tall, your kids would’ve been fit for the Lakers straight out the gate.” At least it got Sam to laugh, “Yeah, imagine…”

It wasn’t even a few seconds after that Bobby appeared with food.

”Alright, I got Sam—“

Dean hushed him hurriedly, gesturing as heartily as he could to the sleeping JM, who stirred slightly. He cursed under his breath, lowering his cheek against JM’s head and coaxing him back to sleep.

Sam smiled at his brother’s antics, all fond-like. “Dean, he’s four, I think you need to ween him off naps at some point,” he joked, taking the container Bobby offered. Dean sighed, “Soon, yeah, but right now, I can’t deal with a screaming kid while the world’s ending, so his naps are gonna continue until this is solved.”

Bobby handed him his container, taking a seat in the armchair and uncapping his own.

He’d gotten Chinese and had clearly put what everyone wanted in separate tubs so as to not cause more of a fuss than there already was.

”Johnny’s is in the bag, I figured he’d be asleep by now.”

”Thanks, Bobby,” Dean said quietly, nodding his head to show his gratitude. Bobby only pursed his lips, as if a thanks was the most outrageous thing in the world. He didn’t do anything more though, so Dean didn’t say anything, eating his food as quietly as he could until JM woke himself up almost falling into the back of the sofa.

”Hey, look who’s awake,” Sam called, ruffling the kid’s hair as he sat up. He rubbed his eyes and clung to Dean as the man sat up, readjusting him to settle on his lap, which was now a leg crossed over the knee, JM cradled in the centre. “Hi, Uncle Sammy,” and if it were possible, Sam looked even more enamoured with his nephew, looking as if he were about croon over him.

Bobby greeted the kid like it was his first time back from the dead and retrieved his food from the bag, mostly noodles and meat from barbecue ribs.

”Don’t get too messy, alright? Or else you can eat on the coffee table,” Dean said, stroking his hair back as he dug in with his hands. JM only nodded—he didn’t mind eating at the table but only if he wasn’t the only one. Knowing Sam, if he had to eat at the table, Sam would sit down there with him.

The rain didn’t let up for a while, Bobby guessed it wouldn’t until morning, so Dean didn’t let JM go out any further than the porch and by nine the kid was tired again.

”Bath time, yeah? And then you can get all warm with Daddy,” Dean smiled as he watched JM yawn, trailing up the stairs slowly, Sam calling after him to not take long because he needed to shower. Obviously, Sam was going to take the longest because of how much hair and body there was, so Dean just told him to get lost.

While the bath ran, Dean heard Bobby and Sam pottering downstairs. He gathered JM’s pyjamas and his own, towels for the both of them and lotion for JM—he, like Cassie, got pretty dry in the summer and his eczema got a bit crazy.

During Dean’s little stint in Hell meant that JM was left without his father with no warning. Unfortunately, that stress of having no father for almost five months made his eczema flare.

Sam said it was the worst he’d seen and he’d felt like shit because he couldn’t do anything to help the stress go away or dwindle.

When Dean got back though, the eczema seemed to settle. But sometimes, for about a week at time every month or so, it got bad.

”Alright, kid,” Dean groaned as he stood up, zipping up his duffle. JM kicked his feet from where he sat on the bed’s edge, watching as Dean came over. He swung the kid into the air, bringing him down and blowing a raspberry into his neck.

”Daddy, stop it!” He giggled, clinging to Dean’s neck like a life line. “Okay, bath and then bed, deal?”

JM nodded, “Mhm, deal.”

Sometimes, Dean thanked whatever god took pity on him that JM was an easy kid.

JM sat on the other side of the bath, away from the hot taps, and Dean sat by them instead, gently washing JM’s hair and covering his face when he had to wash the shampoo out.

“Dean, I need to grab something, can I come in?” Sam knocked gingerly on the door, his hand resting above the handle. “Yeah, sure, just be careful, Johnny’s a bit water happy right now.”

And as if to emphasise his point, there was a splash, a startled yell and a giddy giggle.

Sam gave a short laugh, opening the door and immediately being greeted by a splash of water from JM’s cupped hands.

He laughed at Sam’s face, the grimace on it.

”That’s great,” he muttered, running a hand over his face, “watch out in the morning, Johnny.”

Dean shook his head, “Alright, don’t threaten my kid over bath water, Sammy, get what you wanted to grab,” he gestured vaguely around the room and Sam nodded, suddenly away he was in a room with his naked brother.

He left in the next moment, a hand towel in his awkward grip, “Spilt a beer,” he explained and closed the door.

JM piled bubbles onto Dean’s hand and blew them off before Dean announced it was time to get out.

By then it was twenty to ten, and when JM was in his pyjamas, he almost felt asleep on Dean’s shoulder.

He cracked the window open slightly, enough for the cool air to slip through, not enough for anything else to get in. Then he pulled back to the quilt and lay JM in the centre of the bed.

It was quiet downstairs, apart from the faint mutter of the TV and the near silent voices of Bobby and Sam, there was near nothing that Dean could make out.

Soon, the night lulled him to sleep too, JM cuddling against his side with his head on his chest.

Chapter Text

Morning came with an incessant tapping to his face and beaming sun coming through the window and straight into his eyes.

”Daddy, c’mon, Uncle Sammy and Uncle Bobby made pancakes and it’s sunny,” JM babbled, tugging at Dean’s shirt and shoulder, “I wanna go out on the lake, Daddy, get up—“

Dean made an exaggerated groan, shaking his head against the pillow and sitting, scooping JM and blowing raspberries into his neck.

JM squirmed and giggled, hitting Dean half-heartedly until he let him go.

“Okay, I’m up, Johnny, I’m awake and I am yours to drag around for the next six days,” he said, smiling as JM wriggled from his arms and jumped from the bed. He took a second then got up, trailing after JM.

He rounded the bottom of the steps toward the kitchen, seeing Bobby sat at the little table and Sam piling a little stack of pancakes onto a plate that was obviously JM’s.

