[fic] Black Sheep of the Family 1/1
Title: Black Sheep of the Family
Characters/Pairings: Ben, Dean, Castiel, Lisa; Dean/Lisa
Summary: Castiel doesn't really understand that when Dean says he wants to be left alone with his new family, he wants to be left alone with his new family. Crack!fic.
Spoilers/warnings: Set between 5.22 and 6.01; no warnings.
Rating: PG-13, for languageNotes: This was actually written last year, for this comment-fic meme, the prompt being "So Dean's trying to live the normal life with the Braedens. It doesn't help when crazy Uncle Cas comes to visit." I never got around to posting it here, until now.
The demon's eyes glowed red. It stretched out a hand, and debris flew at Dean, rocks and glass from the shattered ruins they were in. Dean ducked as Ben ran in, whirling around with a knife in his right hand-
And then the doorbell rang.
"Dammit!" Ben snapped as he flinched, thumbs twitching off of the controller for a key second.
"Hey." Dean glared at him and tossed down his remote as the demon subsequently devoured his avatar. "If you go get the door, I'll pretend I didn't here that."
"Fine. Make the kid do all the work," he muttered as he rose from the couch, more for the sake of being argumentative than anything. He liked having Dean around, even if he just had shown up a few weeks ago and started crying into his mother's shoulder without any sort of explanation. That was weird as hell, and it sort of clashed with the whole "manly-leather-wearing-mechanical-genius" front that Dean put on, but Ben was too tactful to ask about it.
Forgetting to look through the peephole, Ben opened the door without a clue who was behind it. For all of his goodness with dealing with people, he could be kind of forgetful when it came to common sense.
"Hello."
The man on the doorstep looked kind of like a serial killer: Although he was a lot younger than the traditional old man who stood around in a park all day and asked little children to help him find his lost puppy, he had the gun-hiding trench coat thing down perfectly. And even though the door had been open for all of five seconds, Ben could already tell that he had a really, really unsettling gaze. "Are you Ben Braeden?"
"Ye- who are you?" Halfway through his answer, he realized that admitting his name to a potential mass murderer probably wasn't a good idea.
"My name is Castiel. I have come to speak with Dean Winchester. Is he still residing here?"
"Yeah," Ben replied, backing away from the door. "If you, um, wait here, I'll go get him."
He walked down the hall and stuck his head around the corner. "Dean? It's for you."
"Who is it?" Dean didn't look too happy as he rolled off of the couch and onto his feet. Ben had gotten the idea that he didn't have too many close friends when he'd first arrive. He had mentioned something about how people around him always died, but it was probably safe now.
"Some guy. I think he said his name was Castle? Castiel?"
"Oh, fuck," muttered Dean. "Was he wearing a trench coat?"
"Yeah. Who is he?"
"He's, uh, my uncle. Good old Uncle Cas."
"Really?" Ben wandered behind Dean as he all but bolted down the hall. "He looked too young to be your uncle."
"He's older than me by a few millennia. Or something." Dean halted suddenly in the hall, a foot or so away from the door. "Cas."
"Dean." Castiel nodded at him. "We have to talk."
"Screw that," Dean snarled. "I thought we had a deal, Castiel."
"I'm sorry," the apparent uncle replied, looking pained. "I didn't want to contact you, but things have gotten worse."
"Ben? Go... go to your room. Or the kitchen. Something. Go away."
"Yes, sir," Ben replied, not noticing Dean's flinch at the cynical title. He turned and trotted up the stairs, and entered his bedroom, which just so happened to be situated exactly above the front door. And, as it happened, his window was open a few inches, letting in a warm summer breeze, and one of the most batshit conversations that Ben had ever heard:
"Heaven and Hell are in disarray. We need you. You can help, Dean."
"No."
"The Righteous Man is possibly the only one who can bring balance to-"
"The Force? Sorry, Cas. No deal. Apple pie time, right?"
"If we need desserts to bring you to our side, they'll be provided-"
"No." The door slammed from somewhere downstairs, coupled with the sounds of Dean's not-so-muffled swearing, and then, "Ben? Feel like kicking a few demonic asses?"
"Sure." Although whether he was a serial killer was up for grabs, Dean's Uncle Cas definitely wasn't in his right mind, Ben decided, and then he promptly repressed the conversation for the time being, and went back to playing "Holy Exorcist IV" (a gift from Dean to him, to only be played while his mother was out) with his father-figure. He thought about bringing up what he had seen--the way Dean's uncle had just disappeared after Dean shut the door on his face--but he really didn't want to be dragged to a doctor.
Two nights later, Ben, Dean, and Lisa were eating dinner (fried chicken, biscuits, and some potato salad for vegetables) when the doorbell rang.
Mom stood up. "I'll get that."
A moment later and she was back, an odd look on her face. "Dean? Someone for you... I told him that we were eating--I figured it was advertisement--but he said he was an Angel of the Lord, and that this couldn't wait."
"Oh, fu -fudge." Dean threw down his napkin. "Not again."
"He was here before? Why didn't you tell me? And who is he?"
"A few days ago, I didn't want to worry you, and he's, um, my uncle. Sort of. Friend. Not really." Dean walked out of the room and began to either yell in a really low voice or whisper very loudly. Either way, it was too muffled for Ben to discern.
A minute later the door banged shut and Dean reappeared, looking sort of like a pigeon had just shit all over his car.
"Did you invite him in?" his mother ventured.
"Think you'll play today?" Dean asked him as they cruised along to his soccer game in the most bad-ass car Ben had ever been in.
"I don't know. I hope so," he replied, stretching his feet. The front seat in this baby? Most comfortable place he'd ever sat. This was like, the Four Seasons of cars-
"Dean. We need to talk."
"Sonuvabitch!" Dean nearly crashed the car as he swerved to the side of the road, and Ben nearly pissed in his uniform. "What the hell, Cas?"
"I'm sorry for startling you, but-"
"Out of my car. Now." Ben glanced up into the backseat mirror that Dean was glaring at, and saw the same trenchcoat and intense gaze he'd noticed three days ago. "Cas! Now!"
Castiel let out an irritated sigh and vanished, and it was only the knowledge of what Dean, awesome father-figure or not, would do to him if he soiled the seat that kept Ben from freeing his bladder then.
"Dean?" Ben did his best to calm his breath enough to speak, and he was actually pretty successful at it, even though he still felt like he'd just been reenacting Holy Exorcist IV with real demons (not, of course, that such things existed; he was well aware that there was more to this world than the eye could normally see, but demons? No way). "No offense, but your uncle's kinda weird."
"Fuckin' tell me about it," replied Dean.