Work Text:
Castiel sat quietly beside Jack in his bedroom, holding his sleeping child.
This was his first moment of pure silence since he'd gotten Jack to sleep again. The boy wouldn't stop crying. His small, willowy chest shook with sobs for hours after Dean left the kitchen without a word.
Jack needed to hear forgiveness from the older hunter, but after what he confessed to? Dean was at a loss for words. He hadn't forgiven Jack. Killing Mary Winchester had driven a large wedge between them. Hell, Jack was surprised Dean even let him stay in the first place. Things weren't "all good" between them and may never be "all good" again. But, Dean didn't hate the boy. He could never. He raised him. And damn it all, Dean loves him -- sees him as his child. So, when he came back he couldn't help it. The door was open. Jack was immediately fed and safe and warm. In his home again, all of his parents by his side to hold and protect him.
But forgiveness? From Dean Winchester? Not an easy accomplishment. Especially regarding the murder of his mother. Dean, Sam, and their father spent over 20 years tracking and killing the last supernatural creature that dared take Mary from them. Both of the boys' formative years centered around the notion that whatever kills their mother deserves to die.
This time, Sam and Dean's own son killed her.
Castiel didn't know how to tell Jack that he couldn't rush the Winchesters for words of affirmation. Their mother created the light within their souls. The very image of her represented unconditional love, comfort, and family. And Jack took her away from them.
Jack felt awful. He didn't mean to kill her, and his fathers knew that. But the damage was still done. Mary was dead. The Winchesters lost her, but Jack did too. His grandmother meant the world to him. Mary watched over him in the Apocalypse Universe for months. She had kept him close without judgement or fear. She brought him to safety. She guided him. She taught him that he didn't have to hide who he was to be accepted -- to be a hero.
But, then Chuck stepped in to make his adjustments. Chuck woke the cave-dwelling vampire coven that killed Sam in the Apocalypse Universe. He loosened Lucifer's bonds, allowing the archangel to cross worlds. He guided Michael to them just in time to manipulate Lucifer, who in turn, manipulated Jack. The moment Jack rejected him, Lucifer snatched away his power, killing him slowly.
That was Chuck's original plan.
He wanted to make Lucifer do his dirty work, by swiping the nephilim off of the board, leaving Chuck the most powerful. Hence why a rip to a failed universe opened when Jack was born. Jack's very existence needed to be exterminated from Chuck's perspective. Angels and demons alike knew when Jack was conceived. One can safely assume Chuck got, at least, a Twitter notification. So, he did what he does best. He wrote his own victory.
Chuck couldn't contemplate that Jack's adopted parents could possibly love him enough to make a deal with The Empty to give him another chance at life. Little did he know, that second power up came with big strings attached. His tragically saddened father Castiel can never find happiness. And if Jack used his powers -- lived as his true self -- that suddenly meant losing himself. To be Jack in the face of a crisis means an outburst of power. Those outbursts helped save his family, but unfortunately, his good deeds took more and more from him as time went on. Soon, Michael had to be dealt with. And that. Took. Everything.
He felt nothing. He was nothing. Just a blank slate with memories he can't connect to and more power than anyone could handle. Any emotion was foreign to him -- a hot scalding reminder of what he lost.
Then Mary confronted him; she said he needed help.
He felt.
Denial.
Mourning who he was, Jack felt all of that self-hatred and monstrosity he felt when he was in his infancy. All he feared was true. He was a monster. Soulless. Emotionless. Mistrusted by his caretakers. He could hide anywhere in the world, but what he really wants is his parents. He's barely three years old. It all came rushing back. Like the flickering lights in the precinct where he was adopted, like the nougat in the machine, like the glowing golden eyes that shine like supernovas as his grace flares and builds. When he exhaled, his power erupted from his core. It rocked him like an active volcano. It was bigger and stronger than anything he'd ever felt.
And suddenly, the family Jack knew was lost.
Dean hunted him. Sam lied to him. Castiel actually planned to leave Earth -- leave Dean against ten years of promises of their eternal partnership -- to hide with his baby. Then, actual Chuck himself personally escorted Jack back to the Empty where he wanted him.
Billie had other plans.
So, now, he's back. And broken. Barely alive, but tasked with killing his grandfather. And he still can't get the taste of raw hearts out of his mouth. Even now.
Jack had cried himself to sleep.