”Uncle Bobby!” JM called, running up to the man and hugging his leg. Bobby looked down at him, ruffling his hair with a smile. “Morning, kid,” he said, looking to Dean, who definitely had a case of bed hair if the way he was looking was anything to go by.

”That bed was nice,” he defended, running a hand over his hair, though it was in vane. Now, further in the kitchen, he could see the mess Sam had made and the more he comprehended it, the more he was in absolute disbelief—John would’ve killed them.

Flour was all over the counter, spats of batter had flown everywhere and there was at least one broken egg on the floor that Sam had stepped in at least twice.

”Sam, what the hell?” He couldn’t help but comment, looking around. Sam looked at him, shrugging. “You could’ve woke me up,” he said, shaking his head at his brother, who only shrugged again, pouring the last of the batter into the pan for, assumedly, Dean’s pancakes.

“You were dead asleep, Dean, and so was Johnny, I didn’t wanna wake either of you when I could’ve done it myself.”

Dean looked around again, “This is doing it yourself?” The slight disgust at the situation was poorly hidden. He’d never appreciated regular messes—blood and gore, he could do, mostly. He did throw up after seeing his own c-section happen. But domestic messes, they didn’t do much make him feel sick as they did annoy him.

Sam gave him his bitchiest face he could muster without outright calling him a bitch for the sake of JM’s ears.

”Daddy, look,” JM turned on Bobby’s lap, holding his cap that was otherwise glued to his head. He reached out for Dean and he came over, sitting down and taking JM into his lap, letting him put the cap on his head, probably making his hair even worse.

Sam smiled as he slid the plates across the table, unable to not be fond when his family were being so domestic. Bobby thanked Sam, looking at JM as he giggled at Dean.

”Daddy, you look funny,” he said between giggles, “Oh, I do?” Dean lifted him against his chest, pressing the rim of the cap to JM’s neck, making him writhe and laugh even harder. Sam laughed at them for a moment, shaking his head, “Johnny, didn’t you wanna go swimming?”

JM gasped at that, hitting Dean on the head until he stopped, “Daddy, swimming! I want to go swimming!”

Dean caught an arm around his stomach, drawing him back into his chest, “Eat your pancakes then, kid, not having you go out without eating your breakfast.”

JM relented but he wouldn’t eat until Dean began to, so when they began to eat, so did Sam and Bobby.

He ate as quickly as he could, even with Dean pestering him to slow down.

”Okay, okay, Johnny,” Dean slid his empty plate away, wiping his face with a tissue Sam offered him. “You remember where your duffle is?”

JM nodded, “You put it under the bed.”

”Which side?”

”Yours,” he answered. Dean nodded, “Go on, grab your shorts and find mine if you can,” he set JM down and watched as he ran off upstairs. He listened in case the kid fell over or bumped his head on the bed but when he heard nothing, he sighed and stood up, sliding his chair under the table.

Sam took the plates and set them in the table before staring at the mess. “Okay, maybe I should’ve woken you up.”

Dean raised his hands, looking at Sam with an ‘I-told-you-so’ expression.

Bobby took his hat back from Dean, who’d completely forgotten he was wearing it, “There’s a boat out front, I’ll go clear it—I don’t think it’s been used in a while.”

Sam and Dean nodded, watching him step out before tackling the kitchen mess.

After cleaning the floor and wiping up half the flour on the counter, JM was coming down the steps with his pair of shorts and a pair of Dean’s.

”Daddy!” He called, tumbling over the kitchen threshold. “Johnny,” Dean called in return, taking a step back when the kid barrelled into his leg, holding up his shorts, “Daddy, help me, please,” he asked, tugging on Dean’s trousers.

He glanced at Sam, who just told him he could clean up the rest on his own. “Alright, c’mon,” he stood JM on the seat and while Sam got to work washing out the bowls and pan, he undressed JM and pulled the swim shorts over him. “Wanna go find Uncle Bobby? He should be outside.”

But at the suggestion of leaving, JM suddenly looked terrified, clinging to Dean’s arm like a lifeline.

”Hey, Johnny, it’s okay, you’re fine,” Dean said, slightly confused. He lifted JM into his arms, holding him against his chest, “I’m not going anywhere, baby, I’m staying here, right here, okay? I’m not gonna leave again…”

Sam stopped, looking back at them. His heart felt like it was about to break. JM had done nothing but cling to Sam the whole time Dean was in Hell, refusing to go to anyone else with the reason that Sam smelt the most like Dean, that nothing but the Impala and his duffle would suffice. Hearing JM whimper into Dean’s neck out of fear his dad would be gone if he went out to Bobby was enough to almost kill him.

“Dean, I can clean up,” he said again, “sit out there with him, help Bobby, just make sure he’s got an eye on you.”

Dean looked at Sam, gently rubbing a hand down JM’s back, “I know…” He swallowed, looking to the ceiling, “C’mon, Johnny, I’ll sit out with you, okay? But you gotta stay still while I help Uncle Bobby,” he told him and JM nodded, rubbing his face against his shoulder. Sam looked sadly as Dean trailed out of the cabin and toward Bobby at the deck.

He knew that he should really stop it, but knowing that JM was still reeling from not having Dean for a year was hurting.

Bobby was halfway through dragging the largest branch out of the boat. A storm a few years ago rolled through and took down a few trees. Most of the hunters seemed to have the decency to clean up a mess that wasn’t even theirs but some had just left it.

”Hey, Bobby,” Dean called, now leaning JM against his hip. The man lifted his head with a huff, nodding toward the cabin, “Shouldn’t you be helping Sam clean the kitchen?” He said, standing and stretching his arms out.

Dean glanced over his shoulder, pursing his lips, “He said he could handle it and besides, Johnny didn’t… Really wanna leave me, did you, kid?” He jostled JM slightly as he shook his head, smiling weakly, “Figured I’d come help you out with clearing the boat.”

Bobby didn’t question it. Mostly because he knew how JM was before Dean was back, how clingy and frightened he was. “Alright, you can help get this damn branch out, it’s like it’s wedged in there.”

