Sorry it took this long. I hope you like it.
...
"Why've you been acting all weird?" House asked Wilson when he finally cornered him in the cafeteria. Wilson had just sat down with a salad and couldn't flee without being obvious about it.
"I don't know what you mean," Wilson replied, turning over lettuce leaf and sighing. "They really should label these things. Do you want it?"
"What's wrong with it?"
"It's got bacon bits. I didn't notice until now."
House leaned forward and gazed at Wilson as if his friend was a sample of abnormal leukocytes in a petri dish. "Since when are you such a stickler about keeping kosher? Just eat around it like you always do when you remember it's a thing rather than inhaling your food too fast to register the meat products involved."
"Maybe I'm trying to be less hypocritical. Want it? I'd feel bad about just throwing it away."
Yanking the plate to his side of the table and plucking the plastic fork from Wilson's hand, House said, "This is exactly the kind of behavior I'm finding unsettling. You asked a woman who just lost her mom if she'd like a hug and when she said okay you gave her one, despite you never having met her before and not even learning her name before she left, so I know it wasn't some come-on. You keep staring at patients who aren't even yours, like looking at them with enough compassion or whatever would magically make them better. Plus you haven't bickered with me all week. No matter how much I goad. Fess up."
Wilson bit his lip, the way he did shortly before yielding, but stalled by means of lemonade consumption. House could wait. There was so much ice in the glass this would buy Wilson twenty seconds at most. "How much does something count as having happened if you yourself don't remember it happening?" Wilson asked, his voice barely audible over the chatter around them.
"Depends whether it has residual effects." House thought about this and frowned. "Do you have gaps in your memory or something? Didn't think you were the type to drink that hard."
"No gaps in mine. Maybe that would have been better."
Wilson volunteered no further clues to what his current deal was. House did notice, though, that Wilson kept squirreling little salt packets into his pockets with far less subtlety than he thought he possessed. And Wilson had never shown an interest in the various ways to minimize the potential health risks of tattoos before. When House brought up the Leviticus verse forbidding tattoos Wilson shrugged. "Things change."
...
It was a good thing Sam called Bobby ahead to let him know not only that they would need two extra places to sleep - Cas didn't count due to his lack of needing to sleep in the first place - but that Bobby would be kinda seeing double.
It wasn't that hard to tell Cas and Jimmy apart, though, even if they hadn't been dressed differently. Cas wasn't as awkwardly formal as he had once been but he still hadn't gotten the hang of moving like an organic being rather than a "wavelength of celestial intent" doing its best to be solid. Jimmy looked more like a kicked puppy even when he smiled than a literal baby dog that has been shoved with a boot looks like a kicked puppy.
Jimmy ate so much at once their first day at Bobby's place that he spent much of the following night puking. His daughter insisted on sitting next to him, the bathroom door open, alternating her comforting pep talks with mini lectures about how he shouldn't push himself. Claire seemed like a sensible girl. She was full of ideas about getting a GED and going part-time to a local community college in between learning more about the supernatural, helping Bobby with research and his auto shop, along with practicing weapon skills until she could go out on a hunting trip without Jimmy pitching a fit.
The Novaks thanked him way more than they needed to for giving them a place to start picking up the pieces. Bobby told them they were staying unless they found something better, and he didn't give a damn or a blessing or what the hell ever if that happened or not. Claire made him think too much of Jo for him to turn her away, especially with her having lost her mom but keeping calm and finding her dad again anyway. He didn't wish this life on anyone, but if Jimmy and Claire could survive being angel-ridden and come out sane, then they were more qualified than more than ninety percent of the human race for fighting what goes bump in the night.
Day two after the crew descended upon his home, when Cas and the Novaks were having a lengthy heart-to-heart and Claire was finally letting herself cry, Bobby and Dean and Sam mulled over the recent revelations with the assistance of as much liquor they were capable of having at once without dying.
"You know, this means God hit you over the head with a toilet plunger," Dean teased Sam after his third glass.
Sam threw up his hands. "Symbol of my life."
"The world makes much more sense now I know God's an idjit too. At least he turned out to be well-meaning." Later Bobby would tell the others about Anna, Gabriel, Balthazar, Crowley, and some bizarrely polite and soft-voice angel named Aziraphale all calling to say they wanted to visit soon. And that someone else had called to say Adam Milligan's soul was confirmed to be in heaven, then promptly hung up before Bobby could say anything in response.
Later. One reunion at a time. Going from lost to found wasn't like flipping a switch. Cas was supposed to be angel of lost travelers, though, right? Maybe that had been the plan all along.