Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dean comes back from a hunt and finds Cas standing in the middle of the war room. He runs to Cas--how could he not?--but Cas doesn’t react at all.

He just stands. Stands and sways towards Dean a bit when Dean hugs him. Dean fights tears and chokes Cas’ name out like he can’t believe Cas is standing in front of him. Cas still doesn’t move though, and Dean steps back a bit, then tries to catch Cas’ eyes.

They’re glazed over, gray, and angled to the side, gazing somewhere in the distance.

“Cas?” Dean asks. His voice shakes slightly, and horror pools in Dean’s chest when Cas doesn’t respond. Dean reaches out and cups one of Cas’ cheeks, then turns his face so he’s almost looking at Dean. “Cas, are you in there?”

Cas blinks at Dean, slow and glossy.

”Cas?”

“I’m sorry,” a choked voice that sounds suspiciously like Jack says. “I was just trying to help.”

Immediately, Dean’s head whips towards the sound of Jack’s voice fury between his teeth. ’You did this?’ He wants to shout. ’You did this!’

No. Jack wouldn’t do this on purpose. He was trying to help. Dean isn’t so sure of that, but Sam (if he were here rather than still in the garage) would be, Cas would be.

And Dean is trying to do better, trying not to become his father and live up to the version of himself that Cas sees, so he doesn’t yell. He swallows the sound back and breathes deep once before speaking. He needs to stay calm. The kid needs Dean to be calm. This whole… zombie-Cas thing can’t be easy on him. It’s not quite losing a parent, or regaining a lost one, but it can’t be easy, especially because Jack did this.

Jack’s only four. Dean has been that scared four-year-old before. He knows what it’s like to lose a parent. He knows what it’s like when nothing you do is enough, when all you can seem to do is fuck things up more and more.

And Dean knows he’s going to do better.

“It’s okay,” Dean forces out. The words come out stilted as he tries to find them, to find something reassuring.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Tears pool in Jack’s eyes, and he wipes them away with the sleeve of his jacket.

“I know, kid,” Dean says. His own voice is soft and he’s using a tone he had almost forgotten he possessed. It had disappeared after Sam didn’t need it anymore. “I’m not mad,” he lies.

Jack looks confused, and Dean hates himself for that.

“We can fix this,” Dean continues after a moment, talking to himself just as much as he is speaking to Jack.

Can we?

Cas’ foggy, blank eyes say otherwise.

Chapter Text

They can’t fix Cas.

Or, more like they don’t make any headway for three months. All Jack can tell is that Cas’ grace is twisted and backwards, and Sam’s spells don’t reveal anything else. Any attempt to heal Cas only seems to hurt him, and it’s almost painful to watch. He just whimpers and shies away from everyone, and Dean feels himself crumble a little bit every time it happens.

So, unfortunately, they have to adjust to this, but they’re used to adjusting. This is nothing they don’t know how to handle.

Nothing that won’t eventually be fixed.

***

Cas takes to blowing out the lights on occasion.

After a while they learn to limit him to a scant few areas of the bunker. Usually Cas doesn’t move much, not unless someone leads him somewhere or he starts screaming and wanders the halls until someone can find him and calm him down.

It’s exhausting.

Dean would like Cas to sleep in the same room as him, maybe even the same bed to make it easier to quell Cas’ bloodcurdling howls of loneliness and confusion, but at the same time he has no idea what Cas might do. Cas already carves deep lines into the tables and walls, and Dean doesn’t want to take a chance by letting himself fall asleep around Cas.

So they lock Cas in his old room during nights to try and stop him from hurting anyone by accident, and visit him every couple hours to try and ward off Cas’ wail of solitude.

Eventually they learn that Cas is very particular about lights, hence his constant destruction of them.

They can’t be too bright, harsh, or loud or he’ll shatter them, but darkness is worse. Even if Cas is holding onto Dean tightly enough for it to hurt, Cas will lose it in the dark. It’s almost like his vocal cords split then, because Dean swears he can hear three distinct waves of song in Cas’ cries. It’s beautiful, in a haunting, almost scary way.

