Work Text:
In their rush, they are unable to grab much of anything that Castiel and Kelly had prepared. The Nephil, Kelly’s baby, remains bare, wearing nothing -- not even the blood he was coated in as he was born, as Castiel had willed it away with his Grace.
But, blessedly, he remains a baby.
Little Jack.
Kelly had warned Jack that he was unsafe, and Castiel had felt his near decision to heed his mother’s warnings. Castiel had looked into his new, golden eyes -- used a guarded frequency of his “Angel radio” to listen to the Song of his Grace, his being, so sweet, somehow the perfect blend of Kelly’s brave soul and the nearly forgotten purity of Lucifer’s Grace, before his rebellion and fall -- and promised to protect him. Jack would not be forced to grow up sooner than he needed to.
Not like Castiel’s beloved Winchesters.
Castiel holds Jack against his chest, cradling his fragile human head like the internet said, as Dean floors it. Everything Castiel had consulted, from the baby books to the internet research to stories Dean shared of his and Sam’s upbringing, tells him that the impala’s speeds and the near erratic way Dean is driving are not ideal for a newborn infant, especially when they don’t have a car seat for him, but he doesn’t protest. This is Dean’s way of protecting them, getting them away from that place where Kelly died and Mary and Lucifer were dragged into another dimension. Where Castiel could have died, if it weren’t for Jack.
Castiel hopes Jack doesn’t do that again -- heal him, like a device, a tool. Jack, Castiel vows, will be shielded from being made into a thing to be used for as long as possible.
They drive in silence, Jack shuffling his face against Castiel’s shirt and tie, for nearly an hour, before Dean starts slowing down.
“...Dean?” Castiel asks.
“Gotta stop for gas,” Dean grunts, making a turn into a Gas’N’Sip. “Baby’s running low.”
The brothers exit in silence, Sam giving Castiel a weary look. Dean doesn’t look at him.
Castiel hopes the brothers will grant him and Jack sanctuary long enough for Castiel to find a new haven for the child. Perhaps, they might even allow Jack to stay in the bunker -- Castiel knows that with his latest betrayal, they’ll be even less likely to trust him than ever, but he’s sure he can convince them that Jack is good, that his Grace is pure and his Soul shines, similar to how Dean’s shines. Perhaps they’ll even allow Castiel to visit.
Castiel blocks Jack from these thoughts. The baby yawns.
There’s a knock on the window, and Castiel turns to see Sam. He opens the door and Sam passes through it a pack of diapers.
“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel says, shuffling Jack into one arm to take it.
“Dean’s buying formula, as well. If, uh… i-if Jack needs it.” Sam looks down at the son of his tormentor, and Castiel senses conflict within him. Still, Sam smiles.
Jack is safe with the Winchester, Castiel knows. Still, he can’t hide the relief at the smile.
He shrugs out of his trench coat, suspecting that Dean would not appreciate him laying an infant onto the Impala’s back seat without any kind of protection. He lays Jack on it, keeping one hand on the nephil’s small chest to keep him from moving, and Sam helps him open the pack of diapers. Castiel regrets that they don't have any rash cream or powder, like the books recommend. He wraps Jack in the diaper, which is slightly too big on a newborn he finds, clearly meant for an older infant.
“You’ll be fine, Jack,” Castiel says, and he hopes it isn’t a lie.
There had been a time when the words “broken heart” had made no sense to him -- a human would die if their heart ceased functioning, after all -- but as the years have gone by, Castiel has come to understand the sentiment intimately. And he feels it now, and not just for Kelly and Mary. He feels it whenever he looks at a baby -- something so fragile and trusting, an unprepared innocent with no idea of what awaits them. He feels it looking down at the child who declared him his father and now relies on him to preserve that innocence for as long as possible.
Jack squints up at him in curiosity, clearly still trying to figure out how to move this body he’s confined to, and Castiel hears a familiar chuckle.
“Can’t believe it, but he looks just like you,” Dean says, the first thing he’s said since frantically calling Castiel’s name as Castiel approached Lucifer.
Castiel doesn’t understand. “He looks like a baby.”
