They managed to keep John away for a few more weeks by tracking down every hunt within five hundred miles and telling him that whatever illness Sam had picked up made him sleepless and prone to throw a tantrum at the drop of a coin. John was all too willing to take the hunts, and there were plenty to take.

Sam spent those weeks putting his newfound skills to work and taking advantage of the nicer weather by tottering around the back yard- after Dean and Castiel swept it for sharp rocks and bits of metal, of course. Dean wrestled him into jeans, itty bitty sneakers, and a shirt with a fuzzy dog on it that Bobby had found somewhere, set him down in the grass, and gave him a little push to send him zooming off at a wobble like a wind-up toy. Castiel took it upon himself to patrol the property (though Dean suspected he kept circling back to hover just out of sight, both eyes on Sam), and Dean and Bobby sat on the back porch with a couple of beers to watch Sam go.

"Ooh!"

Dean winced when Sam tripped over his own feet and face-planted in the dirt. Wide hazel eyes blinked up at him.

"De?"

"You're okay, buddy," Dean called. "You're good, just get up and keep goin'. Shake it off."

Apparently reassured by Dean's lack of concern, Sam pushed himself up to his feet and was off again.

"Fast learner," Bobby commented.

"Oh yeah," Dean said proudly. "He is in everything. I was kinda worried, you know? Because he's still so small. Like, twentieth percentile in height or somethin'. But he's got all the motor skills down on time or early, so I guess he's just a slow grower. His dad's pretty tall but maybe his mom was short."

Bobby hummed disagreeably. "Can't always judge by that. He might have a late growth spurt years from now and end up taller'n you."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right. His dad's not that tall."

"And it's not like John feeds him so great, he might be stunted from bad nutrition."

"John feeds him badly. We've always fed him great," Dean corrected irritably. Seriously, what kind half-assed guardian angel did Bobby think he was? "Right from the minute I got him, man. The last, what? Eight months? Except for what you give him, he's had almost all his meals mixed up by Cas from Heaven's gardens and super special hippy places here on earth, and all his milk formula has been based on, like, magic cows."

Bobby was a veteran hunter of the supernatural, and he'd spent the last several weeks with a couple of angels, so he didn't even blink. "Magic cows, huh?"

"Yeah. Well. Not really. I dunno. Cas just goes out and comes back with milk that's super nutritious. And there's a schedule to it, because he says he has to ask the magic cows or whatever they are first, and he can only ask when they're not sleeping or busy."

"Huh. You let Sam drink somethin' when you're not even sure what it is?"

Dean glared at him over the mouth of his beer. "Cas is alright, okay? He's a freakin' weirdo but you can trust him. Even with Sam."

They watched as Sam babbled loudly and stomped around the yard, playing a game that only he could understand. Bobby took a long drink of his beer.

"Got a call from John this morning. He's heading back, he'll be here by tonight."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, figured it couldn't last much longer. I'm not sure we should stay any longer anyway. There's been muttering on angel airwaves...I dunno. It's probably good we're moving on. But thanks for letting us stay so long."

Bobby waved him off. "Don't need to thank me. There's some kinda shit startin' out there, I'm seein' the signs too and I don't like 'em. Get Sam back here as often as you can so I'm not worryin' about the four of you and we'll call it even."

"Four?"

"Two angels, one man and a baby. I count that four."

Something a little warm and fuzzy glowed in Dean's chest. "You know we're eternity-old, right?" he pointed out gruffly. "Cas and me are two of the most powerful things on earth right now. There's not really anything that you need to worry about with us."

Bobby shrugged. "Knowin' and common sense don't have anything to do with it," he said simply, and the conversation was over.

"De!" Sam shouted. He waved one arm over his head.

"What 'cha got there, Sammy?"

"De!" Sam said insistently. Dean shook his head.

"Nah, dude. You gotta come bring it over here."

Sam trotted up to the porch, only falling twice, and climbed up the steps on his hands and knees. He hauled himself back up to his feet by pulling on the legs of Dean's jeans and held his tiny fist out. Dean held his hand out flat. Sam dropped a smooth grey pebble onto his palm.

"Woooow," Dean marveled. "That's awesome, Sammy. Isn't it?" He showed the rock to Bobby.

