Bonus Chapter 2: Chapter 21 – An angel called me aside

### One year later, fall (4 years since Dean and Castiel got together) ###

Castiel experienced a grim day at court today. He was the judge of an ongoing murder trial, and today was the last hearing before he would pronounce the sentence. In his career, Castiel had held many murder trials – most murders had happened in the heat of the moment, and many times, the murderer felt deep remorse about his act of violence. There were some cases, though, which stuck to Castiel's head: It was usually when the murder had been especially cruel, or when the killer had been cold-blooded, the corruption of their soul reflected in their eyes. His current trial would be one of the later – not only had the murder been nastily violent, but the killer himself was also emanating a dark aura. While he listened to the accusations during the trial, the killer constantly displayed a malicious smug to Cas.

It was a weird case. The defendant was called Mark, but he called himself Lucifer and told everyone, who would listen, that he was the reincarnation of the devil. Insanity glistened in his pale blue eyes – the expert assessment lying in front of Castiel told him that this man wasn't in his right senses and probably needed preventive detention. That was the one thing Castiel had first stumbled upon – it wasn't common to meet a man who announced he was the devil himself. The other thing was the way he had killed his wife, Kelly Kline; with his bare hands, he had throttled and beaten her to death. Castiel had seen the photos of her corpse, had seen all the bruises on her battered face. The reason, why he had killed her, was also strange – Mark insisted, that Kelly had given birth to an angelic creature, their son Jack, and that Jack was his rival. He freely admitted that he had wanted to first kill her, then kill him. Their boy had seen the whole murder – it was a miracle that he had been able to escape and flee to their next-door neighbors.

Now Castiel beheld the boy, who was merely eight years old. He had light brown hair strictly combed to one side, his clothes oddly dapper and mature for his age – and he was awfully polite and sickly pale. He had been taken to the witness stand, only under the premise that his father wasn't present. However, intimidation was clearly visible in his eyes, his whole demeanor was meek, his posture tense. Castiel smiled sadly at him as the caregiver from the children's home he was now staying at gently touched Jack's shoulder to encourage him. Jack reminded him so much of himself after he had lost his mother – granted, he had been twice his age, but it still had been a shock one simply didn't recover from. He saw the same confusion and forlornness he had experienced back then mirrored in Jack's eyes. With patience, Castiel listened to Jack's stuttered narration of that night when he had seen his father murder his mother. When tears hotly welled in Jack's eyes, Castiel's throat constricted painfully with sympathy for the boy. He watched him slowly break down, crumbling under the pressure, and decided he had heard enough. When Jack wiped his tears away with trembling hands, Castiel gave the care-giver a subtle, solemn nod towards the door, then he thanked Jack kindly and told him he could wait outside if he wanted to know the sentence right away.

He gave the trial jury half an hour to debate internally, then decide whether the defendant was guilty or innocent. After they returned, he asked all of them – their verdict was clear: twelve out of twelve decisions declared Mark guilty. Now it was Castiel's turn to pass the sentence, and even though he knew it was immoral, he was happy to wipe the smug grin from Mark's face finally when he imposed lifetime imprisonment in a psychiatric ward. If they were lucky, they would never hear of Mark, a.k.a. "Lucifer", again. It was annoying enough when they had to remove him from the court, for he was shouting and threatening god and the world to find them and kill them all. Castiel sighed relieved when this awful trial was over at last – it seemed it had robbed him all of his strength. A few minutes passed, in which he idly watched the courtroom, how people were chattering and leaving little by little.

He took a deep breath, then he left the courtroom as well to find Jack. He found him sitting on a bench nearby, his care-taker silently sitting beside him. He gave her a kind smile, and she wordlessly understood his intentions as he made a beeline towards them – he wanted to speak with Jack in private. The lady got up and walked a few steps away, out of hearing range. With circumspection, he took a seat beside Jack, felt his big eyes resting on him all the while. He turned his torso towards him, gave him a kind smile as he took in his delicate, porcelain features.

"So, your father will be locked away for a very, very long time now, Jack," he said slowly, whereupon Jack nodded. His mien darkened, his voice became somber, when he spoke to Castiel.

"He is not my father, Mister Winchester, he is a monster. I do believe him: he is the devil."

Cas gently reached out a hand and squeezed Jack's shoulder sympathetically.

"Listen, Jack. I'm not saying I know how you feel or what you're going through. You're very young and life hasn't been very kind to you. You know, I lost my mother, too, when I was a teenager, and my father was long gone back then. For a few years, I stayed at the same children's home you're in now. And I know everything might seem bleak and hopeless right now, but give them a chance, Jack. It will get better; you've got to hang in there. And if you ever need someone to talk to, or if you need anything-", Castiel said and produced his business card with his phone number – gently, he placed it into Jack's smaller hand.

"Just give me a ring, okay?"

Jack looked up into his eyes, held the business card tightly in his small hands. He contemplated Castiel wide-eyed, as if he was one of the Seven Wonders of the World. He nodded mutely, pressed his lips together tightly. Once more, Castiel squeezed his shoulder amicably, then he got up and returned to his courtroom. He turned around one last time, saw Jack looking after him with questioning eyes – the boy raised his hand timidly and waved goodbye to him, making Castiel smile fondly and wave goodbye, too.

…

On the evening of the same day, Castiel and Dean had dinner together – he found Dean in the kitchen cooking them dinner while proudly wearing one of his silly aprons with a smiling hot dog on it (Castiel hated it and had threatened to burn it several times, but hey, if Dean liked it… they both knew it was an empty threat). He always loved to come home to Dean, appreciated their time together, especially when they could have a meal together. Dean's shifts often didn't make that possible, so tonight, Cas should have been thrilled to have his husband to himself for the whole evening and night. But his mind was miles away, still processing the trial of today. Jack's big blue eyes seemed glued to his own retina, he couldn't forget about the boy. For some reason unbeknownst to Cas, Jack had awoken his protective instinct – something he practically never experienced: When it came to Dean and when he got hurt at work, it made Castiel's heart flutter with fear and wish he could save Dean from every bad thing in the world, that was the only protective instinct he had and was aware of; The feeling coursing now through him was akin. But it was strange – he didn't even know the kid. Why did he care about him?

Dean picked up his ruminative mood as they ate their chickpea-rice-curry, tangerine candlelight flickering in their kitchen beautifully – Dean, the ever-helpless romantic, had insisted on lighting a dozen candles for dinner, and it made Castiel assume that (hopefully) his husband wanted to ensnare him tonight.

"What's on your mind, honey? Tough day at work?" he asked kindly. Castiel finally looked at him, his eyes focussing on Dean's handsome features. He must have stared into space for quite some time, his spoon filled with food hanging in the air, half-forgotten in his hand. He caught Dean's worried look, his tentative smile, and it warmed his heart. He returned the smile easily, winked slowly at his partner. He nodded, then finally tasted the meal Dean had cooked for them. It was spicy but pretty good, so he hummed appreciatively, caused Dean to smirk happily. With his free hand, Dean reached over the table, placed his hand in a shielding manner over Cas'. He could feel the heat of Dean's fingers, the warm blood pulsating in his veins, against his skin – for a second, their physical connection took all of Castiel's black thoughts away. He sighed, decided to open up.

"You remember this murder trial I told you about, right?"

Dean frowned.

"You mean the guy, who believes he's the reincarnation of the devil, the one who killed his own wife?"

Castiel nodded, stirred his curry pensively.

"Yes, that one. Today was the last hearing, and we finally locked him away for good. But, you know, what's really messing with me is their kid, Jack. He was at court today to give his testimony. And he reminded me so much of myself after I had lost my mother…"

"Alright, but you didn't have a psycho father murdering your mother," Dean interrupted. Castiel smiled crookedly.

