Chapter Text
John was hardly surprised when three boys got out of the Impala at the rendezvous. It would complicate things a little, but it meant a happy Sam, which meant a Sam less likely to be constantly at his throat, so he would take it. “Hello, boys. Good drive?”
“Yes, sir,” Dean said. “Dad, Cas is coming with us for the summer. We…”
“Don’t have to explain or argue with me,” John interrupted. “Looking forward to getting to know the boy my sons have abandoned all their training for.”
“Thank you, sir,” Castiel said, relaxing a little.
“You said you’re sixteen? Got your license?” John asked.
Castiel shook his head. “In town I don’t need a car, and I don’t leave – unless I’m with Dean. Gabriel was going to teach me this summer so I'd be ready when I leave for college.”
“I’m planning on teaching Sam anyway, I can teach you too, Cas,” Dean offered.
John wasn’t surprised, but he was a little disappointed. He’d hoped Cas would be able to drive so that he and Dean could ride together sometimes. “I’ll help. Cas, what have my boys told you about what I do?” Dean shot him a sharp look, and Sam opened his mouth to protest. John waved him off.
“Contract work – investigation, bounty hunting, things I wouldn’t believe if they told me,” Cas said, and John felt the glow of pride. So his sons weren’t complete idiots for this boy.
But if Cas was coming for the summer, he’d find out soon enough, and he deserved the chance to back out. “Spirits and monsters. Ghosts, werewolves, things that go bump in the night. Dean’s been helping me in summer and at Christmas for a while now, Sam started last summer." Cas had gone a little pale, but he didn't look scared off. Good sign. "You still want to come?”
Cas nodded. “Now I understand where they got their speed and stamina from. I’m a quick learner, sir, I’ll help any way I can.”
“Cas, you don’t…” Sam started to protest, but Cas cut him off.
“I’m not going to sit around a motel room somewhere fretting about my family if there’s something useful I can do, Sam. I survived four months on the streets alone when I was thirteen. I’m not helpless. I may not be up to your standards, but I can fight,” Cas said.
John had to admit, that was not what he’d expected. He’d been prepared to take Cas home, or to make sure there was a safe place Cas could hide, and Sam too if Sam couldn’t keep his mind on the hunt. He had not expected to find that the kid had the stones to offer to help. Of course, he wanted to hear more about the four months on his own, that sounded like there was a story. “He’s got a point, boys. You can’t ask him to be our protected doll if he’s willing to fight beside us. Ever shot a gun, Cas?”
“Twice,” Cas said, and John became even more impressed. “One time I hit the guy coming after me, one time I missed.”
“You kill him?” John asked.
“No. Slowed him long enough for me to jump a fence he couldn’t climb with a bloody shoulder, though," Cas said.
Well, the kid wasn’t perfect, John guessed. Still, of all the kids his sons could've picked to get stupid over, he was rather pleased with their choice. Of course, you didn’t wound monsters. “You fight with us, you shoot to kill. And they may look human.”
“That was my intent with this guy, but I was scared, and my hands were shaking pretty bad,” Cas admitted.
What kid wouldn’t be scared, shooting to kill when he was thirteen? Besides a hunter’s kid, at least. “Well, we’ll have to get you over that, make you confident with a gun. Because you’re going to be scared, a lot. And it’s not just gonna be for yourself. Ghosts and werewolves just love Sammy. Shifters, thought-forms, things that mess with your head, they can’t get enough of Dean. I know my boys trust you, and I know you'd never hurt them on purpose, but I need to know that if a werewolf has Sam, it’s not my boy that’s coming out of that fight with a silver bullethole.”
“Yes, sir,” Castiel said. "That's fair."
“Good. That’s settled, then. Promised an old friend we’d drop in soon as you boys were out of school, and his place is a good place to do some basic training. Dean, you still remember how to get to Singer’s?” John asked.
“Yeah.” Dean checked his watch. “We gonna stop somewhere overnight, or show up at the crack of grumpy time?”
“When isn’t it grumpy time with Singer?” John asked, and Dean chuckled. “We’re stopping at Harvelle’s Roadhouse in Nebraska. Long past time you boys should properly meet Ellen Harvelle. Not sure she’ll speak to me, but she’ll look after the three of you.”
Dean rolled his eyes and Sam gave a sarcastic huff, but apparently they hadn't told Cas very much about him. “Why wouldn’t she speak to you?” Cas asked.
“I got her husband killed on a hunt,” John said. “My boys were with Singer… think Dean was twelve? Hadn’t gone by the Roadhouse in forever before that, I know she hasn’t seen Sammy since he was talking to anyone but Dean.” He went to the truck, rifling through the glove compartment until he found what he was looking for. “Try to stick with me, but here’s the map, just in case. Sammy, any chance I can talk you into riding with me?”
“Yeah. I’ll ride with you if you promise not to call me Sammy.” Damn, he kept forgetting. But Sam was climbing into the passenger seat with a smile, so maybe it wasn’t all that terrible.