A Subtle Touch of Grace
Title: A Subtle Touch of Grace
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/OFC
Warnings: See Master Post for full list of warnings.
Word Count: 10,122
Summary:There are many sayings for the wants of man: you can't always get what you want, you don't know what you want until it's gone, and most importantly, you don't know what you want until you have it. After averting the Apocalypse, a miracle in the form of an Angel-Human Hybrid and the reorganization of Heaven brings Dean and Castiel both closer together and farther apart than ever before. Dean lives with a broken heart and finds Faith in unexpected places, Sam finds the normal life he's always wanted while on a hunt of all places, and Castiel discovers that God was closer than everyone thought.
Dean had known Cas would be away for a while. He'd accepted it, and while they did get to talk - and sometimes more than talk - in dreams, it wasn't the same. Unfortunately, 'a while' turned out to be a lot longer than he thought it would be. When the new year started, changes came and they came rapidly. After much discussion and some debate, Sam began the slow transition from hunter to civilian. Getting a clean slate wasn't exactly an easy thing for the Winchesters, but with the Apocalypse avoided and with most monsters running to ground, they'd be foolish to try and not take advantage. Dean tried not to begrudge his brother in his happiness, but it was hard sometimes. Sam had been able to secure a job in Kansas City, working for some company that Dean wasn't even sure what they did. All he knew was that it was some kind of financial or computer place and Sam's job was to work in some kind of tech support. That was almost laughable, considering his only foray into such work had been courtesy of Zachariah when he'd plunked the Winchester brothers into the middle of the Sandover Corporation almost two years ago. Dean and Bobby had even managed to repair one of the wrecks in the salvage yard to a decent state - some late model sedan that was probably new nine or ten years ago. With Sam's move and repairs to the car, plus a few of what Dean called 'milk hunts' that never got any more complicated than a salt-and-burn, he was absolutely stunned one morning when he checked his phone for messages and saw that it was already August.
Dean yawned and rubbed his eyes as he looked around the motel room. He was in the middle of nowhere in Oregon on a case that turned out to be just a bunch of vampire wannabes that ended up getting attacked by an actual vampire. The vamp had been out on his own so killing him shouldn't have been a problem. The trouble came from the fact that he had already converted three kids into vampires as well. That had been up in Washington. He swore he'd send hate mail to Stephenie Meyer if he thought he could get away with it. Almost immediately after finishing the hunt, he'd driven as far as he could to get away from the ashy ruin he'd left in his wake before exhaustion got the better of him. He wasn't sure if he was going to head back to South Dakota to see Bobby or find a new case, but continuing putting plenty of distance between him and the state of Washington sounded good. “I'm getting too old for this,” he muttered as he stood up and methodically started packing. It'd been years since he'd hunted solo for more than a handful of weeks. Not since Sam was at Stanford. In all his thoughts on what he'd actually do if he ever settled down to a normal life, Dean had never thought about what he'd do for a living. Somehow, he always figured the job would just sort of present itself, the way the family, the picket fence and apple pie always did. “Might just go see Sam before going to Bobby's,” he murmured to himself as he shouldered his bag and headed out to the Impala.
*
In the measuring of human time, Liam was exactly one year and one month old. In Heaven's terms, he'd turned five. Castiel knew that now that he was older, it was safer to take him out of the protection of their home, but it still wasn't without some reservations. The last time Dean had seen their son he'd been an infant. He'd been crawling and making babbling noises. Now he was walking, talking and soon, he'd be off eating, although for now he drank nectar from cups instead of bottles. The patch of hair on Liam's head finally settled on a color - black - and as it got longer, it had turned curly. Early schooling for angels consisted mainly of being able to communicate, of matching countries and languages together. While angels were naturally omni-lingual, knowing what went where was something that had to be learned.
Liam would probably be leaving the nest permanently this time next year and then Castiel would return to his own duties in Heaven, whatever those might be. While his son was in his classes, Castiel helped out several angels with the multitude of prayers, requests for help and all the other paperwork of Heaven. At the end of the 'day' both father and son returned to their nest to sleep. Since Liam had figured out that the other parental figure in their family was missing, he usually asked his papa to tell him about his other father - or his dad, as he always called Dean. Telling stories about Dean was never a problem for Castiel, the trouble was finding ones suitable for the child to hear. One of Liam's favorites was how Dad and Uncle Sam defeated the pagan, Hold Nickar on the Winter Solstice before his parents met. But when Liam returned 'home' this evening, Castiel could plainly see that stories weren't on his mind tonight.
“What's wrong?”
Liam curled up, hugging his knees, frowning. “It's not fair.”
Castiel tilted his head to the side, mirroring the look on the boy's face. “What's not fair?”
“That angels have to work in Heaven and humans don't.” He stuck out his bottom lip. “Just not fair.”
Castiel moved to sit next to his child and put an arm around his shoulders. “It is fair, Liam. I know it may not seem like it, but when human souls arrive here, they are weary and worn. Life on Earth is vastly different than what we experience here. There will come a time when you no longer need to rest, when you will exist the way other angels do, as light and energy. You have seen the others, I know you have.”
“Yeah, but...”
“On Earth, humans must sleep. They never overcome needing rest. We live in what some might call a perfect world, Liam. No angel goes hungry, no angel grows weary. There is no weakness, no pain, no sorrow. Humans live that day in and day out.”
“It sounds like humans are made to suffer.” Liam frowned. “Still...”
“Humans toil upon the earth, for they must work for what they need, be it food or shelter. All we need is provided. Humans do not have such a luxury. So when human souls arrive here, they will find no more sorrow, no more tears, no more suffering. That is their reward. Their lives are far shorter than ours.”
Liam huffed. “It's still not fair.”
Castiel knew he wasn't going to make any progress with this conversation, at least, not tonight. “There is much in this universe that is unfair, my child.” He gave him a small hug. “I tell you what, in a few days, we'll go on a little field trip.”
“Field trip?” Liam frowned. “You mean like the time we went and saw Grandpa in his Heaven and Dad was just a three year old?”
“Sort of.” Castiel smiled and ruffled his son's hair. “I can tell you one thing that is rather fair.”
“What's that?”
“Both fledglings and human children have the same kind of school week: just five days long.” He kissed the boy's forehead. “Let's get some rest.”
*
Dean sat in the waiting room of the hospital, palms pressed against his eyes, silently praying for a miracle, not really caring what angel was on the receiving end of the prayer. Just that someone, anyone, would hear. He'd gotten back to Sioux Falls last night, let himself into Bobby's house, rather surprised that the old hunter was asleep at nine-thirty in the evening and found the man he'd come to think of as a father lying on the floor of his library. The good news, the medical team told him, was that when Dean got there, Bobby hadn't been out all that long, maybe just a few minutes, but still, those minutes were stretching out, and what Dean really wanted was a miracle or for Sam to hurry his ass up here. He'd called his brother and told him to get up to South Dakota as soon as possible. That had been three hours ago, and Kansas City was at least a six hour drive. He slid a hand through his hair and stood up as a doctor approached him.
“Dean Winchester?”
“Yes?” He could tell by the look on his face, the news wasn't good. Bland faces were never good news.
“We were able to repair some of the damage to your uncle's heart, but...” he let out a shallow breath. “...the surgery proved to be too much for him.”
Dean blinked at the man, partially confused. “Wait... wait... you're saying...”
“I'm sorry,” the doctor said, rather uncomfortably.
“It's...” He made a waving motion at the man, just wanting to be alone. “I'll just...”
“I'm sorry,” the man said again before leaving Dean alone.
Dean sank back down into his chair, already feeling the sting of tears at the corner of his eyes. He lowered his head and fought back the urge to start sobbing. This couldn't be happening, not now, not when things suddenly seemed to be going so well. If he hadn't taken so long getting back, if he'd taken a different route... He gave over to his tears and hoped that Sam got here fast. He really, really didn't want to be alone right now.
**
An average of one hundred and eight people die every minute of every day. The total processing of a soul in Heaven is exactly three minutes; from identification, to placement, to one last memory wipe done to prevent souls from poking about in places that they shouldn't. The angels working in what was widely referred to as the Placement Office, two to five per country, could finish their days with relative ease. The fact that all human souls under the age of eighteen did not require placement in a personal Heaven made things a little easier as well. When disasters struck the Earth and the average deaths per minute shot up, other workers were called in to help assist the department. Castiel could well remember the last time he'd assisted in the office, the day of the Normandy Invasion. Of course, unlike natural disasters, the angels had been expecting the catastrophic death toll and had gotten additional help before the souls started to arrive. So when he was summoned to the office after a massive earthquake ripped through China, he just gave Liam a hug before leaving and headed out.
Liam wasn't used to being left alone. In addition to the natural disaster, there was also a major influx of souls coming in from a war-torn area, so classes had been canceled while the majority of the angels of his papa's rank went to help the souls, leaving him and most of the other fledglings to their own devices. “This is boring.” Without Papa or something to occupy him, staying here at home was rather dull. He calmly climbed out of the nest, knowing that his papa could track him anywhere, and set out for one of the six libraries of Heaven. Two of the libraries were reserved strictly for angels. Liam had only been in one of them; it was full of folios and journals, some things that were written by human prophets and others by angels. His destination, however, was the Children's Library, tucked away in a far corner. It was one of the few places where angels interacted with souls almost constantly; humans under the age of twelve and over the age of five came to this part of Heaven. Liam hadn't ventured very far outside of the library, but he'd seen the playground, the wading pool and of course, fields and places to run around.
Even though all the children were in this place, its size somehow made it seem like only perhaps a hundred or so were there. He still hadn't been able to work up the courage to ask his papa where the babies went - maybe they were reborn into new lives, having died so young. It was hard to understand.
Liam pushed the blue-glass door open carefully, not wanting to risk hitting someone, and looked into the library. He grinned and stepped into the room. Things were pretty quiet here, even though there'd probably be an influx of newcomers shortly. He ducked around an overlarge chair and headed for the stairs.
“Oh, hello, Liam,” a voice from behind him called.
He turned to see the librarian-angel who was standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Hello, Sister Ella, ”
“Haven't seen you in a while.” She came up the stairs and sat down and Liam sat next to her. “No school today, huh?”
“No. Something bad happened on Earth. Someplace called China.”
The angel nodded in understanding. “Off on another adventure here, then?”
“Guess so.” He shrugged. “I can stay and talk, if you want me to.”
“Oh, you're sweet.” She ruffled his hair. “I was going to get some crafts together for when the new children arrive. Would you like to help me?”
“Okay.” He stood up and then took the other angel's hand as they descended the stairs. “Do I have to hide my wings?”
Ella laughed. “No, you don't. You know souls can't see us as we are unless we want them to.”
“True.” He followed her past the low shelves of picture books until they came to a sunny, open room that was full of low tables and chairs, just the right height for a child. Sure enough, there were already four souls busily coloring away on paper. Liam knew where the artwork usually ended up, on the massive walls in the hallways connecting the Heavens. He and his papa used to take walks in those halls because they were rarely traveled and gave him plenty of room to practice walking and flying.
“Here we are.” Ella wheeled out a cart that had several tubs on them. “Can you put one of these on each of the tables?”
