#parent!destiel

Talking filled the room.

His nieces and nephews’ screams echoing from down the hall.

The living room lights humming above. 

The material of his father’s couch tearing across the palms of his hand, as he raised it to cover his yawn. From next to him Dean laughed, then said something that Cas couldn't make out. His head slowly turned to next to his left, where Dean and Anna were sat next to him, Jack cradled Dean’s arms.

“He’s so cute,” Anna cooed as Jack grinned up at her. Cas agreed, Jack was a very cute baby, but the words stayed stuck in his throat, and instead he sharply inhaled as Anna began saying something else he couldn’t fully understand. Even if he did understand it wouldn’t be audible over the sound of a screeching chair that filled the room, followed by footsteps and the clattering of silverware. 

“He’s been great,” Dean said, his face lightening up, “hell I think he’s cried twice so far.”

Anna smiled back. “You’re lucky, when I had Jasper all he did was scream I couldn’t put him down to pee and Kelsie wasn’t any better.”

Dean laughed and Cas sharply inhaled. 

He looked away, to the couch across from them where Sam, Gabriel and Eileen were sat. 

Signing and talking. 

Moving.

The lights glaring above.

Laughing.

His heart hammering.

His breathing shallow.

The lights buzzing through his head.

He needed it to stop. He needed everything to just stop. 

Dean pressed a hand to his shoulder and Cas froze.“I missed a-” Sam laughed from across the room, and Cas inhaled, “-hold Jack?”

He gave a forced nod, the words stuck in his throat. Not that it mattered, he didn’t have the energy to do anything but comply as Jack was placed into his arms and Dean walked away.

Cas looked down at the baby he stiffly held, Jack’s wide eyes looking back as he squirmed around. Cas didn‘t blame him; he wasn’t exactly good at holding Jack, even his own arms felt uncomfortable as he tried to adjust them to the way Dean had shown him. One arm supporting the neck while the other supported the legs, held close to his chest. 

Dean had made it look easy, yet no matter how many times Cas readjusted his arms it never felt right. The motion was too slow, or his arms were too exhausted to hold Jack’s weight. 

Cas shifted his arms one last time before he gave up and layed Jack across his lap, his head resting on Cas’s knees while his feet pressed to his stomach. Jack reached a hand up and Cas let him grab onto his pointer finger, watching as Jack’s small fingers curled around his own. 

The cushion next to him sank as Chuck took Dean's spot, though Cas kept his gaze down. He didn’t think he had the energy to keep breathing, never mind lookup. 

“Are you not going to hold him?” his father asked. 

Jack’s lips parted into an ‘o’, and Cas tilted his head. Watching Jack had quickly become one of his favourite things, getting to see the baby's expressions as he smiled or did what Dean called his lemon face where he scrunched up his nose and wrinkled his forehead. His little fingers would bend and unbend as he reached out for something and his mouth would open wide as he tried to chew on his fist. It was all incredibly fascinating and Cas wished he could simply watch Jack alone in their home. Away from all the noise and glaring lights. On a couch that didn’t scratch at his skin. 

The clinking of glasses came as he forced himself to exhale. 

Then laughing.

Then breathing. 

“Baby’s need to be held,” Chuck continued.

“They also shouldn’t be held too frequently or they become overly attached,” Cas replied. His voice felt weird against his throat as he repeated the bullshit he’d read off of some article. It was definitely his, though the way it vibrated against his throat, as the room around him blurred together, it could have been anyone’s. 

“It’s about balance.”

“Dean holds him,” Cas whispered. 

Chuck sighed, and Cas barely stopped himself from covering his ears. “Holding your child is the bare minimum,” Chuck said. “You can't expect Dean to do everything.”

Another person laughed. 

‘I don’t’ Cas wanted to respond, because he didn’t, but the words wouldn’t come, only breathing and even that had begun to feel impossible.