Dean nodded, grateful to finally have a job. He found a deck chair and dragged it over—probably one of Bobby’s old one that he used to use for fishing. He placed JM down in the chair after dusting it down, ruffling his hair, “Sit here, okay?” He waited a second, JM letting out a little ‘okay,’ his legs kicking as he watched Dean and Bobby begin to wrestle the branch out of the boat, with success after a few moments of frustration.

By the time they were done, Sam had come out out of the cabin and collected JM into his arms, occupying him by pointing out the birds in the trees and deer poking their heads through the forest.

”Daddy, look, it’s Uncle Sammy!” JM called, wriggling against Sam until he was moved higher up his chest. Dean turned around, expecting to see Sam doing something weird but instead of that, he saw JM pointing to an elk showing through the dense tree line.

Dean laughed at him, “More like a moose, Johnny—c’mon,” he stepped off the dock and onto the dirt road, letting JM practically launch himself into his arms, “Uncle Sammy can steer the boat,” he just about caught Sam’s bitch face. The second in the past two hours, almost a record.

When faced with JM’s puppy eyes though, he relented, sighing and trudging toward the boat.

”Yay!” JM threw his arms up, holding onto Dean’s shoulder as he set him over the edge of the boat and onto the seat. “I’m gonna get changed, I’ll be back in two seconds,” Dean said, kneeling at the boat’s side. JM didn’t look all that happy about it but he nodded, hands going to his lap, his little fingers running over the curves of his knuckles. A habit of Cassie’s, she always did it when she was nervous, anticipating something.

Dean slipped past Sam and into the house while Bobby declared he was going to fish for a bit, something he hadn’t done since Dean and Sam were kids.

Sam went over to the boat, fiddling with the engine, his frustrations steadily growing. “Bobby, how the hell do you—“

”Twist the knob.”

”What knob?”

”That one—“

”What—“ Sam gave the engine a tug and an irritated hit with his fist and, like most things he did that do, it roared to life. What startled him though was Dean’s victorious laugh from behind. He spun back to see who it was, heart pounding and dropped his forehead against the boat edge. JM giggled at his uncle, his eyes following Dean as he stepped over Sam and into the boat.

”Y’know what that sounds, Johnny?” Dean asked, lifting him by his arms to settle him on his lap, “Baby,” JM pointed to the Impala and Dean pressed a kiss to his temple, smiling against his hairline. Bobby laughed at him and Sam shook his head, “You know, every year, he acts more and more like you.”

Dean looked at Sam, “Like he should, I’m the one raising him,” but the moment he said it, he regretted it, swallowing back the emotion that tried to surge forward and letting JM stand, his hand bracing on his front to keep him from falling in the water.

Bobby set his fishing gear down, dragging the chair closer to the edge of the dock, “It’s hot as balls out here,” he muttered, lifting his cap for a second before setting it down.

”Ain’t it?” Dean glanced at him, ruffling JM’s hair and setting him on the seat, “So, you need to cover up.”

Sam untied the boat and managed to get it moving, “And you,” he said, nodding at Dean, who waved his hand dismissively, “We’ll worry about me later.”

JM sat with a grimace as Dean rubbed sunscreen over his exposed skin. He hated the feel but he wanted to be out swimming and if it meant having to have sunscreen on then he’d deal with it.

For two hours, JM and Dean were playing in the lake, watching the schools of fish.

After the first hour, it was raining. And even with the heat still boring down, Sam was worried about both his brother and nephew catching a cold.

Bobby had gone in while it was raining, clearing up his fishing gear and heading inside the cabin, where—by the smell—he’d began dinner.

Finally, the trio of Winchesters headed back once JM started to dither and complain.

”What do you think Bobby’s made?” Dean asked as he backed into the door, rubbing up and down JM’s back to warm him through. Sam shrugged, “Smells like lasagna,” he said, which got JM’s attention. Dean smiled down at him, leaning into the door and shoving it open.

”Dean.”

He startled, turning around and tensing before spotting Castiel stood in the kitchen near Bobby, who had in fact made lasagna.

”Cas, a little warning,” Dean complained, “whatever it is, wait a minute, alright? I gotta bath and change Johnny and myself, so just—“ Dean waved a hand, huffing at Castiel before going upstairs.

Sam stood awkwardly for a moment, closing the door, “Hi, Cas,” he said, coming further into the room. Castiel let his hands hit his legs, looking around for a moment, “I just thought I’d… Check in, like I said I would. Why was Dean shirtless and,” he paused, “wet?”

”He and Johnny were swimming,” Bobby told him, sliding the plates onto the table. “Thanks, Bobby,”  Sam smiled, “but I need to dry off and change,” he gestured to himself, looking down to the puddle forming beneath him from the rainwater dripping off his clothes. Bobby scoffed, muttering something that sounded an awful lot like ‘idjits’ under his breath. “Cas can keep you company.”

”Sam—“

But he was already up the stairs.

Dean was already setting JM into a shallow, warm bath, using a cup he’d found to collect and wash it over him.

”Daddy, you’re cold,” JM muttered, but even as he said it, he leant into Dean’s hand, rubbing his head against his arm. Dean smiled with a fond chuckle, “Yeah, I know, it’s okay, I’ll warm up but we gotta get you warm first, c’mon,” he leant forward and pulled the plug from the tub.

He grabbed a towel that had warmed on the radiator and wrapped JM in it, rubbing him to warm him up and dry him off and once he was, he sat JM on the toilet lid and took a quick shower to warm himself and get the grime from the lake off.

”Dean, are you almost done?” Sam sounded impatient at the door, “I think Cas is getting antsy downstairs…”

”Sam,” Dean said as he shut the shower off, “you forget I’ve got two people to wash and dry and dress here,” he opened the door a bit, just enough that Sam could see JM shrouded in a towel with his legs kicking on the toilet, “Right—sorry,” he backed up a few steps and Dean turned back to JM, “Johnny, you think you can let Uncle Sammy get you into your pjs?”