"Granted. But I know what it's like to lose your parent and wind up in a children's home… I don't know, there was something about that boy I can't quite put my finger on. Did you know he's staying at the same children's home I was in?" Castiel shrugged, unhappy that he couldn't really find the words for the chaos rioting in his heart.

"I don't know why, but it makes me sad to think he's living there now. I think he's too young to be an orphan, to have all this pain and pressure put on his young shoulders. When I became an orphan, I was sixteen – he's only eight. And somehow, even though I have no reason for it, I care about him. It matters to me that he is okay. You should have seen his big blue eyes, his pale face, it's just… I feel like I wanna protect him, if that makes any sense."

Dean's thumb gently stroked over the back of his hand, drew little meaningless circles. He beheld Castiel with incredible fondness in his look, making Castiel blush and look away. He felt as if he had presented an intimate secret of his heart to Dean, one that he barely dared to utter aloud.

"Hey, it's okay, Cas. If you care, you care. There's nothing wrong with it. Actually, I think you're awesome for that, you know? You've got a big heart, you're not indifferent to that kid's life. That's something good, right? So…", Dean sighed, pausing for a moment. "Why don't you go and pay him a visit anytime soon? You could check in on him, see if he's doing okay, if he's settling in…"

Castiel considered his proposal for a second, thinking he quite liked the idea. At last, he looked up, recognized the knowing look of Dean's gorgeous green eyes. Their eyes locked, tenderness and affection for the other resting in their glances. Castiel held up Dean's hand and left a long-lasting kiss on the back of his hand, looked up into his partner's face.

"You're brilliant, you know that?" he rasped, making Dean blush shyly and give an embarrassed laugh.

"And you're an enchanter, Cas, but I'm not complaining about you sweet-talking to me… Now eat your goddamn curry."

Laughing, Castiel put his spoon into the curry, then he took another mouthful and smirked at Dean while chewing.

…

Castiel breathed in the spicy air of the afternoon – he stood in front of the children's home he had spent many years at. He contemplated it as many memories of that time of his life returned to him. He smiled wistfully. The place basically still looked the same: It had received a new paint and was now dipped in apricot, and the black windows had been replaced with newer white ones, but apart from that, it was still the same building Castiel had known. There were three floors and atop a black shingle roof, and underneath it, thirty single bedrooms sat, ten rooms on each floor. He easily spotted the room on the third floor, all the way to the left, where he had slept and studied for school all those years ago.

He inhaled the fresh air and looked around the place, thinking it was well-kept, kind of appealing. The surrounding maple trees were an explosion of colors, their leaves plunged into red, yellow, brown, and orange. Autumn had come, blowing all the leaves from the branches. Dark clouds hung in the sky, and when Castiel watched them fly by quickly, the wind ruffled his dark hair. It felt like cold fingers brushing through his hair, and he shivered, wrapped his beige trench coat closer around his body. He took a deep breath, fought against the uprising nervousness within him, and stepped into the building, which he had called "home" in the past.

Inside, it was a hubbub – kids ranging from toddlers to teenagers were making a racket. They played in their rooms, the corridors, ran up and down, while their care-givers tried to either play with them or scold them for being so loud. Castiel stood there idly for a moment, amused, as he watched the children play. At last, an elder man approached him, his hair already gone gray – laughter lines were all around his eyes, wisdom and patience dwelled within the look he gave Castiel. It seemed to Cas that this man had worked here for a good while and that his nerves were therefore rather strong; he also seemed not a tittle bothered by the ongoing noise level. When he asked Castiel why he was here and what he wanted, Castiel felt all kinds of embarrassed and stupid – he just told him he wanted to check in on Jack Kline, that he wanted to make sure he was doing okay. The man wasn't surprised by Castiel's strange request, he must have heard worse wishes in the past, so he just nodded and led Castiel to a room at the end of the corridor, which was probably Jack's; the door was closed, and in this part of the building, it was eerily quiet. The man knocked on the door, then waited a second before he opened it. Castiel smiled secretly when he saw Jack sitting there cross-legged on the bed, a book in his lap. He looked up with a frown, obviously unhappy someone was keeping him from reading – but when his eyes fell on Castiel, his whole mien lightened up, and a bright, toothy smile emerged.

"Mister Winchester! What are you doing here?"

The man, who had accompanied Castiel, seemed satisfied that Jack really knew him and was glad to see him, so he just gave Castiel a brief nod, then turned around and left the two of them alone. With circumspection, Castiel stepped into the room, gave Jack a tentative smile. He still felt all kinds of stupid for being here and not acting like a normal human being, but just looking into Jack's blue eyes replaced this feeling soon with inexplicable joy. His small childlike features, his high voice, it filled Castiel with wonderful warmth.

"Hi Jack, I just wanted to, I don't know, see if you're doing okay…"

Jack nodded acceptingly as if it was completely ordinary for a stranger to check in on a kid he barely knew. A moment of silence ensued, while Castiel looked around the few square meters of Jack's room. It was meticulously clean and tidied up. On his desk, his school books were, stacked into a neat pile. A bible was on his nightstand, and there was a wooden crucifix on the wall next to his bed. Castiel sat down on his desk chair and contemplated Jack, who still sat on the bed and now closed his book. He beheld Castiel with an attentive look, intelligent eyes, and smiled carefully.

"So, is that bible and that crucifix yours? An unlike décor for a kid your age," Castiel noted. Jack's smile became wistful.

"Yeah, they're mine, Mister Winchester. They belonged to my mom. She always read to me and quoted from the Bible. I don't know, it makes me happy to have them around me. It makes me feel closer to her, as if she is still there."

His voice became choked up and ebbed away. Jack looked down, looking awfully forlorn and sad. Castiel bit on his lower lip pensively as he felt another intense rush of his protective instinct wash through him. How he longed to console the boy and tell him it was going to be alright, that the pain would subside…

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "my mother was like that. She was a believer, and I got my faith in God from her. To this day, I still consider myself religious… and my faith has given me strength in terrible phases of my life. Do you believe in God, too?"

Jack raised his eyes slowly to Castiel, his look piercing with certainty.

"I do."

They became silent for a moment, just regarded the other curiously. Jack sighed finally, his shoulders slumped down.

"Mister Winchester, it's really good to see you again," he said, making Castiel smile, "I meant to call you anyway."

"What's wrong?" Castiel asked with a frown.

"Nothing's wrong, per se. This house is okay, the food is okay, everybody is friendly… but I miss my mom, of course. And they don't have enough staff or spare time to drive me to her grave. I wanna see her grave so badly and say goodbye… It's all I can think about."

Castiel studied the boy's unhappy mien, the obvious misery written all over his face, and his heart simply melted. An ardent love he didn't know the source of grew within him, bubbled hotly under the surface. He didn't know why, but he knew for certain that there was nothing he wouldn't do for that boy. He just had to ask and Castiel was ready to give him whatever he needed.

"Get dressed and come with me. I will drive you to the graveyard. The car's parked outside."

Jack's eyes lit up as if a million firecrackers had exploded in them. He grinned excitedly at Castiel and jumped up.

"Thank you, Mister Winchester!" he said happily, then he quickly searched for his brown jacket and his lace-up shoes. Castiel had never seen anyone getting dressed at flash speed. Stunned, he laughed a little to himself, then sighed happily when he and Jack exited the building and walked to the parked Impala. As a proof of his undying love (or so he had said), Dean had given Castiel permission to drive the Impala whenever he liked (ensued by lots of warnings to handle "her" with care and empty threats not to leave a scratch on "her") – now the black beauty stood there in the drizzle, colorful leaves whirling all around her. Jack whistled impressed and touched the smooth shiny surface.

"Nice car," he said, making Castiel scoff. They got inside and Castiel made sure Jack put on his lap belt – unfortunately, the car didn't have any seat belts, only lap belts, but it was better than nothing.

"The car belongs to my husband," he said with a meaningful side glance, then he started the engine.