“I just wish you would have put more thought into this before you adopted a child,” Chuck continued, “children require-“ One of Micheals daughters came running into the room, yelling to her dad about something her sister had done. She was screaming, tears rolling down her face, though she might as well have been speaking through water. “They aren’t easy.”

Cas’s finger dropped from Jack’s grip, Jack’s expression scrunching into his lemon face as Cas choked on a breath. “Castiel,” his father insisted, right next to him, though sounding miles away. “I’m just worried for you.”

Another choked breath.

“You can barely look after yourself,” Chuck said. “How are you supposed to look after a child?”

Then another breath that barely left his lips. 

Jack’s hands clenched into fists, his forehead wrinkling as his eyes became glazed. Chuck began to say something else though before he could. Cas's hands covered his ears as Jack screeched. 

He stared blankly at their bedroom wall, the room too dark to see any details with the lights off and curtains drawn. 

He’d been laying there since they’d gotten home, only having the energy to pull on an old t-shirt and a pair of pyjama pants before he found himself borrowing under their blankets. Dean had only come in twice, once to get the baby monitor and a second to leave a glass of water on their bed side table. He didn’t try to make conversation, even when Jack's cries had rung through the baby monitor and rather than checking on their son Cas had covered his ears. 

He should’ve gotten up then, Cas knew that. The same way he knew he should’ve gotten up when his apple watch buzzed reminding him to eat dinner, then again when it reminded him to have a shower. Though no matter how much he knew he should, he couldn’t find the energy to do anything more than fall in and out of sleep, and swallow down the guilt as he heard Dean shuffling through their house. The floorboards creaking as he cleaned the living room, water bubbling as he made dinner, his voice humming as he looked after Jack. 

As he did everything that Cas should be helping with.

Dean didn’t complain that night, when he laid down on his side of the bed and gave Cas a small smile. He never would complain, Dean was too kind to do that. He would swallow down his feelings and do what their family needed of him, no matter how much it hurt. 

He spent the next day in the same position, still too exhausted to drag himself out of bed. In the morning Dean left breakfast next to the untouched glass of water, and at lunch he brought a sandwich. He’d pressed a kiss to Cas’s temple, whispering for him to try and eat before he left. By the time the sun had set he’d only managed to have a shower and pull on a new pair of pyjamas before stumbling back into bed, Dean soon joining him. 

‘Love you’ Dean had mumbled before closing his eyes leaving Cas to stare into their dark bedroom. 

His heart thudding through his ears.

His pyjamas itching against his skin. 

Each creak of their house seeming to scream through the silence. 

Dean shifted in his sleep and finally Cas stood up, carefully making his way out of their bedroom and across the hall into Jack’s. The room was lit by moonlight, casting shadows along the walls, and allowing Cas to see outlines of the furniture. A rocking chair in the corner, a pile of folded clothing that needed to be put away, a stuffed animal on the floor, and Jack’s crib against the far wall. 

He could hear Jack shifting and so quietly Cas walked to the crib, and peered over the bars, meeting Jack’s gaze. “Can’t sleep,” Cas asked softly. Jack puckered his lips together and raised a hand but otherwise didn’t respond. “I too am struggling.” 

Jack raised his other arm, his tiny fingers opening and closing as he made a small gurgle. The motion was small, though a warmth flared across Cas’s chest. This is what he loved, watching Jack as he moved and smiled. The way he’d screech when he and Dean played peek-a-boo or how his eyes would light up at anything new, excited in the way that only a baby could be. His face glowing with the purest form of innocence. 

Slowly Cas took Jack out of his crib, holding him with as much care as he could before he laid Jack onto the bedroom’s carpet then layed next him. Cas laid on his stomach, head tilted so he could meet the other gaze, while Jack lay on his back.   

“I should apologize for yesterday,” Cas whispered, holding Jack’s wide eyed gaze, “I am sorry if I scared you, sometimes when things become overwhelming I shut down and- and.” He inhaled slowly, forcing himself to breath despite the weight on his chest. “Well things have been incredibly overwhelming since we adopted you.” 

