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Changing Focus
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The first text from John came two weeks after Dean had found Harry. Dean was out with Bobby and Rowena. They were looking at properties around Haven and the surrounding areas. Harry had stayed at the motel, nominally with Rufus but everyone knew that they would be hanging out in the diner and what that would mean. It would be a bit of a miracle if they didn't find Harry in the kitchen by the time they got back. Castiel had set up a space back there within days of the big reveal.
(Gabriel had a similar corner in the reception office for Casa Blanca. Dean had to admit the plush beanbag and pillows shaped like citrus slices were more inviting than they probably should be at his age. He could see the appeal for Harry.)
The text was just a city and date. Dean recognized the city as one near the state line between Oregon and California. In fact, if he hadn't found Harry and stopped heading towards Palo Alto, his normal meandering path to check on Sammy would have had him passing through it about now. (Scary how his father knew Dean's normal activities, even when they spent more time apart than together and never discussed anything related to Sammy.) The date was for last month, almost exactly twenty-eight days before Dean had found Harry.
Dean cursed as he figured out what he would likely find when he got to look up the relevant local papers.
Unfortunately, his cursing had nothing to do with the fairly decent farmhouse Rowena had been showing them around. The tiny redhead pouted dramatically at having been ignored. She crossed her arms in front of her, the creamy skin a dramatic contrast to the orchid of her business suit. Her sage green eyes glared at him. Dean hurried to apologize to the witch who had proven every stereotype he had about both redheads and witches in just the few days they had known each other. Fortunately, she had proven to be just as instantly wrapped around Harry's little finger as every powerful being around Haven had been. Dean still didn't want to test her patience too much.
Rowena accepted his apology readily and chose to focus her attention on her tablet instead of something like transforming Dean into frog or something.
"I think Carmichael is in the area right now," Bobby said after Dean had shown him the text. "He should have been in San Francisco last week, at least."
"He haed better nae have forgotten my order," Rowena groused without looking up from her tablet. "I'll have his balls for spell ingredients if he forgot again."
"What would Ada say if she heard you talkin' about someone's balls?" Bobby asked gruffly. Rowena's wine-red lips twisted into a lascivious smile that had Bobby sputtering out denials before she could utter another word.
Dean swallowed hard against the guilt about passing on the implied mission from his father.
But it wasn't like he could just take off for California now, not with Harry to think about.
So he would let Bobby pass on the potential case to this Carmichael person and focus on building a life here in the middle of nowhere.
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The next time John reached out was a call that went to voicemail because Dean hadn't heard the phone ringing. It was the beginning of December and the remodel of the abandoned elementary school was well underway. Haven was a lot like the settler towns from the old westerns. The community had came together to help get the school converted into both a living space and an actual resource hub for hunters and supernatural alike.
It turned out that commune was local code for supernatural group territory. While the local fey were prepping what they could of the inner courtyard, outer garden, and the attached solarium that would become a greenhouse, the vampires and werewolves were engaging in a thankfully-metaphorical pissing contest to determine which group could do the most construction and renovation. The local magic-users rolled their eyes whenever that competition descended into a brawl. One of them would break up the fighters if it threatened to destroy the progress being made but otherwise let them fight it out. Dean had to admit that it was the most effective strategy.
Ada and Lata were in the middle of showing Dean how to tie a devil's trap to a switch so that it could be powered off without destroying any of it. On the other side of the room that would be the main library, another of those brawls had started. Ada had broken off her instructions to wrap the four brutes in vines before starting to puppeteer them to the gym. Judging by the vehement words Ada was using, the alphas for both groups were next on the witch's list for a discussion.
Ada was such a mom, way more than any of the other faction leaders of Haven. In a lot of ways, Ada reminded Dean of the older Black lady who had been his babysitter before his mother had died. Beyond the obvious things of race and gender, both women had the same general air of awareness that surrounded them. Mrs. Moseley had always seemed to know what Dean had been thinking, something that had stood out in the few weeks they had stayed in Lawrence after his mother's death. Ada seemed to do the same but outright called it a psychic ability. She even went so far as to explain what Dean could do to keep his thoughts from broadcasting so loudly.
She had quickly joined Rowena in teaching Harry how to control what abilities the two witches had seen in Dean's young charge. Rowena handled most of the outright magic lessons. Apparently, their natural magic were most alike, even if they weren't near the same strength levels. There was no denying that Harry had some kind of dream-based psychic ability, however, and Rowena had immediately ceded the teaching to her wife. Dean had noticed the way no one had wanted to mention why Ada would more knowledgeable but he also know what grief looked like even decades after a loss. He wasn't about to push.
