Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: Happiness? Angst. Good Jack. And some facts may have been changed due to watching twelve years' worth of show and there's no way I can contain it all. Although, I do my research.
Rating: M
I'm building this house, on the moon
Like a lost astronaut
Looking at you, like a star
From the place the world forgot
-Jaymes Young
"Uncle Dean." Dean looked up from cleaning his most trustworthy weaponry and hiked up an eyebrow to his nephew, his unsmiling face still one of attentiveness.
"We should go for a hike today." Jack suggested with hope in his youthful face. He was holding onto the archway to the living room, half of his face was hidden behind it in his usual impish façade. Dean stayed blank for a moment longer as he processed the request, fingers absentmindedly making habitual movements in polishing a shotgun. He let out an amused bout of air from his lips and placed down the shot gun.
"That's usually Sammy's gig." He summarized, squinting his eyes in suspicion. "Sammy put you up to this."
Jack wasn't one to go out of his way to make excuses, even though he stood a young man's stature, the kid was in fact still a kid. He was curt and honest in his opinions and intent, no matter the level of offense it caused in the aftermath. Much like Cass…
"Yes. But seeing as it is my birthday, I can have anything I want." Jack came out completely from behind the archway, revealing a strong, tall egotistical teenager on the body's surface. He had wavy auburn hair that shined a rustic gold on his head and had his mother's bright eyes when they weren't reflecting his father's power. But the kid was like neither of his parents; Dean had come to find out. Instead, he was a blank slate just born with those genetic attributes. It had been a major shock and relief to both brothers that all those sacrifices the night of Jack's birth hadn't been in vain. They didn't have to kill what so many died to protect. However, it was so little a victory compared to how great the cavity was that had been carved into their family.
Dean raged against the thoughts of his mom and Cass. Every time they entered his mind, he'd violently pushed away the memory of their accepting faces as both stared down a certain death waiting for them.
"Oh really? Where did that nugget of wisdom come from? Sammy's ass?" Dean growled out, shaking his head in disapproval as he leaned back in the recliner he favored. His brother was an amazing hunter with an ability to be ruthless to anyone taking advantage of his fair-minded nature but as a guardian, Sam was a push over. Really.
"It is a widely accepted human custom to celebrate loved ones on their birthdays by giving gifts." Jack recited from his yearlong research on humanity and its history and cultures. That was also Sammy's gig. Both of them were always eager to study, Sam being a brilliant teacher. Dean always had a few lessons to teach here and there.
"That's just it, they're called gifts. They can be requested by the receiver and it'll be taken into consideration. But ultimately it is the giver of the gift that decides what you get." Dean explained, making sure the kid didn't get any misconceptions of how gifting worked. Jack absorbed information quickly and they also learned that it was important that the one year old teenager learned right from wrong just as quickly.
Jack seemed to be processing the intricacies of gift etiquette, shrugging and storing it for later use.
"Well I request that your gift to me be your time. On the trails, with me and Uncle Sam."
Dean wasn't defeated yet. "What if I already have your gift?"
But neither was clever Jack, tilting his head as he fired back. "I haven't heard a rule that says my gifts had to be limited to one from each person."
Dean groaned, "Dammit. Fine! Don't say I haven't done anything for you."
Jack smirked, sauntering off with too much swagger for a one year old to possess but when you're the only Nephilim in existence there was room for a lot of ignorance on his development. Sniffing loudly, Dean readjusted his seating, his mind leaving his current task; eyes drifting out the window and to the breathtaking view of North Cove, Washington.
The Winchester brothers had made several decisions that night Jack was dropped into their laps. Literally.
Dean had finally put his survival mode back in place after Mary saved them from Lucifer. He had to make sure the Nephilim wasn't killing Sam and made his way to the kid's room. When he walked in, Dean was greeted with the odd sight of Sam hugging the fully grown child of Satan in the darkest corner of the room, his brother's eyes solemn and resolved. After surreal initial introductions (the Nephilim had no problem with communicating) and the refreshing events of meeting a new supernatural creature with a clear sense of innocence, the kid grew tired, and like a human child, he quickly fell asleep.
Dean and Sam had to plan for the future before the weight of that night's events could be felt.
Of course, Sammy took the lead on this one, Dean still too numb and a little unresponsive. His brother's first decree being that they would stay in the cottage. Sam didn't want their new charge to be sequestered away from the world in their bunker; instead, he'd be introduced to all of Earth's beauty and knowledge and be taught morality. Second, they would raise Jack as if they were his family. Jack needed family, not guards. He needed to know what love was and experience it for himself, who else could do that besides the two men that knew what Jack was? Third, they would disclose everything that lead up to his birth. Secrets were an inflammation of the wound that was created that night.
The year that followed was one of learning. When they were faced with the challenge of redecorating the baby room, Dean scoffed.
"What is this crap? Why isn't he a baby? Why are we thrust immediately into puberty? I could barely handle your shitty angst." Dean groused with no real ammunition behind it, his usual bark a comfort to both of them just a week into their plan. Jack had overheard as he sat outside the doorway, eyes wide as he was still processing his surroundings.
"Should I diminish in size and brain function?" He asked without any hurt feelings, just genuine question in his bright eyes. He gave them no time to fathom a reply before he glowed an ethereal amber that encased his body and when the light died down a screaming infant was left in his place.
It took just a minute before the brothers –with hands clamped over their ears—begged for Jack to come back and stop that infernal crying. Jack shifted back to his composed teenage body and smiled wickedly. That was the day they learned he was tricky like his biological uncle, Gabriel. And over time, his youthful pranks were contagious and had the brothers reliving lighter days of long term battling to one up the other with intricate shenanigans. There was laughter, but also there was sadness felt among all of them from their shared connection. Sam had discovered a USB drive with Kelly's message to her son hidden in the crib. When they showed it to Jack a month into his existence, all was divulged.
Jack was by then, well informed on what was good, what was bad and what was considered "grey area" and when to listen to your "gut" if situations were morally ambiguous. And he understood his father's absence at their telling of what happened, why the hunters need to stop Lucifer. He was also counseled on the process of death, and of the other planes of existence their loved ones now existed on. When Jack inevitably asked if he could go there, Sam advised against it but wasn't strong arming the Nephilim into staying. Instead, he explained how dangerous it was for a half human, half angel hybrid to walk amongst those who knew what he was. The Angels were scared and what they didn't understand, they smite.