Jack’s lips parted and Cas’s gaze dropped to the rug. He raised his hand, gently running it across the fluffy material, the texture soft against his touch. “Things have changed a lot and I find change difficult to process,” Cas finally continued. “It makes it difficult to do things and I am trying- but.”

Cas took another slow breath and looked back to Jack who was still staring at him with wide eyes. Despite his breathing the pain didn’t dull, the words seeming stuck on the tip of his tongue. The fears he’d spent months hiding, desperate to stay hidden. 

He could tell Jack. 

He could tell Jack.

“But, people don’t believe I’m capable of being a parent,” Cas whispered, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would make the truth hurt any less, but when the words come they hurt just the same. “And I fear they are right.”

Jack made a soft gurgling noise, and slowly Cas let his eyes flutter open, meeting Jack’s and his outreached hand. Cas raised his own hand, letting Jack grab his pointer finger and pull the tip into his mouth. “Dean is already such an incredible father and I am unsure if I will be able to compare. There are days where I can not be physically affectionate or others where I can not verbally communicate,” Cas continued, his voice echoing through the quiet bedroom, only interrupted by the sound of Jack sucking on his finger. “Dean has become accustomed to it, but you, I fear you won’t understand how much I love you.” 

Cas gently pulled his finger out of Jack’s mouth, and rubbed his thumb along the baby’s cheek. “You are my everything Jack,” Cas whispered, “if you could understand even a fraction of how much I love you, I would be grateful.”

Jack made another gurgling noise, before he reached out and grabbed a handful of the rug's fluff, giving the white material a harsh tug in an attempt to pull it into his mouth. Cas quietly watched as Jack pulled at the material, eventually giving up and instead sucking onto the sleeve of his onesie.

A creaking from the hallway came and Cas tilted his head, just in time to watch Dean appear in the doorway, his pyjama bottoms hanging low on his waist, and a hand running through his hair. 

“Hey,” Dean whispered.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replied.

Dean gave a small smile before stepping into the room. He walked over to where Cas and Jack were laying and crouched down next to Jack, who was already reaching for Dean. “Having a nice talk?” Dean asked, as he picked Jack up with ease and held him to his chest.

“Yes,” Cas said, “though Jack is not much for conversation.” 

“Too tired to talk?” Dean asked Jack, who’d buried his face into Dean’s shoulder. “Has daddy been keeping you up?” Dean shifted his arms with ease. “Yah? I think it’s time for both of you to go to bed.”

Dean carried Jack back to his crib, placing him inside before he adjusted the blankets, each action done with the same ease as before. It’s how Dean did everything with Jack, able to bounce him on his hip while cooking dinner, or sway him to sleep as if it was as natural as breathing. Something Castiel would never be able to mimic, no matter how often he watched Dean. 

At first he’d thought he was envious of his husband, but the more the days had passed, the more he realised it was far worse than envy. It was simply pain. Crushing against his chest, snapping his ribs and breaking his lungs, as he realised he could never give Jack everything he needed. He wasn’t enough, and Jack would be the one to suffer. 

Dean stood up from the crib, and slowly Cas sat up from his spot on the rug, though before he could stand Dean was picking him up to carry him back to their room. Any other day, he may have complained, but at that moment having Dean’s warmth was too comforting to do so.

   Dean walked them into their bedroom and put Cas down on his side of the bed, before taking a seat at the edge next to him. He could feel Dean’s gaze on him, though Cas let his own wander across their bedroom, the bedside lamp lighting it in a low glow. Shadows casted across the walls where photos of them were hung, while piles of laundry were stacked on the floor, still needing to be put away. Things had become messier since they’d adopted Jack, not that Cas minded, he wasn’t the neat freak in the relationship. 

“You doing okay?” Dean finally asked, as Cas stared at the Batman comics framed on their walls.