Dean just shakes his head fondly. He isn’t angry, or at least he’s setting aside his anger for now, at least. “Just… trust me, man.” Dean frowns, now. “Also looks a little cold there. We shoulda grabbed a blanket or something for him.”
Castiel looks back down at Jack. He looks content, a tiny hand coming up to grasp one of Castiel’s fingers, still keeping him grounded. His grip holds a surprising amount of strength.
Still, Dean must be right, having much more hands-on experience with children than Castiel -- to date, the longest Castiel has spent around an infant was when he babysat Nora’s child, years ago. Castiel rubs his other hand along the sleeve of his trench coat, softened from time and wear. It's, frankly, silly, but his coats have brought him much comfort over the years.
He had practiced swadling on pillows and towels, and he tries to apply that knowledge as best as he can with the material he has.
The coat is much too big on the baby, the tail dangling down as Castiel picks Jack back up, but Jack seems comfortable. He wiggles slightly, trying to shuffle deeper into the fabric, and Castiel knows he can never repay the Winchesters for showing him love, because he’s overcome with love at this moment and grateful he can feel it.
Dean had called him a “baby in a trench coat,” once -- something small and fragile, something useless and in need of protection. Jack was allowed to be useless. He was. He would be.
Dean clears his throat, a hand brushing against Castiel’s back for a moment. “C’mon. “Let’s get you two home.”
Castiel turns to Dean again, naked relief clear on his features. “You’ll allow Jack to stay.”
“Better to keep him close than not, I guess. Besides, I get the sense you two are a package deal now -- where you live, he lives, right?”
Castiel blinks before looking down in shame. “I… suppose. I hope you’ll help me find him a place to live, then.”
Dean flinches at this, and Castiel can feel the confusion and hurt radiating off the brothers. “What, the bunker not good enough for ya?”
Castiel is almost too stunned to speak. He’s longed for the right to call the bunker his home for a shamefully long time. “You… you’ll allow me to stay?”
No one answers his question, and pain settles back into Castiel’s chest as the silence grows. Heart break. He must have misunderstood Dean’s words.
“Cas…” Sam begins, carefully. “Cas, you know you can stay, right? You’re family.”
“I-I don’t want to intrude,” Castiel tries to explain, though he isn’t entirely sure what he’s explaining. His vessel feels tight. He isn’t sure if it's heartbreak or hope or if something’s wrong with his Grace.
“You aren’t. Cas, what, did you think we were only keeping you around as a guest or something?”
“...I try to be useful-”
Dean swears, his hands turning to fists.
Sam gives Dean a look that’s hard to decipher, but it looks confused and expectant. “Dean.”
Dean doesn’t meet Castiel’s eye. “Cas. Come on, man, you gotta know you don’t need to be useful to stay, right?”
Castiel shakes his head, though it isn’t meant to answer Dean’s question. He strokes a hand down Jack’s back, shaking his head at the notion, words failing his vessel. He longs for his wings, for the chance to leave this situation behind.
“Cas,” is all Dean says. He’s begging Castiel to understand, but Castiel just doesn’t. “Cas, I- Cas .”
“...Can I- can we really stay?” Castiel asks.
“It's your home, dumbass,” Dean croaks. Sam simply looks stunned, shocked at the question.
His home. Castiel looks down at Jack. Their home.
The feeling in his chest finally overwhelms him. It burns, bright like Dean and Jack’s souls, warm like every Winchester Castiel has come to love.
Joy, Castiel realizes.
He’s smiling. He’s smiling so wide and suddenly Dean’s hands are on his cheeks. His thumbs brush over the thin skin under Castiel’s eyes and Castiel realizes they’re wet as Dean shuffles him over in the seat, joining him.
Dean is brushing away tears falling from Castiel’s eyes, looking overwhelmed himself. Castiel doesn’t know how to contain this joy -- he has a home, he has the Winchesters, he has Jack. He’s had so many parts of him carved away over the years, he needs so many supplies for Jack, he’s made so many mistakes. And he has everything he could wish for.
He’s so, so happy.
Dean pulls Castiel into a hug, Jack nestled safely between them. Same reaches into the car and squeezes Castiel’s shoulder briefly.
“Yeah, Cas,” Sam speaks while Dean silently holds him. “You and your son can stay. We’re taking you home.”