"I have to make sure I don't scratch her, or Dean will be pissed. So, which graveyard are we going to?"

"Woodland Cemetery," Jack said with a lopsided smile. Castiel drove away and steered the Impala through Sioux Fall's downtown with concentration, amicable silence between him and the boy.

"Your husband has good taste in cars, it looks awesome… it's like the Batmobile or KITT from Knight Rider! I saw that ring of yours and secretly wondered if you are married, but I had no idea you were married to a man… How long have you two been married?"

Castiel gave Jack a quick side glance while driving, thinking he quite adored that cheeky grin of him, the vivid gleam of his blue eyes. Kids could be damn curious… He clicked his tongue thoughtfully, counted the months since their wedding ceremony.

"Well, we got married last year in autumn, so it's a year in two weeks. But I've known Dean for a much longer time. We're together for over four years."

Castiel sensed the change in Jack's mood, how ruminative and silent he suddenly became. His eyes seemed unfocused as he stared out of the window, deeply lost in thought as the scenery outside passed him by.

"My mom and dad were together even before I was born, so, something like nine years. But they weren't happy. They were always arguing and shouting…" Jack sighed heavily, as if he was carrying the weight of the whole world on his young shoulders. They had arrived at the graveyard's parking lot, and Castiel killed the engine, then he gave Jack a long look, wondering what was going on in his head. The boy finally turned his head to regard him, a frail smile in his pale face.

"Are you happy with Dean?"

Castiel couldn't help but smile fondly about the innocent question, the gentle look of Jack's big blue eyes. He nodded.

"Dean makes me very happy. And I think I make him happy, too. I love him a lot… You know, we have our ups and downs like everyone else, and sometimes we also fight, but it's never that bad. Usually, it's because he wants to eat chili cheese fries and I don't let him. You know, Jack, sometimes taking care of your loved ones means that you gotta make sure they don't die of cholesterol," he quipped – he was thrilled when Jack laughed at that and the mood between them became less tense.

The cool autumn wind played with their hair and clothes as they strolled along countless rows of graves. It was unpleasantly wet and cool, and it still drizzled – Castiel contemplated Jack and the clothes he wore and worried if the boy was feeling cold. He let him lead the way, for Jack seemed to know exactly where his mother's grave was located. At last, they stopped in front of it. Jack stood there as if paralyzed and beheld the photo of his mother engraved in her tombstone. Castiel had only seen the photos of her corpse, all beaten up and bloody, so it came as a surprise to see her beautiful brown hair, her immaculate bright smile. Kelly Kline had been pretty, and her eyes seemed so bright and full of life, it was hard to believe she had been brutally killed, that this light had vanished forever. Castiel eyed Jack secretly, his taut posture, his silence.

"Do you wanna be alone?" he asked hesitantly.

"No, it's okay, please stay here."

For a while, they were silent. Jack had his eyes closed as if he was praying or deeply lost in thought. Castiel watched him closely, watched the traces of pain appearing on his features, and commiserated vehemently with him. There was nothing he could do or say that would bring back Jack's mother, he knew that – but when tears started running down Jack's cheek, he dared to take a step closer and wrapped an arm around Jack's smaller frame, rubbed his shoulder soothingly and pulled him closer against his side.

"It's okay, Jack, it's okay," he comforted him as the boy started crying helplessly. With bittersweet affection, Castiel noted how Jack turned his body towards him, buried his face trustfully in Castiel's torso, and cried into his chest. It made Castiel breathe through the pain overwhelming him, how badly he longed to take Jack's heartache away. But all he could do was rub his back and hold him close, sharing his body warmth and his physical comfort. Suddenly, a bright ray of light fell on them, nearly blinded Castiel. He blinked against the white sunlight, felt the warmth of it right on his forehead – Jack let go of him and stared up at him with confusion as if Castiel was the source of this light. It was as if they were inside a pillar of light, separated from the rest of the world. Jack looked around and realized the same thing as Castiel at that moment: Everywhere around them, it was still dark, but here, where they stood, the sunlight illuminated everything, made it seem as if the withering flowers and trees were still in bloom, as if eternal spring had come. Then, the sunlight disappeared as quickly as it had come, and it became dark and glum again.

"What was that?" Jack asked bemused. Castiel patted his shoulder amicably and regarded the photo of Kelly again, forever smiling at everyone beholding her grave. He wondered what it meant, if it even meant something – but he was suddenly reminded of the time when his mother had died and when the same thing had happened to him. Deep inside of him, Castiel knew it had been a given sign, a path shown to him from above. He inhaled shakily, understood the magnitude of the message, instinctively knew what he had to do. He had been given an order to look out for the boy, and even though he was afraid, he was willing to follow the order.

"I think your mom just said Hi."

…

Castiel returned home a few hours later. He and Jack had talked for a bit on the ride back to the children's home and some more when he had returned him to his room. Since it was a Sunday, Castiel had quipped Jack probably had to finish his homework for tomorrow – he had been surprised to hear that Jack was a straight-A-student and that he always finished his homework in a jiff. Jack hadn't sounded arrogant, rather annoyed, when he had told Castiel how bored he was at school, that he always read through all their textbooks beforehand… Clearly, the boy was gifted and under-stimulated; his intelligence seemed weirdly high, Castiel noticed. Paired with his polite, calm behavior, it was hard to believe Jack was only eight years old, he seemed like an old soul to Cas. Jack had also gushed over the books he was currently reading, and when he showed some of them to Castiel, he had been surprised about their mature content and their intricate writing style that even he found arduous to digest.

He was in a ruminative mood when he sat behind the Impala's wheel and drove home, but overall, he was filled with wonderful giddiness. It felt as if he had been called, as if he could clearly see a purpose. It made him speechless with bliss. When he walked into the house, he found it empty and frowned – it was already getting dark outside, and the weather was terrible; the drizzle had turned into a severe downpour. Where the hell was Dean? He found a sticky note on the fridge from him that he had gone out running. Castiel pouted at that, instantly worry for Dean surging through him. Running, in that weather… his stupid husband was basically begging for a severe cold. So Castiel did the only thing sensible to him: He started cooking his famous anti-cold-stew (his mother had taught him the recipe) with lots of veggies and broth, inwardly muttering about Dean's recklessness.

However, when Dean finally returned home, Castiel's worry and sulkiness instantly vanished into thin air: Mesmerized, he watched Dean stumble inside and take off his wet shoes. He was soaked from head to toe and breathless, the rain having turned his hair a shade darker. Raindrops were glistening on his skin, his clothes clung to his body. His lashes were dark and wet, making him look vulnerable and sexy at the same time. Castiel forgot about the damn stew and walked up to Dean, fisted his wet shirt, and pushed his back against the nearest wall – briefly, he registered a subtle smirk coming to life on Dean's sensual mouth, then, how his lids flickered nervously.

Before he knew what he was doing, Castiel lunged forward and pressed Dean into the wall, kissed him hard. Dean was cold and wet and breathless; but their torsos and hips collided intimately, their mouths slid together in ardent kisses, and it made Castiel's head spin with aching desire. He let go for a second, scanned Dean's features, and saw his lust-tortured features, how gone he already looked because of their kisses. He couldn't resist his full, rosy lips, but tilted his head to kiss him again with all he had – with both hands, he touched Dean's broad shoulders, squeezed him and pressed him hard against his torso. He felt Dean wince with arousal, heard his dark moan as he let Castiel kiss the air out of his lungs, make his knees buckle. At last, Castiel got a grip again and released Dean's mouth. There they stood in the hallway, tightly pressed together, their foreheads resting against the others. They were breathing raggedly, their mouths only inches apart. Castiel sensed Dean's clothes bedewing his, there was probably already a puddle forming where they stood.

"Well, good evening to you too, baby," Dean joked. Gently he brushed their noses together, making Castiel smile.