"You don't want me harmed." Jack stated, studying his uncles that day as the information flowed freely between them.
Sam smiled looking to Dean with surprise, "Uh, yeah. Exactly. And if we can avoid bloodshed, we have to do everything possible to do so. Even if it means we sacrifice what happiness it would bring us to see the ones we lost." And what better examples than what lengths the Winchesters had gone to keep each other alive or bring each other back from the dead and the consequences those actions had wrought.
Jack kept the USB close from then on, accustomed to watching it whenever the whim hit him. They weren't sure if Jack would one day chose to leave them, go to heaven…or hell…even purgatory. Apparently it was in his power to do so.
And they learned to take every nuance of his powers manifesting in stride.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it" became their small family's motto. And they crossed a lot of bridges without being lost among the swift currents below. There was the incident with a witch that had sensed the Nephilim and came seeking the power which was never a good thing. Three months into their new domestic lifestyle, the hunters were facing off with the powerful sorceress and were close to defeat when Jack came back from his walk in the woods. Upon the sight of his uncles in distress, Jack didn't hesitate to intervene. He had been armed with a gentle touch that rivaled Cass' healing touch, and the witch's magic was canceled out, rendering her strictly human. Apparently it was a fate worse than death and the former witch produced a blade and took her own life in front of them, slitting her throat after she cursed Jack's power.
Dean watched Jack's response to such vile being spewed at him with apprehension—there was a first time for everything. Jack's face was stoic as it often got when he listened intently to a speaking party, his eyes dark as he witnessed his first death. Sam was always first to check their nephew's mental status, asking if the witch's words had bothered him. Jack's smile returned with sincerity as he touched the witch once more, turning the corpse into a small copse of lilacs.
"She wanted my power so no one could hurt her again. When I rendered her powerless, she couldn't handle the punishment. I believe I followed your teachings regarding the 'grey area' of morality, listening to my 'gut'?" Jack looked for approval which Sam gave in ample amounts. The looks at Dean to add his opinion had him answering.
"Yeah, you did. It was her decision to end her life; none of this is your fault, kid. Hell, if we had you by our sides for the last eleven years, hunting would have to be called something else…catch and release." Dean nodded to himself at his analogy.
Sam strictly forbade hunting for Jack which didn't bother Dean and Jack seemed fine with it. More preoccupied with learning what was out there in books at the moment.
Dean leaned over to grab his beer from the mess of weapons on the coffee table and relaxed again, taking a sip. Every time he left for a hunt or running errands and came back, those wild flowers greeted him. They never withered, always reproducing. The kid was indeed good at heart. His mother knew it and Cas had worn his faith on his sleeve. Dean felt that devotion had been transferred to him and there was an unspoken promise to his best friend that he would take over where Cas had left off. It was the least he could do.
Dean chugged the beer swiftly, feeling anguish rising. As Jack slept and Sam watched over him, Dean buried Cass behind the house alone in a grave that overlooked the lake. All the while, tears had watered the ground he overturned; his fingers blistering as he worked through the pain relentlessly. He needed this done, no matter how much it hurt. Cass left them again, had left Dean again. This time permanently. There would be no research to bring the angel back, no deals made. They were done with cheating death, there'd be no more loopholes to compromise an already crippled principle of balance. But with that finality, came more pain and endless regrets. Sam knew Dean was feeling guilty on how unfinished their problems had been with the angel before he died.
"He knew we cared, Dean. Despite our difference in opinions, we were fighting together, for each other. He didn't die feeling ostracized. He knew we loved him." Sam had to finally go out at the break of dawn to drag Dean inside the cottage. Dean was laid next to the fresh grave, eyes skyward and unblinking as the tears streamed and created shallow pools in his ears. The silence was much louder than screaming, he learned as he mourned both Mary and Cass.
Cass' grave had become a memorial for not only the angel but also for their mom and Crowley. The brothers had to consider that the worse had happened in the war stricken universe Mary had been pulled into. If Lucifer hadn't been her death, then surely she'd meet her end in the war raging in that universe. Dean and Sam agreed reopening the portal was way too risky and followed their advice to not go seeking lost loved ones when it could mean their own universe could be at risk.
Jack had noticed the grave and once he was told the story of his birth, he had touched the mound of dirt, replacing the weeds and grass with lush moss and wildflowers. The Nephilim had an affinity for nature, and animals; always bringing home furry creatures that Dean would promptly throw back out when Jack wasn't looking. However, one stubborn fur ball stuck around when the older hunter was confronted with three sets of puppy eyes as Jack held a baby fox that had been injured and abandoned. Obviously that method of begging had been learned from Sammy. So Dean put up with the weeks of potty training and chewed up shoes with a vein popping from his head and neck every time he laid eyes on the damn thing. The orange and black fur ball was almost too easy to acclimate into their lives however and even Dean could remember its name slowly accepting the fox. He'd throw small pieces of balled up paper for Red to nimbly catch when the other two were busy with lessons.
An easy name to remember, Dean just had been stubborn.
"Come on, Dean." Sam called by the door.
"Comin'." Dean said in a heavy voice, as he took another look at the mossy hill from the window. It was a misty day in the mountains where the clouds hung low and intermingled with the fog creating a dreamy landscape. There was always a slight chill to the air with being so far north which prompted Dean two wear his thick flannel, topped with a jacket and jeans. Sam was in his work out sweats and Jack wore shorts and a thin tank top—a style he had chosen when Dean had taken him shopping for clothes. The cold and heat never bothered him. And sometimes at the expense of his uncles' collective sanity, the kid would walk in nothing but his skin.
Luckily, Jack was clothed today, not appropriate for forty degree weather but still better than getting arrested for public indecency. They departed through the back door of the cottage and started their trek with a light jog, Red trotting alongside his friend. The foxes his eyes always shot up at Jack in question. The fox's loyalty was truly endearing but Dean wouldn't admit he was fond of the creature. One mile in, it was becoming clear who had stamina and when Dean began to hyperventilate. Pride had kept him going but when the path started to incline it was too much. At the loss of Dean's footsteps, Sam and Jack looked back and turned to jog in place.
As beautiful as the scenery was, there was a reason Dean declined their invitations. Burgers and pie consumption was much more preferable. Dean waved them off, "Go on, I'll—" breathe.
"I'll catch up." He finally got out, gulping down the beer trying to ride up his esophagus.
