Epilogue
May 25, 2017
"C'mon, it's right up here."
Dean huffed for a moment, bracing his hands on his knees before stumbling along, following the sounds of the boy's voice. He remembered these branches as being higher, not low-hanging boobytraps that he had to keep ducking or pushing out of the way. The woods themselves had not grown any smaller, evidenced by how tired he was getting and how he felt as though he'd been hiking for miles, but the trees themselves weren't the giants of his memories.
"You coming?"
"Right behind you." He had no choice but to keep going. Mom and Dad must have been insane, he decided. Did they seriously just let us basically live in the forest, with no supervision? How did we not get lost at least once a week? As quickly as the thought ran through his head, he chuckled at himself. Getting old, Winchester .
He finally felt the ground dip slightly at his toes and become slightly squelchy, the first clue that he was approaching the small creek Jesse had described. Slowing down, he scanned the woods around him thoughtfully. After a moment, he heard a muffled giggle; turning his head in that direction, he caught the barest glimpse of a sneaker dangling between the leaves of a tree on the other side of the trickling water. "Gotcha," he muttered, smirking.
The creek was narrow enough that a single, well-placed flat rock in the center was all he needed to get to the other side with his feet dry. Crossing, he made his way to the tree and looked up. For a moment, his heart stuttered; the scene was so reminiscent of the first time he'd met Cas that he could hardly stand it. On the other hand, though, Jesse was grinning wickedly, his cheeks flushed with health. He wasn't hiding from a threat; he was happily in his element. The contrast was bittersweet.
"This is my lookout tower," Jesse said. "You can come in if you want. Can you climb?" He scrambled up to stand on the branch, then pulled himself up to the next.
"Can I climb?" Dean scoffed. Rubbing his hands together briskly, he grabbed a limb and hoisted himself up. Years of exploring the woods had given him the experience to determine when a branch was strong enough to support his weight, so he wasn't worried that he was too heavy now. Jesse's "tower" was well-chosen.
Jesse climbed higher, and Dean followed. It was a mature enough oak that they were quite high by the time the branches started getting too narrow to trust, and they had a good view over the treeline. Looking outward, Dean could see their house, yard backing onto the woods. Figures were moving about the yard; details were obscured by the distance, but he could easily pick out Cas, sitting in the swing he'd hung from the crabapple tree by the porch. Other people were lounging around the rickety picnic table, no longer groaning under the weight of the lunch they'd consumed.
Jesse was sitting on a branch again, kicking his feet and gazing downward. "I miss here," he said. "Morgantown has woods, but they're not as good. Mama took me to the arborit...ariboriā¦" He scowled. Dean, having learned from experience how to handle these bright country kids, waited patiently instead of jumping in to help. "The tree park. What's it called?"
"Arboretum."
"Arboretum. Anyway, it's okay, but you're not allowed to climb. I got yelled at. Stupid rules."
Dean chuckled, picturing it. "I bet you're glad to be back here visiting, then."
"Yeah," agreed Jesse. "And Mama says when we live in Charleston, it's real close to home, so we can come see Cas all the time. And you, too," he added as a gracious afterthought.
Dean would never have imagined the thought of seeing Meg on a regular basis would be something he'd appreciate. Things had definitely changed. They had changed. He knew he was a better person than he had been when he was younger. Meg...it was unfair to say that time had improved her. What time had really done was remove her from the things that were hurting her, the things he'd been too blind to see. Cas had been her miracle, and in return, she'd been there for Cas when Dean hadn't. For that alone, Dean was willing to forgive every snarky remark she'd ever made at his expense.
"We'll be happy to see you guys," Dean said to Jesse, sincere warmth in the invitation. "Somebody's got to keep me on my tree-climbing game."
"Well, we can't come that often," Jesse replied solemnly. "You need a kid here."
Laughing, Dean shook his head. "Should I start asking for climbing partners when I do check-ups? Lots of boys and girls won't want to climb with the 'dumb ol' doctor' who pokes them with needles."
"You need your own kid," Jesse said in exasperation. "Mama said that, too."
Swallowing his laugh, Dean eyed the boy. "Did she?"
"Yep. I'm not supposed to say anything to Cas about it. Mama said, 'He's a smart guy, he'll figure it out.' But she didn't say not to tell you." The way Jesse was narrowing his eyes pointedly, it was obvious he knew the loophole was unintended and that Dean's inclusion in the gag order had been intended to be implicit.
"Well. She's not wrong. Cas is a really smart person." Dean wondered what was appropriate to say to the precocious ten-year-old on the subject. "He likes to take his time with things, but it always ends up better that way, right?"
"Okay, but you shouldn't take too long. Otherwise you'll be too old to climb."
"Hey!" Dean ducked as Jesse threw a twig at his hair, then followed as the boy started to swing back down the tree, lighting on branches with careless grace.
"He's an awesome kid," Dean whispered in Cas's ear that evening. Cas was reclining in his lap, head tipped back against Dean's shoulder, while they watched the bonfire send sparks heavenward. "I know there's none of you actually in him, but there's plenty of you in his spirit."
"Couldn't be helped," Cas murmured, smiling gently. Sam, visiting from Pittsburgh, was helping Jesse pull a carbonized marshmallow off his stick; his wife, Sarah, was stroking her gently rounded abdomen while watching with fond eyes.
Without taking his gaze away from the scene before them, Dean ducked his head to run his lips along Cas's neck. With a soft exhale, Cas tilted his head further to the side to encourage him to continue; Dean was happy to oblige, lacing their fingers together across his husband's chest.
"Apparently," he said between kisses, "Jesse thinks we need a kid of our own around here."
"Really." Cas pressed backwards slightly into Dean's embrace, eyes almost closed but fluttering open when he spoke.
"Mmm-hmm. It's been the subject of discussion, from what I understand."
"Well, I can't imagine where he'd get such an idea."
"Hmmm." Dean stroked the back of Cas's hand with his thumb, happy butterflies stirring in his stomach as he thought about the envelope with the signed application to become foster parents sitting on their counter, waiting to be filed on Monday.
"It'll be hard to see him leave to go back home again," Cas said. "It's always hard, even with email and letters." His voice held a touch of melancholy, of anxiousness. It had taken a very long time for Dean to convince Castiel that he was staying; Cas still occasionally wrestled with insecurity about being left behind again. Dean was committed to reassuring him as much as he needed.
"I know," agreed Dean. "You don't really get used to it, all the goodbyes. Everybody heading out all over the place. But you know what? Jesse called this 'home.' And partly it's the woods-I swear, I've never seen anybody climb so much like a damn monkey before." Cas laughed at the idea. "But mostly it's you. Us. We're 'home.' He'll keep coming back, just like I did, so long as that's true."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Not without me, anyway," Dean murmured. The shadows cast by the fire hid their faces as Cas turned into the kiss, but it wouldn't have mattered if they were in broad daylight. Nothing was disturbing them anymore.