JM nodded, hopping onto the floor and out of the bathroom.

Sam couldn’t help but smile, watching the kid trail to the room that smelt the most of Sam. “You have fun—you’re dealing with Cas, I don’t think he really wants to chat to me and Bobby.”

Dean rolled his eyes and closed the door.

Eventually, all three Winchesters were clean and in their pyjamas—or what counted as some for Sam and Dean, which were clothes too stained or ripped to be worn out acceptably. JM had his own little collection though, but given the warmth still radiating through the house, he’d chosen his pair of shorts and a t-shirt to wear. They smelt of Dean, having been crammed into his duffle so JM could have his things easy to find in his.

“Finally,” Bobby huffed once they made their way downstairs, Dean bouncing JM on his hip and making him giggle. “Sorry, Bobby,” he apologised, sparing Castiel a split-second glance.

Castiel didn’t seem to have moved since Dean saw him last, so he brushed past him and took a seat, letting JM sit on the one next to him.

“So, Cas,” he asked after a moment, “what’re you doing here?”

”Checking in,” Castiel said, “as I told you I would.”

”Right,” Dean looked back to JM, who was happily eating his lasagna. “Cas, unless half of America has been wiped out, I’m not leaving this cabin,” he said. Castiel nodded shortly, sighing, “I know, I told you, I’m here to check on what’s happening.”

Sam licked his lip as he shifted, looking up at Castiel awkwardly, “Cas, why don’t you sit? It’s… Weird just watching you stand there.”

Castiel looked around before perching on the arm of a chair, turned toward the dining table. It seemed he was staying the night.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Heaven was in shambles. Though there wasn’t much Castiel could do.

So, given his mission, they’d essentially kicked him out with the task of, basically, hanging out with Dean and JM and talking to Sam on the occasion the man didn’t feel awkward.

Sam didn’t really know how to feel about Castiel, since the first words he ever spoke were bringing up a recent past he’d tried to forget. But for the sake of JM, he put up with it, the kid really seemed to like him.

Dean had actually woken up first this time, pacing the kitchen to find something for JM to eat, but after Sam’s mess yesterday, there was nothing much left.

”Dean—“ Castiel had been trying to talk to him for the past half an hour, just to pass time, but was unable to as Dean was frustratedly muttering to himself.

JM rubbed his head on Dean’s shoulder, closer to his neck where he smelt most like Dean, “Daddy, ‘m hungry,” he mumbled against the man’s shirt, voice muffled against him. Dean rocked him gently on his hip, stroking a hand through his hair.

”Alright, you know what—how about we grab you some food at a diner and then we do a bit of shopping, yeah?” He lifted JM so the kid had to hold his own head up and he nodded, leaning forward to rub his head against Dean’s cheek, making him laugh, “Cas, care to join?”

Castiel glared at him but relented, disappearing when Dean blinked.

He followed after Castiel and toward the Impala, unlocking it. “You know, you’re really impatient,” he commented, earning another glare.

”Dean, I’ve been trying to talk to you all morning—I only needed to inform you that the reason I’ve stuck around so long already is because Heaven has essentially kicked me out.”

Dean paused opening the door, staring at Castiel for a second, “Seriously?”

”They’ve no need for me right now, they told me to keep an eye on you.”

Dean scoffed at that, gesturing at Castiel to open the passenger side door. He set JM on the seat, watching his scoot across to the middle before climbing in himself.

“Daddy, snacks,” JM grabbed at Dean’s trouser pocket, tugging and pointing to the dash compartment. “No, none before breakfast, you know that, Johnny,” he shook his head, a hand on the kid’s front to keep him from jolting around.

Dean did drive safer since having JM but JM didn’t seem to really care when he sped or took sharp turns. Still, he avoided it as best he could while still not abiding by the law—he was hunter, they never listened to the laws.

That’s probably why he was legally dead.

It was a fine drive through the forest, though it took a while. Castiel was silent unless JM was speaking to him, asking him what an angel was, if it technically counted as a job title too, if he had wings and if he could take JM flying one day.

JM curiosity on what Castiel was and did got them through the mostly awkward drive until they reached the desired diner.

”Okay, Johnny,” Dean made an exaggerated noise as he pulled JM from the Impala, making him giggle, “what do you want to eat?”

”Egg and toast,” JM answered, holding onto Dean’s shoulder as he turned to watch Castiel climb out the car, closing the door a bit harshly. Dean nodded at JM, “Okay, egg and toast for you.”

The bell rang as they entered. It wasn’t busy, thankfully, but it wasn’t empty.

A few of the waitresses eyes Dean as he walked in, lead by JM, who was searching for a booth. He didn’t spare them a smile nor notice them, focused on responding to every little mutter JM let out.

”Daddy, this one,” he said, jumping by the seat with his hands on the red leather, “This one?” Dean asked, sliding his arms under JM and lifting him up onto it. Castiel sat opposite the pair of Winchesters, hands in his lap.

Soon enough, a waitress sidled over, notepad in hand and clicking her pen in the other. She was blonde and curvy and reminded Dean all too much of Jessica.

Maybe he would’ve hit on her if it wasn’t for that. Instead, he just felt mildly bittersweet.

He gave her a polite smile, looking back as JM decided to sit up on his knees to look properly over the table.

”Hey, I’m Kacey,” she introduced herself, eyes fixating on Dean’s green, “I’ll be your waitress, can I take your order?”

”Eggs and toast!” JM shouted, immediately shushed by Dean, who chuckled awkwardly, “Sorry, he’s really hungry—he’ll like eggs and toast, I’ll have a stack of pancakes and,” he looked at Castiel, who just stared at him blankly, “he’s not hungry,” he finished, looking up to the waitress again, who gave her smile, wrote the order down and turned to the counter.

Dean could feel the eyes on him but there wasn’t anything in him that felt like reaching out to them. JM was entertaining himself with a little colouring sheet another waitress had handed him.