Sam gave him a funny look of clear pity, "Keep moving, Dean. Gradually slow your heart rate. Deep breaths."
Dean rolled his eyes but went back to walking, shooing the two off ahead. Red hesitated in their wake, unsure who he should shadow for a moment before Jack called for him. Dean realized it was time to get back in shape, this was uncalled for. He was still young, no way was he going to be out done by a fox.
"Ugh, what a wakeup call." He muttered to himself. If he were to be thrown back in purgatory right at that moment, Dean would surely be partially eaten and killed; his left overs smoked for jerky. Dean continued walking in the direction of his brother and nephew, mind still on purgatory and how priorities were made clear when the world was so limited.
Staying alive, getting out. And Cass.
It had been in that order, and only because the last one was the most profound and took the most effort. Even after all the pain the angel had caused, betraying their trust, and the massacres… But just seeing the real Castiel was penance enough to Dean. He was thankful he had his friend back.
After Purgatory, Dean recalled Cass saying he couldn't save everyone, his solemn voice still echoed lively in Dean's head. But his turmoil had been more than that. When he thought he had lost Cass at the closing of the portal, it was like a half of his soul had been ripped out. That was when he knew what the angel had meant him. More than any ally or friend, more intimate than a brotherly bond…
Upon the realization, Dean shoved whatever it was deep down and covered it in mental seals when Cass had "clarified" what happened in Purgatory. There was no way he could explain to Castiel how far from right he had been, that Dean cared very little for the world's salvation in that moment as long as the angel had been by his side riding that portal out of there. Because for the briefest of moments, he had Cass back and it felt right. Cass wasn't all powerful, he wasn't perfect, and definitely never had all the answers but the angel was always there when he and Sam needed him and that had been enough to crawl under Dean's armor and leave a lasting impression. It shook the hunter when that comfort was gone.
He didn't need to save everyone, he needed to save Cass.
There were many more times that the angel felt it prudent to sacrifice himself. And just as many heated arguments where Dean would chastise the angel for his foolhardy actions. Cass obsession with martyrdom was Dean's reminder that his obsession with Cass' safety was a dead giveaway of his feelings. Sam realized it at least.
After burying Cass and Sam dragging his pathetic older brother into the cottage, Dean had passed out on the first horizontal surface he gravitated to. When he had awakened on the sofa from his mournful slumber, Sam was there, watching him.
"I'm sorry Dean, I—" Sam was lost for words but didn't need to say any of it. It was clear to Dean he had experienced the stone cold murder of their friend much harder than his younger brother. Cass would be missed but not yearned for, like Dean found himself doing with every frantic dialing of Cass' number.
Dean watched Sammy's jaw tick as the words filled his mouth but melted in the air he breathed out until finally he said, "Look, I know Cass was—well he was—what he meant…"
"Don't." Dean had barked aggressively, shoving it all down again.
Grief was disorienting. All care for time had lost its potency, eating was robotic, hunting a less than passionate performance. Sure he'd take a case, cling to the next potential upset of a town's mundane tranquility but once he got there, that had become more of a distraction than a mission. Sammy had offered to tag along on cases after Jack became more knowledgeable, and they were confident the kid wouldn't blip the cottage out of existence with his mind. But Dean was adamant on working alone; his reasoning was that they both couldn't be in danger when there was a kid that needed at least one Winchester alive.
But distractions were only helpful on a conscious mind. Castiel was interwoven so effectively into his past; the angel was in his dreams. He couldn't escape those without consulting sketchy witches, and to be honest, Dean wasn't letting those go.
They weren't sex dreams, although they had occurred when Cass was alive. He mostly dreamed of everyday interactions, a brief jumbled mess of investigating a case with Cass, driving in the Impala with Cass in the backseat. One time he flew with Cass and when he woke, the landing had been rough. He vaguely remembered waking to his laughter and at how exhilarating it was to soar weightless in the open blue with his best friend alive and well and so close to him.
Luckily Sammy and Jack had been shopping that particular day, giving Dean ample time to overturn every last piece of furniture he could lift in the living room and tidy what wasn't broken when the fire had died down. They still noticed that some items were missing and damaged but Sammy and Jack knew not to question it that night.
Dean's feet on the trail halted immediately as a foreign sound registered from the dense copse of the trees to his right. A strange humming sound…not unlike electricity when the television was left on in a dead silence. Automatically, a hand grazed over his waistband, his gun a forgotten thought on the coffee table was now a much needed commodity. Sammy had the demon blade. Dean could've gone back for weaponry, called out to the two running ahead but he didn't. Instead he slowly tracked the incessant high pitched hum through the overgrowth, walking heel to toe for the stealthy advantage. The static noise grew louder with his approach and Dean could feel a dread rising as he became aware of what it was.
He rushed through the pines and found a small clearing with a strip of illuminating light that was as tall as Sammy stood. It was off centered, the manifestation pulsating and writhing as it did the first time he saw it.
It shouldn't be there. Why was it back? That portal had been a harrowing experience and a death sentence to so many people. There was no happy ending with it writhing there, ready to take more from him. A siren of death. The only good thing it did was erase Lucifer from their plane of existence. But now with it open…
Only Jack could close it.
Dean thanked Chuck for small miracles as he had remembered to bring his phone.
"Yeah, Dean?" Sam answered the call, shallow of breath—still jogging from the sound of his bouncy voice.
"Back track, now. Bring Jack." Dean left no room for argument when he hung up. He knew they were coming, Jack sensing his presence and—
"You found it." Was all he said. Dean swiveled his body around, eyes landing on Jack's lonely figure. Jack was fixated on the portal to the alternate universe, almost perplexed at its being there but not quite. A look that stated the kid had an intuition about it but couldn't give a text book answer to explain the portal's fruition.
"Yes. I did. Why is it here? No. It doesn't matter, just close it." He demanded, stepping away from it. He looked to Jack, then the portal; to Jack and back to the portal. Both remained unmoved.
"Uh, Jacky-boy. Do something! Any moment now Lucifer could be walking free, if he isn't already sniffing the daisies." At the thought, Dean felt panic rising.
Jack was unmoved, as his demeanor mostly consisted of. Hands in his pockets, he continued to look upon the portal. When Dean was about to make another outburst, Jack beat him to speaking.
"I can't."
"…You what now?" Really, it needed to be said again.
"I can't close it."
