Supernatural: It's a Potluck [Baby-Cas!Verse Timestamp]
Title: It's a Potluck
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, Cas
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Word Count: 1,783
Author’s Note: For de-nugis who wanted a timestamp to Houses Out of Cardboard Boxes. This has not been beta'd and is only getting its own post because it went a little long while I was trying to keep it short. Expect for this to happen many more times over my timestamping journey. I talk too much.
Summary: Baby-Cas!Verse Timestamp: Fifteen years after Sam and Dean adopt him, Cas discovers his grace and must choose between remaining human or becoming an angel again.
"He wouldn't even look at me," Sam says, slouching over on the edge of the bed. Hiding his face in his hands. He looks up only briefly, and Dean can see how hard he's fighting to hold himself together. "Do you think he hates me now? Do you think he thinks I'm-?"
Sam presses his lips together and looks down again, and Dean sighs. They both know what he was gonna say. Abomination. It's not like any of this is a complete surprise. Dean's been having this nightmare for 15 years. Deep down, they both knew it was going to happen eventually. Dean is all for white lies, but not Sam. Sooner or later, Sam would have insisted on coming clean. Waiting until his 18th birthday, maybe, then sitting him down and explaining everything and giving him the choice to go into that field and claim his grace or not.
But not like this. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
Dean takes the spot next to Sam on the bed, reaching out to rub his brother's back. "He doesn't think that," Dean tells him, trying to sound soothing. "He hadn't thought that for years by the time he fell. So even if he's absorbed the grace by now-"
Sam's breath catches in his throat and Dean realizes this was an incredibly stupid road to travel down as far as making Sam feel better goes.
Dean tries a new approach. "Do you want me to go talk to him?"
Sam sniffles and nods, and Dean pulls himself to his feet reluctantly. Sam is the deep talk parent. Dean is for football throwing. This is really going to suck.
He pulls on his jacket and turns back when Sam catches his wrist as he's walking out.
"Make sure he knows," Sam says, looking up at Dean all sad and hopeful. "Tell him he can come back. He can always come back, even if it's just a visit. Even if he's an angel again. If he still wants to see me. Just…make sure he knows he's welcome at home, okay?"
"Yeah, Sammy," Dean says, squeezing Sam's fingers as he loosens the grip on his jacket. "I'll tell him."
The field is not a long walk from the house, but Dean decides to drive anyway. Two minutes in the Impala are a better solace than nothing, and Dean needs all the help he can get if he isn't going to screw this up. He has no idea what to expect. Dean was at work when Sam found Cas sitting under that tree. He came home today to a mopey little brother and no dinner, but the angsty teenager has yet to return.
He parks outside the fence and can see Cas's profile, hunched over on the bench under his tree. The bench is new, Dean thinks. Well, maybe not new. They've spent the last 15 years avoiding this field as much as humanly possible, but it wasn't there the first time they came here. Not that Dean's surprised to see it. Cas's grace makes for great shade. Dean's willing to bet thousands of families have had picnics under the branches here, feeling warm and safe and protected and never suspecting that's because the tree is hiding power so strong it could wipe their pretty town off the map.
All that power that just might've wiped their son off the map. Dean won't be happy to see Castiel. He loves that kid so much it hurts sometimes, but he's never been able to forgive the angel for breaking his brother. Not when Sam still goes stiff and terrified if Dean comes up behind him too quietly because he thinks the breath on the back of his neck is the Devil's. But that grudge will be nothing next to the resentment he'll harbor if it's Castiel sitting in that field instead of his son. There won't be any getting Cas back if the grace has taken over, and that'll kill Sam.
Cas is either too wrapped up in himself to hear the twigs snapping under Dean's feet or he's just plain ignoring them. He keeps his face buried in his hands, a perfect imitation of the pose Dean left Sam in.
Like father like son, Dean hopes.
"Hey, kiddo," Dean says, poking at Cas's side as he slips onto the bench next to him. "You doing alright?"
"No," Cas answers, words muffled by his hands. "Very much no."
Dean chuckles, trying to stay lighthearted. "You wanna talk about it?"
Cas is quiet for a long time. Dean nearly takes it as a no, but then Cas lifts his head and looks him right in the eye, and Dean sees that he's been crying. "Does he hate me? Pa, after what I did to him. How could he not hate me?"
Talk about a family resemblance. Dean's surrounded by idiots who worry too much and have stupid hair, and he nearly cracks up laughing. He throws an arm around Cas's neck, dragging him in a little. "Come on now, kid. You know damn well he doesn't hate you."