She said she a kid at home too, difficult to keep happy out in public without something occupying their hands.

Soon, their original waitress, Kacey, came out with their food, sliding across JM’s plate and then Dean’s, idling for a moment before stepping away.

”I don’t understand the appeal with food, it all tastes like molecules,” Castiel commented, watching as Dean chowed on his pancakes. “Well,” he said, pausing a second and swallowing, “maybe if you’re ever human, Cas, you’ll get to experience the joy of it.”

Castiel gave a sceptical hum, looking to the window.

When Dean was halfway through his pancakes, the door rattled open again, bell ringing and a dog barking.

It was a dog, just that, but for a split second, Dean heard the roar of a hellhound coming over the threshold.

“Ow, Daddy!” JM cried, shifting back to the wall of the booth after Dean jolted, elbow hitting his fingers. He pressed his knuckles to his mouth, looking up at Dean with the most puppy-dog eyes he’d ever seen.

Dean’s heart hammered against his ribcage as he forced out a sigh, glancing from the door and then back at JM, picking him up and gently rubbing his fingers between his, “Shit—I’m sorry, kid, I’m sorry, Daddy’s sorry—I didn’t mean to do that.”

JM leant against Dean’s arm, sniffing slightly. He wasn’t crying but he looked like he wanted to.

Castiel looked at the pair, listening to the thrum of Dean’s soul as its sharp edges attempted to soothe themselves down. “Johnny, pass me your hand,” he said, reaching his across the table.

Dean gave a Castiel a strange look but when JM looked up at him for approval, he nodded. Castiel held JM’s fingers gently, a similarly soft but cold feel went over JM’s skin and he shuddered with a giggle.

”That’s cold!”

Castiel smiled at him, amused, “It’s my Grace, it healed your bruise, stopped your pain.”

JM looked down at his fingers, flexing them in front of Dean’s face proudly as if he’d done it, “Say thanks, Johnny,” Dean told him, pulling him further up his lap so he didn’t hit a rib on the table.

”Thank you, Uncle Cas.”

It was so natural for JM to call anyone his aunt or uncle—Auntie Ellen, Uncle Bobby, Uncle Sammy, Uncle Rufus, but Jo and Ash were cousins, not his aunt or uncle, there was even Andy, who had spoiled JM for a few days by making store clerks hand him candy for free.

Castiel, somehow, felt the same thing Sam felt whenever JM called him Uncle Sammy, an unfathomable desire to squeeze the boy to death and kiss his face all over and protect him from everything. He supposed Dean felt like that all the time.

”Okay, you had enough?” Dean nodded to the half finished plate of eggs and toast and JM nodded, “Yeah, I’m all done,” he said, reaching his hands up so Dean would carry him properly.

The reception in the diner was terrible, so it was only once they were outside that Dean’s phone began to light up with notifications.

A few voicemails from Sam of varying worry and a few from Bobby of varying irritation.

Dean set JM in the seat and leant on the door as he rang Sam back, “Sam—“

”Dean, where the hell are you?!”

He closed his eyes a moment, breathing out, “Johnny was hungry and you used up all the good shit left to make breakfast, so I took him to a diner, Cas is with me too, if you’re wondering.”

Sam sighed on the other end and Dean could imagine him pinching his nose and moving his hair out of his face, “Okay, well, are you heading back?”

”Yeah,” Dean looked over the Impala, spotting the woman leading her dog out, tying it up by the bike stands.

”Dean?”

He shook his head, “Right, yeah—Sammy, I’m on my way back, I’ll be like, half an hour, alright?” He took the phone from his ear and put the call on speaker, “Say bye to Uncle Sammy, Johnny.”

”Bye, Uncle Sammy!” JM called into the phone and Dean just about caught Sam’s ‘aww’ as he hung up. He slid into the car and pulled the door shut, ruffling JM’s hair, “Alright, let’s head back, yeah? And Uncle Bobby can show you how to fish.”

JM threw his arms up in celebration, deciding to rant to Castiel about how he’s never fished before and how he absolutely loved swimming even though he wasn’t that good at it.

Bobby was happy enough to teach JM to fish, but JM was insistent that Castiel come on the boat too, so they ended up with a kid, an irritated old hunter and angel—the lineup to a bad joke.

Dean sat on the edge of the dock, his boots skimming the surface of the water and a beer held loosely between his fingers. Sam was a few feet away, cutting up sandwiches on a plastic tablecloth he found and washed, so that JM could have them once he got off the boat.

“Cas is good with him,” Sam said quietly, looking up and over the lake toward where JM was sat on Castiel’s leg, holding onto the fishing rod with one hand, the other gripping the angel’s trench coat sleeve.

Dean scoffed, “Yeah,” he muttered in return, lifting the beer to his lips, taking a shallow swig.

Sam watched his brother for a second, glancing back at the sandwiches as he gathered his courage to speak, “Dean, you seemed a bit freaked on the phone earlier—did something happen?”

Dean looked at him, almost in disbelief, “If something happened while I had Johnny, do you think I wouldn’t tell you?” He asked, lowering his head. Sam shrugged, “Not anything minor.”

He scoffed once more and took a deeper swallow of his beer, “It was a dog—a damn dog, Sammy, barking and I thought,” he paused, voice wavering, “I thought those hounds were coming to drag me down again, chewing on my soul like a damn toy.”

Sam stared at him, watching him try to hide his expressions—Sam had noticed Dean’s aversion to dogs, especially big ones, ever since he came back. He didn’t venture into Bobby’s scrapyard alone, it was a magnet for strays and God forbid he be caught off guard by one.

“Dean, I wouldn’t let that happen again,” he tried, voice a tad too quiet to be reassuring but Dean smiled away, wiping over his eyes preemptively, willing the tears back.

Man-eaters, zombies, vampires, mermaids, sirens, demons—Dean could handle all of them, he could do anything, but those hounds and nature is where he drew the line.