"Dean, you know I love you, but you're unbelievably stupid. Do you wanna catch a cold? You can't just go jogging in weather like this!" Castiel scolded. He left a soft kiss on Dean's mouth to weaken his argument. Suddenly, Dean's mouth was on his throat; Castiel shuddered with arousal when Dean playfully bit into the delicate skin, then his tongue left a tickling trail down towards Cas' collarbone. His fingers dug into the flesh of Dean's back, held onto him, when Dean kissed his throat open-mouthed, his hands grabbing Castiel's ass firmly, moving him against his pelvis. For a second, Castiel just stood there, overwhelmed with the hot waves of lust washing through him. He heard his lewd moan, felt himself become lax with want, as Dean had his way with him.

"I… I made you some stew," he panted. He laughed breathlessly when he heard Dean chuckle against his skin. His husband let go of him and looked at Castiel as if he had lost his mind. He gave Cas a long look as if he wanted to chide him what a party pooper he was. Castiel scowled in return.

"Now get out of that damn wet clothes and take a hot shower before you become sick. You're awfully whiney when you're ill."

Dean's jaw dropped and he exclaimed an offended "Hey!" – but Castiel just grinned and pushed him towards the staircase so that Dean could go upstairs and take a shower.

…

They lay in bed that night, the world outside locked away. It was storming and raining, but within the house, it was warm and dry. Once Dean had showered and they had eaten Castiel's anti-cold-stew (Dean had been grumbling about French fries, uncaring about Castiel rolling his eyes), they had decided for a quiet evening. Tomorrow neither of them had to get up early, so they had plenty of time on their hands. Before they knew it, they found themselves in their bedroom, cozily huddled up to each other. Golden candlelight illuminated the room, flickered in every corner – accompanied by the ongoing sounds of rain and howling wind, it created a homely, laid-back atmosphere. Cas and Dean were talking for hours, their topics ranging from trifles to religion and politics, all kinds of things. And while Cas had his cheek pillowed on Dean's chest, Dean's arm slung around his shoulder, he couldn't help but smile, when at last realization about the current situation came to him. He had missed talking to Dean like that. With their busy everyday life and their full-time jobs, it was sometimes difficult to make time for one another and cherish moments like these. But tonight, Castiel felt relaxed and all kinds of grateful for the man by his side. Dean noticed Castiel's ruminative mood, sensed his smile on his chest. He shook Cas kindly, pressed him closer, held him tighter.

"Hey, humor, what's on your mind?" Dean asked, his voice gentle and quiet. Cas slung an arm around his husband's middle and snuggled up to him. He breathed in his invigorating fresh scent, felt his heart flutter. A sensation of giddiness overwhelmed him as he breathed in Dean, held onto him, thought how much he loved this man. Finally, he found the courage to say what had been on his mind the whole evening.

"You know that I went to visit Jack today, right?"

"Yeah, you haven't told me anything about it. I meant to ask you, but, you know, didn't wanna push you."

Cas smiled wistfully to himself, every clear thought escaping him, as he remembered his time with Jack.

"The kid's great. I mean, he seems scarily composed in regards to what he has been through. Damn mature for his age… and I really liked talking to him. He's so bright, you know? Straight-A student and all that." He sighed, suddenly heavy-hearted.

"I think it's a shame he's rotting away in that orphanage now. Not that it's bad, but he needs someone who nurtures his abilities, who encourages his high intelligence, gives him a home..."

Dean chuckled, hand-brushed slowly through Cas dark hair, stroked along the delicate skin of his nape.

"Is that 'Cas the nerd' talking, or is it something else why you feel so strongly about the boy?"

Cas paused for a moment, his heart tripling its pace. Dean knew him inside out; he couldn't hide anything from him. Finally, he caved. He uplifted his head, supported it on his hoisted-up hand, and contemplated Dean. They were regarding one another with subtle, tentative smiles, the candlelight glowing beautifully in their eyes. But Cas didn't even have to say anything. Dean brought up his hand, tenderly encompassed Cas' cheek, his thumb stroking along the slight stubble there. A knowing look dwelt in Dean's eyes as he studied Castiel's features, his obvious affliction, the unrest of his soul.

"Cas, it's okay. Say it," he shushed, made Cas' heart melt into a puddle of affection for Dean.

"I wanna adopt him. I don't know why, but I love him, and I feel responsible for him."

Dean smirked, looked away, his hand fell from Cas' face down, lay idly on his stomach.

"I knew it," Dean said, bit on his bottom lip. For a while, the seconds elapsed, brooding silence ensued. Dean had his eyes closed, seemed to listen to his insides and ponder about the words Castiel had just said. Cas was breathless, thoughtless, just felt this aching need making his heart bleed. Blatant fear was coursing through him. What if Dean didn't want the same thing? And the fear was omnipresent, filled every of Castiel's cells – he knew he needed to take care of Jack, couldn't find any rational reason for it, but knew he had to do this. And if Dean didn't want this… the last thing Cas wanted was to lose Dean. At last, Dean opened his eyes, turned his head, and looked directly at Castiel. A fierce fire was burning in his tantalizing green eyes. A winning, small smile played around the corners of his kissable mouth. While holding Castiel's look, Dean blindly reached for Cas' left hand, brought it to his face. He kissed Cas' wedding band softly, nodded a little.

"Okay. If he wants us, too, then… okay."

Their eyes were glued to one another, speaking of so many things they already knew and had thought about. That this wasn't a spontaneous decision, that it was a life-long responsibility, that it wasn't going to be easy. They knew all that, didn't even have to talk about it. Cas' throat corded up with joy, so strong, it was close to pain. He felt hot tears welling up in his eyes, sucked in a shaky breath. With his free hand, he stroked through the short-cropped, dishwater blonde hair of his husband, right above his temple. Dean leaned into the gentle touch, hummed appreciatively and closed his eyes.

"Are you sure?" Cas croaked, dumbstruck with unexpected bliss. "I mean, I'm not complaining. But I don't want you to agree just to please me. If something ever happens to me, you could get left behind with a kid to take care of."

Now Dean opened his eyes again, regarded Cas with a mystique smile. A piercing expression was in his green eyes. Suddenly, he averted his eyes, scratched the back of his head as if he was abashed. As if Cas had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. He shrugged helplessly.

"You know, to be honest… I've been thinking about adoption for some time now, Cas. I just never said anything because I waited for the right moment. Guess you were just a step ahead of me," he joked, grinned at Cas. His grin was so infectious, it made Castiel grin, too.

"Trust me, Cas, I want this. And I'm frigging thrilled you want this, too. What do you say you introduce me to Jack some time? See if we get along?"

"Yeah," Cas said, laughing through his tears of joy.

…

Dean had cleaned the whole house all day, re-arranged trifles, tidied up the garage. His nerves were raw, he couldn't calm down, had ants in his pants. A few days ago, they had signed the papers, had set everything in order, and currently, Castiel was picking up Jack to stay with them for good. He just couldn't believe it, it still felt surreal. For the umpteenth time today, Dean walked back to the room they had prepared for Jack, wondering if it was okay, if Jack was going to like it. One wall was painted in baby blue, the other in elephant-gray, and the laminate floor was an imitation of bright wood. There was a desk, a bed, a wardrobe, just the basics for a kid's room. He and Castiel had spent hours choosing proper decoration at the DIY market, wondering whether Jack would like them, if they weren't too childish… there was a dark blue star attached to the blue wall, which was actually a night light, and there were wall decals with all the planets of the solar system, for they knew Jack had an interest in space and planets. Of course, they had also bought a few toys, but deliberately, they had only picked a few, for they didn't know what Jack liked yet. There were some children's books, felt-tipped pens and sheets to draw on, a box with Lego bricks, toy cars, and some board games, nothing too fancy.

