Shout outs to XxMidnightAlphaxX, podothedruid, gnbrules, superchiwo, Eyum daRelmera, NeteleJala, and Damaged Emerald for taking the time to leave reviews.

And once again, a million squillion extra thank yous to Eyum daRelmera for helping me work out some sticky plot points and also for chatting with me at one in the morning about everything from strange food combos to random fic ideas. (There ... might be a story involving cowboy bunnies in assless chaps in my ideas folder now. These things can happen when you're sleep deprived.)

Happy reading =)

Chapter Eighteen

Dr. Bradbury was not what Castiel expected. For one thing she wore a t-shirt with Bugs Bunny on it. "It makes the kids more comfortable," she explained when she saw his bemused look. "Business casual just screams 'judgey adult who is reporting everything I say back to my parents'." Then she added with a conspiratorial wink, "Besides, I'm the boss, so I set the dress code, and I really like this shirt."

He smiled.

For presumably the same reasons, her office resembled a preschool classroom. Toys, games, a child height table with arts and crafts supplies, but no desk, nothing to divide her from the patient and make them feel judged.

It was just Castiel today. Dr. Bradbury had wanted to meet with him privately to get some context for Claire's situation before they officially started treatment.

She led him over to a living-room-like area in the corner of the office, and they sat down on mismatched love seats facing each other. Castiel had a moment of deja vu. Minus all the toys, this could have been Cain's house, and he half expected Dr. Bradbury to bring out an antique tea set and a jar of homemade honey. Instead she picked up a tablet from an end table and tapped the screen to wake it up.

"So you said on the phone Claire lost her father back in November?"

"Yes. A car accident." It was easy to talk about it like this, dry and clinical, telling the doctor what she needed to know. As long as it was about helping Claire, he could put his own feelings aside.

"And her mother?"

"She died giving birth to Claire. Eclampsia."

"So you're her only living family?"

"Yes. But …" This part was always hard no matter how many times he did it. Even with Principal Mills' assurance that Dr. Bradbury would be open minded, it still scared him a little, saying the words to someone new, but he took a breath and added, "There's also my boyfriend." Because no matter how short a time they'd been together, and no matter what certain people might have to say about two gay men raising a child together, he and Dean were raising Claire together. Castiel hadn't truly felt like a single parent in a long while, maybe not since that first grilled cheese sandwich.

Dr. Bradbury smiled reassuringly. "Does he live with you?" she asked, no judgment in her tone, just trying to get the lay of the land.

Castiel relaxed. "No, but he stays over fairly often since I can't leave Claire alone. Claire likes him. He's very good with her." He couldn't help the goofy little smile that took over his face whenever he talked about Dean. Thankfully Dr. Bradbury was too professional to mention it, but the twinkle in her eyes said it was very obvious just how head over heels in love he was.

"And does Claire understand that your relationship with this man is romantic? I only ask because I don't want to accidentally let slip something you don't want her to know. How much you tell her about your private life is completely up to you."

"I've discussed it with her, yes. And she's seen us kiss. She knows that we sleep in the same bed when Dean stays overnight. When she's old enough to grasp the concept of sex, I'm sure she'll put two and two together, but I'm hoping it'll be at least a few more years before we have to have that conversation."

Dr. Bradbury chuckled sympathetically. "I'm sure Claire won't enjoy it any more than you will, but better to make sure she has the right information rather than letting her piece it together from TV and the internet and how other kids think it works. Ignorance about sex doesn't stop kids from trying it. On another subject, how often do you discuss Claire's father with her?"

Castiel tensed. "I … don't. I know that's probably not healthy, and I don't want her to forget him, but …" He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "I'm not sure anything I could tell her would make her feel better. My brother and I weren't close. We spent time in foster care, not always in the same home, and as we got older we just drifted farther and farther apart. And after I came out, it got worse. He couldn't understand it, didn't want to understand it. And I don't want her to think her father was a bad person. He wasn't. He had his flaws like everybody, but he was a good man and a wonderful father. But Claire worships Dean. She loves him almost as much as I do. How do I tell her that if her father was still alive, Dean wouldn't even have been allowed to meet her, let alone read her bedtime stories and teach her to make pancakes?"

The words poured out in a rush like he had opened a floodgate, and when it was over, he felt breathless.