“Of course.” Liam picked up the first one, saw that the contents were boxes of crayons, boasting of two hundred colors each, some packages of markers and colored pencils, both containing one hundred and ten colors each. He started with the far table and worked his way back. There were already stacks of thick drawing paper sitting on the tables. He was on the fifth tub when he realized something; technically, he was working. He'd had a talk about this with his papa just a little while ago and here he was, doing what all angels did in Heaven. Sighing, he went back for the sixth tub.
The disaster on Earth had delayed the trip Papa had been talking about, but he'd promised it would be soon - Liam just figured that would have to be close in angel terms, not human ones. It was on the eighth tub that he saw something out of the corner of his eye. After setting the tub down, he went towards where he thought he'd seen it. He rounded the corner of a row of picture books that had won some kind of award called a Building Block, and looked down into the face of a very sad looking human girl. “Hello.”
The girl frowned for a moment, blinking at him. She had hair that was even blacker than Liam's, although hers was very straight. “Hello,” she finally replied.
It took Liam a moment to realize that the girl wasn't speaking Mandarin or Cantonese, she was speaking Greek. He shrugged that notion off. “Are you okay?” He crouched down so they could look each other in the face.
“I want my mama.” She pursed her lips. “Mama said the operation was gonna make me all better.”
“Operation?” Liam tilted his head to the side, frowning. “Were you sick?”
“I have cancer.” She paused, as if suddenly realizing something, and she reached up and touched the side of her head, brushing her fingers through her hair. “I don't...” Her face crumpled up. “I don't have cancer anymore, do I?”
Liam shook his head. “No. What's your name?”
“Esther.” She sniffled. “What's yours?”
“Liam.”
Esther rubbed her nose. “I still want my mama.” She sniffled again. “Would you give me a hug?”
“A hug?” Liam was confused. The only souls he hugged were his grandparents. “Why?”
“Sometimes you just need a hug.” She suddenly looked embarrassed. “I just...”
Liam shuffled closer to her and put his arms around her shoulders, giving her a light squeeze. “Sorry, I don't give many hugs.”
The girl returned the hug. “It's okay. Thanks.” She stood up, pulling Liam with her. Now that they were standing, the girl was actually a little taller than him. “Did you have cancer too?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Esther looked over the shelves to the tables. “What's in those tubs you were helping that lady put out?”
“Crayons and other sorts of coloring materials. Although if you want paint, you have to go and ask Sister Ella. She's in charge of the art room here.” Liam rubbed his nose. “Why?”
The girl looked over again. “Can anyone go over there and color?”
“That's why it's there. If you want to take a look around instead, that's fine too.”
Esther folded her arms, going from upset and curious to rather, well, if Liam didn't know better, he would have thought she was pouting. “Is that lady an angel?” She nodded at Ella.
“That's Sister Ella. ” Liam rocked back and forth on his feet. “And yes, she's an angel. She's really nice.”
Esther nodded and then grabbed Liam's arm, pulling him around the shelves. “Let's go color.”
This was something new for him. He wasn't used to being pulled, or ordered, around. “I don't think I should.” He felt rather foolish. This was stuff for the human souls to do, not angels.
Ella must have caught sight of the pair because she called out “It's okay, Liam. I see you've made a friend.”
Liam could have laughed - he'd heard that human souls adjusted to Heaven with relative ease, but this was almost funny. He watched as Esther pulled out a box of the crayons and set it between the two of them and then put a sheet of paper in front of each of them. “I've never colored before.”
“Ever?” The girl frowned. “Well, that's no fun.” She opened the box and pulled out a purple-shaded crayon. “It's kind of nice here. You said there was more to this place than just the art room, right?”
“Yes, there is.” He stared down at the blank sheet of paper, at an absolute loss what to draw.
“Would you show me around sometime? I bet you know where everything is.” The girl beamed at him.
“I... I could try...” He carefully selected a beige crayon. “I'm not here all that often.”
“You don't like books? I love books!” She grinned at him. “Or - wait, you can read, right?”
“Yes, I like books and yes, I can read. I just live somewhere else in Heaven.” He shrugged.
Esther set her crayon down, suddenly looking serious again. “Are you an angel too?”
Liam nodded and went back to his drawing.
“How'd you get to be an angel?” She nudged him, taking his attention away from his picture. “I wanna be an angel.”
“You have to be born an angel to be one.” Liam bit at his thumb, thinking.
“I still wanna be one.” Esther pouted slightly and her shoulders slumped. “I think it'd be nice.”
“You get to stay here and have fun. I have to go to school.”
“Angels go to school?”
“Yes.” Liam went back to his drawing. “School was canceled today. There was an earthquake in China and all the teachers had to go and help with... helping people get settled.” He frowned and switched colors.
“Wow.” Esther picked her crayon back up. “You'll still be my friend though, right?”
“Of course I'll be your friend, Esther.” Liam grinned and they went back to coloring.
*
Castiel made his way up the stairs of the Children's Library, exhausted from a long day. The whole rest thing was still bothering him, but he would have this condition until Liam left their nest. Most of the children seemed to be outside; several of the angels who worked here were organizing some kind of sporting game. He went into the large reading room on the second floor and found Liam dozing in a large overstuffed chair, the book on his lap was about ready to fall on the ground. He slowly removed the book, glancing once at its title The National Parks of America before closing it and setting it on the table next to the chair. He then gently picked up his boy and settled him against his shoulder. “All worn out too, are you?” He walked down the stairs and was almost at the door that would take them to the corridors when he heard running feet.
“Wait!” a voice called out and when Castiel turned, he saw a dark haired girl racing towards him, clutching a piece of paper.
“Yes?” He frowned down at the girl who held the sheet out to him.
“This is Liam's. I don't want him to forget it!”
Castiel took the paper and looked at it. The drawing depicted what he guessed was himself, Liam and John and Mary Winchester standing on clouds - while on another part of the drawing were two more figures, who must be Sam and Dean. “Thank you...” He looked at the girl again, reading her name from her mind. “Esther.”
“You're welcome.” She rocked back on her feet. “Tell Liam I said bye and I hope he comes back for a visit sometime soon.”
“He'll try,” Castiel replied and left the library, heading back for their home in Heaven.
**
Dean felt like he was intruding as he sat behind Bobby's desk, staring at his brother, who was sitting on the couch, staring at a half drunk cup of coffee. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He kept waiting for Bobby to come into the room and tell him to get the hell out of his chair, but he wouldn't. Not now. This house, its contents and the contents of the salvage yard had been left to both brothers in Bobby's will. Dean would rather have Bobby back. “What the hell are we supposed to do now?”
Sam picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee. “I don't know. I mean - I didn't think - I thought he had...”
“I know, Sam.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “I didn't think it'd be this soon either.”
“You want me to move back?” Sam set his mug down. “I don't think that it would be too hard for me to find a job up here.”
“No Sam. You've gotten out, almost completely out. It's better if you stay in Kansas City.”
“You talk to Cas?”
Dean shook his head. “Not gotten any replies. But you've watched the news, Apocalypse may have been averted, but I think the planet's still releasing tension.”
“Yeah.” Sam stood up and went to refill his coffee mug. “It's insane. Last week everything was fine, now it's just...” He came back into the room, leaning against the door frame. “So I'm guessing you're going to be staying here from now on.”
“Looks that way.” Dean took a sip from his own coffee mug. “It's going to be a little weird at first, being here without Bobby. I don't even know what all's out in that yard.”
“You'd probably have a better idea than I would. There could be a couple of classic cars out there just an engine overhaul and a paint job away from restoration.”
“Sam, you're actually right about that. I think there's about seven that just need about three parts each and a paint job and they'd be good as new.”
“Bobby never got around to finishing them?” Sam was surprised. “That doesn't make sense.”
“That's because most of the needed parts cost a few grand and well, you add it all up, to fix those seven cars would cost around fifty thousand dollars and time. It took me two months to put the Impala back together. Not to mention that I think Bobby had other priorities to take care of rather than those cars.”
“Point.” Sam sighed. “Fifty grand.” He let out a low whistle. “It'd take me two years to earn that, and that's before taxes.”
Dean set his mug down, finally remembering what else had happened last week - grief and loss had pushed it out of his mind until just now. “Actually, we sort of do have that kind of cash.” He looked up at Sam, almost risking a smile. “I feel awful saying this, but we didn't just inherit this place and its contents from Bobby.”
“Life insurance policy?” He set his mug down, leaning forward. “Or is it more than that?”
“Yeah. To both.” Dean ran his hand through his hair, reliving the shock from last week. “Despite the fact that Bobby had a Dell, he put his money on the competitor. Not a lot, but some.”
“Holy shit, Dean.” Sam stood up. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Hell yes, I'm serious!” Dean shook his head. “No wonder he thought iPhones were the best things on the market.”
“I don't believe this.” His brother sank back down into his chair. “I take it you haven't told anyone else about this?”
“Just you, little brother.” Dean took a drink from his coffee mug.
“Well, I'm not letting that kind of information get out, that's for damn sure.” Sam picked his coffee mug back up. “Guess I don't need to ask what you're going to be doing.”
“Still would rather have Bobby.”
“No argument there.” The two of them raised their mugs in silent tribute and drank to their lost father-figure. “I think I need something stronger.”
“Johnny, Jim, Jack or Jose?” Dean asked, setting his mug down and rising. The two of them looked at each other for a moment and then said in once voice -
“Jack.”
**
The next few weeks passed with little incident. Sam went back to Kansas City and went back to work. Dean stayed in Sioux Falls and slowly started putting things back together. With the way things were in the world right now, a lot of people were trying to find ways to fix cars themselves rather than pay a small fortune to have it repaired professionally. While one would think on the outset that would be a problem, the truth was, there was no shortage of parts to be found, from small things like side-view mirrors and door handles, to larger things, like hoods and even a few engine parts. Dean hadn't gone cold turkey from hunting. It wasn't just the salvage yard he'd inherited - he'd gotten all of Bobby's hunter jobs as well: research and alias provider. It gave Dean a newfound appreciation of the man - and a good serving of guilt at all the times he'd taken the man's hard work for granted. He wasn't sure if Sam or Bobby would understand the way he had the books organized nowadays. Despite the fact that he tended to act like a total slob, Dean actually hated things to be out of order. Granted, it took him an entire week to just get all the books sorted into stacks he could handle. The only thing Dean seemed to be hunting actively at the moment were dust bunnies and oddly, he didn't seem to have that much of a problem with it.
The only real trouble Dean had was now he really felt alone. He came into the house every day and it was empty, except for him. He'd always needed someone there, it always gave him some kind of security when he was growing up. He might have practically raised Sam, but at the same time, his brother had unknowingly provided what Dean had needed; the knowledge that he wasn't alone, that he still had family. And wasn't that just pathetic? Big, bad monster killing, demon-exorcising and people saving Dean Winchester needed someone else's presence just so he wouldn't know how alone he really was. “Shit,” Dean snapped and shook his head to clear it as he went back to sorting the contents of Bobby's attic. He'd hauled the entire lot down to the now book-free dining room and was trying to make sense of half of the stuff, most of which hadn't seen the light of day since Karen Singer was alive. “This is how hoarders get started, ” he mumbled to himself as he opened another box and found a collection of slightly-dusty red dishes. A lot of red dishes. “What the hell...” He pulled out a bowl and turned it over in his hands. He frowned; he'd seen this style of dishes before - not this color, but this style. He set the bowl down and took a few more things out, stopping when he reached a small sized plate and then he remembered: Mom had had dishes like this. They weren't red - Mom's had been an off-white color. They'd belonged to her mother originally. Once he got the entire contents of the box emptied, Dean saw that there weren't just plates, bowls and cups - he was looking at a full set of whatever this stuff was called. “Wonder why he kept these in the attic.” He inspected one large plate, looking for any sort of problem, and couldn't find one.