Castiel held him through it, rocking his son as the boy finally slept with his wet cheek on his trench coat. The protector in Castiel was activated several times that day. Seeing his child cry like that hooked into him hard. His son's pain rippled through his grace like an electric current, and Castiel became Jack's home base. His safety. His one-stop station for unconditional love. Castiel didn't move an inch as the boy slept on, nor did Jack want him to. He knew his father was there to keep him safe. The angel smoothed his son's hair and whispers of calming blue grace poured through his hands. Sniffing, puffy, and congested, the nephil really tired himself out.
Jack was emotionally exhausted. He was a motionless lump of nephilim, finally escaping the confines of his pain. As the boy lay slumped and snoozing in Castiel's arms, breathing deeply and even, the door opened.
The nephil startled. Jack was awake again, just that quickly. Dammit. But he didn't move. Just stayed there curled up with his father, burying his face in the lapel of his coat. He didn't want to talk. The boy kept his eyes closed and breath steady.
Sam stopped at the door. He stood with a cup of chamomile tea and two sandwiches. The hunter retreated, whispering out, "Bad time?"
Castiel shook his head, inviting the younger Winchester into the room. Sam walked in quietly, dropping off the sandwiches and hot drink on the bedside table. Jack didn't make a sound. Castiel respected his wishes and let Sam place the food down without a fuss.
Sam then crouched by the bed, looking down at his son. He paused, soulful eyes speaking louder than anything. Sam placed his huge warm hand on Jack's small shoulder and said to Cas softly, "I just wanted to make sure he's okay. And... you know. Tell him that... I get it. I haven't always made the best decisions drunk with power either, but I know how much pain he's in. He doesn't deserve that. So, when he wakes up, can you tell him that... Sam's safe?" Sam let out a tired, good natured huff, "If he wants to talk or something, I'll hear him out -- truly hear him out. And he doesn't have to be scared of me cuz I love him. Okay? I don't want him to hurt like this. We will get through this. As a family. We're Winchesters."
Castiel smiled warmly back at Sam, nodding, "I'll make sure he hears every word."
"Good." Sam released a long breath, the tightened muscled in his shoulders relaxing for what seemed like the first time in hours. He looked a bit smaller now. Sam nodded back to the angel, pushing his hair behind his ear, "Thanks, Cas."
Jack stayed quiet against Castiel's chest as Sam took his hand back. The hunter stood up and brushed his knees, groaning a bit at his joints, adding, "Oh! Dean wanted me to say that the BLT sandwich is for Jack and the other is a PB&J. Both of your favorites. Just in case you wanted a bite too. And the chamomile and crackers was to help Jack with sleep, which... well, a bit redundant at this point."
Castiel asked, "Dean made this?"
Sam smirked before leaving the room, "Yeah. Anything with bacon, you can guarantee he's involved in somehow. Still cooking if you can believe it. He's baking macaroni and cheese from scratch, that's usually a sign he's cracked."
Castiel answered, "Can you tell him we both say 'thank you'?"
"Sure--" Sam made a sudden pinched face of confusion. He seemed to notice something hidden on the floor. He walked back over to the bed and knelt down again. Right by the bedside table, he swiped something up between his thick fingertips, "Was there a bird in here?"
"A bird? Why would we have a--"
A long white feather glowed in the lamplight as Sam held it up. The edges looked as though they'd been dipped in gold, shimmering at the tip. Very similar to an angel feather, but much longer and brighter. He hasn't seen a golden dipped angel feather since... Morning Star. Oh, no. Jack.
Castiel cocked his head towards the nephil in his arms, "I didn't expect this so early. Fledglings take centuries to age."
Sam blinked, "The kid?"
Castiel nodded, "Yes. This is a good thing. He's still young. His angelic side has been replenished by the Grigori and his human side has been reunited with his soul. Now that he's fully intact, his wings may be growing larger to accommodate."
"Like a growth spurt?" Sam said with a touch of confusion.
"Exactly."
Sam started to worry, "Poor kid. I grew seven inches in two years when I was in high school and it was the worst. It felt like my legs were being stretched in a taffy puller."
Castiel shook his head, "This should be painless for him. He might not even know it's happening."
"Thank goodness." Sam said, standing once more to, "I'll let him rest. Want me to take the tea back to the kitchen?"
"No. I'll keep it warm." Castiel replied. "It won't take much."
He watched the younger Winchester leave. Jack stayed still in his arms until the door shut. When it did, the boy looked up at his father with a wet, tear stained face.
Castiel patted his hair, "Your wings are going to get much bigger, little one."
Jack complained, "But they're already so big! When I'm old enough to bring them all the way out, I'll trip all over them."