“I’m fine.”

“Well that’s a bullshit answer.”

Cas pressed his lips together and inhaled slowly. “I am tired,” he finally admitted. He’d been tired for weeks, weighed down by endless stimulation and growing guil. “And worn.”

Dean gave a small nod. “I'm going to get you something to eat,” he declared, already standing up, “do you need anything else?”

“Could you-” Cas paused and Dean raised an eyebrow. Slowly he exhaled, the words seeming stuck in his throat, the way they always were when he asked Dean to do things for him. “Could you bring Jack?” 

“He’s going to be a bitch to deal with tomorrow,” Dean grumbled.

Despite his complaints Dean left the room, the sound of the creaking floorboards filling the silence as he went to collect Jack, returning seconds later, with him fast asleep in his arms. 

“You want to hold him?” Dean whispered, and Cas glanced to Jack. He had asked Dean to bring him, he should feel excited to get to hold him, or at least want to hold him. Maybe he did want to hold him. Cas wasn’t sure. He was never sure when it came to Jack, all he knew was that Jack looked so peaceful cradled in Dean’s arms, he didn’t want to disturb it. 

“I’m goin’ to put him here,” Dean decided, resting Jack in the middle of their bed so he laid next to Cas on top of their comforter.

“Thank you,” Cas whispered, and Dean gave a small hum in response, before he declared he was going to get them food and left the room, leaving him and Jack alone. 

Jack looked so small in the middle of their bed, one hand rested open next to him, while the other rested on his stomach in a fist. His cheeks were soft and round, tinted pink, while the few strands of hair he had were a gentle golden colour. All his features were gentle, kind and innocent, much like himself. 

He often wondered how they’d been lucky enough to receive Jack

Slowly Cas raised his hand gently rubbing the pad of his thumb across Jack’s forehead, the few strands of hair soft to touch.

“You know he loves you.” Cas turned at the sound of Dean's voice, watching as Dean made his way across the room to place a peanut butter sandwich and glass of water onto the bedside table.

“He loves you,” Cas finally responded.

Dean sat down on the edge of their bed, his lips pressed in a tight line as they held each other's gaze. Dean wanted to say something, he always wanted to say something when his  jaw was tightened and chin tilted up, though that rarely meant he would. Talking wasn’t one of Dean’s strengths. 

“You’re incredibly good with him,” Cas finally said, and Dean glanced to Jack.   

“So are you.”

“Not the way you are.”

The corners of Dean’s mouth tugged down, drawing lines across his face. “You’re learning, of course you’re not going to be perfect,” Dean argued, “hell i’m fucking up at least a dozen times a day. I dropped peanut butter on his head and licked it off this morning.”

“Dean, there is a difference,” Cas whispered. He could feel the tightness in his chest, growing more painful the longer he spoke. He hated to burden Dean with his problems, Dean had enough of his own, yet he seemed too far to stop now. “You can afford to make mistakes, no one questions your ability to be a father.”

Dean’s frown deepened, and his eyebrows furrowed together. “Who the hells saying that?” He asked, tone sharp though quiet enough not to disturb Jack. 

“My father.”

“Well he’s a jackass.”

“My siblings,” Cas continued, “the social worker, our friends, Sam.”

“That son of a bitch.” Dean began to stand though Cas reached out, grabbing his wrist to keep him seated. 2am fights were the last thing any of them needed.

“He didn’t mean harm,” Cas isisted, and he believed it, Sam had genuinely been concerned though that didn’t mean it hurt any less. “He had a right to be worried.”

“Like hell he did,” Dean snapped, “you’re a great dad.”

“I can’t even hold him,” Cas replied.

“That’s just a minor problem.”

“It won’t be minor when you return to work and I'm left to care for him, or take him to daycare, or any other time you may be away,” Cas said. “Dean, I am not suited for this the way you are.”