“Dean?” A voice called from the other room and he nearly dropped the plate.
“Cas?” He turned from the room and started for where he'd heard the angel, in the library.
Castiel frowned, noting the absence of Bobby Singer, and as he set Liam, who was sleeping, down on the couch, he knew. The hunter was no longer on Earth, but in Heaven. He stepped into the hallway and almost ran straight into Dean. “I am - ” He was cut off as the man hugged him for all he was worth and pressed his lips against his. The angel didn't push him away and he didn't question the hunter's actions. He merely returned the embrace and the kiss, knowing that Dean needed this now, more than words, more than anything. It had been too long - even by his understanding of time - it had been far, far too long since they were able to be together. Nearly six whole months - and it felt like six years. He should have expected something like this. It wasn't just the six month separation; it was also the six weeks of imposed silence between them that came up when things in Heaven became chaotic, owing to a certain archangel named Raphael attempting to overthrow his big brother. He'd not been expelled, as Lucifer had been, but things were starting to break up in the ranks. Michael had given Castiel and several other angels permission to leave, but only for a short while. For the next fortnight, he could be here with Dean.
Dean reluctantly broke the kiss, but not the embrace. He didn't say anything as Castiel set a hand on the back of his head, holding him against his shoulder. He didn't want to let go, he didn't think he ever could. “You're here.” His voice sounded worn, with an edge that made him involuntarily wince. I'm not gonna cry, I'm not gonna cry..
Castiel stroked the back of his head, letting out a gentle breath. “Yes.” He squeezed the man tighter and kissed his temple. “I'm here.”
*
Even though Cas had explained the aging of angels to him, Dean still found it a bit of a shock how much Liam had grown in six months. Seeing him go from an infant to a little kid was very unsettling. Or maybe it wasn't that so much as the fact that said child was currently staring at him from his seat at the kitchen table, watching him drink a cup of coffee. It was beyond weird to see his shade of eyes giving him a very Castiel-like gaze. Then there was the underlying fact that Dean had no freakin' idea how to talk to his son. The last time it'd been kind of easy, as Liam had been too young to really give him any kind of response other than a laugh or a smile. Now, now he was faced with a walking, talking...
Liam blinked at Dean, confused. “Why do you drink that stuff?” He knew humans ate and drank. He'd seen them do it in Heaven, but this was different. This was drinking for actual sustenance, like he did.
Dean set the mug down. “Because...” He frowned, thinking of a decent answer. “Because I've been doing it since I was twelve and it's just... it's a habit.”
“No, that's not what I meant.” He tilted his head to the side, frowning. “It doesn't have any nutritional value. Isn't that the purpose of eating and drinking?”
“Uh...” Dean was at a total loss. He was being outsmarted by a six year old. Thankfully, Castiel supplied an answer.
“He drinks it because it helps him wake up, Liam.” The angel slid into the chair next to the boy.
“Why don't all humans drink it then?”
“It's an acquired taste,” Dean said, frowning into the nearly empty mug. “Just like the people in China who eat deep fried bugs. You ask me, that's nasty.”
“But they eat bugs because....”
“Liam,” Castiel said in a voice that Dean recognized as the angel's 'you're being difficult' tone.
He folded his arms and looked down. “It still doesn't change anything.”
Dean set his now empty mug down and regarded the boy. “I drink coffee because I like to drink it. Same as those people in China like to eat bugs.”
The boy looked from one parent to the other. “I guess that makes sense, kind of like the people in India eat lamb because they think cows are sacred.”
“Exactly,” Castiel supplied. “Again, I am sorry I didn't inform you we were arriving.”
“It's okay, Cas. I wasn't busy and no one's needed me to run the phones for them in weeks. It's crazy. It's like all the monsters went into hiding or something.”
“Most demons have fled back to Hell for now. I imagine there's a power struggle going on now that will not breach the surface of the Earth for many years.”
“Now there's a comforting thought.” Dean shook his head. “Demonic civil war.”
“They're always at war,” Liam offered. “Demons are always fighting each other.”
“Liam,” Dean said in the tone he used to use when Sam was the kid's age. “You're way too young to know what goes on in Hell and I am way too sober to be having this conversation either way.”
“Dean is correct, Liam. This is not a suitable subject,” Castiel said flatly.
“Well, what else are we going to talk about?” He frowned. “I don't know what to talk about.”
Dean got up and refilled his mug with the last of the pot and turned it off before coming back to the table. “What else do you do in school, besides learn about demons and whatnot?”
“Languages.” He tugged at his bottom lip. “I'm still having trouble telling all the Latin Spanish apart...”
Castiel nodded. “This is a difficulty for many angels, actually. It is not like Portuguese.”
“You two want anything?” Dean asked. “Water, or something?”
“No thank you, Dean,” Castiel replied. “Liam?”
The child gave his father a look of shock. “I can drink something down here?”
“Not a lot of things, Liam, but some.” Castiel gave Dean another smile. “Do you have any milk in the house, Dean?”
“Sure.” He stood up and went to the fridge. “There's a difference in all the Spanish?”
“Yes. Just as the way you speak English and the way the British speak English.”
“Suppose that makes sense.” He got out the carton of milk and poured a glassful before returning to the table. “There you go.”
“Thank you,” Liam replied and then picked up the glass, sniffing its contents. “Smells like clover.” He took a sip and smiled. “It's good.”
Dean decided to just accept the smelling thing as another angelic eccentricity and went back to his coffee. “Anything he's not supposed to have?”
“Pork,” Castiel said. “It's complicated and the other two meat products would never appear in your kitchen, so I am not worried. Unless camel has become a staple of American cuisine.”
He stared at the angel. “I don't think so.” He was trying not to gag at the idea.
“No juice either,” the angel continued. “Or any sort of fruit that grows on vines or trees.”
Dean had to think for a moment. “So just berries then?”
“Yes.” The angel relaxed in his seat as Liam set his empty glass on the table. “It is not so much a rule, but at his age that must be taken into consideration.”
“I can understand that.” Dean poked at his mug. “I wasn't allowed to drink coffee until I was fourteen. Before that, I was sneaking drinks of the stuff.”
Castiel didn't go into the litany that was on the tip of his tongue to go into, telling Dean about how certain foods could affect an angel of Liam's age and so forth, he just merely nodded and settled back into his seat. So it wasn't entirely idyllic, but this was good. He had to give the man some credit for taking all of this in stride. He knew that some of the others were venturing out so that their fledglings could meet their mortal parents. At least Dean had the benefit of knowing about the supernatural. It made things a little easier.
*
The fridge was now covered in artwork, with another stack of drawings waiting to find a place to be hung up. Dean had made one trip into town to get some food and other supplies and had picked up crayons and a package of printer paper, and after it was presented to Liam, the delighted fledgling promptly went to town creating artwork. Dean had it on his next shopping list to find something to affix the drawings to the walls with. The lack of visitors meant he wouldn't have to explain the rapidly approaching five-hundred child-made masterpieces. He was glad, however, he'd gotten two boxes of crayons. He chuckled to himself as he calmly stacked today's art into a neat pile and cleaned up the kitchen. Castiel was upstairs, giving the boy a bath. Liam had been introduced to the playground today and had gotten a fine coating of grime and dirt on himself to show for it. It was so charming, so wonderfully domestic, Dean had no idea how he was going to handle things once the pair went back to Heaven. At the rate it was going, the next time he saw Liam, the boy would be a teenager.
“Dean,” Castiel's voice came quietly from the doorway.
“What is it Cas?”
“I have to return to Heaven for a few hours. Some sort of emergency.” Castiel frowned, looking more perturbed than worried. “I did not think I would need to return for another two weeks.”
Dean dried his hands off with a towel. “Few hours?”
“Yes. You and Liam should be fine. The house is strongly warded against danger.”
Dean was taken aback. “You mean - he's gonna...”
Castiel walked over to him. “You are more than capable of taking care of him, Dean. It is nearly his bedtime. I will be back soon.”
“But I - ” He was cut off as the angel vanished. “You really need to work on your exits.” He set the towel down and made his way upstairs, where Liam was pulling on a pair of sleep pants and a shirt.
“Papa said he had to go back home for a little while,” Liam said, rubbing his nose. “Baths are weird.”
“Weird how?” Dean leaned against the threshold, slightly amused.
“Not used to being all wet.” He sighed and sat down on the bed. “Papa said I need to know about human things... and baths are how humans get clean, right?”
“Or they take showers.” He shrugged in response. “Think it depends on where you are.”
Liam rested his head on his hands. “The wind sounds funny.”
“Funny how?” Dean came into the room and sat down next to his son.
“Just sounds... wrong.”
Dean listened for a moment, thinking. “It's going to rain. Even though it was sunny and hot today, sometimes all the moisture in the air builds up when it cools down at night and rains.”
“Still sounds funny.” He rubbed his eyes. “Not sleepy.”
Dean chuckled. “That won't work on me, kiddo. Heard that line enough from your Uncle Sammy when we were growing up.”
Liam yawned. “Story?”
“Huh?” He frowned in response. “Story?”
“Uh huh. Papa always tells me a story before I go to sleep.” He yawned again and lay down.
Dean covered the boy with a thin blanket. “Don't know too many stories off the top of my head. What kinds of stories do you usually have?”
Liam yawned again. “Papa tells me lots of stuff. He told me about his journey to Bethlehem and meeting some shepherds and some other places he's been. And he tells me stories about you and Uncle Sammy.”
Dean blinked once at that. “Uh...” He searched his mind for something that was 'appropriate' to tell the boy before settling on the story about him and Sam and the time they tried to bake cookies in the microwave - with surprising results.
*
Dean came downstairs to the library and flipped on the news like he had every night for the past several weeks. True, there was never anything good happening anymore, it was all war in the Middle East and floods in the States. It was more to have noise than anything as television was rapidly proving to be a decent enough distraction for him these days. He'd not been downstairs five minutes when the first tell-tale sounds of thunder rumbled across the sky. “Please sleep through it... please sleep through it...” he muttered under his breath as he went back to cleaning up the kitchen. Rain started to lash against the house, causing him to pause. “Going to be one heck of a storm.” He leaned back into the library to glance at the television to see the storm watch alert that always seemed to be in the bottom of the screen during the summer. He was surprised at its absence and a moment later the meteorologist was on, showing a massive storm that seemed to be nothing but a huge blur of red rimmed in dark pink: severe, head for the basement, don't go outside whatever you do weather.
“We're advising everyone in southern Minnehaha and northern Turner County to take shelter immediately This includes all of Sioux Falls. This storm has already produced two tornadoes and baseball sized...”
