Chapter 65.
Before heading for his own room, Dean checked on Jack. His light was still on and Dean knocked on the door, then opened it. Jack sat in his bed with a stack of old and dusty books.
"Hitting the lore a little late, aren't you?" said Dean.
"There's a lot I don't know." said Jack.
"Yeah, well, it'll still all be there to learn tomorrow." He looked at a few of the books. "This is some heavy stuff for bedtime reading. Other worlds, dimensional portals, the origins of the universe."
"It's interesting."
"Mostly, it's dangerous. You looking for ways to deal with Apocalypse World? Because right now, most of the problems are here."
"No." said Jack, "I just wanted to understand how the universe works."
"Oh, just that, huh? You don't think you should start small and work up to it?"
Jack held up a hand, as if trying to grasp the universe with it. "Everything is connected. Everything ties into everything else. There are things that are needed, like Heaven and there are things that may not be, like Hell."
"We need Hell to put Michael into." said Dean.
"Maybe."
"If you're gonna say he can be redeemed ... "
"After what he did to you, I want him atomised, slowly."
Dean grinned. He didn't understand Jack's devotion to him, when he'd spent a long time wanting to kill the kid, but it felt pretty good to be the object of such honest love. "You don't need to get revenge for me. When we kill him ... and we will kill him, it will be to save the world, which is our job and that's how we should see it."
"Fine." said Jack.
"Now, books away and sleep." said Dean, "I know you feel well and strong, but after everything that happened, Castiel needs to know you're taking good care of yourself, so you eat three square meals a day, you get lots of sleep and you stay well, for him. You understand?"
"Of course." said Jack.
Dean stacked the books on the floor by the wall. "And all this will be right here tomorrow."
"Do you think parts of the universe could be altered or removed without losing the rest?" said Jack.
"That sounds like the sort of stuff we shouldn't be dabbling in." said Dean.
"But in theory?"
"Jack, the most sophisticated qualification I have is a driver's licence. I think maybe I'm the wrong person to ask. Why are you asking?"
"Because I think we need a clearer understanding. For example, where did Crowley go when he died?"
"Demon, so ... the Empty?" said Dean.
"But which Empty?" said Jack, "Is there one, catching the demons and angels of all the different worlds, dimensions and universes or is there one for each universe? Or even one for each world?"
"I don't see why it matters." said Dean.
"Same for Heaven, Hell and Purgatory. When you were in any of them, did you meet anyone from Apocalypse World?"
"To be honest, we didn't exchange a lot of personal details."
"But you didn't, as far as you know?"
"As far as I know, no."
"And if one of those places were to be destroyed, what would happen?"
"How would you even do that?" said Dean.
"Another excellent question."
"This is all still theoretical, right?"
"Yes."
"Good, because one cosmic crisis at a time is plenty. One thing this life has taught me: don't mess with things above your paygrade."
"We don't get paid."
"No."
"So isn't everything above our paygrade?"
"I suppose, technically, yes."
"But we mess with everything, all the time."
Dean shrugged. "Well, if there's anything this life should have taught you, it's that I don't learn lessons easily or always act on what I've learned." He frowned. "How did we even get onto this?"
Jack tilted his head engagingly, like an intrigued puppy.
"My point is ... " said Dean. Then he saw the books on the floor and said, "Bedtime! We can talk about shutting down Purgatory tomorrow, maybe. Just don't go doing anything about any of it without talking to all of us about it first."
"It's all theoretical." said Jack.
"That's how it always starts." said Dean, "Sleep well."
"Goodnight." said Jack, getting into bed and turning off the light.
Dean went to his room and took off his shoes. He lay on the bed and called his mother. "Dean?" she said, "Is Jack ill again?"
"No, it's all fine. Just wanted to say hey."
"It's very late to call about nothing."
"Yeah, sorry. I've been busy and I lost track of time." He thought about trying to explain why he was up so late and so reluctant to close his eyes and try to fall asleep with his head filled with fears that were completely irrational and impossible and fears that were perfectly reasonable and all the more frightening for that, but she was off on a hunt and she could do nothing to help and he hated to give people a share of his troubles when they could not hope to offer a solution. "Sometimes, I just really need to hear your voice." he said.
"Rough day?" she said.
"You know how it is." he said, "I think sometimes I make a day more stressful than it needs to be."
"We have enough people working this case. Do you want me to come home?"
As with Cas and Sam, he loved to hear her use that word.
"Nah. You keep doing what you do. Things are fine here. It's just good to remind myself sometimes that you're out there, that you're real."
"You don't sound fine." she said.
"Long day, long night. I'm tired. I'll sleep better, now I've heard your voice. I always do."
"You know what always used to make you sleep?"
"Did you slip alcohol into my warm milk?" he said, "Because that would explain a lot."
"No, I did not! What kind of mother do you think I was. Don't answer that. Rhetorical."
"I know what kind of mother you were, the best. What made me sleep?"
"When I sang Hey Jude."
"Yeah, that worked every time."
"Well, there's no-one around to laugh at me, so get comfy."
"I'm not a baby, Mom."
"You'll always be my baby, baby."
He turned out the light and put the phone on speaker before putting it on the nightstand beside him. As she began to sing, a tear rolled down his cheek and he wasn't sure if it sprang from sorrow or gratitude.