Finally, Dean heard Castiel turn the key to their front door. His heart leapt into his throat, thundered in his chest. Psyched up, he fled down the stairs to meet them in the entrance hall. He tried to suppress the jittery feeling uprising in his stomach when Castiel opened the door and walked inside, one hand soothingly resting on Jack's shoulder. His eyes met Cas', and they smiled at each other tentatively as they detected the plain nervousness in their husband's eyes. Cas shut the door behind them, while Jack carefully approached Dean, smiling hesitantly at him.

"Hi, Dean," he said, his posture somewhat taut. Dean gave him a friendly smile.

"Hey, buddy. Welcome to your new home," he said and breathed out all the tension, outstretched his arms invitingly. Jack looked around with curiosity, while Cas shrugged out of his coat and hung it up. He slipped out of his shoes and motioned Jack to do the same.

"We'll give you the tour in a sec, okay?" Dean proposed. With a joy he didn't really understand, he watched the gap between Jack's teeth as the boy gave him a toothy grin.

"Yes, I would like that, thank you."

Dean looked over to Cas, nodding his head subtly.

"Are you sure you picked up the right one? He's so polite, I'm not sure I can keep up these niceties."

Castiel scoffed and rolled his eyes, then he walked over to Dean and kissed him quickly, but ardently. Dean breathed in the soapy, lemony scent of his husband, felt how it soothed his frayed nerves. Cas let a bit go of Dean, his lips still brushing over Dean's, as he looked him deeply in the eyes, unfathomable zest for life glowing in his blue irises.

"Baby, have I told you you're the worst?"

Dean grinned, slung his arms around Castiel's hips, and pulled him against him.

"Only once today," he joked, delighted when he heard Jack laugh at that. While holding Cas close to his chest, he looked over to Jack and shrugged helplessly.

"Sorry, buddy, you're gonna have to get used to this. Castiel over here is crazy about me, it can't be helped."

Cas took a step back and pouted, hit Dean's shoulder in jest.

"And here I was thinking you were the one crazy about me. Come on, Jack, let us show you around."

It was a completely confusing emotion, a once-in-a-lifetime experience, to give their adopted son the tour through their own house, Dean and Cas going first, Jack's quiet, slow footfalls constantly behind them. They started on the first floor obviously.

"So, this is the kitchen," Dean said and gave Jack a moment to take it in. "Cas is doing most of the cooking, he's the reason why we're living more or less healthy. But if you want hamburgers, waffles, or chili cheese fries once in a while, that's my specialty, you gotta come to me. When worse comes to worst, I can also cook a decent, healthy meal, but that's no fun. So, I was thinking, to celebrate today, home-made hamburgers for dinner?"

At that, Jack's eyes lit up brightly – he regarded Dean with enthusiasm written all over his face. It made Dean grin.

"Yes! That would be amazing. You know, I love hamburgers, but my mom basically never made them. She said they're not good for your blood fat."

Snorting, Cas patted Dean's shoulder and gave Jack a meaningful look.

"Your mom was right, Jack. I've been telling that Dean for ages, but he's not listening. Also, I gotta admit, he makes really good hamburgers, so it's basically impossible to resist. Come, let's check out the other rooms."

They strolled into the living room, where there was a seating area, two comfortable big couches, and a TV. What caught Jack's interest, however, was Castiel's glossy black piano in the center of the living room, pushed against the longitudinal wall, and Dean's acoustic guitar leaning against it. With admiration, he let his fingers glide over the smooth ebony wood, then his fingertips gently ran along the guitar strings. He studied his adoptive parents with reverence, sudden rapture.

"You're making music?"

Dean smiled affectionately when he remembered all the charity events he and Castiel had organized throughout the last years, and how often they played together all the time, his voice, the guitar, and the piano mingling perfectly… As if to show Castiel how affected he was, how much it meant to him to share his love for music with the man he loved, he slung his arms around Castiel's waist and pulled him against his side, shook him gently.

"Well, yeah. I play the guitar and sing, Castiel plays the piano. He's really talented. But for the love of God, he cannot sing. If you hear him sing, just put your hands over your ears, or he will make them bleed."

Castiel rolled his eyes dramatically at Dean, gave him a dark look, then he approached Jack and opened the piano lid.

He let Jack press down a few keys with caution. Suddenly, his right hand started playing a melody, his left hand soon joined him, and he hesitantly played Tchaikovsky's "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy", a very popular classic composition. Enthralled, Dean and Cas watched him, their jaws fell open. Jack stopped at once, suddenly aware of himself and what he had done – he looked up, fear in his eyes.

"I'm… I'm sorry, I didn't," he stuttered, as if he had done something wrong.

"Jack!" Cas exclaimed. "I had no idea you could play the piano! That was wonderful!"

Jack scratched the back of his head abashed and looked down.

"I don't know, I took lessons a while ago, but I had to stop because…" he suddenly became silent. A pained, ruminative veil spread over his face, he seemed lost in thought. Cas' and Dean's eyes met, they mutely understood this was a sore spot to Jack – maybe he had to stop taking piano lessons, because his parents couldn't afford them anymore, which, of course, brought back memories of his mom and dad. Castiel took a deep breath, then he touched Jack's shoulder and squeezed it amicably, searched for his eyes.

"Listen, Jack, if you want, I could teach you how to play the piano. When I was your age, I had lessons, too – and my teacher was very strict, she beat my fingers with a wooden ruler if I played something wrong. I can assure you, I won't do that, I'm a patient teacher."

Jack smiled softly at Cas then, a deep-reaching joy glowing up in his blue eyes. He blushed hotly and looked down.

"Yes, thank you. That sounds great."

They showed him the big garden, the veggie beds, and bee pastures. Jack took everything in with infantile, silent astonishment. They ended up on the second floor of their house, where they showed him their bedroom, the guest room and the master bathroom, and, at last, Jack's room. Stunned, he stood in the threshold, too timid to walk inside, until Dean gently touched the small of his back and reassured him it was okay. Together, they walked into the room; Jack looked around awestruck, then he let his fingers glide over the planets on the wall with delight – Dean's and Cas' eyes met, they stared meaningful looks, secretive, happy smiles. Jack seemed to like it. At last, Jack looked at them again, swallowed nervously. For a reason unknown to Dean, tears were welling in the boy's eyes, he seemed upset.

"Thank…thank you both, I-I don't know what to say," he stammered nervously, wiped a tear away from his eye. Dean commiserated with him, understood he was probably undergoing an intense emotional turmoil. It tugged at his heartstrings to see him so wrecked. He took a step forward and placed a hand on Jack's shoulder, bent down somewhat so that they were on eye level. With emphasis, he squeezed Jack's boney shoulder a bit, smiled wistfully at him.

"Hey, Jack, it's okay. I know it's not easy for you right now, and it might take some time for us all to get to know each other and get used to everything. And neither Cas nor I are trying to replace your mom and dad, okay? But this is your new home now, and we're here to take care of you, okay? Now…," Dean harrumphed, suddenly overwhelmed with his own emotions going haywire, his heart racing hectically. "What do you say you and Cas unpack, and I'll get those hamburgers cracking?"

Once more, he received the toothy grin of their boy, admired the cute gap between Jack's teeth.

"Okay. Thank you."

Cas smiled deeply moved at Dean, then he approached him and left a heartfelt kiss on his cheek. Then he threw an arm around Jack's back and led him towards the door.

"Come, we've got all your clothes and other stuff in the car's trunk."

Dean watched them leave the room, his heart thudding with a bittersweet feeling – something between pride, love, and fear, but most of all: bliss.

