Chapter Text
Dean cradles his son close, pressing a quick kiss to Bee’s forehead before he lays him in his cradle. “Goodnight, buddy,” he whispers to the slumbering baby. Bee will be two this Christmas. Dean can’t quite believe it.
Tiptoeing out of the room, he walks down the hall to stand outside Mary Jo’s room. It’s Cas’ turn to read to her tonight, and Dean just listens to his husband read the same old Narnia book he read to Sam all those years ago. They’re nearly finished; the battle is won, and the children are being crowned.
The story stops and the light goes out. Dean comes in to see Cas pressing a gentle kiss to Mary Jo’s cheek as she winds sleepy arms around his neck. Dean sits on the other side of the bed and tucks their daughter in, giving her the stuffed cat she refuses to name to cuddle. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispers, and kisses her forehead.
“Goodnight, Daddy.”
Those words—the ones he didn’t get to say after he turned five, the ones he hopes Mary Jo will never stop saying—still make his throat constrict. He strokes her hair, then stands and takes Cas’ hand.
They leave the room, closing the door tightly behind them (Mary Jo hates the hall light that Bee needs). In the dim light Dean can see worry in Cas’ face, a remembered pain. Dean kisses his husband, holds him tight until Cas stops shaking. He doesn’t have to ask. All he can really do is hold Cas close, change the memory where he can. There are demon traps at every entrance for a reason.
When they get back to their room Dean’s phone is buzzing. It’s Sam.
“Hey Sam, why are you calling so late?”
“Dean, it’s eight.”
Dean glances at the clock. “What do you know?”
Sam laughs. “I just wanted to double-check the time for tomorrow; Gabriel told Fen and Hel everything except the actual time, and he’s insisting I got it wrong.”
“You do have it wrong, Samshine!” Gabriel, from the other end. Dean shakes his head.
“Come by around two, that goes for all the guests.”
“Ha!” Sam covers the phone, but Dean has to work hard not to hear what Sam gets for being right.
“Dude, too much information.”
“Sorry.” Dean rolls his eyes; Sam’s married and he still blushes about sex stuff sometimes.
“Don’t forget to bring Ruff,” he remembers. “Bee’s still too little for Fen’s rides.”
“Gotcha.”
“Oh, fair warning. We got Mary Jo a braiding kit for her birthday. And guess who she’ll want to try it on?”
Sam sighs, but Dean knows his brother loves playing with his niece. “Do I have to?”
Dean chuckles. “Goodnight, Sam.” He hangs up and puts the phone on his night table. Cas is already in bed, and Dean slides under the covers. It might only be eight, but they’re hosting a six year old’s birthday party the next day. And Mary Jo’s an early riser; she’s up before dawn on a normal day.
Cas lays his head on Dean’s chest, his earlier fear forgotten, and Dean wraps his arms around him. He does a quick check in his head—Bee and Mary are asleep in their room, Sam and Gabe are fine, he’s gotten texts and calls all day from everyone else, checking in or chatting. His family is safe, happy, and he’s happy too.
It’s an almost daily truth now, but it’s the greatest miracle that Dean’s ever witnessed, and he’s profoundly grateful that it bears repeating.