Obviously, a spoiler warning for anyone who has not seen the S12 finale. I just had to get this written ASAP and thought I would post it and hope some fix it and some h/c feels may help you guys a bit because it did help a little bit to write. I'll apologize in advance for typos because I only read over it once.

Also, what we saw of the nephilim at the end of the ep creeped me out so for the sake of this story, he is an adorable little boy.

Characters/ Setting: Sam, Dean, Cas, Jack, Mary/ Coda to 12x23

Genre: H/C fix-it, fluff

Rating: K+

Future

It wasn't real.

That was Dean's first thought; that surely, this had to be just another horrible nightmare. But really, why should he even bother trying to justify how their lives always went to hell, just when things were starting to look like they were coming together again.

Like, just when he got Mom back—again—she gets tossed into an alternate apocalypse torn universe with a very angry Lucifer.

Like, just when he got Cas back, Lucifer stabbed him in the back.

He was aware of Sam breathing heavily behind him, probably just as unable to process this as he was, but then the lights flickered in the house and Sam turned to look. Dean knew they should go check out the situation, find the nephillim, hope it wasn't going to instantly take after its father, hope they had a chance in hell of reasoning with it, but he couldn't move.

Sam's hand descended on his shoulder briefly, a firm squeeze, and then he was hurrying toward the house.

Dean slowly sank to his knees. He couldn't stand any more. The weight of everything was pressing down on him, not to mention the beating Lucifer had given him. But that, the physical pain, was dull, he couldn't be bothered to care. All he could focus on was his best friend, his second brother, lying there where he had fallen.

"You can't be dead," he whispered, trying to ignore the stab wound in the center of Cas' chest. "You can't really be dead this time, you bastard. I can't…"

Dean stopped, unable to say another word around the pressure in his throat. He sank further, one hand pressing into the ground to support him. He felt something dry and dusty under his palm and looked down to see the burned marks of Cas' wings.

Dean clenched his hand into a fist, a swell of nausea and emotion overwhelming him. "Oh god, Cas," he croaked as he reached out and crushed the lapel of that stupid trench coat in his fist. He curled in on himself, head hanging, as the weight of everything he was feeling threatened to crush him.

"Dean."

It was a wavering, barely whispered call before Dean felt his brother sink to his knees next to him. Sam reached down, touching Cas' cold hand, then shakily took up his angel blade, turning it over in his hands as it glinted in the moonlight.

"Oh god, Dean," Sam said with a shuddering breath.

Dean couldn't offer comfort though. He had none to give. It took all his strength just to raise his head and force out the words, "Let's…let's get him inside."

Sam nodded and had to help Dean get upright first before they both bent and lifted Cas between them.

The angel's head lolled against Dean's chest and he almost broke again, almost collapsed right there, and he knew this time he wouldn't be getting back up. But they somehow made it across the lawn and into the small lakehouse where they carried Cas over to the couch and settled him as gently as possible down on it. Sam tucked a pillow under Cas' head, and Dean folded his hands over his stomach, and for a moment it looked like he was just sleeping. If Dean was that good at lying to himself.

Sam produced Cas' angel blade from his coat where he must have put it earlier. He only just noticed it still had blood on it. Cas' blood.

Sam made a choked sound and hurriedly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the blade down before he set it gently on the coffee table.

Dean sank into a chair, unable to stay on his feet another second. He would take stock of his injuries, but frankly, he was too tired. Even if he had busted ribs, and internal bruising, he couldn't be bothered to care.

"Dean," Sam said quietly, crouching down beside him. "You're hurt."

Dean wouldn't look at him directly, but he saw Sam's pleading face out of the corner of his eye, wanting to fix something.

But Dean couldn't give him that. Not yet. "Leave it," he muttered.

"Dean…"

"Just leave it," Dean forced out, his voice almost breaking again. There was no fixing Cas. There was no fixing Mom. And so there would be no fixing him either.

Sam sighed, sagging slightly. "Dean, the kid…I think he's gonna be okay."

"I don't care," Dean told him. And he didn't. At the moment, he almost wished Lucifer's spawn would just wipe them all out. It would be a mercy.

Sam was silent for a long moment before he put a hand on Dean's knee and squeezed. "Okay." He said, his voice wavering, as he stood up and went into another room, leaving Dean alone with Cas' body.

Dean slowly lowered his head into his hands, his body trembling, but he had no outlet for his emotions yet. He still couldn't process. He wondered when he would be able to. When he would finally be able to face the fact that the best friend he'd ever had was dead. And dead for real this time too. He didn't think any of them were getting any more re-dos in the resurrection department.

Somewhere through his grief, he thought he heard Sam say something, and then there was the patter of small feet and a presence beside him.

"You're hurt."

Dean jerked with a start and looked up, finding himself staring into the huge blue eyes of a blond, curly-haired little boy. Sam was standing in the doorway, looking unsure of what to do.

"Are you Dean?" the boy asked.

Dean swallowed hard, before nodding. "Yeah."

"Sam told me about you," the boy said, somewhat proudly. "I can help."

Before Dean could protest, the boy's tiny fingers reached up and touched his forehead and with a surge of warmth that reached from the soles of his feet to the tips of his hair, Dean felt every ache in his body erased.

Dean looked down at the boy, somewhat stupefied. The boy had a pleased smile on his face before it started to turn into a frown. "You're not all better," he stated. "Why do you still hurt?"

"Jack," Sam called, stepping forward and crouching next to the little boy with a small smile. "Why don't we go see if there's something to eat."

But the boy had already turned toward the couch and caught sight of Cas.