Lights learn to be managed. Cas learns to be managed.

Dean learns to juggle fatherhood, partially unwilling sobriety, and caretaking.

Cas’ solitude-brought hysterics are bad enough, but Jack’s nightmares are another beast entirely. Technically speaking, Jack shouldn’t need to sleep at all, but Chuck’s power had settled in him weird, and Dean still isn’t sure if it’s actually rejecting——and Jack is keeping it a secret——or not. As a result, Jack needs to sleep, and as a result of an intensely traumatizing life, Jack has nightmares.

He’s four fucking years old and wakes up crying almost every night, sobbing about Cas, or all the times he’s had to fight, and it’s just not fair. Jack never deserved this, and Dean did almost nothing to stop it. Hell, he probably assisted in creating some of the trauma. He never parented like he should, and he knows he can’t blame Chuck for that.

Jack has killed people. Indirectly, but blood is still on his hands. (Too much for a kid as young as him. So much for a kid stable as he is.)

Dean can’t hold it against Jack though. He… he needs to be better.

So he doesn’t drink after he manages to get Jack to fall asleep, even if it’s all he wants to do. He doesn’t drink, period. Shakes are a bitch at first, but it’s better than being constantly drunk like he had been for a couple months after Cas was taken. It’s better than John Winchester, and that’s what matters. That’s enough to make Dean feel a little bit better about himself.

That doesn’t mean Dean sleeps easy, though. He’s lucky enough to be able to get by on three or four hours of sleep a night, but he’s not built for this. He never was, but he’ll force himself to fit the mold anyway. It’s habit at this point.

It’s 3:52 in the morning when Dean wakes up to shouting. It’s Jack’s shout, distinct from months of Dean learning to differentiate, and Dean is out of bed in a second, on his way to Jack’s room before he can process a full thought. He’s halfway there by the time he realizes he’s heading away from the voice, and sprinting back to where he came from when he realizes the shouting is coming from Cas’ room.

Jack isn’t supposed to be alone with Cas.

The noises stop five seconds before Dean slams into the door to Cas’ room. It flies open with a bang, and Dean stumbles into the room.

Cas is crouched over Jack like a vampire over its prey, and Jack looks terrified. His eyes flicker briefly over to Dean before returning to Cas, and the fear in that look is palpable.

“Cas?” Dean asks, but he receives no reaction. Cas reacts to some things now, mostly his own name, but this doesn’t get so much as an annoyed huff of air. “Castiel.”

Nothing.

“Look at me.”

Cas repositions himself, feet on Jack’s chest, hands gripping his jacket with a dangerous amount of strength. His teeth are sharp, tinged with pink. When Dean looks, he can see a patch of torn skin on one of Jack’s hands.

Cas bit him?

And, as Cas bares his teeth again, Dean realizes that Cas is aiming his next attack at Jack’s neck. Cas would never forgive himself if he did that to Jack.

“Hey!” Dean shouts, loud enough to make Cas flinch back from his target. The word bounces around the room in a tinny echo that makes Jack wince. “Get the Hell away from my son,” Dean growls.

Cas’ head snaps to look at Dean and his foggy eyes half-focus. He makes a strange noise, almost like a growl, in the back of his throat and his hands tighten on Jack’s jacket.

“If you wanna hurt someone, hurt me.” Dean spreads his arms, leaves himself open and vulnerable. The knife clipped to his jeans feels like it’s burning a hole in his side.

Jack’s eyes are wide as he looks between Dean and Cas. His chest is heaving in panic, and Dean can see the beginnings of tears glittering in Jack’s eyes.

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean urges. “C’mon, you know you want me.” He gets down on Cas and Jack’s level, on his knees——curses as his bad knee hits the floor——and reaches forward. “I’m…” he swallows. “I’m the reason you’re dead, right?” Dean’s voice shakes at the end of that sentence, but he continues talking as he moves to a sitting position. “I’m what sent you to the Empty.”

Jack’s eyes settle on Dean. “What?”