Castiel shrugged, "That would be genetics. Lucifer's were so big and bright and golden. He was nicknamed the Morning Star. Whenever he entered a room, it was like the sun rose in Heaven. Yours may rival his yet. You'll learn to walk with them. Much like humans learn to walk in high heeled shoes. It's a learning process, but once you master it, you'll be fine."
"As if I'm not already a freak. Now I have the devil wings to match." Jack pushed his face back into Castiel's chest.
Castiel warned, "Jack, you're not a freak."
"Yeah, right." Jack shook his head into Castiel's jacket. "I killed my grandma and I'm just getting bigger and stronger and more powerful. I'm a monster. I'm cursed."
Castiel patted his back, "You heard Sam. He doesn't think you're a freak."
"What does Sam know."
"Firstly, he used to drink demon blood the way Dean drinks beer. All of that poison made him strong enough to rule the underworld. He could close his eyes and level a battlefield while forcing demons to feed him grapes by hand."
Jack gasped at the sheer amount, "Whoa!"
Castiel nodded.
"Do you think Sam meant it? That he's safe?" Jack grew quiet, "What if he's lying again?"
Castiel answered sternly, "He's not. Sam loves you very much Jack. He doesn't want you to suffer, he just wants to be your father again."
Jack sniffed. He was about to cry again. Castiel readied himself, bracing his arms around the boy as he waited for the inevitable waterfall. Instead, he laid still, "I want him to be my dad again too."
Another feather gently floated off of the bed.
Jack blubbered, "Sam always understood me. Ever since I was born. He would listen and he would care."
Two more feathers appeared under Castiel's hands as he petted the boy's back. One was caught in his fingers.
Jack wept into Castiel's coat, "He still loves me, Cas. I don't deserve it. But he really... he wants to be my dad still. Even though I... I didn't mean to hurt them and Mary. I love them. They took me in."
"They love you too, Jack." Castiel pushed five more feathers off of the nephil's back. They fell to the floor in a silent gentle heap. Oh, boy. Maybe his soul is being affected by the external love and validation he got from Sam. Jack won't feel better until he's sure -- until he can do the work within himself to feel like Jack again. It will take a lot of time and effort, and a lot more love from his parents. But it's possible. With his archangel grace restored and his soul growing with love, Jack is becoming... Jack.
Within a few minutes, he got Jack sat up and munching on the bed. The young boy chewed merrily on Dean's BLT, crumbs sprinkled over his round cheeks. Castiel patted his head, "Don't forget your tea, little one."
Jack said through a bite of his sandwich, "It's so yummy. I like it when Dean cooks."
"Yes, so do I." Castiel smiled fondly, "He cooks with love."
Jack asked, a large crumb on his nose, "There's love in the food?"
Castiel wiped the crumb off of Jack with his thumb, "Yes. In every meal. I don't need to eat. I can't taste anything. Food is expensive, it takes time and care to create. But every time Dean cooks, he makes something for all of us. Me included. And when he prepares four plates, instead of one or two, that's his way of caring for us. Telling us we are welcome in his home -- welcome to sit and break bread beside him and his brother. Not as guests, but as family. You're his son, Jack. Nothing has changed that."
"So, when Dean cooks for me, it's because he loves me? Because I'm his son?"
"Exactly."
"What about you? You're not his son. Aren't you like a million years old or something?"
Castiel flicked the back of Jack's head playfully, "A million years ol -- rude."
Jack laughed, "Ow! Must be right."
"I am six thousand eight hundred and forty three." Castiel rolled his eyes, "To be exact."
Jack nodded, clearly entertained, "So, older than dirt."
Castiel answered, "Precisely. I am older than dirt itself. It used to be my job to watch the Earth grow and move. Record it's time passing."
Jack replied, "Then why won't you download Tik Tok--"
Castiel glared, "Jackson Kline Winchester, I swear to you, if you put that godforsaken app on my phone, I will throw it into the abyss."
"Yeah, yeah. You always threaten to throw things into the abyss. You never do." Jack took another bite, savoring the yummy sandwich.
Castiel shrugged simply.
"So, Dean cooks for you because..."
"I'm a part of the family."
"Okay, so he sees you as his brother?"
"In some ways. But, not exactly."
"Because you're an angel and he's a human?"
Castiel sighed a long sorrowful breath, looking away, "It's complicated."
Jack asked, "But, he loves you?"
Castiel answered, "Yes. Deeply. He's praying right now."