Dr. Bradbury put her tablet aside and leaned forward. "Castiel, you have every right to still be angry with your brother for his rejection of your sexuality. Death doesn't entitle us to blanket forgiveness from the people we hurt. But if you let this anger fester, Claire will come to believe that you hated her father and that perhaps you do want her to forget him. I know it's not easy, but you need to talk to her for both your sakes. You don't have to paint her father as an angel who never did anything wrong. Like you said, he was a flawed human being. Tell her that. Tell her it was complicated. Tell her that even good people can be stubborn and misguided and prejudiced sometimes. But even without meeting Claire, I can tell you right now that she will process her grief better if she sees you grieving with her rather than trying to forget."

~o0o~

Castiel didn't even consider not including Dean in the conversation. He knew he was going to need the emotional support both during and after, and Dean had proved time and again that he was in this for the good and the bad. As Sam had said, Dean treated Castiel like family. Castiel owed him the same.

Of course he didn't intend to get into the really bad stuff with Claire. He spent most of the afternoon debating in his head what exactly he should tell her and what he should leave out. And then he remembered the photo album.

Jimmy had given it to him for their birthday one year, a peace offering after a big fight. Castiel had been seriously dating Bart for almost a year at the time, and he'd foolishly hoped that if he explained to Jimmy that it wasn't a casual fling, that he thought he might be in love with this man, then Jimmy would soften up and allow him to bring his boyfriend to Christmas dinner. When Jimmy flatly refused, Castiel hadn't spoken to him for months. He didn't even go to Illinois for Christmas that year. After dozens of ignored calls and emails deleted unread, a package arrived at Castiel's door in early March containing a photo album full of pictures from their childhood. Castiel hadn't even known that many pictures existed.

He waited until Monday night when they wouldn't have to rush. After dinner he took the album off the bookshelf. He hadn't looked at it since a couple months before the fateful phone call that had turned his life upside down, and he had to blow a thick layer of dust off of it. He stared at it for a moment, wishing he could reclaim those months of silence, erase every stupid argument they'd ever had. But at the same time he felt that familiar anger.

Death doesn't entitle us to blanket forgiveness from the people we hurt. Dr. Bradbury's words echoed in his mind. And he remembered too Dean saying, I don't think I could have handled all the shit if I hadn't had Sammy on my side.

It wasn't stupid. He was my brother, my twin. I should have been able to count on him to accept me even if no one else did, but if he was still alive, we would still be fighting about it. Even knowing what the response would be, Castiel wouldn't have been able to resist telling Jimmy about Dean, about how happy he'd been lately.

But would they even be together if he hadn't needed help figuring out what to feed Claire? Would he have fallen as fast as he did if he hadn't seen how sweet and kind Dean was to Claire, if he hadn't seen behind the mask? The undeniable mutual attraction might have been good for a few nights of flaring passion, but if he hadn't been motivated by circumstances to take it slow, to insist on a stable relationship instead of a one night stand or a friends with benefits arrangement, would they have what they had now? For that matter, would they have ever even known that the attraction was mutual? If Jimmy was still alive, Castiel would have gone to Illinois for Christmas, and Dean would have been left alone with his Die Hard marathon and a sad little dinner for one.

He would never know how it might have played out under other circumstances. The threads of cause and effect were too tangled, and there was no changing the past. He felt like that should have been an epiphany. He should realize in a flash that life was what it was and let go of his anger. But no, the anger was still there.

Two big hands settled on his hips, and a firm chest pressed against his back. "What's that?" Dean asked, looking over his shoulder at the album.

"Something I want to show you and Claire. Where is she?"

"Playing restaurant with her stuffed animals. Where else?"

Once Claire was coaxed away from her game, the three of them settled on the couch, and Castiel opened the album to the first photo. Two babies in matching blue sleepers laying side by side. "That's your dad," Castiel said, pointing to the baby on the right, "and that's me." He pointed to the other baby who was scrunching up his nose and giving the camera a confused frown.

Dean laughed. "I was gonna ask how you could tell which was which, but yeah, I've totally seen you make that face."

Castiel resisted the urge to stick his tongue out. "It also says so on the back of the picture."

He checked Claire's reaction. She didn't seem upset, and she wasn't freezing up like she had when confronted with the Christmas tree ornaments.