"He should." Cas looks away, kicking the ground. "God, should he ever."
"It wasn't you, son," Dean says, taking a deep breath and trying to think of how best to go about fixing this. "Things were really complicated back then, anyway."
"I remember." It's nearly a whisper and it chills Dean down to his bones. He never wanted Cas to remember anything about who or what he was before he was theirs. "I remember you hating me."
"Cas-" Dean begins, but Cas doesn't let him get a word in edgewise.
"No, dad, I-you threatened to kill me. When I came to say goodbye. When I told you to tell Sam how you felt. You said you'd find a way to kill me, God or not, if I ever went near your brother again."
Dean flinches, and Cas stops, blinks a couple of times, then makes a face that is somehow even more distressed than the one before it. "Christ, you guys are brothers."
"I know you're probably mad at us for not telling you any of this," Dean tells him, keeping his tone as even as he can. "But you gotta see that we had some damn good reasons to-"
"Don't," Cas says. "Don't apologize. You guys were right not to tell me. Any of this. I wish to God I'd listened. I'd give anything not to have stepped into this field today."
Dean is usually unsettled by this. One of the biggest personality traits Cas has that makes it impossible to forget who he used to be. Most kids his age would be freaking out right now, going on about feeling betrayed, but even after his irrational bout of teenage rebellion earlier, Cas is all cool rationality and wisdom far beyond his years. Right now it's more of a relief that he doesn’t have to try to explain than anything.
"Too late for that, man," Dean tells his son, shaking him a little. "You've got a big choice to make."
Cas nods solemnly and stares down at his hands. He considers it for a painfully long time. Dean might be holding his breath, waiting on the edge of this goddamn bench to find out what he's going to have to go home and tell his brother. Finally Cas licks his lips and looks over at Dean. His face isn't hiding anything: the kid is scared out of his fucking wits. "I don't wanna be an angel," he says, shaking his head. His voice breaks. "I don't want Pa to be afraid of me."
Dean looks at him closely, and a small smile begins to tug at his lips, love and protectiveness and a pretty healthy serving of relief. At fifteen, he's beginning to look like Jimmy Novack. Dean used to dread that happening, convinced he'd only ever be able to see Castiel when he looked at his son. But now-there's no trace of the angel in this frightened little boy he's spent the best years of his life looking after.
"Let's go home then, huh?" Dean offers. "Before your father has an aneurism?"
Cas laughs through one last sob and nods. They stand at the same time, but Cas turns back toward the tree, and Dean's stomach sinks, thinking he's changed his mind.
"You need a bit longer to decide?" Dean asks, ignoring the lump forming in his throat. "It's a big decision, Cas. You don't have to be sure right away."
Cas shakes his head as he presses his palm flat against the trunk of his tree. "Just a second," he says, and Dean sees blinding white light begin to glow around his fingers.
Dean nearly looks away once Cas pulls his hand off the trunk. There's a big white ball of light floating just over Cas's open palm, and Dean remembers from Anna how this will go. Cas will absorb it in seconds and slowly but surely, he'll turn into a monster, just like the other angels. He can't bear to watch.
But then Cas presses his other hand down over, crushing the light between them, grinding until its nothing but white dust. He lets the wind carry the ashes of his grace away and smiles at Dean.
"I like being human," he says, voice confident for the first time all night. "I won't change my mind."
Dean ruffles his hair and tugs him toward the car. "Let’s go home then. I'm starving."
"You're always starving, Dad."
They drive back in near-silence, Cas growing tense all over again as they approach the house. Dean knocks on the door, and Sam opens it so fast they don't have to wonder if he was waiting on the other side of it. He looks from Cas to Dean and back to Cas again, his expression questioning and nervous.
Cas stares back, not really looking all that different.
"Hey," Dean finally says, hoping to get things rolling.
"H-hi," Sam answers, still staring at Cas.
Cas takes a step forward, reaching for the sleeve of Sam's shirt. "I'm sorry, Pa," he says, wrapping his arms around Sam. "I'm so, so sorry."
Sam's eyes widen at the hug. He looks to Dean as he returns the embrace, and Dean sees the tension drain out of him as he realizes that Cas is still human, still their son, and still loves them.
Cas pulls back, wiping at his eyes. "I really am sorry."
Sam shakes his head, pressing a hand to Cas's cheek, and gives him a warm smile. "I'm glad you two are home. Dinner's getting cold."