"Castiel?" he asked, taking a step toward the angel's body but stopping, casting a confused and scared look between the Winchesters. "I—I can't feel his grace. What's wrong with him?"

Dean was about to open his mouth with a scathingly blunt reply, but Sam shot him a look and turned Jack toward him, taking both his little hands into his own.

"Jack, Castiel…he protected you and your mother. He wanted to keep you safe from…people…who wanted to take you away and do bad things. He…he fought them, and he was hurt really bad." Sam swallowed hard before clearing his throat. "He, um, he died so that you could be safe."

Dean's heart panged at that, at hearing the grief in Sam's voice. He wanted to be angry at the kid for getting Cas killed even if it was inadvertently. But when he looked at how Jack's face scrunched up as he tried to process what Sam was telling him, he couldn't really hate the kid.

Jack pulled his hands out of Sam's and hurried over to the couch.

"Jack," Sam called, standing up again as Dean did the same, stopping a few feet from Jack who was standing by the couch, looking down at Cas' face.

There was a frown of concentration between his brows again, as he reached out to place a tiny hand on the wound in Cas' chest.

"Jack, wait…" Sam tried, but all of a sudden, a blinding light flared up and he and Dean both had to throw their arms over their faces.

When it finally died down, Dean stared, openmouthed, at the little boy, who was still standing next to the couch, but then he saw, rather than heard, Cas heave a breath, and watched in shock and disbelief, as the angel's eyes flew open, glowing gold, then blue, and finally dying down to their natural color.

Cas shot into a sitting position with a gasp, hand clutching at his chest as Jack jumped back a step, slightly startled.

"Cas?" Dean asked incredulously, taking a hesitant step forward.

Cas whipped his head around to look at him and Sam, eyes wide with confusion.

"Sam, Dean, I…what happened?"

"I made you better!" Jack informed him proudly, hopping slightly on his feet.

Cas seemed to see the child for the first time and stared at him in awe, and maybe a little trepidation. "Jack?" he inquired.

The little boy nodded, his curls bouncing into his eyes.

Cas' eyes searched Sam and Dean's. "How long...?"

"Too long," Dean said and finally stepped over to the couch. Sam was right at his side and they both reached down toward the angel. Cas took their hands and allowed them to haul him to his feet. Dean didn't give him the chance to find his footing before he simply grabbed him into a firm embrace, finally letting out the breath he had been holding for too long, feeling the tension and the grief ease out of him.

Cas squeezed back, seeming just as glad to be back in the land of the living as the Winchesters were to have him.

Dean finally let him go, and Sam took his place, relief washing over his face as he folded Cas firmly in his arms.

"It's good to have you back, man," Dean told him, gripping his shoulder.

Cas offered a tired smile, looking around before he frowned. "Where's Mary?"

Dean felt the ache in his chest return, as he cleared his throat. "She went toe-to-toe with Lucifer after he…stabbed you. They both fell into the rift before it closed."

Cas' face was stricken. "Dean, Sam, I'm…I'm so sorry."

"Me too," Dean told him. "But we knew we weren't getting out of this without some casualties."

"We never do," Sam added.

Cas looked toward the stairs with a sad expression, and Dean knew he was thinking of Kelly. He figured Cas had gotten pretty close to her in the past few weeks. He settled a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"We have the kid, though," Dean told him. "Not Lucifer. That's a win."

Cas sighed heavily but nodded. "Yes." He looked around for the little boy and frowned. "Where is he?"

Sam and Dean looked around too, but Jack wasn't in the room, and didn't seem to be anywhere. Dean felt his stomach drop to his feet.

"Jack?" he called.

"Jack!" Cas shouted as the three of them started a frantic search of the house.

That was when the front door opened. "I'm here!" said a child's voice.

The three of them turned to the sound and Dean's breath caught in his throat.

Jack was standing in the doorway, beaming, his hand firmly clutched around the hand of the woman who stood beside him.

"Mom," Sam whispered.

Mary smiled at them as she stepped into the house. "Boys," she looked from Sam, to Dean, to Cas, and then Dean surged forward at the same time Sam did, both of them pulling their mother into a firm hug. Mary pulled Cas into the mix as well, and Dean could finally feel the pieces of his heart start to slowly fuse back together again.

As they stepped back from their happy reunion, Dean felt a small hand slip into his.

"Now you're better," Jack said with a smile.

Dean finally smiled back, and settled a hand into the boy's blond curls. "Yes, I am. Thank you."

Jack beamed and threw his arms around Dean's legs.

"Come on," Mary told the boy, putting a hand on his back. "Let's go find you some supper. I bet you're hungry."

Sam, Dean and Cas were left in the entryway, watching them go, before they turned back to each other.

"So, what happens now?" Sam asked.

Cas glanced toward the kitchen, still seeming to be somewhat at a loss. "I…don't know. I guess try and raise Jack well, how Kelly wanted. Make sure he stays on the right path."

Dean nodded. "You think it's gonna be easy?"

Cas watched as Mary showed Jack how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a small smile crossed his lips. "I think he's off to a good start. And he will have good examples." He glanced between the Winchesters.

Dean had to smile as well, another wave of gratitude and relief washing over him.

"And what about the future?" Sam asked.

Cas was silent for a moment before he said. "I think the future will be what it always is. What we make of it."

Sam and Dean nodded in agreement. "Amen to that," Dean told him.

"Boys, you hungry?" Mary called.

A grin broke out on all three of their faces, and they turned toward the kitchen. Dean felt warmth fill his body, like it had when Jack had healed him, but this time it didn't go away. Whatever the future may hold, he knew that as long as they could meet it together, they would be all right.