Chapter Text
2016
“I realized this morning that I’ve been alive without her longer than I was with her,” Cas says. “That’s been true for a few years now, but I’d never thought of it before somehow.”
They’re sitting on the ground, among the old green of fading grass and an ever-growing scattering of colorful leaves. It’s a nice day, royal-blue sky and warm sun on their backs; maybe the last one of the year. The weather feels right on that edge where it’ll soon tip over into constant rainy gray, and from there into snow.
It’s the same for Dean: his dad died when he was seventeen, and here he is now, thirty-five years old. He crossed over the border Cas is talking about a little while back, a year ago and change. He doesn’t care to do the math any more carefully than that.
“Weird, ain’t it?” he says. Acknowledging kinship, but leaving space for Cas to say what he’s working up to as well.
“Very,” Cas agrees. “I’ve been thinking about her less and less over the years, but there are still moments where she… looms large. Those moments, it doesn’t feel as if she ever died at all.”
“Yeah,” Dean says, and figures that’s probably good enough. This ain’t about him.
Silent, they both study the gravestone in front of them, which reads, Naomi Novak, Devoted Wife and Mother, 1960-1996. The lettering, once carefully etched, has begun to fade from the sun and wind. Dean tries not to have any uncharitable thoughts about it. Like, Good.
As of today, Naomi Novak has been dead for twenty years.
Dean reaches over and strokes his thumb down the back of Cas’ arm, over the place where tweed gives way to vinyl, because his partner is the kind of dork who actually dresses like a college professor. It’s a good thing Dean’s into dorks; especially this one.
“I think I’m ready to go,” Cas says, after another little while has passed.
This whole time, he hasn’t said a single word to his mom. When they first got here, Dean offered to fuck off so Cas could have some privacy, but Cas clung onto his hand and shook his head, like Don’t you dare, so he didn’t.
To be fair, the few times Dean’s made it to his dad’s grave in Idaho, he didn’t always talk either. Once or twice he did though. If you can call it talking when you scream at a dead man until your throat feels raw.
“We should start a Buffy rewatch tonight,” Cas says as he clambers to his feet. When he gets there, he holds out his hand for Dean to take.
Dean lets himself be pulled up. “I’m always game,” he says, “but why Buffy specifically?”
“Watching Buffy was one of the first things I ever did that really would’ve pissed her off,” Cas answers.
He leans in to kiss Dean on the lips, and Dean lets him do that as well. The unspoken truth is that this, too, would’ve pissed off Cas' mother. Sometimes, when Cas has been to see her, he gets into this kind of defiant mood. Dean figures there are worse things than Cas deciding to live extra loud for a while, even if it is out of spite.
The drive back to Bobby’s from the gravesite takes almost two hours. Dean doesn’t pressure Castiel to talk, and he is grateful for that. Instead, they crack the Impala’s windows a little, letting the fall breeze do the talking for them.
When Dean makes the turn onto the access road that will lead them to the salvage yard, Castiel feels as though his lungs inflate properly for the first time in hours. This trip he’s been dreading for weeks is over, and he’s back where he belongs. With his people, in one of the places that qualify as “home.” (The other is the one they’ll return to later tonight: the ranch-style two-bedroom he and Dean bought two years ago, with the big yard and the in-law apartment for Millie and the kitchen that faces west into the sunset.)
“The shed?” Dean asks, when they pull up in front of Bobby’s house.
“The shed,” Castiel agrees.
They walk around the house to the shed, and Castiel glances sideways at Dean, thinking of the first time Dean ever came over to Bobby’s. Castiel didn’t know it at the time, but when Dean disappeared that night for a few minutes, he was at the shed with Bobby, smashing up an old clunker to work out his feelings. It was the first in a long string of kindnesses Bobby showed Dean, and continues to show them both every day.
As predicted, when they reach the shed, they find Bobby and Jack on either side of the old Lincoln that Castiel used to drive before he upgraded to a modern SUV.
“What about this one?” Bobby asks.
“That’s the battery,” Jack says. “Give me a harder one!”
Bobby’s face twitches. “That one then.”
Jack gives him a look filled with as much exasperation as a ten-year-old is capable of (which is a considerable amount). “The dipstick,” he answers anyway.
“At this rate, you’ll be taking over the family business in no time, kid,” Dean says.
Jack’s head snaps up, flashing a bright grin. “Dad!” And, turning to Castiel, “Dad!”
He darts over, throwing his arms around them both in a quick squeeze before he’s off again, back on task.
A few times in the two years since they started fostering Jack, Castiel has had to field questions from people who think it’s confusing that Jack calls him and Dean the same thing. The one time a question about it was put to Jack, he said, “I have more dads than most,” and left it at that.
It works for them, and that's all that matters.
“How’d it go?” Bobby asks as Castiel walks over to him. Dean has joined Jack on the other side of the car, where, without having to be asked, he’s taken over Bobby’s task of quizmaster.
In lieu of a response, Castiel pulls Bobby into an embrace. “Thanks, Dad,” he mutters.
Bobby gently pats his back, but says nothing else, and that’s just fine. They’ve known each other twenty years, and they have learned how to read between each other’s lines.
If Castiel knows how to provide a good home for a little boy who lost his first one, it’s all because of Bobby. Without Bobby, he wouldn’t have Jack, or Dean, or a career in academia that he loves. It all comes down to the fact that Bobby opened his heart to an awkward, quiet teen and gave him the space to be himself.
He steps away from the hug. Bobby wipes at his eyes, and Dean is pretending very hard that he hasn’t noticed the emotional display. Jack is bouncing up and down on his heels, impatient with everything, clearly on the verge of asking when they can go get the donuts Dean promised for the drive back.
They’re Castiel’s family, all of them, as well as Sam and his girlfriend Jess, all the way out in California, Millie in the backyard apartment, and Anael, Charlie, as well as the many other friends they spend time with whenever they can.
Yes, Castiel has been without his mother for longer than he was with her, and that is a complicated feeling. But this, here, isn’t complicated at all. It’s home, and family, and every single thing he’s ever wanted.