There wasn't much Jack couldn't do. He couldn't comprehend why the Spice Girls were called The Spice Girls and he refused to listen to Dean gush on and on about his baby. But the kid excelled at the supernatural, had a Ph. D in it.
A small 'yip' from Red broke the silence as Dean processed his nephew's new limitation. The fox now arrived on the scene but the hunter had bigger problems than to figure out what Red was trying to say.
"You can't." Dean repeated as he nodded his head disdainfully and threw up his hands. He could hear Jack roll his eyes, a rare emotion that only Dean could surface from the Nephilim.
"I summon them, yes. It is unintentional and they have a will of their own. You told me that spell uncle Sam tried didn't work, right? The rifts only dissipate once their purpose has been served."
"Could they really be that self-aware?" Sam asked incredulously as he took in the threat of the portal slowly shifting and undulating.
"I don't see why not. I had nothing to do with the first portal closing, your spell was useless. It was only after Mary had made her sacrifice and pushed my father into the portal did it resolve." A silence fell at the mention of their mother, Dean wondering if Mary was just as likely to emerge as Lucifer was.
Jack continued, "You told me you're afraid of clowns. This is much more plausible." Jack deadpanned and Sam laughed shortly in amusement but quickly registered the growing problem.
"In theory, there are millions of alternate realities; surely it can't be the same one." Sam tried to be optimistic but Jack looked unconvinced. "But if it is, Lucifer is in there. What fulfillment is this thing looking for?" He sighed heavily, already weary of how today's events were playing out.
Dean shifted his weight impatiently with his fingers clasping his hips, "That is the question that this world is riding on."
More soft yipping and growling drew their attention to Red. His fur was bristling at the scruff and his little feet positioned defensively. He bared his teeth at the portal and Dean wished that the supernatural could be so random that a barking fox could defeat it.
"Look!" Sam pointed, retrieving the demon blade for defense.
Dean dreaded what he'd see but swiftly turned all the same as the portal brightened and grew wider to let someone through. Legs like jelly, he resolutely stood his ground to fight with his bare fists if it was Lucifer coming through. And with their luck…
"Jack, get Sam back to the cottage and get out of here." Dean proposed, thanks to Sammy, they had a contingency plan if they ever needed to bail swiftly. But he knew their plans had always tended for going sideways.
"No way." The two said in unison, they were ready to face what came through with Dean no matter what. Plan completely discarded, Jack had materialized next to Dean, probably to protect his embarrassingly defenseless uncle from whatever came.
Their posturing deflated when shock took the place of resignation. Dean's jaw slacked, his thought process turned off as his eyes greedily took in the impossible.
"No way…" Sam sounded just as unintelligible as Dean felt; he was stupefied by the unlikely figure standing in front of them.
Jack seemed to be the only one able to function properly, his head tilting slightly as he took in the new comer.
"Castiel." He said confidently, smiling softly as if it all made sense now.
None of this made sense.
Dean's hands were useless at his sides as he drew forward, Sam calling out to him in caution but he heeded none of it. Castiel stood there, mere meters away; taking them all in with a blank look on his face. Perhaps he was just as shell-shocked as the rest of them were at standing together on the same plane of existence again. Dean didn't slow his pace as he closed the distance between the angel and himself, trying to prove the sick mirage theory he had going on in his head was right. It couldn't really be Cass.
"Castiel, dammit, how did you—
Dean hadn't realized Castiel wasn't really looking at him until those blue eyes were solely focused on him with a swift precision Dean didn't recognize from the angel. It made him stumble his footing but did nothing to stop his approach. That was until Castiel just as methodically lifted a hand and Dean felt the familiar exertion of an unnatural force manipulate his body off the ground and had him flying backwards.
His ass broke his fall and he rolled to a stop at the other end of the clearing. He quickly regained his wits in time to see Castiel flit right in front of Jack, who seemed awed by the events he was witnessing, eyes wide and learning.
Castiel wore a trim fashion forward black suit that better fit him than his previous one but Dean only noticed because an angel blade fell into his hand from the jacket sleeve.
"Jack, run!" Dean yelled as Sam only just started advancing in a full charge. But it was too late to intervene for both brothers.
Cass had already raised his hand to strike but the kid didn't run, he didn't fly away, not so much as even flinch as he commanded, "Stop."
Dean watched Castiel freeze in place, the blade dropped to the ground and his body unwillingly relaxed into a nonthreatening stance. His eyes however burned with righteousness Dean hadn't seen since they had first met.
"Abomination." The world filtered through the angel's lips. That first sound of Castiel's voice to Dean was like drinking water in a drought. However, the angel still seemed not himself with the volatile energy he radiated but he made no move to attack again. He couldn't. Somehow Jack exerted more power over the angel. Dean struggled to stand, his muscles already protesting in a foreshadowing of what stiffness was yet to come.
Limping closer, Dean couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over his best friend in disbelief. He needed to see more, to make sure he wasn't in the living room dozing off after a few beers. Dean got so close to the seething angel that his hand found the back of Cass' neck to grab those blue eyes' attention toward him instead of the kid.
"Cass! What are you doing? It's us, that's Jack, Kelly's kid. Come on, man." He gave Cass' neck a stern shake and let go. The angel studied him with all emotions removed, eyes shifting as they took in Dean's face, then to Jack and finally to Sam who awkwardly waved his hand once with an uncomfortable closed mouth smile. His eyes strayed to the surrounding trees, to the moss underfoot and to the sky, just staring openly at it for a moment.
"Cass?" Dean asked. He was searching for something too, some sign Castiel recognized them, would recognize him.
They waited and were disappointed when Castiel dropped his chin and finally spoke.
"An alternate universe that swaddles a Nephilim. Do you know what you protect so blindly?" Castiel couldn't sound more removed from the situation; an outsider looking in. It was heart breaking, more so for Dean as realization struck that this was not his Cass.
"Cass…Castiel. We're not ignorant to Jack's lineage or what his is capable of, we chose to raise him. He's family." Sam said confidently, figuring out maybe at the same time that Castiel was an alternative version of the angel they once knew.
"He is in no way related to you. Keeping him alive is highly unwise." Castiel's eyes trained on Jack, his very telling thought process was how to break free and kill their charge. Jack didn't seem cowed by the hatred, he as well scrutinized with a sense of objectivity.
The portal's high frequency noises stuttered in an announcement that it was closing and the size of it began shrinking rapidly.