Dean held Cas’s gaze, jaw locked, before he stood and walked around the bed. “I’ve been thinking of the whole holding thing,” Dean said as he grabbed his phone from the bedside table and walked back to where Cas was sat. His voice was still insistent though no longer angry. “I thought this might be something you could try.” 

Dean handed Cas his phone, the screen lit up with the photo of a dark blue baby sling. “You could carry him around without having to hold him, no worrying about dropping him or if he’s comfy.”

Cas glanced up, a warmth spreading across his chest as he was met with Dean’s green eyes. Wide and uncertain as scratched the back of his neck. “It was just an idea,” Dean added, “we can keep thinking of other options, whatever you want.”

 “Thank you,” Cas whispered. He placed the phone down, his gaze staying on his hands. “I apologize for making this difficult for you.”

“Fuck- Angel,” Dean sat at the edge of the bed, taking Cas’s hands into his own. “You aren’t making this difficult on me, this is how shit works. This isn’t the first problem we’re going to have and it isn’t going to be the last, but we’re going to figure it out together.” Dean gave Cas’s hand a squeeze, and Cas looked up, meeting Dean’s soft smile. “You’re going to fuck up, and I’m going to fuck up, and we’re just going to hope we don’t fuck the kid up too much.” 

 “Your goals are very minimal,” Cas whispered, unable to stop the small smile that tugged at his lips. 

“Hell if the kid makes it to ten I’ll consider it an accomplishment.”

“I suggest you stop licking him then.”

"I saw somethin' scary." Jo replied, wiping at her face. "It's makin' my head hurt."

Dean instantly went into hunter mode, panicking that someone - rather something - had broken in in a futile attempt for revenge or harm. Cas was on a case dealing with some ex-angel business due back in the next day or so. Maybe he pissed off some powerful being. Dean was nearly ready to scour the bunker with nothing but his pistol when he considered the situation. He was talking to a four year old, after all.

"Was it a dream?" he asked.

Jo nodded.

"You wanna tell me about it?" Dean asked, voice softer and heart slowing down.

This time, she shook her head, looking scared from the question.

"It's okay. The monsters aren't going to get you. I'll fight 'em off, huh?" Dean smiled, "You can go back to bed."

"Can I stay with you?" she asked shyly.

"'Course."

Dean scooped up his little girl and settled her beside him.

Jo nuzzled into Dean's chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt with one hand and holding his hand with the other.

"Love you, sweetheart." Dean whispered, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She was already asleep, too far gone to hear it.

The next time it happened was a few days later. Cas and Jo were asleep on the couch, waiting for Sam and Dean to get back from an easy salt and burn case. A colorful cartoon played silently on the TV, the rest of the lights out. Jo was curled on top of her dad, fingers wrapped around the soft fabric of his sweater. Cas had dozed off unplanned, lying down once Jo had fallen asleep and drifting into a much-needed impromptu nap.

They were asleep for nearly an hour when a sudden movement woke Cas. He startled awake, not moving anything but his eyes. Looking down, he saw Jo moving sporadically in his arms, mumbling incoherently every now and again.

Cas knew what to do. He had helped Dean through so many of these and vice versa that it was second nature. Slowly and gently, he rubbed his daughter's back, shushing her quietly. Her eyes sprang open fearfully.

"It's okay. I got you." Cas said as she threw her arms around his neck. "What is it?"

"A nightmare, Papa." Jo whimpered, nuzzling into him.

"What about?"

"Mm mm." Jo declined, shaking her head.

"Baby, you know nothing's going to get you, right? We'll take care of it. You're safe." Cas explained softly, smoothing her hair.

"But what about Daddy and Un'ca Sammy and Aunt Ei?" she asked.

"Nothing's going to get us, either. They're too afraid." Cas joked sadly.

"Promise?" Jo asked, holding out her pinky.

Cas took it with his own, grinning, "Yeah, baby, I promise."