He didn’t go near the deer unless he was hunting and even then he could barely managed a shot, it was always Bobby, he let the birds go by and the squirrels run past if they wanted to, he always let the fish go unless he was so hungry that his stomach was eating itself and he always made sure he had food on hand lest he take from the animals there before him.

And hounds, those dogs, barks, growls and scratches, yips, yowls and howls, he couldn’t do it. They didn’t run into wolves often but when they did it was like Dean went into fight or flight.

There was a time when JM had just started remembering things and Bobby decided it’d be nice to go on a hike with him. Through one of the densest forests in Sioux Falls.

JM had spotted the thing first, its weak howl and then a pattering on the leaves and its beady blue-yellow eyes peering through the bushes.

Dean nearly had a heart attack and if it weren’t for Sam grabbing his arm, he might’ve fell right into a hard mud bank.

Maybe Dean had always been mildly scared of dogs. If he was around one long enough, he could love it, maybe, probably, but after being ripped apart that thought of loving a dog seemed far fetched.

”What dog was it?” Sam asked, reaching over to the ice box and pulling out a slab of cold bacon. Dean would eat it in any state, it was kind of disgusting.

Dean hesitated to answer, “One of those ratty small ones…”

Sam snorted, cracking open his own beer, “Well, at least you didn’t scare Johnny, right?” But at that, Dean looked a bit guilty. “No, I elbowed his fingers, probably would’ve bruised them if it wasn’t Cas…” He rubbed his temples, sighing, pausing, trying to compose himself.

”God, Johnny’s the best kid I could’ve ever wanted—he didn’t even get mad at me, he just said ow, he didn’t flinch away from me or anything,” he gave a breath, setting his beer down to hold his head, “I was scared I was gonna be like Dad if I ever had my own kids.”

”Dean, you were never gonna end up like that,” Sam told him, “you practically raised me and look how I came out.”

Dean looked over his shoulder at him, unsure. Sam was good, he was always good, but Dean didn’t think that was because of him, he’d always sympathetic, understanding, he avoided conflict wherever possible—save for their father. 

“Yeah,” was all he said, voice quiet enough that Sam could hardly hear but he did and he didn’t say anything after, knowing his brother didn’t want to continue the conversation.

There was a pattering on the dock and for a second, Sam honestly thought Dean was crying—then he realised the drops were hitting him and when he looked up it was raining.

Dean jerked up when he heard JM scream, but looking over to the boat, he saw he was squealing, bouncing in Castiel’s arms and pointing at the fish Bobby caught. He barely heard when Bobby said they should head in, only really understanding what he said by the way JM dropped his head back and shouted ‘no.’

“I’ll—“ Sam started, wiping his fringe off his forehead, “I’ll start dinner,” he clapped Dean on the shoulder and hurried inside. Dean watched him a moment before he stood and waited for Bobby to dock the boat.

”Daddy, it’s cold!” JM shouted, reaching out from Castiel’s arms to Dean. Dean grabbed him, blowing a raspberry into his neck, making him giggle, “Alright, let’s get you in, warm and in your pjs, Uncle Sammy’s making dinner, you wanna get your order in?”

JM nodded, hiding his head under Dean’s to shrink away from the rain. Dean ran his hand over JM’s hair in an attempt to squeeze most of the water out.

Once inside, Castiel practically shook off like a dog and there was a dark shadow on the wall that told Dean he was drying off his wings too.

”Upstairs we go,” Dean threw JM up, catching him under the arms and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Wait—Uncle Sammy, what’re you cooking?”

”Whatever Cas managed to zap here earlier,” Sam shrugged, “I promise I’ll make you something nice, yeah?”

”Okay,” JM muttered, leaning on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean took them to the bathroom and ran a shallow bath, washing the cold water off and drying him with a warm towel, then dressing him in his pyjamas.

Dinner was nice and Castiel stuck around again, following Dean like a puppy on a leash upstairs to his makeshift bedroom.

”Alright, where’s your LeapFrog, kid?” Dean helped him up onto the bed, kneeling down to the duffle and fishing through it to find the tablet, “An hour, then bed, okay?”

JM put his hands out, nodding, “Thank you, Daddy,” he waited until Dean shuffled back against the headboard and settled against his side, nuzzling his head against his ribcage.

Castiel stood for a minute before Dean invited him to sit on the bed’s end. He spoke little and only really spoke to JM since he was the only one that really spoke to Castiel in the first place.

After a half hour, JM began to drift, the LeapFrog dropping to his lap as he fell asleep.

”Yeah, that’s you done for the day, huh..?” Dean smiled down at his son, gently moving him until he lay down against the pillow, curling into Dean’s leg.

Castiel stared for a second, just watching the pair, Dean’s hand idly drifting over JM’s curls.

“He’s a great boy,” he said quietly, something akin to fondness glinting in his eyes, “he’s very kind, you’ve done an excellent job so far.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head, “Doing what I can with what I got—it’s all Cassie’s genes, looks like her, acts like her…” All he had of her. Castiel gave a short hum, “Genetics decide things somewhat but Dean, he’s thoughtful because you’ve raised him—you and Sam have been nothing but the best role models.”

”I doubt that, we could be better,” Dean shifted so he was lay further down. “Considering the circumstances, you’ve done alright.”

And sure, Dean would take that.

Chapter Text

Morning came soon but this time it was Dean that woke up first, not Sam or Bobby or JM.

He did nothing for a while, enjoying the quiet, the faint bird calls from the forest. If he were another person, he’d love to live in a house all on his own, away from everyone else, just him and JM and—if Sam would—his brother too.

Castiel was gone, just an imprint of where he was sat on the bed was left but he seemed to have tidied up beforehand.

Dean shook his head, scoffing with amusement.

He glanced down at JM, who was spread out like a starfish and snoring almost silently into the crisp air. There was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do for this kid, every morning he woke up with that thought because that and Sam were the only thing that mattered to him, his top priorities.

Then, as he woke up even further, realising that it was actually morning, he realised he had to piss.

Gently sitting up, trying not to jostle JM, he slid off the bed and went to the bathroom and took care of his business.