Castiel's eyes grew wide as the first sign of anything existing below the surface of programmed angel policies but he could do little else in Jack's psychic hold.
"I need to return." It was as close as he could get to pleading.
Jack smirked, "Sorry."
The portal was sealed, no seams visible now but the angel looked upon it with only a little distress.
"God dammit, Jack! Why didn't you let the asshole go? I don't want him here!" Dean fussed; his eyes afire with a passion to get the real abomination out of their sight.
It was cruel. He looked like Cass, sounded like Cass and a year had trudged by without him and now Dean was faced with this…phantom. He had just touched Castiel and the angel hadn't even felt it.
"I'm not the only one capable of creating those rifts in space and time. Castiel planned on retrieving reinforcements to root me out. He cannot be allowed to go back." Jack surmised, still smiling softly. Dean briefly wondered what was so damn amusing in this situation but just shook his head feeling overwhelmed.
Sam groaned but quickly righted himself on the side of reassurance, "Its fine. This is fine. We'll work it out like we…Dean? Dean!"
Dean didn't realize he had been walking away dejectedly until Sam called out for him again. Still, he outright ignored it, and back tracked to the cottage. He couldn't be bothered to deal with a clone. It was a joke at his expense. Let Jack grind that angel to dust to keep their secret.
I must stop time traveling; you're always on my mind
-Florence and the Machine
The first passing of Mary Winchester was confusing to Dean, his brain still in the developmental stage and just trying to puzzle out where his mother could've possibly gone that wasn't home. He had always missed her with a longing to turn back time to before the house fire and clung to his vague but happy memories of her. The second loss of Mary Winchester was indescribable, death of a loved one a very often occurrence in his line of work. But having to mourn his mother again was unusual and wrong. He hated it and in his grief he had wished Chuck and Amara never brought her down from heaven. But he never thought about what Sammy was feeling, how he was pulling through. It must have been like losing her for the first time since he got to know who she was. Dean was selfish, wrapped up in his own grief. How could he forget to ask after all the time that had passed?
Dean drunk heavily upon returning to the cottage, beer wasn't an option so he got the whiskey. When he lightened the bottle of most of its contents, Dean noticed they still weren't back yet from the trail. But the fog the alcohol created was much too comforting to see past and instead went to his room to aid in forgetting the day's events.
It didn't take him long to fall asleep with his feet dangling off the bed, head propped up with his pillows. When he woke up, it was dark outside and his inebriated mind conjured feelings of regret for neglecting Sammy. So he rose, on a mission to right his wrong. If only he could right himself from walking into every wall and obstacle as well, it'd go quicker. He bumped into a random vase they never bothered to move off an end table in the hall and fumbled to catch it but the vase was destined for destruction. The sound of ceramic breaking on a wooden floor was quite cacophonous in the stillness of the house.
Dean only realized the error of his ways when a light flooded the hall and Sam stood at the other end, mirroring his older brother's squint from the harsh bright light. He forgot to turn the damn light on.
"Dammit Dean… be careful. You're barefoot." Dean nonchalantly looked down at his mess.
Laughing bitterly, Dean shook his head, "Sometimes, I forget who is the oldest between us."
"You are. Come on." Sam beckoned for his older brother to walk around the sharp ceramic shards and helped him into the living room. Dean was backed into the cushions of the couch and deposited there and before he could say anything, Sam retreated into the kitchen.
Not too motivated to follow, Dean relaxed into the soft fabric but stiffened when he brushed against a warm body next to him. Swiftly he turned to look and noticed goblin Cass was utterly still next to him in a rested position with his eyes closed. He felt his mind sobering unpleasantly as the anger took over. He was about to yell at his stupid brother when the words caught in his throat. Dean's eyes were drawn back to look at the seemingly asleep angel and couldn't tear away. He took in how the dim lighting in the sleepy living room interacted with the shadows on the face of a friend that was dead. He was buried right outside but he was here with blood flowing through his veins, his wings intact and grace unharmed.
With an uninterrupted chance to study this phenomenon sitting before him, Dean could tell subtle changes from the angel he once knew. Goblin Castiel looked younger. Less wrinkles and guilt imprinted his face from a life not spent on earth where he'd be bound to experience pain like Cass had.
Dean couldn't stop from reaching over and giving the angel a poke in his cheekbone, looking cautiously for a response. The angel remained quite still, although his vessel's skin dipped malleable to Dean's touch. Footsteps approached and Dean withdrew his hand quickly, looking awkward as Sam caught him but just given the look that said "behave".
Sammy had a tray in hand and passed it over to Dean who gratefully took it. There was a bowl of stew from cooking last night and a glass of water with two white pills neatly placed nearby. Dean easily recognized the painkillers and took them first, drinking most of the water with it.
"Thanks, Sammy." His little brother just nodded before sitting in Dean's usual seat closest to the coffee table still littered with the weaponry he had been cleaning earlier. Sam sighed heavily as he looked to Castiel and Dean noticed just how close he was sat to the angel and corrected the space between them.
Instead of yelling, Dean asked in a stern voice, jerking his head in the direction of the angel.
"Why is he here? I figured it was completely, one hundred percent clear he needed to be taken care of. And I mean killed." Dean tacked on incase his little brother was just that dense.
Sam's jawline visibly ticked, as he held back his own ire at the situation—maybe more directed towards Dean as he explained, "You think it would be easy for me to kill Castiel—even if he isn't…" The pause told Dean just how hard it was for Sam to face this new complication in their lives. Before he could speak, Sam continued in a low voice.
"And if you think I'd be okay with Jack taking anyone's life, you're wrong. He's too good for that. Besides, Jack was the one that suggested we keep him here."
Dean wasn't too surprised by that. He couldn't even shoot an accusatory glare at the kid since it was around his bed time. The kid loved to sleep. Apparently he could astral project and learn about the world that way. And of course Jack wanted Castiel here. Another pet Dean had to get rid of somehow. But Dean didn't harp on the subject, knowing for now he wouldn't get his way. The two usually ganged up on him, overriding his authority since Jack often referred to him as a bull in a china shop, not understanding intricacy and delicacy. Rude, but true.
"Fine, the angel stays. But don't you think all this activity will draw attention from the folks upstairs?" Heaven had been quiet after the Nephilim's birth, seeming to have given up on saving the world since preventative strategies had failed. Even though there was warding on the house that screwed up their angel radio feedback, the angels could still find their general location and root them out. It was disconcerting thought having to fight off all of heaven and it was a war that Dean desperately wanted to avoid.
