Fandom Supernatural
Character(s)/Pairing(s)Ben, Claire, Dean, Jimmy; no pairings but maybe Castiel/Dean if you want to take it that way
Genre General/Near-Future
Rating PG
Word Count 1032
Disclaimer Supernatural c. Kripke, WB, CW
Summary Sometimes the reasons behind actions appear where one least suspects.
Warning(s) spoilers for the whole series including the season five finale especially
Notes At least I figured Castiel went back to Heaven so Jimmy could go back to his family.
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Dean tried, really he did. Of course, it was not backyard barbeque territory, but it was close enough. He tried to stop getting drunk before bed. He tried to help Ben with his homework. He had even gotten a job at the local garage and somehow he had kept it so far. So it led to this. Ben liked art (for more reasons than chicks dig an artist, but that was also a benefit) and somehow Dean found himself suggesting that they go to Chicago on Saturday to some art museum and the kid agreed. The drive was a little over three hours on I-65, a stretch of highway filled with farmland and billboards.
Somehow, they ended up on some rock station that played everything from the eighties to the present. The music was easy to tune out when it got whiny. Ben seemed to know the guitar rifts more than the lyrics. Sometimes when the kid was quiet and some crazy college kid weaving through traffic was cutting off Dean, he almost expected to hear Sam chuckle at his expression but when he looked over to his right there was Ben watching him with mild curiosity.
The Art Institute of Chicago was part university and part museum scattered about Chicago. The museum was located on S Michigan Avenue. Dean found a place to park the impala and the pair started walking a few blocks towards the large pinkish gray building with two copper lions bookending the front entrance. Ben paused to really look up and at everything. He stopped at one of the lions and considered the sculpture. Dean observed the building as well and tried to look at it instead of assess it for potential threat. He was working on that too. Not everything was about hunting – nothing should be about hunting – and this museum should just be a museum not a potential hideout for sedentary ghosts of all sorts tied down to objects or even the building itself. It probably was a hideout for types of ghosts and Dean would not be surprised if a strange something or other occurred when viewing whatever, but it was his job to ignore it as long as it was not hurting anyone. He was not certain he could ignore it if people were going to get hurt.
Dean let Ben lead the way once they got their general admission tickets. Ben was artistic, always doodling at something or getting notes from teachers sent home about doodling in the margins of notes and spelling tests. Dean did not know if coming here was a good idea or a bad idea but if all else failed there was an aquarium not to far away and a zoo somewhere in the general area and you could not go wrong with animals. Ben was fast through the galleries. He only spent time on things that caught his attention. They were spending time near a sculpture that looked like what Dean swore were breasts but the description insisted were some sort of twisty spoons or some nonsense when he heard a familiar murmur. The rumble was warmer and more nuanced but Dean knew the timbre. Dean glanced over his shoulder.
The man was just a little shorter than Dean was. His shoulders were broad but his body lean. He was speaking to a teenage girl with long dark blonde hair. She nodded and said something about university. She moved on to the next display and her father glanced over in Dean's direction.
Blue eyes remained locked on hazel eyes seconds too long not to show recognition. Dean stared. "Cas…?"
Ben looked at Dean from where he had moved on to another display and then followed his gaze.
The man with his daughter looked at her. "Go on ahead; I need to speak with someone, Claire."
Her eyes flickered to Dean and narrowed. She definitely remembered him. "Be careful." Claire stood by another display but Dean could feel her eyes linger on him. Ben was also watching them as well, but not with suspicion.
"I'm not Castiel, but we met once before," Jimmy Novak kept his voice quiet, between him and Dean.
"Yeah…Jimmy something." Dean could not remember the last name anymore.
"Novak," Jimmy stated. He looked at Dean. "And you're Dean Winchester." He looked at Dean as though he really knew him as if he had watched Dean through Castiel's eyes for the past two years.
"Yeah." Dean shifted his weight. "Anyway…"
"Castiel asked me to tell you something."
Dean's mouth closed before he could find the words to exit this situation. "What is it?"
Jimmy lowered his voice even farther. He knew Claire was listening, watching. The wrinkle of her nose when Dean spoke Castiel's name did not escape Jimmy's peripheral vision. "Even if he has no need to take a corporeal form on Earth any longer, you are not alone, Dean."
Dean studied Jimmy a long moment and then nodded. "I know." He could feel Ben inching closer to him. He knew the boy was trying to listen in on the conversation. The kid talked as if he had a way of listening to adult conversations.
Jimmy reached into his pants pocket, pulled out a card, and handed it to Dean. It was a simplistic card with some music notes surrounding block print AM on the top corners. "My cellphone number," he put the car in Dean's hand, "if you need anything."
Dean took the card and put it in his back pocket. "Yeah." He doubted he would call and he knew Jimmy doubted it too.
"Good luck," Jimmy stated and walked over to Claire. "I'll see you…later," if ever.
"Yeah," Dean returned and turned away. He looked down at Ben. "Let's finish up and grab some burgers, okay?"
"Okay," Ben agreed and began to lead the way through the last of the gallery, stopping at the more interesting sculptures. Dean glanced back over his shoulder once in time to see Jimmy and Claire disappear around a corner. Reaching into his back pocket, he retrieved the card and crumpled it in his hand. He tossed the card in a trashcan near the exit.
The End