…

Having to take care of a kid, becoming a parent, it was the weirdest, scariest, and most rewarding thing Dean had ever experienced. He had been content with his life before Jack, had thought this level of happiness he had with Castiel couldn't be topped by anything. But then Jack had come into their lives, and it seemed as if he was filling in all the gaps Dean hadn't even been aware of - he couldn't even believe their luck. That didn't mean, however, that every day was simple and without difficulties. Also, their daily life had been turned upside down, their priorities and routines had changed so much, but it didn't even feel like an endeavor. Jack was their son now, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world, as if he had always lived with them. Dean could hardly express his gratitude whenever he spent time with the boy, or when he watched him together with Cas. To see his husband so happy, so gentle and caring around Jack, it warmed Dean's heart with affection.

It was endearing to witness Castiel as a parent – it was another side of him neither had known before. And even though Castiel had uttered doubts about his parent qualities in the past, there was no reason in sight to question him. Dean felt strangely changed as well, more mature. He had accepted the responsibility for a kid now, it put everything in perspective. It was as if he could clearly see black from white, right from wrong, instinctively knew which steps to take to follow the right path. Just like Castiel had told him, Dean also sensed this calling that he was supposed to look after Jack and care for him. And how could he not? Jack was this incredible, gentle, quiet kid, polite, and highly intelligent, who treated everyone with kindness and patience. The gruesome events of his past hadn't turned him into a wrathful child, but filled him with a melancholy and silence, which touched Dean's heart deeply. Sometimes, he played the guitar in the evenings and Jack sat by his side, dreamy-eyed and blue, while he listened to Dean play and sing. It was as if the music was speaking directly to his young heart to an extent words couldn't compete with – and whenever his eyes focussed on Dean again, Dean was sure the boy could directly look into his soul and find the endless love there it harbored for Jack. It was quiet moments like these, when Jack smiled fondly at him, his eyes glowing with the love he felt for Dean but didn't find the words for. It made everything worth it.

With Castiel, however, the boy talked and talked without end. Dean often found them in Jack's room, where Jack excitedly told Castiel about something new he had learned, and Castiel couldn't help but laugh amused about Jack's infinite enthusiasm. Jack's thirst for knowledge was practically unquenchable – they found themselves bringing him tons of books and DVDs to devour.

"Give him two more years and he'll study," Castiel always quipped, and it always made Dean laugh and Jack grin proudly, the adorable gap between his front teeth showing.

Their everyday life had become an unforeseeable adventure – every morning, when Dean woke up, he didn't know what the day might bring. Life had become so full of surprises again, and it was the most amazing thing. Partly, it was like reliving his own childhood again, rediscovering things he had liked as a kid. On the other hand, it was touching and exciting to see Jack experience new stuff and learn and grow every day.

They had a heavy schedule, which all of them enjoyed, as the weeks passed by in a heartbeat: Castiel taught Jack how to play piano, as promised. Sometimes, they had a music evening, when all of them made music together; Castiel and Jack took turns playing the piano. It had brought the tenderest smile to Dean's lips when the boy had started playing the piano and he had accompanied him with the guitar, seeing him wince with sudden delight as the sounds of the instruments mixed perfectly.

Several times a week, Jack's classmate Filip came around and the boys got up to nonsense. They were especially fond of Filip's chemistry building set and did all kinds of silly stuff: making gummy bears explode, creating their own slime, mixing liquids that bubbled and gurgled… Dean prayed they wouldn't blow up their house. Filip was a quirky, nerdy kid with a loud laughter and thick glasses, neither Dean, Cas nor Jack could help but take to him and take him into their hearts. It always made Dean and Cas chuckle when they heard the boys giggling and roaring with laughter in Jack's room.

Whenever his spare time allowed it, Dean showed Jack all the things his own dad had taught him in his childhood. He took him fishing on the outskirts of town, and there, Jack had caught his first fish, leaving both of them clueless who was prouder about it. He was a little too young to learn how to drive yet, but Dean had promised him he would give him lessons in due time as long as he didn't tell Cas. Castiel was unenthusiastic when one day Dean announced Jack needed to know how to defend himself and that it was probably wise to teach him some tricks – but when Filip returned from school with a black eye, Castiel accepted that kids sometimes were dicks and that Dean was right. So they showed Jack all they knew regarding self-defense, Castiel with his years of experience in martial arts, and Dean with his police training. Jack was a quick learner and thought it was great fun to wrestle with his dads and learn new moves. What neither Dean nor Castiel had expected, though, was Jack's cheekiness – the boy played foul whenever he could, ducked away quickly, pinched and tickled them, and stomped on their feet until all of them were laughing and scrambling in a pile of limbs, Dean ruffling Jack's brown hair playfully.

Then there were the more practical things happening in their daily life, filled with average parental musings. Dean constantly found himself wondering if Jack was okay, what he was doing, if he got his vitamins, if he needed a new hair cut, if his clothes were too small or too big… He couldn't stop touching Jack casually, ran a hand through his smooth brown hair, fixed his jacket collar, wiped dirt from his cheek. It was as if he always wanted to make sure Jack was still there, as if he could hardly believe this angelic creature was still beside him. And Jack let him, always beheld Dean with a knowing, fond look whenever Dean treated him with affection, whenever he let his gestures speak the words written all over his heart: That he loved Jack, that he would do anything for him.

And yet… the bond between Castiel and Jack seemed deeper, sometimes made Dean feel like an outsider, as if the two of them shared a secret no one else could know about. He wasn't envious of the love Castiel received, just sad that he didn't have the same connection to Jack. After six months, Jack started calling Castiel "dad", but Dean remained "Dean". Whenever he heard Jack call Cas "dad", his heart somersaulted unhappily, a feeling of trepidation stole his breaths momentarily away. Nevertheless, Dean was inebriated with infatuation whenever he saw how smitten Castiel was when Jack's innocent, childlike voice called him "dad", but at the same time, it reminded Dean that he didn't have the same meaning to Jack as Cas did. It was a bittersweet brokenness, but he wasn't going to complain. He loved Jack, and knew that the boy loved him, too. Anything else was just trifles.

…

It was in the middle of the night, when Dean woke up with a start. Confused, he tried to come to his senses, wondered what had woken him up. The bright moonlight fell into their bedroom, illuminated the clean-cut features of Cas. His husband was still fast asleep and snoring next to him, undisturbed by whatever it was, that had roused Dean from his sleep. He sat up in bed, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and listened attentively into the night. There. He heard it again. A muffled sob. Jack! In a heartbeat, Dean got up, rushed barefooted to their son's room. Ever since Jack was living with them, he had bad nightmares at least once a week. And somehow, even though usually Dean slept like a log, he seemed to have a special radar when Jack needed him. A bomb could have exploded next to him and he would have continued sleeping – but as soon as Jack was crying or anxious, Dean was wide awake.

He slowly opened the door to Jack's bedroom, saw the soft light of the bedside lamp. Jack sat there, looking small and haggard. He just stared at Dean while abundant tears were streaming down his cheeks. Little hiccups made him wince every now and then. Carefully, as if he was approaching a wounded animal, Dean shuffled over to him, sat down beside him. The mattress yielded to his weight. He regarded Jack knowingly, placed a hand on his back, and rubbed it slowly. Jack sniffled, rubbed a hand over his tear-stained face.

"Hey, champ. Wanna talk about it?" Dean said gently. Jack shrugged helplessly.

"I keep seeing my real father in my dreams. And when I try to fall asleep again, I still see his face."

Dean rubbed his back up and down, with his thumb he drew little circles on Jack's T-shirt, felt the tension slowly leaving the boy's body. His heart leapt into his throat when Jack sighed and leaned against his side trustfully. His small head bumped against Dean's torso. He allowed that Dean slung an arm around his middle and gave him physical comfort.

