Dean awoke in a panic, his heart hammering in his chest, breath heaving from his lungs as though he'd just run for his life. Automatically he pushed a hand under his pillow for his gun,.
It wasn't there.
Frantically he looked around the room, then froze in confusion.
He was sat in a king sized bed, placed in a light airy bedroom.
Certainly not the motel he remembered being in last night.
Early morning sunlight filtered through the trees outside the window, throwing, what would have been in any other situation, soothing dappled shapes across the bedspread.
He saw his clothes, draped neatly over the back of a chair. At least they seemed to be his clothes, he couldn't remember wearing them yesterday.
Warily, he swung his legs out of bed and pulled on his jeans, his gaze constantly darting around the room, waiting for the nasty punch line.
He couldn't see his bags, there were no weapons in sight so he hurriedly checked under the bed and in the closet, but came up empty handed.
Shit.
The only thing he knew for sure was that it wasn't a motel room, not even the expensive kind they never stayed in.
This was someone's home.
He checked the window sills for sulphur traces, the trash can for candy wrappers, felt underneath every surface for a hex bag, but the room seemed clean.
Quickly he pulled on the rest of the clothes, constantly alert for any noise. He found his watch on the bedside table, next to a picture of a smiling toddler.
Dean picked it up and studied it for a moment.
The child looked slightly familiar and he frowned at it, not liking that lost, cold feeling in his stomach, telling him he was missing something important.
Muffled sounds from downstairs made him jerk back to attention and putting the picture back he went cautiously to the door and inched it open.
The hall he stepped into was as clean and homely as the bedroom had been and wafting up the stairs was the smell of good coffee.
Crap.
Somehow he'd wound up in someone's house and now he was going to have to sneak past, find his phone, his car, damnit, his brother.
No time to work out how he'd got here, just focus on getting out with the minimum of fuss.
Voices filtered through from what he presumed to be the kitchen, as he quietly slipped down the stairs and found himself at the front door and stopped with a jerk.
His boots were there.
Neatly placed at the side of the door, under a row of coat hooks.
They were definitely his boots, the scuffs, the mismatched laces, one dark brown because he hadn't got around to buying a new pair last time he had one break on him..
Hesitating he tried to work out why they were there. Why hadn't the presence of strange boots in the hall flagged up something with this homes family? Were regular people really so unobservant?
A door burst open and the small child from the picture upstairs ran towards him gleefully.
"Hi Daddy!" He threw his arms around Deans legs and looked up into his face with a huge grin. He was about three, with dark messy hair and big green eyes.
Dean had to stop himself recoiling in surprise. He stood stock still with his hands raised away from the child, his whole body ready to explode into flight if needed.
"Hey buddy, leave Daddy alone until he's had his coffee."
"Cas?"
Castiel smiled at Dean. Probably the warmest most open smiled he'd ever seen on the angels face before.
"Com'on lil' dude." Cas swept the boy into his arms and blew raspberries on his neck, making him giggle. "Lets go make Daddy his breakfast, ok?"
" 'K Poppa."
Dean watched, open mouthed, as Cas and the boy, his son? As they walked back into the kitchen. For a moment he was rooted to the spot in confusion, but what else could he do though, but follow them.
Cas was stood at the stove pouring pancake batter onto a skillet, the boy already had his stack and was happily munching away on them when Dean came in.
"You want your coffee now?" Cas asked, pushing a spatula under the pancake and flipping in deftly.
When he didn't say anything Cas turned around. "You ok?"
Dean ran his hands through his hair and laughed. "No. Not really."
"Daddy sick?" The child looked up at Dean with concern.
"No Bobby, Daddy's fine. Eat your breakfast." Cas ruffled the boys hair as he walked past then gently guided Dean out into the hall.
As the door closed he took hold of Deans arms and squeezed them tight.
"I know today is always tough, but Bobby really understands what's going on this year. They made such a big deal about it at nursery, we can't ignore it Dean. Are you going be able to keep things together?"
He stared at Cas then pushed him away.
"I feel like I walked on stage halfway through the play."
"What?"
"I just woke up and I had no idea where I am or what's going on and here you are and there's the kid, Bobby? I just…. You gotta fill me in here Cas."
"Maybe we should call your doctor." Cas's gaze searched Dean face worriedly as though waiting for something to happen.
"My Doctor?" He tried to keep the note of panic from his voice. The last thing he wanted was to be prodded by some doctor when he was feeling all kinds of crazy. "No, no. I'm good. I'm just…. Tired."
Cas smiled uncertainly. "If you're sure. You have to keep talking to me though Dean. I can't help you if you don't open up." He smiled a little wider and pressed a hand to Deans face. "Come and get some breakfast."
As Cas left him alone in the hall, Dean placed his own hand where Cas had touched him. Confusion washed over him as he tried to work out the nature of that touch and the easy familiarity Cas was treating him with.
They'd always been friends, but this was different, it felt more, relaxed? Like all the tension in their friendship had been washed away.
Dean followed him back to the table and sat down compliantly.
Cas placed a mug in front of him, followed it with pancakes, and despite the semi panic he was having to push hard down on, he demolished his breakfast gratefully. He felt like he hadn't eaten in a week.
The child, Bobby, giggled into his hands, then beamed at Cas. "Daddy greedy!"
Cas smiled fondly and refilled Deans mug.
He watched Bobby closely, smiling a little at him when he looked up into his face. There was a lot of Cas about him, the shape of his face, the curve of his lips, the hair, but the childs eyes, the shape the colour. It was like looking into a mirror, which was nuts.
How the hell could he have a kid? Let alone a kid with Cas, another man for crying out loud! Just the thoughts of the mechanics of birth fried his brain.
But he'd called him Daddy.
No, it was impossible.
This was just a fucked up dream.
He pinched himself.
Then again, harder.
Bobby watched him intently, but before he could say anything, Cas had turned him in his chair and was stuffing his little feet into shoes.
"Ok, I'm going to take Bobby into town and pick up some last minute things for this afternoon. I already got chips on the list because someone ate the ones I bought." He looked up at Dean pointedly and shook his head with mock chastisement. "So was there anything else you want me to get?"
Bobby had squirmed away from Cas's grasp and was now facing Dean, his brow furrowing slightly, and god if he didn't look like …
"Sam! Where's Sam?"
"He'll be by later, around three if I remember rightly." He scooped up Bobby and grabbed car keys off the kitchen counter. Heading to the back door he kissed the boy on the cheek and said "You excited lil buddy?"
"Yeah!"
"Say goodbye to Daddy."
He turned in Cas's arms and waved to Dean. "Bye Daddy! Happy 'pocalypse day!"