Dean didn't wait to hear the rest. He ran up the stairs to where Liam was whimpering in his sleep and scooped the child up in his arms, thin blanket and all and hurried back down, heading for the basement. “Damn it,” he cursed softly just as the lights started flickering and the rain suddenly seemed to increase tenfold.
“Huh?” Liam was slowly coming awake as the two of them reached the basement and Dean threw back the door of the panic room, judging it to be the strongest and safest place. “What's going on?”
“It's okay.” Dean set the boy down on the cot and grabbed the radio off the table and started fiddling with the dials when a new sound replaced the rain. A heavier, ugly sound.
Liam instinctively grabbed his dad around the waist. “What - what's that noise?”
“Storm.” Dean put his arm around Liam and set the radio down. “That heavy sound is hail.”
“The National Weather service has issued a tornado warning for Turner and Minnehaha Counties. A funnel cloud was reported on the ground near Tea, heading northeast at forty miles per hour.”
Dean frowned, judging the distance from that spit in the dirt town to be about thirty miles away. “Gonna get ugly here in a few minutes -”
“Dad...” Liam hugged his father tighter. “I don't like this!”
Not even pausing, Dean pulled Liam into his lap and hugged him close. “Nothing to be scared of. We're safe in here. The worst of the storm probably won't even come near us.”
The fledgling buried his face in Dean's neck, clutching his shirt. “You don't know that!”
Dean started to rub the boy's back, feeling at a loss. “We're going to be just fine, Liam. No need to be scared.”
“I want Papa!” Liam started to wail almost at the exact same time the tornado siren a few miles away did. Dean wouldn't have heard it at all if the radio hadn't told him the sirens were going off. The overhead lights flickered once and then went out, casting them into darkness. That only made the boy cry harder. A moment later, Dean was struck in the face as Liam's wings ripped out of his back, his fear overriding his ability to keep them hidden.
“Ssh...” He carried the boy awkwardly across the room, grabbed one of the flashlights from the cabinet and flipped it on. “There we go... one problem handled.” He nudged Liam, who'd managed to get his wings partially folded, but was still sobbing inconsolably. “Hey now - can you hold this for me?” He offered the flashlight to the boy, doing his best to ignore the throbbing pain spreading along the side of his face.
Sniffling, Liam took the lamp, clutching it tightly in one hand. The other was grasped around the collar of Dean's shirt so tightly, Dean was fairly certain he'd rip it before too long. “Scared.”
“Now that's okay. Just don't shine the light in my eyes, okay?” Dean made his way back to the cot against the far wall, skirting around the devil's trap where rain was piling up in the buckets on the floor. “We're perfectly safe in here.”
“Don't like it.” Liam sniffled, grimacing at his inability to get one of his wings situated. “Need help...”
“Not supposed to like it.” Dean saw the boy wasn't going to be letting go of him anytime soon, but used one hand to fold the downy wing the way the boy was trying to get it, silently congratulating himself over the fact he'd not freaked out over seeing said wings. “That better?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “I don't know how you do it.”
“Do what?” Dean heard the woman on the radio calmly talking about the storm's direction; it wasn't coming straight at them - they were located on that nasty side of the storm that just brought heavy rains, straight line winds and, of course, hail. The last report said it was baseball sized, making Dean really thankful that the Impala was in a garage and not out in the open.
“Live with all these dangers.” Liam slackened his grip on the flashlight a little. “Why is Earth so dangerous?”
“Life's dangerous, Liam.” Dean sighed and closed his eyes. “As first tornado warnings go, you're doing pretty good. First one I was in, I spent it under an overpass on the highway.”
Liam looked up at him, his face in disbelief. “Grandpa had you and Uncle Sam outside during one of these?”
“Yeah, it was in...” Dean paused. “Wait, you've met my dad?”
Liam nodded. “Uh huh. He's kind of...” He bit at his thumb, searching for the right word. “I don't know how to describe him, exactly.”
This was a little overwhelming for Dean. “Who else have you been meeting up there in Heaven?”
“I met Gran. I like her. She comes and watches me when Papa has to work and I'm done with school.” He let out a yawn. “I also go see some of the kids in Heaven. Esther taught me how to play tag.”
“Esther huh?” Dean let out a yawn of his own and adjusted Liam's blanket. “She nice?”
“Uh huh. She also taught me how to color.” His grip on the light slackened further and it fell to the mattress. “I worry though - cause I'm getting older and she's always gonna be seven...”
Dean let the boy carry on, talking about other people he'd met up in Heaven, other angels, other humans. The fear was starting to leave his voice, and as the hail faded away to nothing but hard rain, Liam drifted off, back to sleep. A few minutes later, still holding onto his son, he too fell asleep.
*
The tornado that had sent Dean and Liam to the basement passed six miles west of the salvage yard. The damage to the house wasn't severe, but it was enough for Dean to realize that replacing the roof and windows were more of an immediate need, rather than a goal for next year. Sam had called the day after the tornado, all sorts of concerned, but Dean had reassured him that everything was just fine. Some of the already wrecked cars were now worthless for anything more than scrap, but it didn't seem to matter, as the number of hail-damaged cars in town that hadn't been total wrecks was starting to grow. There was almost no tornado damage in Sioux Falls itself, other than the hail and some uprooted trees. He decided that what really sucked about the whole thing was, the work was taking away his time to spend with Cas and Liam. They would be leaving for Heaven in six days - and all he wanted to do was not answer the phone and focus solely on the two of them.
Castiel, for his part, had been putting off the news for as long as he could - the fact that this visit could very well be the last one they were ever able to make was not something he could easily tell the man. There were a lot of things he needed to tell the man, almost none of it good. He still hadn't told him about how fledglings forgot their parents, although he did know that parents did not forget their young. He couldn't assure him that it would be fine, that Liam would be fine, that somehow, everything would work out, because it sounded exactly like what it was. Bullshit. All he wanted to do was wrap both of them - the most special people in his life close to him and never, never let go. For now, all he could really do was rub Dean's back as the man snored softly in his slumber. The only other sound was the even drone of the fan across the room and the faint rustle of wind. The fact that he had only slept two hours before waking was a clear sign to him that things were rapidly changing. Groaning softly, he pressed his forehead between the man's shoulders, enjoying the skin-on-skin contact.
“Cas?” Dean muttered. “Something wrong?”
“No.” He hugged the man a little tighter. “Just enjoying this, that's all.”
He smiled and kissed the side of Castiel's arm. “I like it too.”
The angel sighed. “Dean...”
“Yeah?”
“I - I don't know when I'll be able to come see you again after this visit.”
Dean pulled away and turned over to look at Cas. “You said the same thing last December.”
“I know I did. But this time I am more certain that the length of time will be greater than six months - it may be six more months or six years.”
“Six years?” Dean's voice cracked on 'years.' “Are - You're serious about that, aren't you?”
“Yes.” The angel brushed Dean's face with his thumb. “I wish I could assure you that it would only be six months, but things have been rapidly changing in Heaven.”
“Rewrite of the Plan, all that?”
“Something like that, yes.” Castiel leaned over and kissed his forehead. “But I promise you that I will try and come back. I just don't know if Liam will be with me or not.”
Dean closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. “Kids grow up, Cas. You know that.”
“I do.” Castiel pressed his forehead against Dean's. “I know that all too well.”
“I was thinking Cas, about something Liam told me.”
“What?” He moved a little closer, not wanting to break contact for a moment.
“He told me about his friend. I think her name is Esther?”
“Yes. What about her?”
“It's not about her directly, but he mentioned how he's growing up - and she'll always be seven. You're always going to look the age you are right now. You might be aging, but it doesn't show. I'm getting older.”
“That does not matter to me, Dean.” He pressed another kiss to the man's forehead. “I have told you that does not matter.”
“It - it just feels weird. Say you come back in six months; I won't have changed much. Six years, I'll probably be a little grayer and may be sporting a few wrinkles.” He opened his eyes, staring into Cas' face. “But what if it's not for sixteen years?”
Castiel pulled Dean against him. “That won't matter to me, Dean. How many times must I tell you this?”
Dean let out a muffled sigh as the angel hugged him tightly. “Sorry, my little human brain has trouble processing things.”
“Always with the sarcasm,” the angel huffed. “Don't ever change that - I fully expect you to always have a comeback. Even when you're ninety.”
“If I even live that long.” Dean curled up against him. “When I was twenty I never thought I'd live to be thirty. Now that I've passed thirty, I think I'd at least like to see sixty.”
Castiel rubbed his back, smiling. “If that's the case, you may want to cut down on the amount of cholesterol in your diet.”
Dean snorted. “Cas, are you being serious or trying to be funny?”
“I am -” He gave the man a playful shove. “And you're still impossible.”
“Cas, it's too hot for that.” He rolled over onto his back, yawning. “Well, maybe...”
Castiel let out a low chuckle as he set a hand on Dean's thigh. “Perhaps I should persuade you.”
“I don't think that will be too hard,” Dean said, leaning over to press his lips against Cas'.
*
Castiel couldn't bring himself to tell Dean about how Liam would forget who they were. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure that Liam would forget who they were, owing to him being half human. So much was left unknown in all of this. The oldest of the new fledglings borne of the failed Apocalypse was just a few weeks older than Liam and she wasn't as close as he was to being ready to leave the nest. He turned over in the bed, frowning when he realized that Dean was no longer in it. He sat up and reached for his shirt, which was lying on the floor. He could hear laughter coming from downstairs as he dressed and he smiled. He was glad that even if Liam did forget them, he and Dean would have these moments remember. Somehow, that made things seem almost all right. He finished dressing and made his way downstairs. Dean was in the kitchen making breakfast and Liam was sitting on the couch, laughing at the television. “What are you watching?”
“The man in the suit is funny,” Liam said between giggles. “He thinks he's a prophet and that he's been to Heaven!” He doubled over, laughing.
“Dean, what is Liam watching?”
Dean leaned in from the kitchen. “That'd be the Evangelical Hour out of Des Moines. Every week their great preacher gets on television and makes a total ass - I mean fool - of himself. God may not be on my list of favorite people, but I'm willing to bet good money he wouldn't want me believing some nut in a two thousand dollar suit. Liam only started watching it because the choir was singing when we flipped to that station and he wanted to listen to that.”
Liam had fallen on the floor he was laughing so hard. “You can't buy your way into Heaven!”
Castiel looked from one to the other and then stole a glance to the television where the man was screaming at his congregation to give money. “People believe this man? How can they not see he is a criminal and is using the money for himself?”
“Cas, ” Dean gave him a look, “Newsflash, a lot of us humans are total morons. After this show gets off the air, there's a Scientology program. They're twice as crazy as this guy is. I mean, they're waiting for aliens to come back.”
Liam was hugging himself to control his mirth. “The streets aren't paved in gold either, silly man!”
“You let him watch this?” Castiel's voice was half amused, half accusatory.
Dean gave him a look and went back into the kitchen. “There's no kids stations with the cable package that Bobby had. I didn't think you wanted him watching the Discovery Channel.”
The angel shook his head and sat down at the kitchen table, watching Liam laugh. “He does seem to find humor in it.”
“Cas, even I find this guy funny.” Dean opened the cupboard and pulled out the flour. “So, are you going to join us in blueberry pancakes this morning or are you just going to watch us eat?”
The angel smiled faintly. “I think I will have a pancake or two.”