"So you can't sleep?" he asked the obvious, felt Jack's nod against his chest. For a moment, they just sat there on Jack's bed, closely huddled up to one another, and contemplated the situation. Dean sensed a strange sadness growing in him, the sympathy for Jack was overwhelming. He sighed, straining his brain how to cheer up the kid and make him think of something else. His eyes fell to the mayhem on Jack's play carpet – there were toys everywhere, most of all dinosaurs in all colors. Dean smiled a little to himself, remembered Jack's ardent love for dinosaurs. Man, he had to read to him several dinosaurs books again and again. By now, Dean was an expert, knew all the different types and names of the extinct giants. Whenever little Mary was over, Jack and her binge-watched a cartoon with dinosaurs, while the grown-ups could have a cup of coffee in peaceful silence. A sudden idea came to Dean's mind.

"Hey, Jack. Remember that old movie with the dinosaurs you saw in the store the other day? The one Cas and I didn't want you to watch because of the age rating?"

Jack turned his head, looked up at Dean wide-eyed. Pleasant anticipation was written all over his features.

"You mean Jurassic Park?"

Dean shrugged, couldn't stifle the grin. If Castiel got wind of that, he would be so screwed. But he couldn't resist the excitement brightly shining in their son's eyes. How could he possibly say no to him? He nodded and wiggled his eyebrows funnily.

"Yeah, since you can't sleep anyway, why don't we watch it? I have it somewhere downstairs. Don't tell your dad, though."

Jack sprung to his feet, grabbed Dean's hand eagerly, and pulled him up. Any trace of sleepiness was gone, both of them were wide-awake now. Dean couldn't help but feel this big lump in his throat when Jack held his hand, abducted him downstairs. It felt like a blessing to intertwine their fingers, to be trusted with this intriguing creature they called their son. On tiptoes they sneaked past a sleeping, snoring Cas, walked down the stairs to the living room.

A while later, Dean and Jack were munching on microwave-popcorn and watched the original Jurassic Park from the nineties. They had to lower the volume in order not to wake up Cas. Dean kept an eye on Jack, wondered if the boy wasn't too young after all to watch a movie like this. Even he, as an adult, was still scared shitless about these damn Velociraptors, which were clever enough to open doors with their claws. But Jack didn't seem afraid at all, rather thrilled, on the edge of his seat. He kept ranting about the different types of dinosaurs and what they were capable of, and it astounded and amused Dean greatly.

Dean didn't know how or when it had happened, but some time later – they weren't even through the movie – he and Jack had fallen asleep on the comfortable couch, his arm wrapped around the boy, Jack's head pillowed on Dean's chest. Like that, Castiel found them at the break of dawn. The TV was still running. Dean woke up, sensed someone glowering at him. Half-asleep, he detected a grumpy-looking Cas standing in front of him, his arms akimbo. A stern expression was in his blue eyes, but he couldn't suppress the amused smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

"You didn't!" Cas said, wagging his head as he looked down at the DVD on the coffee table. Dean grimaced. Damn it. He was at a loss for words. Cas had caught him red-handed, there was nothing to say. Cas grinned now, rolled his eyes. Playfully, he nudged Dean's bare foot with his.

"Damn it, Dean. Have I told you you're the worst?"

They must have roused Jack from his sleep with their bickering, for suddenly the boy mumbled drowsily into Dean's T-shirt "only once today"; they all started laughing.

…

Dean walked around the house, searching for Jack. Dinner was ready and already waiting for him at the kitchen table. Jack often played in the garden, gathering stones and sticks, or playing in his child-like fantasy world as he acted as if he was a knight or a treasure hunter. Countless times, Dean had secretly watched him from the porch, smiling to himself about Jack's endearing behavior. That kiddo really had an active imagination and lots of energy.

When Dean hadn't found Jack on the lawn or near the flower and veggie beds, a bad feeling had grown in the depths of his stomach. He beheld the tool shed grumpily, wondered if Jack had holed up in there. Dean and Cas had forbidden him to go into the shed because there were all kinds of sharp-edged gardening tools and Jack had a strange fascination about the mowing machine, but his dads didn't want him to play with these things. They weren't toys after all. But, as it was common with all kids, whenever they weren't allowed to do something, this only increased their curiosity further.

Rolling his eyes, Dean walked up to the shed, already mentally scheming the rant he would give Jack. When he opened the door, Jack was indeed standing in the shed, playing with fire as he held a matchbox in his hand. One matchstick was already burning and filled up the shed with a tangy, smoky scent. He let it fall to the ground and swiftly put it out, remorse and shock about being caught appearing on his features. Dean just couldn't believe it. Swiftly, he snatched the matchbox out of Jack's hand and stowed it away in his back pocket, scowling at his son.

"Jack, how many times have I told you not to play with fire? And in the shed, on top of that? You know we keep the fuel here for the mowing machine! Do you wanna blow us all up?" he swore his head off, his worry and fear for Jack overwhelming him. Jack winced at Dean's loud words, it made Dean immediately feel sorry – with alarmed, big eyes, Jack looked at Dean, speechless. Dean was just about to apologize and try to calmly explain for the umpteenth time why he was mad at Jack and why he wasn't supposed to play in here.

But then Jack just ran way, passed Dean by quickly, and before he knew it, Jack was running away to the end of their property, and Dean was chasing him breathlessly, cursing on the inside. Damn it, damn it, damn it! He realized Jack was climbing the old maple tree to get away from him – it was rotten and Dean and Cas had meant to chop it down for a good while now. Jack knew he wasn't allowed to climb it for this reason, but right now, he didn't seem to care. Half anxious, half pissed off, Dean watched him climb higher and higher, until he was sitting on a big branch. Dean stood there right underneath the branch, his arms akimbo, and looked up, fed up with Jack's cheekiness. He certainly wasn't going to climb up there and get Jack.

"Jack, you gotta be kidding me! You know you're not supposed to climb this tree. I told you, it's dangerous! Now get your ass down here pronto," he swore, raised an admonishing finger at his stubborn son. Dean wished for strength and endurance, because he hated to fight with Jack like this; suddenly, he longed for Castiel's support and presence, because Jack rarely acted up like that with him – but at the moment, Castiel was gone to do some long-overdue grocery shopping, so Dean had to deal with this all by himself.

The bough squeaked due to Jack's weight ominously as he moved and studied Dean apprehensively. Dean wondered if the bough would hold Jack – he was nearly four meters above ground level, and Dean really didn't want Jack to hurt himself. If that bough came off, he could break a bone or even worse. Now Dean's anger turned into overpowering fear, and he really, really wanted Jack to come down immediately, but Jack didn't move, looked as if he was congealed to ice.

"Jack, come on," Dean said softly, forcing himself to smile reassuringly as he raised his hands in a disarming manner.

"Come down, son, please. It's too dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt."

Jack appeared to mull over Dean's words, about to give in and see reason. But then, all at once, the bough creaked loudly, and Dean saw the wood splintering everywhere. A dark shadow came at him, impacted his vision. There was a harsh thud against his head and he fell down to the ground, stupefied, not knowing what was going on. His head was hurting sharply, throbbing with every beat of his heart. Black dots emerged everywhere; the world was spinning madly. He felt something heavy laying on top of him, squeezing the air out of his lungs painfully. He couldn't move, his body was paralyzed. Dean realized he was about to lose his consciousness; the taste of salty, bitter blood was on his tongue, a heavy swell of nausea was in his throat. Only his willpower made it possible to stay awake, his heart racing with terrible fear as his eyes searched for Jack. He didn't know what was going on, but he needed to know that Jack was okay. Dean wanted to scream out his name, but he couldn't say a single word. His eyes were moving more and more frantically, as he didn't find his son. Desperation grew in his heart; he was sick with worry. Then the darkness overtook him, the black shadows intensified, and he passed out.

When he came to again, Jack was kneeling beside him, tears abundantly streaming down his cheeks. With a frown, Dean listened to the alarming signals of his body, protesting vehemently. He had trouble breathing, his head was aching, and there was a bad taste in his mouth, making him sick. He couldn't move. But when he carefully looked down at his body, he realized what the issue was. The branch of the maple tree had finally cracked and fallen down on him, burying Dean under its weight. It was too big for either Jack or him to roll it off from him. He was trapped underneath. Dean's eyes flitted to Jack, scanning him from head to toe to make sure he was okay and not wounded. He looked upset, traumatized, and was shaking like a leaf, but he didn't seem to be hurt.