"Ow! Receiving prayers gives me headaches." Jack shook his head, placing a hand on Castiel's forehead, "Does it hurt?"
Castiel shook his head and chuckled, "No. The contrary. Full blooded angels exist to be prayed to. It's quite nice. Like someone is whispering into your ear, but you can't see them. You can only hear them, feel their presence."
Jack shrugged, taking another big bite of his sandwich, "What does he want? Need help with something?"
"No." Castiel replied, "He's having a glass of whiskey in the library. He likes to talk to me while he relaxes. Even if I'm not there. Actually, come to think of it, that's when he's the most talkative." Cas chuckled.
Jack asked, "What's he saying?"
"He hopes we're eating." Castiel wiped another crumb off of Jack's chin, "And that he'll talk to you tomorrow. He just needs time. He doesn't like to think of Mary. Or her death. But he's not upset with you. Sam's spoken to him already, and his thoughts are more organized now. They had time to grieve while you were gone, but the wound is still there. He doesn't want to hurt you. He wants us to stay."
Handfulls of feathers cascaded down the nephil's back, falling all over his pillow in a heaping mess. Jack replied casually as if that was barely even news to him, "Oh. Cool."
"Hm."
Jack took another bite, crunching around the bacon and toasted bread, "So, what did he say about you?"
"Me?"
"Yeah."
"Well... nothing much. He's been very kind to me in his prayers since we came back from Purgatory. He understands how personal it is -- that no one can hear him but me. He feels safer to express his true thoughts and feelings again. In the quiet, he tells me he misses my eyes and my voice, the comfort I bring him. He wishes to see me. Even now." Castiel lowered his head in reverence and turned to Jack, smoothing his hair, "But, I'm with you. He can wait."
Jack asked, "Why does Dean want to see you?"
"He's asking me to sit with him. Take a short drive. Park somewhere clear, so we can see the stars for a bit and talk with each other in private. He doesn't want to be angry. He just wants... peace. And also a hug. He's actually requesting several at the moment." Castiel rolled his eyes, "Okay, he's getting ahead of himself now. I will give five hugs maximum. Otherwise he gets greedy and he starts wrestling me."
"So, he doesn't need anything?"
"No. Just me."
Jack smiled broadly around the bite of his sandwich, "Are you going to go on the drive and tell him you love him?"
"Jack!" Castiel warned, "Do not repeat that around the Winchesters."
The boy continued gleefully, pushing his father's shoulder, "You should have seen your face! Dad! You like him!"
Castiel sighed deeply, "It's complicated."
Jack rolled his eyes, "No, it's not. Dean just asked you to hang out with him outside the bunker. Alone. At night. To watch the stars."
Castiel blinked, "We do that all the time."
"It's just like in the movie Tangled! I saw it with Sam! Flynn and Rapunzel watch the stars together and they end up getting married after!"
"Dean Winchester would never marry me."
"Hell yeah he would. He would do it quickly. All he does is miss you."
"Finish your tea."
"Dad." Jack sat up straighter, looking sternly at his father, "My parents might love each other. You have to know what this means to me."
"Our family is different. Unconventional. I'm raising you with two brothers in an underground bunker, not in a home with my spouse. And Dean... he likes women, Jack. Much more than he likes me. And that's the end of it. I'm lucky we're co-parenting together. I won't ask more of him. It wouldn't end well. He desires a wife. Not a warrior."
"I've been alive for three years and I've never once seen him have a girlfriend. Or a date. All I see is you two in the kitchen having a staring contest after dinner."
Castiel stated, "Well, I've known him since 2008! I saw more than enough to be sure he would laugh at me if I said anything. Or worse. He'd yell. He'd tell everyone how pathetic I am. I would have to leave. I'd be ruined and our friendship would be over. I do love your father, it's true. But I love him for who he is. A human with a short life. I love all of his flaws and beauty and heart and passion and pain equally. I know I don't deserve him. So does he."
Jack looked unimpressed. He set the sandwich down, "Dad. Go talk to Dean."
Castiel replied, "You need me."
Jack sunk his hands into the pile of feathers behind them, picking up a handful of white golden fluff to show his father, "I need my parents. All of them."
Castiel patted his hair, "I'll talk to him later. Finish your food."
Jack whined, "Dad."
Castiel's eyes flashed blue for a moment, "I said I'll talk to him later."
Jack rolled his eyes, taking another huge bite of his sandwich. More feathers fell from his back, slipping off of the covers and onto the floor.
They're gonna need to sweep.