"Really nice, Sam," Bobby said appreciatively.

Sam grabbed onto Dean's knees and bounced up and down. "De!" he squealed happily.

Bobby frowned. "Isn't it about time he learned a few more words so he can actually talk?"

Dean shrugged. "No rush. I understand him just fine."

Sam looked around, his face falling. "De?"

"And that one," Dean explained as he leaned forward to scoop Sam up, "means 'why is that big dork Castiel not here to admire my very pretty pebble?'" He gripped Sam's hands and pulled him up so that Sam stood unsteadily on his thighs. "Sammy," he said firmly. "Sammy, look at me. New lesson for the day, we're gonna teach you how to call yourself an angel. You want Cas, right?"

"Cath," Sam agreed. They'd been working on the 'kah' sound, but he didn't have enough teeth to make a good 's'. Dean still thought it was a pretty good start. Cas complained like he had a stick up his ass that it was all wrong and not his name, but Dean also caught him once sitting on the floor with Sam and handing him strawberry slices every time he said it.

"Yup, Cas, good job, Sam," Dean praised. "I want you to think about Cas, okay?"

"You know he can't understand about ninety percent of the words you're sayin', don't you?" Bobby interrupted.

"Shut up, man, Sam's a genius and we work on extra wavelengths. Sammy, think about Cas. You like Cas' feathers, right? You like it when I leave him to watch you and he puts a wing out for you? How about when Cas lies down on the floor with his wings out so you can lie down on one and he rustles it so you roll around like a little bug?"

Bobby snorted. "He really does that? Heaven's most straight-edge soldier?"

Dean grinned. "Oh, yeah. Cutest thing ever, man. And he does this thing he calls a defensive protective position, he gets Sam up hanging on to his neck like a piggy-back ride and sticks his wings straight back so Sammy's kind of squashed in between them- 'cus our feathers are like, bomb proof, you know? So yeah, he's protected in the middle of both wings and Cas still has his hands free, but you can just hear Sammy giggling away in there for ages."

"Cath," Sam reminded him, jumping on his legs.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, sit down, I need both hands." Dean raised Sam up so he hung in the air then dropped him onto his lap and covered his eyes with one palm. "Cas, Sammy. Think about Cas. I'm gonna make this real easy, okay? You love Cas' feathers, so think about Cas now. Cas, Cas, Cas." He leaned forward and manifested his wings, bringing one forward to tickle the feather tips along Sam's face and neck. Then he swept it away. "Cas. These are Cas' feathers and you want them back, right? Think about how much you want Cas' feathers."

There was a soft rustle and Cas stood in front of them on the porch, wide eyed. "Sam," he said, and sounded shocked. "Dean, Sam called for me."

"Alright!" Dean whooped. "That's my boy, Sammy!" He hoisted the shrieking toddler up into the air above his head and beamed at him. "Who's a smart little guy? You are. Because you just figured out how to pray for an angel before you can even talk, didn't you? Yes you did."

"So, what, you think about an angel hard enough and they hear you callin' 'em?" Bobby asked, sounding intrigued.

"If a human directs their thoughts and desire for a certain angel, that angel will hear it as a prayer," Castiel told him. "Sam did not produce distinct words or ideas, but his thoughts were entirely focused on me, and I felt his desire for my presence."

"Cath!" Sam burbled, and reached out for the other angel. Dean shifted his hands to Sam's ribcage and passed him off like a football, ignoring the disapproving wrinkle between Cas' eyes.

"Yeah, I got him thinking about your feathers," Dean explained proudly. "You should probably give 'em up now or he'll just get all sad and dewy-eyed on us."

Sure enough, as soon as Castiel had the toddler settled sitting upright on his forearm and leaning against his chest, he tugged on the lapel of Cas' coat and fixed him with big, beseeching eyes. "Cath?" he asked, in a very tiny voice.

Dean threw back his head and laughed. Bobby growled indistinctly into his beer. "Kid's gonna be lethal as he gets older," he grumbled.

"You know it," Dean chuckled.

Castiel let loose his wings and brought them forward to surround Sam and block him away completely, hidden except for his happy coos.

There will be plot from now on, I promise. Well. Maybe one more pointless fluff chapter, then plot. But yeah, plot's coming; don't give up hope!