"Jack," Dean croaked, breathing labouredly against the intense pain in his chest, "are you okay?"

Jack nodded quickly, then his hand touched Dean's free left hand and held it loosely in his, warming Dean's heart bittersweetly.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…" Jack stammered, then he started crying again, sobbing helplessly. Dean felt sorry for him, longed to take him into his arms and comfort him. His poor boy was completely startled and Dean couldn't do a damn thing to ease his mind.

"Hey, it's okay, buddy, it's okay," he cooed gently, his thumb brushing over Jack's smaller soft child's hand repeatedly. He didn't know how long it would take for Castiel to return, how much time had passed since he had blacked out, but it was obvious that he needed to get to a hospital. Suddenly, Dean had an idea.

"Buddy, can you do me a favor? Try to get my cell phone out of my left jeans pocket. I want you to call 911 and tell them what happened, have them send an ambulance. And then you call Cas, okay?"

He spoke slowly and clearly, his eyes holding Jack's firmly to make sure their son understood what he was saying. Jack nodded; a grim expression of determination suddenly appeared on his face. With his nimble fingers, he soon retrieved Dean's phone from his jeans and dialed 911. Another wave of fatigue and pain suddenly overwhelmed Dean. He had to close his eyes, for the world starting spinning, made him sick. It felt as if he was constantly falling, even though he was lying on the ground. He swallowed down the nausea, breathed labouredly against the sharp pain in his ribcage. Jack's wobbly voice resounded, as he answered to the operator's questions. Dean sighed wretchedly, as the pain started to gain the upper hand. It was hard to stay conscious, he seemed to be drifting off already. Then he felt Jack's timid, warm hand touching the back of his hand, how his fingers stroked along his skin lovingly.

"What's our street name and number?" he asked confused, made Dean's attention turn from his body screaming in the language of pain to more sober topics like simple facts.

"West Oak Street, house 2921," Dean croaked, grimaced, as he tasted more blood in his mouth. Once more, he opened his eyes, even though they felt heavy as tons, and regarded Jack. The boy was still trembling, his fingers clutched the phone anxiously, and tears were welling in his eyes. Their eyes met, and Dean smiled at him kindly.

"You're doing great, son, I'm so proud of you. You got this," he confirmed his devotion to this wondrous being. Jack smiled and sniffled at that, the tears now streaming down his cheeks. Dean heard him sob then, his heart breaking at the sound, but he was blacking out. The void swallowed him, all sounds and senses disappeared. Then there was nothing.

…

Dean didn't know where he was or what had happened – when he regained his consciousness, he found himself lying in an uncomfortable single bed in a room he didn't recognize. He blinked against the sleepiness still tightly gripping him several times. Slowly but surely, he recognized two figures sitting next to his bed to his right side. He harrumphed, rubbed his eyes with his left hand. Finally, he realized it was Cas and Jack, who were looking at him with tear-stained faces. Dean frowned. Why were they crying? Cas looked the worse for wear. His eyes were red from crying and puffy; he was sickly pale and biting on his trembling lower lip. What the hell…? Then Dean's looked over to Jack, who seemed exhausted and beside himself, sobbing and hiccupping every now and then.

Dean closed his eyes for a second, tried to remember the events. He sensed Castiel holding his right hand, almost squeezing it painfully, and it made Dean smile a little. Cas. Suddenly, Dean remembered. Right, Jack had been cheeky, and Dean had scolded him. And then the maple tree. And the rotten bough. The pain, the feeling of sickness in his stomach, blacking out again and again. Seemed he had made it into the hospital in one piece after all. But why were Jack and Cas crying then? He opened his eyes again and considered their son and his husband.

"Am I dying or why these long faces?" he quipped. Cas huffed out a laugh, wiped the tears from his eyes briefly. Then he beheld Dean with the fondest and saddest look Dean had ever seen. His heart was melting at the sight, all sensible thoughts fleeing from his brain. He stared into his husband's deep blue, incredible eyes, and didn't know what to say, was dumbstruck. Cas leaned a bit forward and studied Dean attentively.

"You scared the hell out of me, baby."

Dean grinned boyishly.

"Nah, I was just pulling your chain."

Exasperated, Cas sighed and rolled his eyes, but then he smirked at Dean. Tenderly, he ran his fingers through Dean's short-cropped hair. A pleasant, tickling feeling crawled down Dean's spine as he drowned in Cas' gorgeous blue eyes, watched the small smile on his plush, kissable lips. Then Cas leaned down, his lids falling shut, as he kissed Dean with all his heart. Their mouths glided together intimately; a shudder of delight ran through Dean as Cas kissed him with the perfect amount of pressure, his incredibly smooth lips making Dean go crazy. Cas let go of him, beheld Dean while he kept stroking through his hair.

"You've got two broken ribs, a severe concussion, and a sprained hip bone. Congrats," he deadpanned. Dean pouted. Damn, that sounded as if the next weeks would be totally annoying and strenuous. Suddenly, they heard Jack's hesitant voice, turned both their heads to look at their son.

"I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you," he slowly said – his face was a mien of utter misery. Dean's heart cried out for him, wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he wasn't mad. Their eyes met, and Jack instantly started crying again, hot tears running down his cheeks. He lunged forward and hugged Dean fiercely, placed his head on Dean's chest and sobbed into it. Dean and Castiel exchanged worried glances, for they rarely saw Jack this upset. Carefully, Dean touched Jack's back, rubbed it in a soothing manner while shushing him.

"Jack, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I'm not mad. It's okay, it's okay," he kept saying. Listening to Jack cry made him almost cry too, he commiserated so badly with him. Suddenly, Jack stilled, stopped crying. He raised his head and looked up, brushed the tears away, and held Dean's glance with a sincerity, that hit Dean right to the core.

"I'm sorry, Pa. It won't happen again."

Dean swallowed against the big, aching lump forming in his throat. His heart skipped a beat. He sucked in a shaky breath, smiled confused at Jack. Were his ears playing tricks on him or…?

"What did you just call me, buddy?" he said, his voice giving away that he was all churned up inside. Jack smiled timidly, averted his glance. His hand touched the back of Dean's hand, he surely intertwined his small fingers with Dean's bigger ones.

"I was afraid to call you that, but now I'm not afraid anymore. I love you both, and you're both my dads, right? But I call Cas already 'dad', so I thought you might be okay with 'Pa'."

Dean breathed out a burst of delighted laughter, his and Cas eyes briefly met. There was a piercing look dwelling in Castiel's eyes, a knowing smile played around the corners of his mouth. He knew what this meant to Dean. What it meant to Jack. Dean couldn't hide his excitement any longer.

"Are you mad? If I'm okay with it? I love it!"

He wanted to sit up properly and hug Jack, take him into his arms and never let him go, he was so happy – but when he moved, a sharp pain in his torso reminded him that his body was hurt and that he couldn't do whatever he wanted. Jack grinned at him, revealed the cute gap between his front teeth.

"You better rest now, Pa. We want you to get well soon and come home, okay?"

Dean and Cas chuckled at that; Cas slung an arm around their cheeky son and pressed him to his side, shook him amicably. Now Cas and Jack were both smiling down at Dean, who was still lying in his hospital bed – and Dean thought, he had never seen a more wonderful sight, his husband and their son smiling at him as if the meant the world to them. He harrumphed; a bit abashed about becoming so emotional suddenly, scratched the back of his head.

"Yeah, I wanna come home to you guys as soon as I can," he said. Cas leaned down and kissed his cheek sweetly.

THE END