Sam gestured for Dean to eat, "It is a concern, I agree. But you know I've been working on expanding the Enochian warding on Jack's trails. The energy from that portal should have been masked as well as any movement Jack makes beyond the cottage. Besides, he has his own seals now. We should be safe." Sam was referring to the Enochian sigils that the Nephilim had engraved into the skin on his back. He kept the scars from healing, protecting him from detection.
Dean still felt unease, but it was more focused on what the hell to do with an angel that wanted them dead.
"Why is he like that?" Dean asked around a mouthful of stew, pointing his thumb at the slumped over angel.
"Angels don't sleep."
Sam's eyes lightened, amused for a moment at Dean's lack of manners before saying, "Castiel wouldn't cooperate so for now Jack has him in a stasis. Apparently he is aware of us, but he can't move any part of his body."
"Jesus." Dean exclaimed quietly, eyes still taking in goblin Cass.
"How are you, Dean?" Looking up, Dean frowned at the question before answering. It was as obvious as blood on the wall, that having Cass' doppelganger present was an inflammatory agent to Dean's mourning process. Both knew how hard this would be but Dean shrugged it off, taking another spoonful of stew, forcing it down.
"I'm fine. I should've asked you that a long time ago." He admitted quietly, unsure if he wanted to talk about this with the angel right there listening. But it shouldn't matter. This Castiel meant nothing to him and vice versa.
Sam seemed genuinely perplexed, "Why?"
It was sad that his little brother didn't understand that comfort should've been distributed both ways rather than just directed at Dean. Finishing up the stew so Sammy wouldn't worry, Dean abandoned the tray to the floor.
"That night was hell on earth. I…we lost everyone and I couldn't prevent not one of them from dying. I couldn't get right with that." Still can't, he told himself in all honesty.
"But…that is no excuse for me not being there for you when you experienced the same amount of loss that night. I should've…"
"Dean," Sam interrupted looking Dean unwaveringly in the eye to make sure his older brother could believe what he said. "I'm fine. Really. Losing mom was hard but I'm not giving up hope that she's alive in that other world. If I learned anything from meeting her…it's that she's a warrior. That's where we got our strength from."
Dean's eyes widened when he heard that, he never thought Sammy's opinion differed from his own. But he shouldn't be surprised at the optimism that Sam always drifted towards.
"And losing Cass and even Crowley…It was horrible. They were friends, friends we could depend on when our backs were against the wall. But…Dean."
Dean looked away when those brown eyes grew empathetic, he sniffed hard to disrupt the sadness that was welling up inside. He was always a fighter, even against himself.
"Dean…what you lost—it was different from me."
He couldn't stand sitting anymore but only stood and walked to the fireplace in the living room. He couldn't run away from this. He blamed it on the drinking malfunctioning his motor skills.
"I get why you repressed it. Why you couldn't talk about it and what that meant for me when I couldn't come to you about them. Mom and Cass go hand in hand; I couldn't mention one without bringing up the pain of losing the other."
The tears felt like hot streams down his cheeks, Dean rubbed his face with the palm of his head in the shadows of the room.
"I'm an adult, Dean. You sometimes forget it. I got through without being coddled by you. But I did have help, mostly. Jack was a big distraction…but not only that. Watching his mind grow as I taught him, it healed that pain for me. Their sacrifice for him…it wasn't in vain. I can reassure you of that."
Dean sniffed again, pulling back the tears and righting his shoulders. That was enough. Sam was okay. That was all that mattered.
"But…I can't say the same happened for you." Dean looked back to his little brother, who watched him knowingly.
"You haven't stopped mourning them." Sammy surmised, standing as well to walk over to Dean.
"I'm fine, Sammy." Dean gritted out, feeling the loss of control on the situation. This conversation wasn't supposed to be about him.
"You're stuck, and I don't know how to give you that closure. I lost Jessica at the beginning of all this and I can recognize that level of pain when I see it. And now with Castiel here, you're being challenged to face your grief. So no, you're not fine, Dean." Dean was about to move off again, but Sam mirrored his movement, blocking the path with his moose like girth.
"If you need to talk about it—about them—I'm right here." Sam crowded Dean but then hugged him. Dean felt very uncomfortable for a moment before hugging back, smacking Sam's back rhythmically.
"Now get off me before I start growing out my hair and start eating kale." He barked and Sam relented, picking up the tray and heading back into the kitchen.
"Would that be so bad?" He shot back in retaliation.
Clearing his throat, Dean looked over at the unresponsive angel before walking out of the room stiffly to go clean up his mess in the hall.
Hey are you listening? I cannot reach you
I'm on the other side, trying to break through
-Fleurie
The next day started early. Dean felt motivated to move on and refocus his energy to the family he had now. He didn't want Sammy worrying about him over something that can't be fixed. So Dean made a point to walk into the living room with his eyes pointedly on the kitchen; his peripheral vison being enough confirmation that goblin Cass was still immobile on the couch.
Sam and Jack were already in the kitchen, a familiar sight of his little brother showing Jack something 'interesting' in a thick book while they ate cereal greeted him.
"Mornin'." Dean grunted as he swung open the fridge door. No eggs, no bacon…A cereal box rattled like a maraca from behind him.
"We saved you the last serving. It's your turn—
"To go shopping. Yes. I know." Sam smirked and Dean snatched the box from his hand. "I'll go later today."
Sam pressed the list to Dean's forehead and Dean ripped it off, glaring at it. All the usual stuff.
"You have to get enough for Cass as well." Dean turned his hard look on Jack who smiled charmingly; he rolled his eyes, "Nuh uh."
"He should get to eat and drink like the rest of us. I want him to live here with us."
Both brothers gawked, Sam seemingly caught off guard as well.
"Jack that's…Castiel is dangerous. He wants to kill you. We can't allow him that much freedom if he is to stay here." Sam closed the book, looking troubled by his decree. He didn't like boundaries but Dean didn't mind telling their spoiled Nephilim nephew no.
"I do not intend to keep Cass in his current state, it is recognized to be inhumane. Even if the ideology is applied to an angel that has an agenda to annihilate me." That last sentence was directed toward Dean who had opened his mouth to object. Instead he hummed his disapproval and frowned down at his cereal at his nickname for their Cass being used on the clone.