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, Cas
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Word Count: 1,783
Author’s Note: For de-nugis who wanted a timestamp to Houses Out of Cardboard Boxes. This has not been beta'd and is only getting its own post because it went a little long while I was trying to keep it short. Expect for this to happen many more times over my timestamping journey. I talk too much.
Summary: Baby-Cas!Verse Timestamp: Fifteen years after Sam and Dean adopt him, Cas discovers his grace and must choose between remaining human or becoming an angel again.
"He wouldn't even look at me," Sam says, slouching over on the edge of the bed. Hiding his face in his hands. He looks up only briefly, and Dean can see how hard he's fighting to hold himself together. "Do you think he hates me now? Do you think he thinks I'm-?"
Sam presses his lips together and looks down again, and Dean sighs. They both know what he was gonna say. Abomination. It's not like any of this is a complete surprise. Dean's been having this nightmare for 15 years. Deep down, they both knew it was going to happen eventually. Dean is all for white lies, but not Sam. Sooner or later, Sam would have insisted on coming clean. Waiting until his 18th birthday, maybe, then sitting him down and explaining everything and giving him the choice to go into that field and claim his grace or not.
But not like this. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
Dean takes the spot next to Sam on the bed, reaching out to rub his brother's back. "He doesn't think that," Dean tells him, trying to sound soothing. "He hadn't thought that for years by the time he fell. So even if he's absorbed the grace by now-"
Sam's breath catches in his throat and Dean realizes this was an incredibly stupid road to travel down as far as making Sam feel better goes.
Dean tries a new approach. "Do you want me to go talk to him?"
Sam sniffles and nods, and Dean pulls himself to his feet reluctantly. Sam is the deep talk parent. Dean is for football throwing. This is really going to suck.
He pulls on his jacket and turns back when Sam catches his wrist as he's walking out.
"Make sure he knows," Sam says, looking up at Dean all sad and hopeful. "Tell him he can come back. He can always come back, even if it's just a visit. Even if he's an angel again. If he still wants to see me. Just…make sure he knows he's welcome at home, okay?"
"Yeah, Sammy," Dean says, squeezing Sam's fingers as he loosens the grip on his jacket. "I'll tell him."
The field is not a long walk from the house, but Dean decides to drive anyway. Two minutes in the Impala are a better solace than nothing, and Dean needs all the help he can get if he isn't going to screw this up. He has no idea what to expect. Dean was at work when Sam found Cas sitting under that tree. He came home today to a mopey little brother and no dinner, but the angsty teenager has yet to return.
He parks outside the fence and can see Cas's profile, hunched over on the bench under his tree. The bench is new, Dean thinks. Well, maybe not new. They've spent the last 15 years avoiding this field as much as humanly possible, but it wasn't there the first time they came here. Not that Dean's surprised to see it. Cas's grace makes for great shade. Dean's willing to bet thousands of families have had picnics under the branches here, feeling warm and safe and protected and never suspecting that's because the tree is hiding power so strong it could wipe their pretty town off the map.
All that power that just might've wiped their son off the map. Dean won't be happy to see Castiel. He loves that kid so much it hurts sometimes, but he's never been able to forgive the angel for breaking his brother. Not when Sam still goes stiff and terrified if Dean comes up behind him too quietly because he thinks the breath on the back of his neck is the Devil's. But that grudge will be nothing next to the resentment he'll harbor if it's Castiel sitting in that field instead of his son. There won't be any getting Cas back if the grace has taken over, and that'll kill Sam.
Cas is either too wrapped up in himself to hear the twigs snapping under Dean's feet or he's just plain ignoring them. He keeps his face buried in his hands, a perfect imitation of the pose Dean left Sam in.
Like father like son, Dean hopes.
"Hey, kiddo," Dean says, poking at Cas's side as he slips onto the bench next to him. "You doing alright?"
"No," Cas answers, words muffled by his hands. "Very much no."
Dean chuckles, trying to stay lighthearted. "You wanna talk about it?"
Cas is quiet for a long time. Dean nearly takes it as a no, but then Cas lifts his head and looks him right in the eye, and Dean sees that he's been crying. "Does he hate me? Pa, after what I did to him. How could he not hate me?"
Talk about a family resemblance. Dean's surrounded by idiots who worry too much and have stupid hair, and he nearly cracks up laughing. He throws an arm around Cas's neck, dragging him in a little. "Come on now, kid. You know damn well he doesn't hate you."