Chapter Four
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/OFC
Warnings: See Master Post for full list of warnings.
Word Count: 10,122
Summary:There are many sayings for the wants of man: you can't always get what you want, you don't know what you want until it's gone, and most importantly, you don't know what you want until you have it. After averting the Apocalypse, a miracle in the form of an Angel-Human Hybrid and the reorganization of Heaven brings Dean and Castiel both closer together and farther apart than ever before. Dean lives with a broken heart and finds Faith in unexpected places, Sam finds the normal life he's always wanted while on a hunt of all places, and Castiel discovers that God was closer than everyone thought.
Dean had known Cas would be away for a while. He'd accepted it, and while they did get to talk - and sometimes more than talk - in dreams, it wasn't the same. Unfortunately, 'a while' turned out to be a lot longer than he thought it would be. When the new year started, changes came and they came rapidly. After much discussion and some debate, Sam began the slow transition from hunter to civilian. Getting a clean slate wasn't exactly an easy thing for the Winchesters, but with the Apocalypse avoided and with most monsters running to ground, they'd be foolish to try and not take advantage. Dean tried not to begrudge his brother in his happiness, but it was hard sometimes. Sam had been able to secure a job in Kansas City, working for some company that Dean wasn't even sure what they did. All he knew was that it was some kind of financial or computer place and Sam's job was to work in some kind of tech support. That was almost laughable, considering his only foray into such work had been courtesy of Zachariah when he'd plunked the Winchester brothers into the middle of the Sandover Corporation almost two years ago. Dean and Bobby had even managed to repair one of the wrecks in the salvage yard to a decent state - some late model sedan that was probably new nine or ten years ago. With Sam's move and repairs to the car, plus a few of what Dean called 'milk hunts' that never got any more complicated than a salt-and-burn, he was absolutely stunned one morning when he checked his phone for messages and saw that it was already August.
Dean yawned and rubbed his eyes as he looked around the motel room. He was in the middle of nowhere in Oregon on a case that turned out to be just a bunch of vampire wannabes that ended up getting attacked by an actual vampire. The vamp had been out on his own so killing him shouldn't have been a problem. The trouble came from the fact that he had already converted three kids into vampires as well. That had been up in Washington. He swore he'd send hate mail to Stephenie Meyer if he thought he could get away with it. Almost immediately after finishing the hunt, he'd driven as far as he could to get away from the ashy ruin he'd left in his wake before exhaustion got the better of him. He wasn't sure if he was going to head back to South Dakota to see Bobby or find a new case, but continuing putting plenty of distance between him and the state of Washington sounded good. “I'm getting too old for this,” he muttered as he stood up and methodically started packing. It'd been years since he'd hunted solo for more than a handful of weeks. Not since Sam was at Stanford. In all his thoughts on what he'd actually do if he ever settled down to a normal life, Dean had never thought about what he'd do for a living. Somehow, he always figured the job would just sort of present itself, the way the family, the picket fence and apple pie always did. “Might just go see Sam before going to Bobby's,” he murmured to himself as he shouldered his bag and headed out to the Impala.
*
In the measuring of human time, Liam was exactly one year and one month old. In Heaven's terms, he'd turned five. Castiel knew that now that he was older, it was safer to take him out of the protection of their home, but it still wasn't without some reservations. The last time Dean had seen their son he'd been an infant. He'd been crawling and making babbling noises. Now he was walking, talking and soon, he'd be off eating, although for now he drank nectar from cups instead of bottles. The patch of hair on Liam's head finally settled on a color - black - and as it got longer, it had turned curly. Early schooling for angels consisted mainly of being able to communicate, of matching countries and languages together. While angels were naturally omni-lingual, knowing what went where was something that had to be learned.
Liam would probably be leaving the nest permanently this time next year and then Castiel would return to his own duties in Heaven, whatever those might be. While his son was in his classes, Castiel helped out several angels with the multitude of prayers, requests for help and all the other paperwork of Heaven. At the end of the 'day' both father and son returned to their nest to sleep. Since Liam had figured out that the other parental figure in their family was missing, he usually asked his papa to tell him about his other father - or his dad, as he always called Dean. Telling stories about Dean was never a problem for Castiel, the trouble was finding ones suitable for the child to hear. One of Liam's favorites was how Dad and Uncle Sam defeated the pagan, Hold Nickar on the Winter Solstice before his parents met. But when Liam returned 'home' this evening, Castiel could plainly see that stories weren't on his mind tonight.
“What's wrong?”
Liam curled up, hugging his knees, frowning. “It's not fair.”
Castiel tilted his head to the side, mirroring the look on the boy's face. “What's not fair?”
“That angels have to work in Heaven and humans don't.” He stuck out his bottom lip. “Just not fair.”
Castiel moved to sit next to his child and put an arm around his shoulders. “It is fair, Liam. I know it may not seem like it, but when human souls arrive here, they are weary and worn. Life on Earth is vastly different than what we experience here. There will come a time when you no longer need to rest, when you will exist the way other angels do, as light and energy. You have seen the others, I know you have.”
“Yeah, but...”
“On Earth, humans must sleep. They never overcome needing rest. We live in what some might call a perfect world, Liam. No angel goes hungry, no angel grows weary. There is no weakness, no pain, no sorrow. Humans live that day in and day out.”
“It sounds like humans are made to suffer.” Liam frowned. “Still...”
“Humans toil upon the earth, for they must work for what they need, be it food or shelter. All we need is provided. Humans do not have such a luxury. So when human souls arrive here, they will find no more sorrow, no more tears, no more suffering. That is their reward. Their lives are far shorter than ours.”
Liam huffed. “It's still not fair.”
Castiel knew he wasn't going to make any progress with this conversation, at least, not tonight. “There is much in this universe that is unfair, my child.” He gave him a small hug. “I tell you what, in a few days, we'll go on a little field trip.”
“Field trip?” Liam frowned. “You mean like the time we went and saw Grandpa in his Heaven and Dad was just a three year old?”
“Sort of.” Castiel smiled and ruffled his son's hair. “I can tell you one thing that is rather fair.”
“What's that?”
“Both fledglings and human children have the same kind of school week: just five days long.” He kissed the boy's forehead. “Let's get some rest.”
*
Dean sat in the waiting room of the hospital, palms pressed against his eyes, silently praying for a miracle, not really caring what angel was on the receiving end of the prayer. Just that someone, anyone, would hear. He'd gotten back to Sioux Falls last night, let himself into Bobby's house, rather surprised that the old hunter was asleep at nine-thirty in the evening and found the man he'd come to think of as a father lying on the floor of his library. The good news, the medical team told him, was that when Dean got there, Bobby hadn't been out all that long, maybe just a few minutes, but still, those minutes were stretching out, and what Dean really wanted was a miracle or for Sam to hurry his ass up here. He'd called his brother and told him to get up to South Dakota as soon as possible. That had been three hours ago, and Kansas City was at least a six hour drive. He slid a hand through his hair and stood up as a doctor approached him.
“Dean Winchester?”
“Yes?” He could tell by the look on his face, the news wasn't good. Bland faces were never good news.
“We were able to repair some of the damage to your uncle's heart, but...” he let out a shallow breath. “...the surgery proved to be too much for him.”
Dean blinked at the man, partially confused. “Wait... wait... you're saying...”
“I'm sorry,” the doctor said, rather uncomfortably.
“It's...” He made a waving motion at the man, just wanting to be alone. “I'll just...”
“I'm sorry,” the man said again before leaving Dean alone.
Dean sank back down into his chair, already feeling the sting of tears at the corner of his eyes. He lowered his head and fought back the urge to start sobbing. This couldn't be happening, not now, not when things suddenly seemed to be going so well. If he hadn't taken so long getting back, if he'd taken a different route... He gave over to his tears and hoped that Sam got here fast. He really, really didn't want to be alone right now.
**
An average of one hundred and eight people die every minute of every day. The total processing of a soul in Heaven is exactly three minutes; from identification, to placement, to one last memory wipe done to prevent souls from poking about in places that they shouldn't. The angels working in what was widely referred to as the Placement Office, two to five per country, could finish their days with relative ease. The fact that all human souls under the age of eighteen did not require placement in a personal Heaven made things a little easier as well. When disasters struck the Earth and the average deaths per minute shot up, other workers were called in to help assist the department. Castiel could well remember the last time he'd assisted in the office, the day of the Normandy Invasion. Of course, unlike natural disasters, the angels had been expecting the catastrophic death toll and had gotten additional help before the souls started to arrive. So when he was summoned to the office after a massive earthquake ripped through China, he just gave Liam a hug before leaving and headed out.
Liam wasn't used to being left alone. In addition to the natural disaster, there was also a major influx of souls coming in from a war-torn area, so classes had been canceled while the majority of the angels of his papa's rank went to help the souls, leaving him and most of the other fledglings to their own devices. “This is boring.” Without Papa or something to occupy him, staying here at home was rather dull. He calmly climbed out of the nest, knowing that his papa could track him anywhere, and set out for one of the six libraries of Heaven. Two of the libraries were reserved strictly for angels. Liam had only been in one of them; it was full of folios and journals, some things that were written by human prophets and others by angels. His destination, however, was the Children's Library, tucked away in a far corner. It was one of the few places where angels interacted with souls almost constantly; humans under the age of twelve and over the age of five came to this part of Heaven. Liam hadn't ventured very far outside of the library, but he'd seen the playground, the wading pool and of course, fields and places to run around.
Even though all the children were in this place, its size somehow made it seem like only perhaps a hundred or so were there. He still hadn't been able to work up the courage to ask his papa where the babies went - maybe they were reborn into new lives, having died so young. It was hard to understand.
Liam pushed the blue-glass door open carefully, not wanting to risk hitting someone, and looked into the library. He grinned and stepped into the room. Things were pretty quiet here, even though there'd probably be an influx of newcomers shortly. He ducked around an overlarge chair and headed for the stairs.
“Oh, hello, Liam,” a voice from behind him called.
He turned to see the librarian-angel who was standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Hello, Sister Ella, ”
“Haven't seen you in a while.” She came up the stairs and sat down and Liam sat next to her. “No school today, huh?”
“No. Something bad happened on Earth. Someplace called China.”
The angel nodded in understanding. “Off on another adventure here, then?”
“Guess so.” He shrugged. “I can stay and talk, if you want me to.”
“Oh, you're sweet.” She ruffled his hair. “I was going to get some crafts together for when the new children arrive. Would you like to help me?”
“Okay.” He stood up and then took the other angel's hand as they descended the stairs. “Do I have to hide my wings?”
Ella laughed. “No, you don't. You know souls can't see us as we are unless we want them to.”
“True.” He followed her past the low shelves of picture books until they came to a sunny, open room that was full of low tables and chairs, just the right height for a child. Sure enough, there were already four souls busily coloring away on paper. Liam knew where the artwork usually ended up, on the massive walls in the hallways connecting the Heavens. He and his papa used to take walks in those halls because they were rarely traveled and gave him plenty of room to practice walking and flying.
“Here we are.” Ella wheeled out a cart that had several tubs on them. “Can you put one of these on each of the tables?”