"And he isn't dangerous; for now, I have him under my control. I need him." Jack insisted as he looked relatively calm, no rush in his words or impatience growing. It was how he always got Sammy to succumb to his whims. If Satan's offspring eventually wanted to go hunting, Sam would try to put up a strong front but eventually he would cave and ask Wendigo or Vampire?
Sam was ready to exploit another excuse but a body crowded the kitchen archway and the brothers were to their feet in attack mode. Castiel took them in as if they were as insignificant as two house flies in a garbage pile but he made no threatening moves. He just stood there in his rumpled black suit with is hands useless at his sides. Dean looked to Jack who remained relaxed and let the tension leave his muscles. Castiel was as bound as a puppet to its master.
He noticed Sammy assessing him, but didn't bother returning the look. He was fine.
Jack stood up and all eyes went to him.
"Castiel, we can learn so much from each other. There's more benefit in becoming allies than allowing ignorance to fuel your inane goals." His offer was short, his bright eyes boring into the angel still immobile at the entrance to the kitchen.
Dean watched Castiel hint at suspicion and distrust as his eyes squinted up; it was obvious cordiality was lost on him.
"I will not be easily swayed by your cunning, Nephilim. You are an insult to God's creations and must be eradicated to restore balance."
"What balance—
"Fine." Jack acquiesced, cutting off Sam's exacerbation, "But you're staying with us and I am in charge of you. You'll be spending a lot of time with me; probability is on my side, meaning we are destined to talk at some point."
The Nephilim seemed unperturbed by Castiel's obstinacy and the brothers were at a loss on how to proceed next.
"Uh, Cass…Castiel, are you um, are you hungry?" Sam winced, trying to follow Jack's lead in the moment and fearing Dean's judgement as his older brother did a double take. Really?
"That is unnecessary." That deep voice answered stiffly, eyes shifting to his surroundings. It must have been odd, seeing a world different from his own for quite possibly the first time traveling to an alternate universe. Dean wasn't sure which alternative universe goblin Cass had come from but assuming it was from the war torn world from last year, the relative peace here must be overwhelming for the angel.
Whatever. Dean shrugged; it wasn't a concern to him. Not his problem. Leave it to the softies to take care of the imposter.
He literally turned his back on the situation, cleaning up his dish at the sink.
"I'm bored with exerting my will upon you. But just so you know, the warding on this house takes away your ability to fly off." Jack forewarned. Dean shook his head to himself. It would end badly. Always did.
Dean heard footsteps and jumped when he could feel Castiel's face was next to his own, watching him wash his hands at the sink.
"Come on—
"Human ingenuity." Castiel commented at the same time.
"—man! Boundaries!" Dean flicked his hands to dry them and retreated immediately to a safer distance but not before he caught a familiar scent coming from the angel. It was the addictive scent of fresh cold air spilling from an air conditioning vent, beckoning him to breathe ever deeper. He had to force himself not to stare at the back of Castiel's neck; he ripped his eyes away and gritted his teeth with irritation.
"No plumbing where you come from?" Sam asked, clearly amused as he grabbed on to any opportunity he could to learn more about their guest.
Castiel stayed silent but pressed down with a finger on the lever to stop the flow of water before turning back around.
"Not for a very long time."
"Where you come from…it must be rife with Cataclysm." Jack took up Sam's effort but the angel seemed to hold fast to his earlier decree and remained taciturn. But Jack pressed, "A perpetual war between Heaven and Hell maybe?"
Castiel pointedly ignored the kid and directed his attention to Dean. Those blue eyes froze Dean in place. No matter how much he willed it, he was no further removed from the situation than he had been five minutes ago. He couldn't even leave the damn kitchen.
"What?" Dean barked on false bravado. It came easily when his job was most often defeating creatures with ten times his strength and stamina. The angel barely moved, not even a blink as he spoke with no hesitation or deterrence.
"You were close to the angel that had the same vessel…the same grace. That is why I am here, that is why I am alive. Human sentiment is hard to comprehend but I have acquired the basics." It was bordering on scathing but Castiel's face remained neutral under all that condescension in his tone.
The indignation was growing as he opened his mouth but the urge to hit the bastard was so strong the words couldn't come out. Looking to Sammy, Dean said with his eyes that it was time for his little brother to take over. He left Sammy to fumbling over his attempt at responding and Jack to looking rather entertained. Finally, there was cause enough to urge his feet out from the stifling kitchen, resisting a glance back at the shade of Cass that was still staring him down with that familiar assessing gaze.
The rest of the day had passed with Dean absent from the cabin. It was the perfect day to go shopping and pretend they were in desperate need of fishing hooks which brought him even further from the cabin to go to the good camping store fifty miles east of the haughty angel they were keeping prisoner. It was the only time he regarded Sammy's fishing hobby as a positive, since he was awful at fishing. He smirked when he recalled Jack besting his brother by simply hand fishing one day; the bitch face Sam had conjured up was priceless.
Cabin living had been good for a year, and Dean was grateful for that. But did the universe have to ruin it by throwing his grief in his face? It wasn't fair. He wanted to find the personification of fate and gank it just for forcing this torturous storyline. He never thought that he would be face to face with Castiel again. That first delusion was a wakeup call. When Dean thought by some miracle his Cass was back, a resurfacing of feelings and intent that he had shoved down and explained away as mistakes were clear.
He had been in love with Castiel.
The clarity wasn't fading anymore.
"Dammit!" Dean swore, driving harshly down an otherwise quiet road, the speed gauge reaching twenty over the speed limit. But the faster he drove, the sooner he'd be back home and faced with the problem that now gnawed at him like a maggot in the belly.
He couldn't stay in Washington.
"Dean I need you to take a shift in watching Cass—Castiel." Sam corrected himself, confronting Dean as soon as he entered the cabin who was loaded with groceries.
"Just how much did you buy?" Dean shrugged.
"I needed…things. Now what are you talking about, shifts?" Dean tried to catch his little brother's attention as Sam was preoccupied by the contents of the small fortune Dean had come home with. Dean's eyes couldn't help but find the location of their captive who was in the living room looking made of wood, sitting in his chair watching the brothers argue. Dean focused back on Sammy before he could make eye contact with goblin Cass.
"Castiel doesn't sleep. He cannot be left alone at night. Jack refuses to implement his hold on him." Dean bored his eyes into Sam, knowing exactly where this was going.
"Nuh uh. You watch him! This was your idiot idea so it's your responsibility!"