Jo nodded, going back to hold onto her father.

Cas watched her worriedly. Her nightmares were becoming more and more common. He and Dean would have to talk about it once he was home and make sure nothing was messing with her. Until then, all he could do was hold her, so he hugged her tight until his other half arrived.

The third time was late at night the next week. It was one in the morning. Dean and Cas were due out for a hunt early the next morning, leaving Jo with Sam and Eileen for the weekend. There was a nest of vampires just on the other side of the Nebraska border slaughtering more people every day. They planned to make it there and back within the two days and take care of business as quickly as possible. They'd gone to bed earlier, saying bye to Jo beforehand, in hopes of getting a little extra sleep before what they knew would be a restless two days.

Now, the two were holding each other, Cas asleep. Dean had been awake for a couple of minutes, deciding to grab a sip of water from the kitchen like he often did. He carefully pulled himself from Cas.As he passed Jo's door, he peeked in to check on her. Instantly, he sensed that something was wrong and noticed how she was thrashing around in bed, clutching her favorite plushie as tight as she could. Worriedly, Dean made his way into the room and sat down as softly as he could on the bed. He placed a gentle hand on Jo's forehead, smoothing back her hair.

"Jo?" Dean asked quietly as he went to rub her back. "Jo, will you wake up for me?"

Upon the contact, Jo's eyes startled open and she stared up at Dean frightenedly, tears in her eyes.

"What is it?"'

The little girl launched herself into Dean's arms, holding onto him as tightly as she could. He held her for a moment, filled with worry. It was too frequent to be coincidental. He and Cas would have to talk on the way or as soon as they got back. At the moment, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Talk to me, baby." he said softly.

"Nightmare, Daddy."

"I know, sweetheart, but you gotta tell me what it was about." Dean coaxed.

"Bad stuff. You and Papa got hurt." Jo said into Dean's shirt, voice contorted from crying.

"Hey, look at me." Dean said, tilting her chin up with his thumb. "Me and Papa are safe. You're safe, ya hear me? It's alright."

"Will you stay with me?" she asked, afraid for a moment to be left alone.

"Always. C'mere." Dean said, scooting into her small twin bed with her, holding her close. "Sleep tight, kid."

The next morning, Dean woke early with a stiff back and aching leg. He pulled himself away from Jo without waking her, getting up and stretching as he made his way to the kitchen. Cas and Sam were already there, coffee in hand.

"What happened to you last night?" Cas asked through squinted eyes.

"I was gonna get some water, but Jo was having a nightmare and wanted me to stay with her." Dean explained, getting his own mug and sitting by his husband.

"That's the third in the past two weeks." Cas said anxiously, rubbing at his face.

"I know. Sam, keep an extra eye on her while we're gone? If anything happens, call." Dean spoke to his brother.

"Of course." Sam replied.

"When we get back, we oughta talk." Dean suggested.

Cas nodded before checking his phone, "We gotta go, it'll be daylight soon."

The men got up, downing the last sips of their caffeine before getting ready. They left later with their minds everywhere but the hunt.

The boys returned on time and in one piece, but just barely so. The hunt had apparently derailed almost as soon as it started. Dean came back with a nasty gash in his knee causing a painful limp. Cas had a black eye. Both were bruised nearly everywhere. It had been a tough fight, but they came out winning.

The drive home was miserable. They were tired and dirty and homesick. It made getting to the bunker that much sweeter.

Once Baby was parked and the bags were unloaded, Dean and Cas stumbled through the heavy doors, Dean limping down the steps first. Sam greeted them, pulling his brother into a hug and then Cas.

"Woah, you look like crap." Sam said, holding Dean by the shoulders at arm's length.

"Tell us what you really think, Sammy." Dean shot back, voice dry.

"Where's Jo? Did everything go alright?" Cas asked immediately, skipping the formalities.