“Of course.” Liam picked up the first one, saw that the contents were boxes of crayons, boasting of two hundred colors each, some packages of markers and colored pencils, both containing one hundred and ten colors each. He started with the far table and worked his way back. There were already stacks of thick drawing paper sitting on the tables. He was on the fifth tub when he realized something; technically, he was working. He'd had a talk about this with his papa just a little while ago and here he was, doing what all angels did in Heaven. Sighing, he went back for the sixth tub.
The disaster on Earth had delayed the trip Papa had been talking about, but he'd promised it would be soon - Liam just figured that would have to be close in angel terms, not human ones. It was on the eighth tub that he saw something out of the corner of his eye. After setting the tub down, he went towards where he thought he'd seen it. He rounded the corner of a row of picture books that had won some kind of award called a Building Block, and looked down into the face of a very sad looking human girl. “Hello.”
The girl frowned for a moment, blinking at him. She had hair that was even blacker than Liam's, although hers was very straight. “Hello,” she finally replied.
It took Liam a moment to realize that the girl wasn't speaking Mandarin or Cantonese, she was speaking Greek. He shrugged that notion off. “Are you okay?” He crouched down so they could look each other in the face.
“I want my mama.” She pursed her lips. “Mama said the operation was gonna make me all better.”
“Operation?” Liam tilted his head to the side, frowning. “Were you sick?”
“I have cancer.” She paused, as if suddenly realizing something, and she reached up and touched the side of her head, brushing her fingers through her hair. “I don't...” Her face crumpled up. “I don't have cancer anymore, do I?”
Liam shook his head. “No. What's your name?”
“Esther.” She sniffled. “What's yours?”
“Liam.”
Esther rubbed her nose. “I still want my mama.” She sniffled again. “Would you give me a hug?”
“A hug?” Liam was confused. The only souls he hugged were his grandparents. “Why?”
“Sometimes you just need a hug.” She suddenly looked embarrassed. “I just...”
Liam shuffled closer to her and put his arms around her shoulders, giving her a light squeeze. “Sorry, I don't give many hugs.”
The girl returned the hug. “It's okay. Thanks.” She stood up, pulling Liam with her. Now that they were standing, the girl was actually a little taller than him. “Did you have cancer too?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Esther looked over the shelves to the tables. “What's in those tubs you were helping that lady put out?”
“Crayons and other sorts of coloring materials. Although if you want paint, you have to go and ask Sister Ella. She's in charge of the art room here.” Liam rubbed his nose. “Why?”
The girl looked over again. “Can anyone go over there and color?”
“That's why it's there. If you want to take a look around instead, that's fine too.”
Esther folded her arms, going from upset and curious to rather, well, if Liam didn't know better, he would have thought she was pouting. “Is that lady an angel?” She nodded at Ella.
“That's Sister Ella. ” Liam rocked back and forth on his feet. “And yes, she's an angel. She's really nice.”
Esther nodded and then grabbed Liam's arm, pulling him around the shelves. “Let's go color.”
This was something new for him. He wasn't used to being pulled, or ordered, around. “I don't think I should.” He felt rather foolish. This was stuff for the human souls to do, not angels.
Ella must have caught sight of the pair because she called out “It's okay, Liam. I see you've made a friend.”
Liam could have laughed - he'd heard that human souls adjusted to Heaven with relative ease, but this was almost funny. He watched as Esther pulled out a box of the crayons and set it between the two of them and then put a sheet of paper in front of each of them. “I've never colored before.”
“Ever?” The girl frowned. “Well, that's no fun.” She opened the box and pulled out a purple-shaded crayon. “It's kind of nice here. You said there was more to this place than just the art room, right?”
“Yes, there is.” He stared down at the blank sheet of paper, at an absolute loss what to draw.
“Would you show me around sometime? I bet you know where everything is.” The girl beamed at him.
“I... I could try...” He carefully selected a beige crayon. “I'm not here all that often.”
“You don't like books? I love books!” She grinned at him. “Or - wait, you can read, right?”
“Yes, I like books and yes, I can read. I just live somewhere else in Heaven.” He shrugged.
Esther set her crayon down, suddenly looking serious again. “Are you an angel too?”
Liam nodded and went back to his drawing.
“How'd you get to be an angel?” She nudged him, taking his attention away from his picture. “I wanna be an angel.”
“You have to be born an angel to be one.” Liam bit at his thumb, thinking.
“I still wanna be one.” Esther pouted slightly and her shoulders slumped. “I think it'd be nice.”
“You get to stay here and have fun. I have to go to school.”
“Angels go to school?”
“Yes.” Liam went back to his drawing. “School was canceled today. There was an earthquake in China and all the teachers had to go and help with... helping people get settled.” He frowned and switched colors.
“Wow.” Esther picked her crayon back up. “You'll still be my friend though, right?”
“Of course I'll be your friend, Esther.” Liam grinned and they went back to coloring.
*
Castiel made his way up the stairs of the Children's Library, exhausted from a long day. The whole rest thing was still bothering him, but he would have this condition until Liam left their nest. Most of the children seemed to be outside; several of the angels who worked here were organizing some kind of sporting game. He went into the large reading room on the second floor and found Liam dozing in a large overstuffed chair, the book on his lap was about ready to fall on the ground. He slowly removed the book, glancing once at its title The National Parks of America before closing it and setting it on the table next to the chair. He then gently picked up his boy and settled him against his shoulder. “All worn out too, are you?” He walked down the stairs and was almost at the door that would take them to the corridors when he heard running feet.
“Wait!” a voice called out and when Castiel turned, he saw a dark haired girl racing towards him, clutching a piece of paper.
“Yes?” He frowned down at the girl who held the sheet out to him.
“This is Liam's. I don't want him to forget it!”
Castiel took the paper and looked at it. The drawing depicted what he guessed was himself, Liam and John and Mary Winchester standing on clouds - while on another part of the drawing were two more figures, who must be Sam and Dean. “Thank you...” He looked at the girl again, reading her name from her mind. “Esther.”
“You're welcome.” She rocked back on her feet. “Tell Liam I said bye and I hope he comes back for a visit sometime soon.”
“He'll try,” Castiel replied and left the library, heading back for their home in Heaven.
**
Dean felt like he was intruding as he sat behind Bobby's desk, staring at his brother, who was sitting on the couch, staring at a half drunk cup of coffee. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He kept waiting for Bobby to come into the room and tell him to get the hell out of his chair, but he wouldn't. Not now. This house, its contents and the contents of the salvage yard had been left to both brothers in Bobby's will. Dean would rather have Bobby back. “What the hell are we supposed to do now?”
Sam picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee. “I don't know. I mean - I didn't think - I thought he had...”
“I know, Sam.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “I didn't think it'd be this soon either.”
“You want me to move back?” Sam set his mug down. “I don't think that it would be too hard for me to find a job up here.”
“No Sam. You've gotten out, almost completely out. It's better if you stay in Kansas City.”
“You talk to Cas?”
Dean shook his head. “Not gotten any replies. But you've watched the news, Apocalypse may have been averted, but I think the planet's still releasing tension.”
“Yeah.” Sam stood up and went to refill his coffee mug. “It's insane. Last week everything was fine, now it's just...” He came back into the room, leaning against the door frame. “So I'm guessing you're going to be staying here from now on.”
“Looks that way.” Dean took a sip from his own coffee mug. “It's going to be a little weird at first, being here without Bobby. I don't even know what all's out in that yard.”
“You'd probably have a better idea than I would. There could be a couple of classic cars out there just an engine overhaul and a paint job away from restoration.”
“Sam, you're actually right about that. I think there's about seven that just need about three parts each and a paint job and they'd be good as new.”
“Bobby never got around to finishing them?” Sam was surprised. “That doesn't make sense.”
“That's because most of the needed parts cost a few grand and well, you add it all up, to fix those seven cars would cost around fifty thousand dollars and time. It took me two months to put the Impala back together. Not to mention that I think Bobby had other priorities to take care of rather than those cars.”
“Point.” Sam sighed. “Fifty grand.” He let out a low whistle. “It'd take me two years to earn that, and that's before taxes.”
Dean set his mug down, finally remembering what else had happened last week - grief and loss had pushed it out of his mind until just now. “Actually, we sort of do have that kind of cash.” He looked up at Sam, almost risking a smile. “I feel awful saying this, but we didn't just inherit this place and its contents from Bobby.”
“Life insurance policy?” He set his mug down, leaning forward. “Or is it more than that?”
“Yeah. To both.” Dean ran his hand through his hair, reliving the shock from last week. “Despite the fact that Bobby had a Dell, he put his money on the competitor. Not a lot, but some.”
“Holy shit, Dean.” Sam stood up. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Hell yes, I'm serious!” Dean shook his head. “No wonder he thought iPhones were the best things on the market.”
“I don't believe this.” His brother sank back down into his chair. “I take it you haven't told anyone else about this?”
“Just you, little brother.” Dean took a drink from his coffee mug.
“Well, I'm not letting that kind of information get out, that's for damn sure.” Sam picked his coffee mug back up. “Guess I don't need to ask what you're going to be doing.”
“Still would rather have Bobby.”
“No argument there.” The two of them raised their mugs in silent tribute and drank to their lost father-figure. “I think I need something stronger.”
“Johnny, Jim, Jack or Jose?” Dean asked, setting his mug down and rising. The two of them looked at each other for a moment and then said in once voice -
“Jack.”
**
The next few weeks passed with little incident. Sam went back to Kansas City and went back to work. Dean stayed in Sioux Falls and slowly started putting things back together. With the way things were in the world right now, a lot of people were trying to find ways to fix cars themselves rather than pay a small fortune to have it repaired professionally. While one would think on the outset that would be a problem, the truth was, there was no shortage of parts to be found, from small things like side-view mirrors and door handles, to larger things, like hoods and even a few engine parts. Dean hadn't gone cold turkey from hunting. It wasn't just the salvage yard he'd inherited - he'd gotten all of Bobby's hunter jobs as well: research and alias provider. It gave Dean a newfound appreciation of the man - and a good serving of guilt at all the times he'd taken the man's hard work for granted. He wasn't sure if Sam or Bobby would understand the way he had the books organized nowadays. Despite the fact that he tended to act like a total slob, Dean actually hated things to be out of order. Granted, it took him an entire week to just get all the books sorted into stacks he could handle. The only thing Dean seemed to be hunting actively at the moment were dust bunnies and oddly, he didn't seem to have that much of a problem with it.
The only real trouble Dean had was now he really felt alone. He came into the house every day and it was empty, except for him. He'd always needed someone there, it always gave him some kind of security when he was growing up. He might have practically raised Sam, but at the same time, his brother had unknowingly provided what Dean had needed; the knowledge that he wasn't alone, that he still had family. And wasn't that just pathetic? Big, bad monster killing, demon-exorcising and people saving Dean Winchester needed someone else's presence just so he wouldn't know how alone he really was. “Shit,” Dean snapped and shook his head to clear it as he went back to sorting the contents of Bobby's attic. He'd hauled the entire lot down to the now book-free dining room and was trying to make sense of half of the stuff, most of which hadn't seen the light of day since Karen Singer was alive. “This is how hoarders get started, ” he mumbled to himself as he opened another box and found a collection of slightly-dusty red dishes. A lot of red dishes. “What the hell...” He pulled out a bowl and turned it over in his hands. He frowned; he'd seen this style of dishes before - not this color, but this style. He set the bowl down and took a few more things out, stopping when he reached a small sized plate and then he remembered: Mom had had dishes like this. They weren't red - Mom's had been an off-white color. They'd belonged to her mother originally. Once he got the entire contents of the box emptied, Dean saw that there weren't just plates, bowls and cups - he was looking at a full set of whatever this stuff was called. “Wonder why he kept these in the attic.” He inspected one large plate, looking for any sort of problem, and couldn't find one.
