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When they brought Castiel back and kind-of-introduced him to Jack, it was as if Jack got to meet a whole new Dean as well.
It was amazing that Castiel had returned from the Empty, of course, and Jack loved to have him near, the angel his mother had chosen to be his stand-in parent.
But seeing the way Castiel’s return affected Dean was something else.
Jack noticed the change in the older Winchester the moment they rounded the corner. Dean had his hands on Castiel’s shoulders, beaming as he presented him to Jack like the best gift ever.
Which he was. But maybe even more for Dean himself than for Jack.
It was the first time Dean actually looked at Jack, too. The first time he could bring himself to do so.
Jack was caught entirely unawares by the warmth shining from Dean’s bright green eyes, the unabashed happiness the man didn’t even try to hide. He couldn’t have imagined Dean being like that. All light-hearted teasing and wearing a dopey grin practically nonstop. Also, being as openly affectionate all of a sudden. He seemed to gravitate toward Castiel, in every way imaginable. Unable to even take his eyes off him. Apparently needing to touch, too, so as to assure himself the angel was real and actually there. From the moment they returned, Dean was never far from Castiel.
Jack noticed Sam’s smile, warm and heartfelt, at the way his brother acted. It was infectious, really, Dean’s giddy happiness. It rubbed off on all of them. Not that Sam wasn’t overjoyed with Castiel’s return as such. He was, and he said so and showed it, too.
Jack saw how much it meant to the angel, that kind of welcome, the affection showered upon him. Castiel looked almost dazed, relaxing into it only gradually: the smiles from both brothers; the occasional touches from Sam, the almost continuous ones from Dean.
Jack would have loved Castiel based on what he knew of him from his mother, what he had felt of him before he was even born. But seeing how the angel’s presence made both Sam and Dean shine so much brighter, how the three of them made each other whole, and the bunker into a home – it filled Jack with such a profound sense of rightness that he, too, caught himself smiling still when he finally retired to his room.
He couldn’t even say what made him come back out.
Maybe it was that he didn’t yet want the day to end, after all. Didn’t want to leave the glow brought about by Dean and Castiel being around each other, gazes locked, laughing under their breaths and talking, softly, Sam watching and smiling at it all.
Maybe it was that he didn’t dare trust it’d still be like that in the morning. That he wouldn’t wake to find the warmth and brightness gone, Dean returned to being gloomy and testy, Sam to sneaking worried glances at his brother, Jack to being the odd one out.
Jack didn’t mean to spy on them. He expected them to still be in the library where he left them.
Instead, there’s light spilling from what he heard Sam call the den that one time, a cozy room no one seemed to ever use.
The door stands ajar now, and through the gap Jack sees Dean and Castiel, on the couch together. Dean’s hands are on the angel’s cheeks. Again, Jack wouldn’t for the life of him have thought Dean capable of it, a touch so infinitely gentle it’s almost reverential. He is cradling Castiel’s face like something immensely precious, and when he brushes his lips against the angel’s, both Dean’s and Castiel’s eyes flutter closed.
Jack realizes he is smiling, grateful that he gets to witness the moment, even though it’s not meant for him. It’s still a memory he knows he will cherish and keep with him always.
But then, something changes. Dean is still kissing Castiel, but now he is somehow looming over him, crowding him, tenderness replaced by something darker, desperate, his grip tightening and shifting to the angel’s neck, the back of his head, and there’s moans that do not sound entirely pleasurable.
“Dean.”
Sam’s voice. Jack hadn’t even realized Sam is in the room with them. Yet its effect, the oddly agonized warning it carries, is instantaneous.
“Fucking hell, Sammy…”
The words are crude, yet Dean’s voice breaking and dissolving into a helpless whimper turn them into something else entirely. Something that makes Jack’s chest tighten as he watches Dean’s shoulders starting to shake and Castiel guiding Dean’s head into the crook of his neck.
Dean’s sobs sound as if they were torn out of his chest and he claws at Castiel, who enfolds the man in his arms, rubbing his back and moving a caressing hand into his hair, before letting it come to rest in Dean’s neck.
“I’m here,” Castiel says, voice low, soothing. “Shshsh, I’m here.”
“Cas…” Dean’s voice is ragged, and the angel’s name is the only thing he gets out.
Jack can see Dean’s knuckles standing out white where his fingers dig into Castiel’s shirt.
Then there is Sam, sitting down behind Dean, his big hand joining Castiel’s in Dean’s neck.
Man and angel share a look, Dean crying between them.
Their expressions are pained, of course they are. They both love Dean. Jack gets it. But he also gets Castiel’s cautious smile, and Sam reaching out with his free hand to squeeze the angel’s arm.
It’s a good thing, this, and they are both here to catch Dean as he finally lets them.