He turned the page. "And that's our mother. Your grandmother."

The picture showed a young (very young) woman sitting on a couch, a swaddled baby in her arms. She was smiling, but you could see the exhaustion in her eyes.

This time Dean kept silent. He couldn't fail to notice that the woman in the picture could more accurately be described as a girl, not more than seventeen, but he wasn't going to comment on it in front of Claire.

Claire pointed at the picture and gave Castiel a questioning look.

"She died a long time ago," Castiel said. "When your dad and I were about ten."

Thankfully she didn't ask how her grandmother had died. She just cuddled a little closer to Castiel and patted his arm. It took him a moment to realize she was comforting him. In her own wordless way she was telling him, I understand. I'm sorry you had to go through that too.

His throat got painfully tight, and his eyes stung. He kissed the top of her head and let a few tears trickle out. He felt Dean reach over Claire to rub his shoulders and remembered that Dean too had lost his mother at a young age. They were all three of them orphans.

Once Castiel had gotten a hold of himself, they continued flipping through the album. In time lapse they watched Jimmy and Castiel grow from infants to toddlers to young children. There were even a few pictures of Castiel's own grandmother though she had usually been behind the camera he recalled. A picture of himself at about six years old standing on a chair in front of the stove and peering into a big pot brought back a memory he'd nearly forgotten.

"Dumplings," he said, talking more to himself than to Claire or Dean. "We were making dumplings, and it was my job to watch and tell her when they'd all floated to the top. That meant they were done." For a moment he could almost taste Babi's sauerbraten and potato dumplings with gingersnap gravy.

There was a picture of Castiel and Jimmy with their faces and hands covered in chocolate as they licked a mixing bowl. Claire giggled at that one. A picture of them unwrapping presents on Christmas morning. He didn't tell her that the presents had probably been disappointing. The picture had captured that moment of hopeful anticipation when it truly seemed like the beautiful wrapping paper could contain anything in the whole world, and maybe this was the year all their dreams came true. They looked happy because they were. For just a moment, they were.

Of course the album could tell a darker story if you knew what to look for. Their mother didn't appear in many pictures, and when she did, her smile looked sad and forced. There were occasionally blurry men in the background, but either Babi hadn't taken any pictures of Mama's "friends", or Jimmy hadn't included those pictures in the album. There had been so many of them over the years, Castiel couldn't remember any names.

He saw Dean frown occasionally, but the man never said anything beyond the occasional teasing comment about what an adorable child Castiel had been. And Castiel knew that even after this, if Castiel still didn't want to tell the whole story, Dean wouldn't push.

At the end of the album there was a sudden time jump. On one page Jimmy and Castiel were eight or nine, and on the next they were all grown up, dressed in tuxes, and Jimmy had one arm around the waist of a beautiful blond woman in a white dress.

Claire's eyes went wide, and she pointed to the woman in white.

"Yeah. That's your mom," Castiel said softly. "You look a lot like her. Although you got your dad's eyes."

Dean gave him a sideways look but didn't ruin the moment by pointing out the inadvertent Harry Potter reference.

There were a few pictures from after the wedding, Amelia wearing a Christmas themed maternity dress, a holly wreath perched on her golden curls like a crown.

The very last picture was obviously taken in a hospital room. Jimmy's eyes were red rimmed. He'd lost his wife less than twenty four hours ago, but he was looking at the baby cradled in his arms like he'd found something worth living for. Claire touched the picture with her fingertip, but Castiel knew she didn't need it explained that the baby was her.

"Claire," he said, speaking to the top of her head since she was still snuggled up to him. "I know we haven't really talked about your dad since the funeral, and I'm sorry for that. I miss him a lot too, and sometimes … Sometimes it hurts to even think about him. But I don't want you to forget him, and I … I don't want to forget him either. So I'm going to leave this book right here," — he pointed to the coffee table — "and you can look at it whenever you want. And if you want me to look at it with you and tell you about him and your mom, I will. Whenever you want. Okay?"

She nodded, and then she flipped back to the beginning, and they looked at all the pictures again.

Babi or Baba are common diminutives of the Russian word babushka which means "grandmother". Since Castiel's surname Novak is common throughout Russia and Eastern Europe, it made sense to me that he would call his grandmother that.