“Dean?” A voice called from the other room and he nearly dropped the plate.
“Cas?” He turned from the room and started for where he'd heard the angel, in the library.
Castiel frowned, noting the absence of Bobby Singer, and as he set Liam, who was sleeping, down on the couch, he knew. The hunter was no longer on Earth, but in Heaven. He stepped into the hallway and almost ran straight into Dean. “I am - ” He was cut off as the man hugged him for all he was worth and pressed his lips against his. The angel didn't push him away and he didn't question the hunter's actions. He merely returned the embrace and the kiss, knowing that Dean needed this now, more than words, more than anything. It had been too long - even by his understanding of time - it had been far, far too long since they were able to be together. Nearly six whole months - and it felt like six years. He should have expected something like this. It wasn't just the six month separation; it was also the six weeks of imposed silence between them that came up when things in Heaven became chaotic, owing to a certain archangel named Raphael attempting to overthrow his big brother. He'd not been expelled, as Lucifer had been, but things were starting to break up in the ranks. Michael had given Castiel and several other angels permission to leave, but only for a short while. For the next fortnight, he could be here with Dean.
Dean reluctantly broke the kiss, but not the embrace. He didn't say anything as Castiel set a hand on the back of his head, holding him against his shoulder. He didn't want to let go, he didn't think he ever could. “You're here.” His voice sounded worn, with an edge that made him involuntarily wince. I'm not gonna cry, I'm not gonna cry..
Castiel stroked the back of his head, letting out a gentle breath. “Yes.” He squeezed the man tighter and kissed his temple. “I'm here.”
*
Even though Cas had explained the aging of angels to him, Dean still found it a bit of a shock how much Liam had grown in six months. Seeing him go from an infant to a little kid was very unsettling. Or maybe it wasn't that so much as the fact that said child was currently staring at him from his seat at the kitchen table, watching him drink a cup of coffee. It was beyond weird to see his shade of eyes giving him a very Castiel-like gaze. Then there was the underlying fact that Dean had no freakin' idea how to talk to his son. The last time it'd been kind of easy, as Liam had been too young to really give him any kind of response other than a laugh or a smile. Now, now he was faced with a walking, talking...
Liam blinked at Dean, confused. “Why do you drink that stuff?” He knew humans ate and drank. He'd seen them do it in Heaven, but this was different. This was drinking for actual sustenance, like he did.
Dean set the mug down. “Because...” He frowned, thinking of a decent answer. “Because I've been doing it since I was twelve and it's just... it's a habit.”
“No, that's not what I meant.” He tilted his head to the side, frowning. “It doesn't have any nutritional value. Isn't that the purpose of eating and drinking?”
“Uh...” Dean was at a total loss. He was being outsmarted by a six year old. Thankfully, Castiel supplied an answer.
“He drinks it because it helps him wake up, Liam.” The angel slid into the chair next to the boy.
“Why don't all humans drink it then?”
“It's an acquired taste,” Dean said, frowning into the nearly empty mug. “Just like the people in China who eat deep fried bugs. You ask me, that's nasty.”
“But they eat bugs because....”
“Liam,” Castiel said in a voice that Dean recognized as the angel's 'you're being difficult' tone.
He folded his arms and looked down. “It still doesn't change anything.”
Dean set his now empty mug down and regarded the boy. “I drink coffee because I like to drink it. Same as those people in China like to eat bugs.”
The boy looked from one parent to the other. “I guess that makes sense, kind of like the people in India eat lamb because they think cows are sacred.”
“Exactly,” Castiel supplied. “Again, I am sorry I didn't inform you we were arriving.”
“It's okay, Cas. I wasn't busy and no one's needed me to run the phones for them in weeks. It's crazy. It's like all the monsters went into hiding or something.”
“Most demons have fled back to Hell for now. I imagine there's a power struggle going on now that will not breach the surface of the Earth for many years.”
“Now there's a comforting thought.” Dean shook his head. “Demonic civil war.”
“They're always at war,” Liam offered. “Demons are always fighting each other.”
“Liam,” Dean said in the tone he used to use when Sam was the kid's age. “You're way too young to know what goes on in Hell and I am way too sober to be having this conversation either way.”
“Dean is correct, Liam. This is not a suitable subject,” Castiel said flatly.
“Well, what else are we going to talk about?” He frowned. “I don't know what to talk about.”
Dean got up and refilled his mug with the last of the pot and turned it off before coming back to the table. “What else do you do in school, besides learn about demons and whatnot?”
“Languages.” He tugged at his bottom lip. “I'm still having trouble telling all the Latin Spanish apart...”
Castiel nodded. “This is a difficulty for many angels, actually. It is not like Portuguese.”
“You two want anything?” Dean asked. “Water, or something?”
“No thank you, Dean,” Castiel replied. “Liam?”
The child gave his father a look of shock. “I can drink something down here?”
“Not a lot of things, Liam, but some.” Castiel gave Dean another smile. “Do you have any milk in the house, Dean?”
“Sure.” He stood up and went to the fridge. “There's a difference in all the Spanish?”
“Yes. Just as the way you speak English and the way the British speak English.”
“Suppose that makes sense.” He got out the carton of milk and poured a glassful before returning to the table. “There you go.”
“Thank you,” Liam replied and then picked up the glass, sniffing its contents. “Smells like clover.” He took a sip and smiled. “It's good.”
Dean decided to just accept the smelling thing as another angelic eccentricity and went back to his coffee. “Anything he's not supposed to have?”
“Pork,” Castiel said. “It's complicated and the other two meat products would never appear in your kitchen, so I am not worried. Unless camel has become a staple of American cuisine.”
He stared at the angel. “I don't think so.” He was trying not to gag at the idea.
“No juice either,” the angel continued. “Or any sort of fruit that grows on vines or trees.”
Dean had to think for a moment. “So just berries then?”
“Yes.” The angel relaxed in his seat as Liam set his empty glass on the table. “It is not so much a rule, but at his age that must be taken into consideration.”
“I can understand that.” Dean poked at his mug. “I wasn't allowed to drink coffee until I was fourteen. Before that, I was sneaking drinks of the stuff.”
Castiel didn't go into the litany that was on the tip of his tongue to go into, telling Dean about how certain foods could affect an angel of Liam's age and so forth, he just merely nodded and settled back into his seat. So it wasn't entirely idyllic, but this was good. He had to give the man some credit for taking all of this in stride. He knew that some of the others were venturing out so that their fledglings could meet their mortal parents. At least Dean had the benefit of knowing about the supernatural. It made things a little easier.
*
The fridge was now covered in artwork, with another stack of drawings waiting to find a place to be hung up. Dean had made one trip into town to get some food and other supplies and had picked up crayons and a package of printer paper, and after it was presented to Liam, the delighted fledgling promptly went to town creating artwork. Dean had it on his next shopping list to find something to affix the drawings to the walls with. The lack of visitors meant he wouldn't have to explain the rapidly approaching five-hundred child-made masterpieces. He was glad, however, he'd gotten two boxes of crayons. He chuckled to himself as he calmly stacked today's art into a neat pile and cleaned up the kitchen. Castiel was upstairs, giving the boy a bath. Liam had been introduced to the playground today and had gotten a fine coating of grime and dirt on himself to show for it. It was so charming, so wonderfully domestic, Dean had no idea how he was going to handle things once the pair went back to Heaven. At the rate it was going, the next time he saw Liam, the boy would be a teenager.
“Dean,” Castiel's voice came quietly from the doorway.
“What is it Cas?”
“I have to return to Heaven for a few hours. Some sort of emergency.” Castiel frowned, looking more perturbed than worried. “I did not think I would need to return for another two weeks.”
Dean dried his hands off with a towel. “Few hours?”
“Yes. You and Liam should be fine. The house is strongly warded against danger.”
Dean was taken aback. “You mean - he's gonna...”
Castiel walked over to him. “You are more than capable of taking care of him, Dean. It is nearly his bedtime. I will be back soon.”
“But I - ” He was cut off as the angel vanished. “You really need to work on your exits.” He set the towel down and made his way upstairs, where Liam was pulling on a pair of sleep pants and a shirt.
“Papa said he had to go back home for a little while,” Liam said, rubbing his nose. “Baths are weird.”
“Weird how?” Dean leaned against the threshold, slightly amused.
“Not used to being all wet.” He sighed and sat down on the bed. “Papa said I need to know about human things... and baths are how humans get clean, right?”
“Or they take showers.” He shrugged in response. “Think it depends on where you are.”
Liam rested his head on his hands. “The wind sounds funny.”
“Funny how?” Dean came into the room and sat down next to his son.
“Just sounds... wrong.”
Dean listened for a moment, thinking. “It's going to rain. Even though it was sunny and hot today, sometimes all the moisture in the air builds up when it cools down at night and rains.”
“Still sounds funny.” He rubbed his eyes. “Not sleepy.”
Dean chuckled. “That won't work on me, kiddo. Heard that line enough from your Uncle Sammy when we were growing up.”
Liam yawned. “Story?”
“Huh?” He frowned in response. “Story?”
“Uh huh. Papa always tells me a story before I go to sleep.” He yawned again and lay down.
Dean covered the boy with a thin blanket. “Don't know too many stories off the top of my head. What kinds of stories do you usually have?”
Liam yawned again. “Papa tells me lots of stuff. He told me about his journey to Bethlehem and meeting some shepherds and some other places he's been. And he tells me stories about you and Uncle Sammy.”
Dean blinked once at that. “Uh...” He searched his mind for something that was 'appropriate' to tell the boy before settling on the story about him and Sam and the time they tried to bake cookies in the microwave - with surprising results.
*
Dean came downstairs to the library and flipped on the news like he had every night for the past several weeks. True, there was never anything good happening anymore, it was all war in the Middle East and floods in the States. It was more to have noise than anything as television was rapidly proving to be a decent enough distraction for him these days. He'd not been downstairs five minutes when the first tell-tale sounds of thunder rumbled across the sky. “Please sleep through it... please sleep through it...” he muttered under his breath as he went back to cleaning up the kitchen. Rain started to lash against the house, causing him to pause. “Going to be one heck of a storm.” He leaned back into the library to glance at the television to see the storm watch alert that always seemed to be in the bottom of the screen during the summer. He was surprised at its absence and a moment later the meteorologist was on, showing a massive storm that seemed to be nothing but a huge blur of red rimmed in dark pink: severe, head for the basement, don't go outside whatever you do weather.
“We're advising everyone in southern Minnehaha and northern Turner County to take shelter immediately This includes all of Sioux Falls. This storm has already produced two tornadoes and baseball sized...”