JM would stay asleep without Dean for about five minutes, maybe. Ten minutes maximum, the shortest time was two, a few months after he was born, Dean seriously just needed a shower.

As much as he liked to say that JM was the clingy one, he was guilty of it too. It was natural to be so protective, so attached, he knew that, but the way he felt it, it didn’t feel normal. He supposed it wouldn’t be, not with how his life was, he was constantly worried—half the time, he was surprised and eternally grateful that JM even survived the pregnancy with how much stress he was in.

There was one time when Sam forced him to take an hour long shower, to soak and relax to prove that JM would be fine without him for a little while.

He showered in anxiety and lounged in the bath afterward chewing his nails and twisting his amulet necklace from where it hung on the sink taps. But JM was fine, a little upset at not having him, but okay, idle in his little makeshift rocker with Sam entertaining him.

Now that JM could walk in his shoes without freaking out about it though, he followed Dean everywhere, pattering behind him unless he was explicitly told not to or was otherwise occupied with Sam or Bobby, though that rarely stopped him and he usually made either of the two bring him to Dean.

Clingy family, the Winchesters.

Dean was startled out of his thoughts though, the fond smile on his face wiped as he heard a sudden scream and a few loud, devastated sobs.

”Johnny?!” He shouted, hurrying from the bathroom with his face and hands still wet. Sam fell through his door once he heard the scream and Bobby was fussing with the lock on his, opening it to reveal a dishevelled without his cap.

Dean pushed the door to his room open, hurrying over to the bed where JM had hunched with his hands over his face. He looked around for a second, trying to calm his racing heart, verging on an attack.

”Johnny, hey, it’s okay—look, I’m here, Daddy’s here,” he knelt beside the bed, hand warm where it settled on JM’s leg. The kid reached out and buried his face in Dean’s shoulder, clinging around his neck, “I thought the dogs took you again,” he got out through broken cries and gasps.

Sam hesitated in the doorway, Bobby beside him.

”The dogs?”

He guessed it was Sam’s cover story when he’d been dragged to Hell, something to do with dogs. He lifted JM up onto his lap, kissing his temple and the crown of his head, whispering into his hair reassurances that he was there and not leaving.

”It’s alright, I’m not going anywhere, not anymore, okay? The dogs aren’t gonna get me, nothing is,” Dean reassured him, running a hand up and down JM’s back in a way he used to do for Sam. The kid seemed to calm slightly, the sobs levelling out to gasping breaths on his shoulder.

After a few silent minutes, it sounded like JM had cried himself to sleep, his face buried in Dean’s neck, where it smelt the most like him.

Bobby looked between them and Sam—this wasn’t his thing. He’d grieved Dean, missed him like he’d just lost his own son, but it was harder for Sam, harder for JM to lose him than it was for Bobby. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “I’ll get breakfast started.”

He clapped Sam on the shoulder, sent Dean a sympathetic look and headed off downstairs.

”Is he okay?” Sam asked quietly, feet sliding lightly over the creaking floorboards as he sidled over to the bed, coming to sit in front of Dean.

”I think,” Dean sighed, running a hand down his face before returning it to JM’s back. Kid couldn’t catch a break. “Am I doing something wrong?”

Sam startled, “What? Dean, of course you’re not, you’re doing all you can.”

”But could I do more…?” He looked down at JM, shifting him into a more comfortable position. It’s strain his arms but as long as JM was sleeping semi-peacefully now, he’d deal with it. “I feel like no matter what, Johnny’s gonna think I’m leaving and I can’t—it breaks my heart, Sam,” his voice was near a whisper by the end, eyes focused down on the mostly relaxed but tear stained face of JM, breath coming in even and deep.

Sam shuffled forward, leaning to get a better look at JM, smiling down almost sadly at him, “He’s just a baby, Dean, a toddler… He hardly remembers how to run in shoes still, he’s just,” he paused, trying to think of the words, “he’s just trying to reassure himself that you’re still here. Remember when I came back? You followed me around like a lost dog, always asking if I was alright, if I needed or wanted anything, Johnny’s doing that for you now, he wants to make sure you’re sticking around.”

”But I’m his dad, I’m not just gonna up and leave him like that—I died , Sam, I don’t,” Dean looked to the ceiling, trying to gather himself, “I don’t know how I can explain that to a four-year-old, how to make it make sense to him… But I’m here and I’m not gonna leave again, even if I die, I’ll haunt him…”

It was probably the weirdest thing Sam had heard Dean say. Willingly becoming a ghost wasn’t really what people in their line of work tended to want.

But it was anything for JM.

JM didn’t let go of Dean at all unless it was to go to the bathroom—all day.

Sam thought Dean would annoyed at the very least but he didn’t, he sat on the sofa for hours with JM curled against his chest either napping or watching the TV with him.

His hand idly stroked up and down JM’s back and side, making sure the kid knew he was there and alive.

At around six, they decided to go out for the dinner, since they’d be leaving tomorrow.

Bobby drove them, Sam in the passenger side and Dean in the back with JM held tight on his lap.

”Hey, Johnny, look,” Sam pointed out the window, toward the tree line as they came out of the forest, “it’s a deer,” he looked back as JM lifted his head, craning it to see before Dean lifted him up for a better view.

Once he spotted it, he laughed, “Uncle Sammy, it’s you,” he said, giggling once again at the comparison.

Sam watched as Dean’s face filled with adoration for his son, staring at him with so much love it was almost palpable.

Sometimes, Sam looked at Dean and JM and wondered how the hell their father messed up so badly with them.

JM was four, he was the same age Dean was when he started taking care of Sam almost full time but here JM was, crying if he didn’t get to sit on Dean’s lap, freaking out about walking in the wrong shoes and worrying if he didn’t have his necklace on.

How bad was John that Dean was a silent kid, that he hardly ever spoke, that he only ever made food for Sam if there wasn’t enough for the both of them?