Sam's jaw shifted as he tensed, "Look I know asking this of you—
"No, obviously you don't—" Dean cut himself off, turning away from both his brother and the angel. It was late so Jack was already in bed, probably watching this very moment in his astral form as Dean tried to force himself to calm down. Why was he being punished?
"Fine. Go get some sleep, Sammy. But in the morning, I'm gone."
Sam was physically taken aback, his shoulder shifting and eyes lighting up in surprise. "What? You'll go on an imaginary hunt while we're left here dealing with the same emotional distress as you in this situation?"
Dean growled and couldn't stop himself from shouting, "You said it yourself, what his presence means isn't the same for you!"
It was quiet as both brothers and the angel mulled on the last words resonating off the cabin walls.
"I mean it, Sam. Go rest, in the morning I need to go."
Sam finally seemed to realize now that Dean was at his limit as his dark eyes turned sad, the impatience gone and tension released as the fight left him.
"I'm sorry, Dean…I... I'll find a way to make it that we are all safe and Castiel isn't harmed in the process. You should go, I'll get Jack to help me this time."
Dean hated that guilt was rising as he watched Sammy leave the living room. This wasn't his fault but that obligation was rising just the same. He was already teetering in his resolve. Sam didn't want Jack fighting the supernatural and Dean leaving was forcing his little brother to replace him with the kid.
"Shit…" Dean grabbed up a few of the bags to start putting everything away. He made sure goblin Cass hadn't moved every once in a while, and wondered what was going on in that feathered brain. Dean put five beers in the fridge and took the last cold one, twisting the cap and throwing it in the sink. He was reluctant to step foot back in the living room since there were no more tasks to distract himself from solely keeping an eye on their captive.
But his curiosity was peaked at just how doll like the angel was behaving. It was odd.
Dean's feet automatically carried him to the loveseat, he looked down in Castiel's lap noticing the large picture book stuck on a page portraying the stars on a black and blue sky. Sammy had doled out that same picture book for Jack the day after his birth. It seemed to be a pacifier for angels.
Dean pointed with his beer, "If you flip the page, you'll see giraffes in an African plain. Its breathtaking." His sarcasm was lost however as Castiel turned the page. He studied the picture with stoic eyes and brought that same stare up to Dean.
"I don't understand how a depiction of God's creatures can rob you of breath. This book does not have that ability."
Dean chugged a third of the beer in hopes the night would be a fast one. A look at his watch and Dean realized it was only midnight. Sam usually sprung like a giant weed at eight in the morning, Jack about the same time. As Dean internalized the strife of slow moving clocks, he noticed Castiel was going dormant again, his eyes unseeing. What was that?
"Hey, what are you up to?" Blue eyes refocused and he watched in fascination as the first emotion played on the usual blank slate face in the form of confusion.
"What?"
Dean rolled his eyes, "Even for an angel you're acting weird. Aren't you restless over there?" It's not like he wanted the angel to try an escape but the personification of stone was just as disconcerting.
"I would like to leave, yes. However, there is something here…overwhelming this place. I am certain it is grace that is keeping me here. My grace." Dean felt as confused as Castiel looked.
Castiel finally moved to stand, the large picture book fell to the floor with a thump, making Dean jump at how loud the sound was in the contrasting stillness of the night. He suddenly rose up in defense but didn't advance, just watching the angel watch him in return.
"Time and time again, the angel you knew imbued you with grace. I feel it. I…feel his death. It's in the ground." Castiel walked up to Dean with calm footfalls, lost in his own intrigue. Dean only slightly panicked but didn't sense any danger at the approach. He only shifted uncomfortably as he tried to put space between them but the loveseat was right at his calves. Castiel was so close, Dean could catch that fresh air smell on the angel's clothes again.
He didn't know why he opened up about it, maybe he wanted goblin Cass to know he could never be as awesome as the Cass he knew. There was no comparison. There could be no connection to a shadow.
"I was killed by hellhounds and was sent to Hell—obviously. Cass, he repaired my decaying corpse and pulled my soul from Hell upon orders of the dicks upstairs. He has also healed me countless times over the years." His voice was low, he kept his eyes away from Castiel's as he shortly recalled those events, clung to them because the memories were all he had left.
Dean startled and looked down at his left shoulder when he felt fingers brushing under his short sleeve shirt where the raised scar had been from Castiel's handprint. He immediately jerked away from goblin Cass, sending accusatory glares but noticed something was wrong. Castiel looked pained and he was almost timid. The angel shuffled back on unsteady legs, his eyes wide looking from his hand to Dean.
"I…raised you from—Dean."
The way his name fell from Castiel's lips had Dean's heart seizing and the pace grew faster, trying to catch up to the racing speed of his mind. It couldn't be but there it was. Castiel's glowing sapphire gaze held a little less contempt, and more bewilderment and as he regarded Dean there was recognition. It shouldn't be directed at him. He couldn't get past his own shock to try to utter a word in return.
"No." Castiel blurted in obstinacy and blinked hard. He dipped down his head, a hand rising to meet his eyes as if he suffered a headache.
Dean felt tethered right to whatever was happening and chased as the moment started slipping away, "What just happened?"
Castiel was removing himself again, his eyes lost the ethereal radiance and with it all of the emotions receded as well.
"Hey, I'm talking to you. What was that?!" Dean wasn't letting it go, he couldn't. He was missing something of importance and he wouldn't dare think it be something it wasn't. He just wanted the truth.
As Castiel tried to retreat back to the recliner, Dean's hand shot out to turn him around. Like a startled animal, the angel grabbed at the hand that grabbed him, his hold so tight, Dean groaned in discomfort but watched in horror when he noticed the two fingers rise up to his forehead. He knew what that meant. He also noticed the façade dropping and that same lost look had resurfaced after being disturbed. The angel's fingers touched his forehead softly.
"Cass. Don't you d—"
He experienced the loss of consciousness like a light switch being turned off.
You taught me the courage of stars, before you left.
How light carries on endlessly, even after death.
-Sleeping At Last
AN: How was it? Should I post more? I figured this would be too long as a one-shot. But let me know, do you like fifty page one-shots or multiple chapters so you won't lose your place when you need a break? The quotes are from songs I love, check them out.
Jaymes Young-Moondust, Fleurie-Sirens, Florence + Machine-I Wish You Were Here, Sleeping At Last-Saturn
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the quotes used. I'm just an enthusiast.