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Dean had a number of things he’d expected Cas would be like as a parent.
Awkward. Unsure. Stoic, even.
But he never, in a million years, would have ever guessed Cas would be a worrywart.
It’s been three days since they took Willow home from the hospital. The first night she was home, neither of them slept, too anxious and giddy and awed to do anything other than watch their daughter as she slept and woke, stared at them, ate. She has a puff of blonde hair from Jess (her bio mom) and Cas’ striking blue eyes, and Dean thinks she may just be the most beautiful baby he’s ever seen.
The second night, they slept in shifts. Sam wasn’t kidding when he said a newborn was no joke; she woke every two to three hours, on the dot, looking for food or a diaper change or just cuddles. Once, Dean woke during Cas’ turn, and checked in on them on the way to the bathroom. He found Cas bouncing Willow gently, singing to her under his breath what seemed to be a lullaby version of Back in Black.
Tonight, though, Dean hasn’t woken in a while. His internal clock is insanely good (he blames his dad) and so, when he wakes, having kicked a blanket off himself, he realizes two things:
- He hasn’t woken up to Willow crying yet. He’s also a light sleeper (his dad, point two), so he knows he wouldn’t have slept through her crying, or Cas’ incessant side-poking to alert him, and,
- Cas isn’t in bed with him.
He puts a hand down to the place where Cas usually sleeps. Cold . He didn’t just get up to pee, or get a glass of water. Cas has been gone for a while.
Dean’s on high alert now. He stands quietly, grabs the gun he keeps tucked under the bed, and he steps lightly towards the halls, scanning each room. Cas isn’t in the bathroom, or the guest room.
Dean turns the corner to the nursery, and slowly peeks his head in. He can’t make out much in the dim light, except for the vague shape of a man looming over his daughter’s crib. His heart rate picks up as he slowly moves his way into the room, closer to the man, until he’s close enough to grab. Dean grabs the man with one hand around his stomach and one hand around his chest, and he’s just about to threaten the guy when he turns suddenly, disarms Dean, and pushes him back.
They lock eyes. It’s Cas.
“Jesus, Cas,” Dean says quietly. He flicks on a lamp so he can actually look at his partner. Cas is panting a little from their fight, face flushed. His hair is a mess, and the dark circles and the sag of his shoulders give him away. “Have you been here all night?”
Cas sighs. “Couldn’t help it,” he answers. He pushes his crazy bedhead back with one hand and holds the gun up in the other. “By the way, really?”
Dean feels a little told off. Cas is one of few people alive who have the power to tell Dean off with a sigh (Sam and Jess are the other two), but he definitely uses it most liberally. “Aren’t you gonna be glad when I fight off an intruder,” Dean counters.
Cas unloads the clip and drops the gun on a dresser. “And you plan on shooting them in our daughter’s nursery?”
Dean rolls his eyes and waves Cas off. “Don’t turn this around on me,” he says. “What are you doing up?”
Cas sighs again. He turns to face Willow’s crib, one hand coming up to scratch at the scruff on his face. “I couldn’t sleep,” he answers.
“I know too much,” Cas continues as he drops into a rocking chair next to Willow’s crib. “I know her every atom. I can feel every vibration and I can hear the hum as they smash together over and over.” His fists come together and apart, as if to demonstrate. “Creation, constantly occurring. Or at least I could, once.”
Dean perches on the arm of the chair and rubs his hand up Cas’ arm. Cas rests his hand on top of Dean’s. “I hear her cries and I feel unable to soothe her. There was a time, once, where I could read her mind. Where I could know all of her needs and desires, where I could heal her every pain, just by-” he reaches two fingers out towards her forehead, but doesn’t touch her. “But now I’m powerless.”
Dean snorts gently. “Yeah, welcome to parenthood.”
Cas frowns. “You have no idea what it’s like to lose such incredible power,” he accuses.
Dean holds his hands up. “That’s true.” He looks over at Willow, sleeping peacefully. “But you don’t think I’m scared too? You don’t think Sammy and Jess were scared when Lucy was born? Parenthood is about being scared, man.”
Cas towards Willow, still asleep in her crib. “It’s about being scared shitless,” Dean continues. “And you try and sometimes you fuck up but that’s just life, man. Sometimes you wind up like our dads, sure, but sometimes you wind up like Sam and Jess.” He gently knocks his shoulder into Cas’, and his partner looks up at him. “Or like us.”
Cas doesn’t say anything, but he takes Dean’s hand and gently presses a kiss to his knuckles.
As if on cue, Willow stirs and starts crying. Cas tenses and rises to get her, but Dean pushes him back down into the rocking chair, standing himself to gather their daughter in his arms. “I got her,” Dean says. “Go to bed.”
Cas looks like he’s going to argue, but he decides against it. He stands again, presses a kiss to Willow’s forehead and then a lingering kiss to Dean’s cheek, and he leaves the nursery.
Dean looks down at his daughter. She’s calmed down a bit since being picked up, and now she’s staring at Dean through big blue eyes. Dean reaches a hand out to her and her hand wraps around his pointer finger. He smiles down at her, at this beautiful child, his daughter, their daughter, and he leans down to kiss her head.
“We’re gonna do good,” Dean promises her, and she gurgles in apparent agreement.
END