“So get angry,” Dean says. His eyes are locked with Cas’ and his teeth are gritted as he speaks. “Get mad, you stupid sonuvabitch.”

Cas’ grip on Jack’s clothes loosens as he turns more towards Dean, and his nose wrinkles like he’s about to growl.

“That’s right,” Dean murmurs, gesturing for Cas to come closer. Just get away from the kid. I know you’d never forgive yourself if you hurt Jack.

You don’t want to be like me.

Dean turns his head to the side, bearing his neck. Cas is basically an animal now, so Dean is gonna treat him like one, and that starts with letting himself look vulnerable in hopes to draw Cas away from Jack.

“I know you wanna hurt me,” Dean says——insists. “So come and get it.”

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Cas slinks off of Jack. His trench coat drags a bit, its rough material pulls at Jack’s jacket, but Jack stays calm. Or at least he doesn’t panic any more than he already has. Good kid.

Dean shifts his gaze from Cas to Jack, tries to tell him to get the Hell out of dodge before returning his gaze to Cas.

Cas’ irises are glowing with darkness as he prowls closer. Dean stands now that Jack is out of immediate danger and cautiously takes a couple steps backwards. Cas follows him on all fours, hackles raised.

Once again, Dean looks for Jack, who is sitting up now, but still looking scared stiff.

”Get out,” Dean mouths when he knows Jack is watching him. ”Find Sam.

The lights in Jack’s room flicker, and Dean squints as the outlines of broken wings cast themselves on the wall.

”Run.”

Jack’s eyes flash with worry at the dead-serious expression on Dean’s face. Dean can read him like a book, and the kid’s concern is almost cute.

”I’ve got this.” Dean’s eyes drift down to Cas again, who is now barely three feet away from him, still crouched like some wild animal. ”Cas’ll be fine.

Jack stands quietly, and Dean doesn’t even dare to breathe as he watches the kid dark out of the room in his peripheral vision. He sighs quietly as Jack exits the room, relieved that Jack is safe, and is promptly knocked into the wall by Cas launching himself into Dean’s chest, then finds himself on the ground. Luckily, Dean’s hunter instincts kick in and he manages to brace his forearms against Cas’ shoulders to shove him back. He grabs at the collar of Cas’ shirt, then hurls himself to the side.

Cas shrieks as he falls onto his side and rakes one of his hands across Dean’s neck. His nails aren’t sharp enough to cause real damage, but Dean’s neck still stings something awful. Dean drops one of his forearms and grabs Cas’ hand, then forces it away from his neck. As he rolls on top of Cas to pin him.

“Cas,” Dean forces out. “Cas stop.” He’s almost certain that Cas can’t understand——or maybe doesn’t want to understand——what he is saying, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.

Cas snarls, teeth snapping, foam on his lips. It’s wordless, but it’s meaning is pretty clear. No.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Dean chokes. “Please, Cas. Stop.” He hits Cas’ arm hard enough to dislodge his grip, then holds Cas’ hands together in an attempt to immobilize him.

Cas screams, and Dean squeezes his eyes agains the ear-rattling sound.

“Cas, it’s me.” Dean says through the painful ringing in his ears. “It’s Dean.” His breath hitches as he feels tears sting in his eyes, brought on by both pain and emotion. “You need to calm down.”

Cas tries to bite Dean, but he’s nowhere near close enough. Dean wishes he had a zip-tie, had something to immobilize Cas.

Where the Hell is Jack?

It takes a moment of awkward maneuvering, but Dean manages to hold both of Cas’ wrists with one hand, and slowly reaches around and starts to pull the belt of Cas’ trench coat from the coat. Cas struggles as Dean does, gray eyes wide with panic and anger.

“Sorry, buddy,” Dean grits out as he ties Cas’ wrists with the belt. It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do until Dean can find another way to subdue Cas without collaring him and chaining him in the dungeon.

“Trust me,” Dean sighs. “You didn’t want to hurt him.”

Cas shrieks in his truevoice, and Dean nearly passes out.

Just another Tuesday.