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Jack loves his bear. A little bear that his mother bought while she was pregnant. Sam had grabbed it on the run from the lake house, but ever since he gave it to Jack, he’s been attached to it.
Jack, now that he has godly powers (even if he isn’t running heaven,) switches between looking his actual age and the appearance he was born with.
Because of this, one never knows what they’re going to see when they walk into his room. A toddler coloring with his bear tucked under his arm or a 20-something curled up into himself and clutching his little stuffed bear.
Cas brings Jack his lunch today, as he, Dean, and Sam had all gone out to lunch while Jack stayed in the bunker.
Cas walks in, and Jack looks 4. He’d been in his older body before, but this is nothing unusual.
So Cas walks over, setting down a plate with PB&J for Jack.
Jack’s wrapped his whole little body around his bear, and he looks up at Cas with puppy eyes he probably learned from Sam.
Cas smiles, and he ruffles Jack’s hair. “How are you, Jack?” He asks.
“Okay. Thanks, Dad,” Jack says, tucking himself up under his father’s arm, his bear still clutched to his chest.
“Course, hon,” Cas says, wrapping an arm right around Jack and holding him close, kissing the top of his head.
They sit there for a while, Jack picking at his crustless sandwich. The room, the world is silent, but the two of them are happy. Jack is happy, for now. And that’s what matters to Cas.