Dean didn't wait to hear the rest. He ran up the stairs to where Liam was whimpering in his sleep and scooped the child up in his arms, thin blanket and all and hurried back down, heading for the basement. “Damn it,” he cursed softly just as the lights started flickering and the rain suddenly seemed to increase tenfold.
“Huh?” Liam was slowly coming awake as the two of them reached the basement and Dean threw back the door of the panic room, judging it to be the strongest and safest place. “What's going on?”
“It's okay.” Dean set the boy down on the cot and grabbed the radio off the table and started fiddling with the dials when a new sound replaced the rain. A heavier, ugly sound.
Liam instinctively grabbed his dad around the waist. “What - what's that noise?”
“Storm.” Dean put his arm around Liam and set the radio down. “That heavy sound is hail.”
“The National Weather service has issued a tornado warning for Turner and Minnehaha Counties. A funnel cloud was reported on the ground near Tea, heading northeast at forty miles per hour.”
Dean frowned, judging the distance from that spit in the dirt town to be about thirty miles away. “Gonna get ugly here in a few minutes -”
“Dad...” Liam hugged his father tighter. “I don't like this!”
Not even pausing, Dean pulled Liam into his lap and hugged him close. “Nothing to be scared of. We're safe in here. The worst of the storm probably won't even come near us.”
The fledgling buried his face in Dean's neck, clutching his shirt. “You don't know that!”
Dean started to rub the boy's back, feeling at a loss. “We're going to be just fine, Liam. No need to be scared.”
“I want Papa!” Liam started to wail almost at the exact same time the tornado siren a few miles away did. Dean wouldn't have heard it at all if the radio hadn't told him the sirens were going off. The overhead lights flickered once and then went out, casting them into darkness. That only made the boy cry harder. A moment later, Dean was struck in the face as Liam's wings ripped out of his back, his fear overriding his ability to keep them hidden.
“Ssh...” He carried the boy awkwardly across the room, grabbed one of the flashlights from the cabinet and flipped it on. “There we go... one problem handled.” He nudged Liam, who'd managed to get his wings partially folded, but was still sobbing inconsolably. “Hey now - can you hold this for me?” He offered the flashlight to the boy, doing his best to ignore the throbbing pain spreading along the side of his face.
Sniffling, Liam took the lamp, clutching it tightly in one hand. The other was grasped around the collar of Dean's shirt so tightly, Dean was fairly certain he'd rip it before too long. “Scared.”
“Now that's okay. Just don't shine the light in my eyes, okay?” Dean made his way back to the cot against the far wall, skirting around the devil's trap where rain was piling up in the buckets on the floor. “We're perfectly safe in here.”
“Don't like it.” Liam sniffled, grimacing at his inability to get one of his wings situated. “Need help...”
“Not supposed to like it.” Dean saw the boy wasn't going to be letting go of him anytime soon, but used one hand to fold the downy wing the way the boy was trying to get it, silently congratulating himself over the fact he'd not freaked out over seeing said wings. “That better?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “I don't know how you do it.”
“Do what?” Dean heard the woman on the radio calmly talking about the storm's direction; it wasn't coming straight at them - they were located on that nasty side of the storm that just brought heavy rains, straight line winds and, of course, hail. The last report said it was baseball sized, making Dean really thankful that the Impala was in a garage and not out in the open.
“Live with all these dangers.” Liam slackened his grip on the flashlight a little. “Why is Earth so dangerous?”
“Life's dangerous, Liam.” Dean sighed and closed his eyes. “As first tornado warnings go, you're doing pretty good. First one I was in, I spent it under an overpass on the highway.”
Liam looked up at him, his face in disbelief. “Grandpa had you and Uncle Sam outside during one of these?”
“Yeah, it was in...” Dean paused. “Wait, you've met my dad?”
Liam nodded. “Uh huh. He's kind of...” He bit at his thumb, searching for the right word. “I don't know how to describe him, exactly.”
This was a little overwhelming for Dean. “Who else have you been meeting up there in Heaven?”
“I met Gran. I like her. She comes and watches me when Papa has to work and I'm done with school.” He let out a yawn. “I also go see some of the kids in Heaven. Esther taught me how to play tag.”
“Esther huh?” Dean let out a yawn of his own and adjusted Liam's blanket. “She nice?”
“Uh huh. She also taught me how to color.” His grip on the light slackened further and it fell to the mattress. “I worry though - cause I'm getting older and she's always gonna be seven...”
Dean let the boy carry on, talking about other people he'd met up in Heaven, other angels, other humans. The fear was starting to leave his voice, and as the hail faded away to nothing but hard rain, Liam drifted off, back to sleep. A few minutes later, still holding onto his son, he too fell asleep.
*
The tornado that had sent Dean and Liam to the basement passed six miles west of the salvage yard. The damage to the house wasn't severe, but it was enough for Dean to realize that replacing the roof and windows were more of an immediate need, rather than a goal for next year. Sam had called the day after the tornado, all sorts of concerned, but Dean had reassured him that everything was just fine. Some of the already wrecked cars were now worthless for anything more than scrap, but it didn't seem to matter, as the number of hail-damaged cars in town that hadn't been total wrecks was starting to grow. There was almost no tornado damage in Sioux Falls itself, other than the hail and some uprooted trees. He decided that what really sucked about the whole thing was, the work was taking away his time to spend with Cas and Liam. They would be leaving for Heaven in six days - and all he wanted to do was not answer the phone and focus solely on the two of them.
Castiel, for his part, had been putting off the news for as long as he could - the fact that this visit could very well be the last one they were ever able to make was not something he could easily tell the man. There were a lot of things he needed to tell the man, almost none of it good. He still hadn't told him about how fledglings forgot their parents, although he did know that parents did not forget their young. He couldn't assure him that it would be fine, that Liam would be fine, that somehow, everything would work out, because it sounded exactly like what it was. Bullshit. All he wanted to do was wrap both of them - the most special people in his life close to him and never, never let go. For now, all he could really do was rub Dean's back as the man snored softly in his slumber. The only other sound was the even drone of the fan across the room and the faint rustle of wind. The fact that he had only slept two hours before waking was a clear sign to him that things were rapidly changing. Groaning softly, he pressed his forehead between the man's shoulders, enjoying the skin-on-skin contact.
“Cas?” Dean muttered. “Something wrong?”
“No.” He hugged the man a little tighter. “Just enjoying this, that's all.”
He smiled and kissed the side of Castiel's arm. “I like it too.”
The angel sighed. “Dean...”
“Yeah?”
“I - I don't know when I'll be able to come see you again after this visit.”
Dean pulled away and turned over to look at Cas. “You said the same thing last December.”
“I know I did. But this time I am more certain that the length of time will be greater than six months - it may be six more months or six years.”
“Six years?” Dean's voice cracked on 'years.' “Are - You're serious about that, aren't you?”
“Yes.” The angel brushed Dean's face with his thumb. “I wish I could assure you that it would only be six months, but things have been rapidly changing in Heaven.”
“Rewrite of the Plan, all that?”
“Something like that, yes.” Castiel leaned over and kissed his forehead. “But I promise you that I will try and come back. I just don't know if Liam will be with me or not.”
Dean closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. “Kids grow up, Cas. You know that.”
“I do.” Castiel pressed his forehead against Dean's. “I know that all too well.”
“I was thinking Cas, about something Liam told me.”
“What?” He moved a little closer, not wanting to break contact for a moment.
“He told me about his friend. I think her name is Esther?”
“Yes. What about her?”
“It's not about her directly, but he mentioned how he's growing up - and she'll always be seven. You're always going to look the age you are right now. You might be aging, but it doesn't show. I'm getting older.”
“That does not matter to me, Dean.” He pressed another kiss to the man's forehead. “I have told you that does not matter.”
“It - it just feels weird. Say you come back in six months; I won't have changed much. Six years, I'll probably be a little grayer and may be sporting a few wrinkles.” He opened his eyes, staring into Cas' face. “But what if it's not for sixteen years?”
Castiel pulled Dean against him. “That won't matter to me, Dean. How many times must I tell you this?”
Dean let out a muffled sigh as the angel hugged him tightly. “Sorry, my little human brain has trouble processing things.”
“Always with the sarcasm,” the angel huffed. “Don't ever change that - I fully expect you to always have a comeback. Even when you're ninety.”
“If I even live that long.” Dean curled up against him. “When I was twenty I never thought I'd live to be thirty. Now that I've passed thirty, I think I'd at least like to see sixty.”
Castiel rubbed his back, smiling. “If that's the case, you may want to cut down on the amount of cholesterol in your diet.”
Dean snorted. “Cas, are you being serious or trying to be funny?”
“I am -” He gave the man a playful shove. “And you're still impossible.”
“Cas, it's too hot for that.” He rolled over onto his back, yawning. “Well, maybe...”
Castiel let out a low chuckle as he set a hand on Dean's thigh. “Perhaps I should persuade you.”
“I don't think that will be too hard,” Dean said, leaning over to press his lips against Cas'.
*
Castiel couldn't bring himself to tell Dean about how Liam would forget who they were. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure that Liam would forget who they were, owing to him being half human. So much was left unknown in all of this. The oldest of the new fledglings borne of the failed Apocalypse was just a few weeks older than Liam and she wasn't as close as he was to being ready to leave the nest. He turned over in the bed, frowning when he realized that Dean was no longer in it. He sat up and reached for his shirt, which was lying on the floor. He could hear laughter coming from downstairs as he dressed and he smiled. He was glad that even if Liam did forget them, he and Dean would have these moments remember. Somehow, that made things seem almost all right. He finished dressing and made his way downstairs. Dean was in the kitchen making breakfast and Liam was sitting on the couch, laughing at the television. “What are you watching?”
“The man in the suit is funny,” Liam said between giggles. “He thinks he's a prophet and that he's been to Heaven!” He doubled over, laughing.
“Dean, what is Liam watching?”
Dean leaned in from the kitchen. “That'd be the Evangelical Hour out of Des Moines. Every week their great preacher gets on television and makes a total ass - I mean fool - of himself. God may not be on my list of favorite people, but I'm willing to bet good money he wouldn't want me believing some nut in a two thousand dollar suit. Liam only started watching it because the choir was singing when we flipped to that station and he wanted to listen to that.”
Liam had fallen on the floor he was laughing so hard. “You can't buy your way into Heaven!”
Castiel looked from one to the other and then stole a glance to the television where the man was screaming at his congregation to give money. “People believe this man? How can they not see he is a criminal and is using the money for himself?”
“Cas, ” Dean gave him a look, “Newsflash, a lot of us humans are total morons. After this show gets off the air, there's a Scientology program. They're twice as crazy as this guy is. I mean, they're waiting for aliens to come back.”
Liam was hugging himself to control his mirth. “The streets aren't paved in gold either, silly man!”
“You let him watch this?” Castiel's voice was half amused, half accusatory.
Dean gave him a look and went back into the kitchen. “There's no kids stations with the cable package that Bobby had. I didn't think you wanted him watching the Discovery Channel.”
The angel shook his head and sat down at the kitchen table, watching Liam laugh. “He does seem to find humor in it.”
“Cas, even I find this guy funny.” Dean opened the cupboard and pulled out the flour. “So, are you going to join us in blueberry pancakes this morning or are you just going to watch us eat?”
The angel smiled faintly. “I think I will have a pancake or two.”
Chapter Four