"Astoria, Oregon," John stated in the voicemail that Dean had decided to listen to while waiting on Ada to come back. "Likely a shifter. Need the silver knife." The voicemail cut off with a quiet beep. Dean pulled the phone away to look down at the screen. The message had been left over an hour ago.
"DEAN," Harry yelled as he raced into the room. He was wearing a pair of denim overalls and a dark orchid sweater. On his feet was a pair of purple sneakers that lit up with every step he took. Bobby followed closely behind, his hands at shoulder height and curled into a mockery of claws. The old man gave Dean a wink as he wiggled the fingers dramatically. Harry darted around Dean's legs. "He's a tickle monster!"
"Oh, man, not a tickle monster," Dean said. He dropped his free hand to Harry's head when the kid wrapped both his arms around Dean's knees. "They're impossible to defeat!"
"We're doomed," Harry announced with the same amount of seriousness he had used before smiting the bonsai demon last month. Lata barely bit back a giggle. Bobby didn't look far behind her. Dean rubbed his hand over Harry's wild curls.
"Maybe Benny knows some tricks from his pirates days?" Dean suggested. Harry's face brightened, his emerald eyes glittering with happiness. He took off running in the same direction that Ada had marched off in earlier. He bounced off the door frame but it barely slowed him down. Bobby was already watching him when Dean turned his attention to the old man. "Collins is based out of Peoria, right?"
"Yeah," Bobby confirmed after a moment's thought, "and he should be between hunts at the moment, too. Why?"
"Dad's in Astoria," Dean said, his voice carefully even. "He needs a silver knife. Thinks he's dealing with a shifter."
"Collins might be willing to lend one," Bobby agreed, "and Peoria is just an hour or so up the coast. Should be nothing but an afternoon's work to get it to him."
After calling Collins to deliver the requested weapon, Dean did his best to ignore the guilt of not going to John's side himself. There was a time when he wouldn't have hesitated, especially at this time of year. It was rare to spend Christmas with him. Hunts had always come first. Dean couldn't remember the last time he actually had a Christmas with his father, and the last one with Sam had been a bit of a washout, probably because the kid was already planning his exit strategy.
Benny had Harry on his shoulders when he followed meekly behind Ada. Harry had Benny's navy blue fisher cap on his head. Dean actually relaxed at the sight of his kid completely at ease within biting distance of a vampire. Benny wouldn't let any harm come to Harry, regardless of how many jokes got made about him being snack size.
Maybe things changing wasn't the worst thing.
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The new family that Dean had built were having a holiday party. It was the middle of December, exactly one month after the text from John about a possible werewolf hunt (that had gotten handled by the pack before John had even sent the text about it). Partly as a dedication to the newly established hub and partly because it was one of the few homes large enough, they were all gathered into the hub's main library.
A few of the study tables had been set up to serve as buffet tables. One was dedicated to mundane dietary restrictions such as kosher, halal, and gluten-free. Another table held the supernatural restrictions such as the things laced with blood for the vampires or without salt for the fey. All of the dishes had placards listing the ingredients. Judging by the no-nonsense handwriting used, Castiel had been the one to pen the black letters onto the cream cardstock.
"Gabriel has a tendency to slip into a combination of runes and Phoenician," Castiel said, appearing at Dean's elbow as if summoned by his thoughts. It was possibly true, too, given how the angel kept catching Dean's thoughts, despite efforts to give him privacy. "He's not allowed to write anything by hand unless there is no other option."
Dean turned to greet Castiel. The smile froze on his face as the air got knocked out of his lungs. Castiel never really paid attention to what most of society would care about his clothes. It was just as likely for him to wear pants as it was a skirt. The only real consistency was how he favored black and yellow with white and purple accessories.
Today's outfit was not any different, not really. Probably because of the foot of snow outside, Castiel was wearing black dress pants instead of a skirt that would have allowed in the cold. His shirt was a dark orchid. But the thing which had Dean's mind blanking like a computer meeting a magnet was the pale yellow corset Castiel was wearing. It had cream pinstripes that were only a few shades lighter than the yellow. Castiel took in Dean's stunned silence with a seductive smirk.
"Does Daddy see something he likes?" Castiel purred.
As Dean's brain started to reboot, his first thought was maybe building a family could mean changing other things as well.
In the office at the front of the school, the cell phone linked to the number John had for Dean went straight to voicemail.