He tried to understand their father, he really did but looking at JM, he couldn’t understand how someone could look at a kid that young and out the world on their shoulders.

The diner was quiet and they took up a booth in the corner, Bobby and Sam facing JM and Dean.

There was something peaceful about it, having dinner together, not having to eat microwave meals or hurry to stuff down stolen food.

Moments like this were far and few in between, especially now with an apocalypse lingering over their heads like overdue mistletoe.

Sam thought they almost felt like a complete family again. Sure, he hated their dad but that was still their dad, part of him would always miss the bastard.

“You alright, Sam?”

He lifted his head, peering over at Bobby, who bore a confused, concerned look. He shook his head, frowning, “Yeah, I’m okay,” he told him, glancing around after he noticed Dean and JM gone. “Where’d—“

“Bathroom,” Bobby told him, “it’s not just Johnny with a weak bladder,” he joked, smiling as Sam laughed.

“Okay!” Dean announced, standing JM on the table, “Who ordered the four-year-old in a leather jacket?” He smiled as JM giggled, Sam and Bobby teasing the kid before he was scooped up and sat on the bench seat again.

“Going home tomorrow, Johnny, how’d you feel?” Sam asked, reaching across the table to fix JM’s collar, “Not happy,” he admitted, making Sam frown, “Why not?”

“Because you and Daddy are gonna be really busy again,” he mumbled, shuffling up against Dean again, until Dean pulled him onto his lap, a hand stroking over his curls gently, a comfort.

“Johnny,” Dean stared down at him, almost hurt. It was hard to balance what they did with raising a kid, but he’d been doing a good job. Or he thought he was. JM was happy, but happy didn’t always mean content.

He thought that, maybe, the others were wrong, maybe he could be doing better.

JM looked up at him and damn if he didn’t inherit Cassie’s eyes.

“We’re not gonna leave you with Uncle Bobby all the time, okay?” Dean tried to reassure him, lifting him to rest on his arm, leaning against his chest instead. He nodded against Dean, a hand coming to twist the ring on his necklace.

“Unless things get serious, and I mean bad, Johnny, you’ll be with me,” Dean lowered his head to catch JM’s eyes, “got it, kid? You’re stuck with me.”

JM nodded again and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck.

Sam stared at them, the smallest smile tugging at his lips—it reminded him of when Dean promised the same thing to him. Well, look at where they are now, still a family, together, still stuck with each other.

“Let’s order, yeah?” Bobby looked between the boys. He understood. He didn’t have any family out of the three Winchesters, they were his kids, the ones he raised.

Sam and Dean nodded and Dean gently coaxed JM away from his neck enough so he could the small kid’s section of the menu.

“What do you want?” He asked quietly, nudging his chin against JM’s forehead to get him to look again, before he dug his head back into his neck. “Hm—chicken strips,” he said, glancing up at Dean’s face and then hiding his own in his father’s neck.

“Okay, chicken strips for you, baby,” Dean nodded, voice quiet. Their waitress had some divine timing because she only came over right when Bobby and Sam had decided on what they wanted to eat as well, Dean settled on his typical burger.

Sam was surprised he never got sick of the same thing over and over, somewhat like a dog. He smiled at the thought.

Dean was a like a trained guard dog in some ways, attacking on command and fiercely protective but when off duty was just a whiney puppy with nothing else to do but sit and sigh.

______________

The dinner was nice, and by the end of it, JM had finally unstuck himself from Dean, sitting on Sam’s shoulders as they left the diner.

“Pass me the keys, I’ll drive,” Dean said, looking to Bobby. He threw a look at Dean before fishing the Impala’s keys out of his pocket, handing them over, “You better not blast your rock ‘till we’re deaf,” he told him, to which Dean only smiled.

Sam slid into the back seat with JM on his lap, playing with the kid’s curls. It sort of reminded him of when he had curls when he was younger, looking like Mary’s male incarnate. Though JM’s curls were tighter than Sam’s ever were.

The road back up to the cabin took a little while longer once it began to rain again, Baby’s tracks getting caught in the wet mud. But when they reached gravel, down a highway leading up toward the forest, Dean opened his glove compartment and pulled out a cassette tape.

“What one’s that?” Sam asked, confused; as far as he knew, Dean kept all his tapes in a beaten box under the passenger seat.

Dean glanced back at him, but he didn’t answer, simply pressing it into the slot and waiting for it to play.

JM shifted forward, reaching over to grab at Dean’s jacket, mumbling for his father to pick him up. Instead, Bobby reached back and lifted the kid up, settling him down on his lap.

“Your Daddy’s driving right now, Johnny,” he said, holding JM back from crawling over to Dean.

The cassette slot clicked and whirred and then suddenly there was music.

Sam paused, sitting forward, crossing his arms on the rest of the front seat, “Is this… Since when did you have ‘Hey Jude’ have on tape?” His voice was quiet, mind somewhat lost in nostalgia.

Their dad didn’t sing it much but the times he did were some of Sam’s favourite memories.

A time where Dean sang it to him was his top favourite. He was six, and John had left them for a hunt again, a week or two tops, he said, maybe.

Sam was a clingy kid, that fact wasn’t surprising to anyone who knew him. So when John wasn’t there to tuck him in and wish him goodnight, Dean did.

JM slumped against Bobby’s gentle hold, staring forward at Dean. Bobby only shook his head at the boys, amused and endeared, as he shifted JM to lie down against his arm.

The song always made him tired, lulled him to sleep.

If it weren’t for the fact that Dean was driving, he might’ve fallen asleep right alongside his son.

Sam rested his head on his arms, looking occasionally up at Dean, muttering along to the lyrics he remembered. Dean’s finger was tapping methodically against the steering wheel, but he refrained from singing, strange but not entirely unlike him.

Sam supposed it was the late hour, the drowsy feeling of the whole thing.

They’d be going back tomorrow, going to face the apocalypse head on and who knew if any of them would come out the other side.

But for the night and the better part of the morning, Bobby, Dean, Sam and JM could rest easy knowing the others were each still alive