"He should." Cas looks away, kicking the ground. "God, should he ever."
"It wasn't you, son," Dean says, taking a deep breath and trying to think of how best to go about fixing this. "Things were really complicated back then, anyway."
"I remember." It's nearly a whisper and it chills Dean down to his bones. He never wanted Cas to remember anything about who or what he was before he was theirs. "I remember you hating me."
"Cas-" Dean begins, but Cas doesn't let him get a word in edgewise.
"No, dad, I-you threatened to kill me. When I came to say goodbye. When I told you to tell Sam how you felt. You said you'd find a way to kill me, God or not, if I ever went near your brother again."
Dean flinches, and Cas stops, blinks a couple of times, then makes a face that is somehow even more distressed than the one before it. "Christ, you guys are brothers."
"I know you're probably mad at us for not telling you any of this," Dean tells him, keeping his tone as even as he can. "But you gotta see that we had some damn good reasons to-"
"Don't," Cas says. "Don't apologize. You guys were right not to tell me. Any of this. I wish to God I'd listened. I'd give anything not to have stepped into this field today."
Dean is usually unsettled by this. One of the biggest personality traits Cas has that makes it impossible to forget who he used to be. Most kids his age would be freaking out right now, going on about feeling betrayed, but even after his irrational bout of teenage rebellion earlier, Cas is all cool rationality and wisdom far beyond his years. Right now it's more of a relief that he doesn’t have to try to explain than anything.
"Too late for that, man," Dean tells his son, shaking him a little. "You've got a big choice to make."
Cas nods solemnly and stares down at his hands. He considers it for a painfully long time. Dean might be holding his breath, waiting on the edge of this goddamn bench to find out what he's going to have to go home and tell his brother. Finally Cas licks his lips and looks over at Dean. His face isn't hiding anything: the kid is scared out of his fucking wits. "I don't wanna be an angel," he says, shaking his head. His voice breaks. "I don't want Pa to be afraid of me."
Dean looks at him closely, and a small smile begins to tug at his lips, love and protectiveness and a pretty healthy serving of relief. At fifteen, he's beginning to look like Jimmy Novack. Dean used to dread that happening, convinced he'd only ever be able to see Castiel when he looked at his son. But now-there's no trace of the angel in this frightened little boy he's spent the best years of his life looking after.
"Let's go home then, huh?" Dean offers. "Before your father has an aneurism?"
Cas laughs through one last sob and nods. They stand at the same time, but Cas turns back toward the tree, and Dean's stomach sinks, thinking he's changed his mind.
"You need a bit longer to decide?" Dean asks, ignoring the lump forming in his throat. "It's a big decision, Cas. You don't have to be sure right away."
Cas shakes his head as he presses his palm flat against the trunk of his tree. "Just a second," he says, and Dean sees blinding white light begin to glow around his fingers.
Dean nearly looks away once Cas pulls his hand off the trunk. There's a big white ball of light floating just over Cas's open palm, and Dean remembers from Anna how this will go. Cas will absorb it in seconds and slowly but surely, he'll turn into a monster, just like the other angels. He can't bear to watch.
But then Cas presses his other hand down over, crushing the light between them, grinding until its nothing but white dust. He lets the wind carry the ashes of his grace away and smiles at Dean.
"I like being human," he says, voice confident for the first time all night. "I won't change my mind."
Dean ruffles his hair and tugs him toward the car. "Let’s go home then. I'm starving."
"You're always starving, Dad."
They drive back in near-silence, Cas growing tense all over again as they approach the house. Dean knocks on the door, and Sam opens it so fast they don't have to wonder if he was waiting on the other side of it. He looks from Cas to Dean and back to Cas again, his expression questioning and nervous.
Cas stares back, not really looking all that different.
"Hey," Dean finally says, hoping to get things rolling.
"H-hi," Sam answers, still staring at Cas.
Cas takes a step forward, reaching for the sleeve of Sam's shirt. "I'm sorry, Pa," he says, wrapping his arms around Sam. "I'm so, so sorry."
Sam's eyes widen at the hug. He looks to Dean as he returns the embrace, and Dean sees the tension drain out of him as he realizes that Cas is still human, still their son, and still loves them.
Cas pulls back, wiping at his eyes. "I really am sorry."
Sam shakes his head, pressing a hand to Cas's cheek, and gives him a warm smile. "I'm glad you two are home. Dinner's getting cold."