"She's with Eileen having a tea party. Everything was perfect. I couldn't ask for a better kid to take care of. She did have a nightmare, though. I ended up sleeping on the couch with her to make sure she was alright." Sam explained.

Cas shot Dean an 'oh shit' look that also meant they needed to talk. Dean nodded knowingly.

"It was a great weekend, other than that. Her and Eileen get along so well.  I think she'll want to see you guys soon, though. But I probably wouldn't let her see... that, right now." Sam said, gesturing at the two bloody messes in front of him.

"Right, uh, we'll go get patched up. Don't tell her we're back yet." Dean told his brother. He threw his arm around Cas, leaning his weight off of his now bad leg. They made it through the library before they heard small footsteps bounding down the hallway. Both stopped dead, waiting.

Jo ran into the room, stopping dead as soon as she saw her fathers. Her eyes widened, looking them up and down in terror.

"Hey, sweetheart." Dean said quietly, slipping his arm from around Cas' neck and gaining balance. Watching as Cas squatted down to her height, he became scared that his daughter was afraid of them now because of the blood and wounds.

Jo hurried to them as soon as Dean spoke. She lept into Cas' arms, grabbing onto him with a grip tighter than what a four year old's should be.

Cas winced in pain as she unintentionally touched several of the bruises peppering his sides with her arms.

"Papa." she said concernedly, pulling back and holding his face with both hands as she examined his black eye.

"It's good to see you too, baby." Cas said, smiling gently. He pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Slowly, Jo pulled away from Cas and made her way to Dean. She crawled into his arms, avoiding his blood stained pant leg.

"Are you okay, Daddy?" she asked.

"I'll be fine, kid. Just a little scratch. How was Uncle Sammy?" Dean asked, changing the subject.

Excitement quickly flooded her concern as she described in detail everything that they did over the weekend. The men waited patiently, happy to see that she was better now. Later, they shuffled her off and went to clean up, wasting nearly all of the hot water just standing under the showerhead.

Once they were both clean and somewhat clothed, Cas made Dean let him dress his wounds. The hunter sat on the countertop in the bathroom, legs dangling. One pant leg was rolled up, exposing the gash and he wore a t-shirt so that the cut on his arm could be addressed.

Cas pulled out a box of medical supplies they always kept nearby, taking out what he needed for sterilization and stitches along with several bandages and a half empty bottle of Jack. He kneeled in front of Dean, carefully cleaning out the half-inch deep wound in his leg with rubbing alcohol. Dean gripped the countertop with white knuckles as Cas applied pressure.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked through gritted teeth, seeing Cas' ruminate look.

"I don't know. It's just that Jo looked pretty shaken when she saw us, and she's still having the nightmares. I feel bad that we weren't there for her last time." Cas replied fixedly as he threaded the needle in his steady hands.

Dean took a pull from the bottle, preparing himself for what was about to happen.

"I'm worried, too. Maybe we could talk to her? Take her to a doctor? I don't know, Cas. I've never had to deal with this before." he said, wincing at the sting of the needle.

"The doctor's is a long shot. Aren't they common everywhere but our field? We can talk to her, make sure everything is alright." the ex-angel responded after a few moments of thought, tying off the thread and wrapping Dean's arms with bandages.

They switched positions, Cas now sitting and Dean standing between his legs. Cas had removed his shirt, exposing the shallow but long cut running the length of his abs to just below his heart. Dean made him hold a bag of ice to his face.

"Yeah, okay." he said quietly as he tried his best to patch the wound. "You don't think it's something-"

"No. At least I hope not." Cas said, cutting him off.

Neither wanted to say and it, and they certainly didn't want to hear it. But what with the headaches and nightmares and panic? It looked like they were dealing with something from the supernatural world.

Once they were clean and bandaged, Dean and Cas brought Jo into their room, settling on the bed. She barely let go of them, wedged in between Cas' side and Dean's arm.  

"Can we talk, kid?" Dean asked hesitantly.

"Okay."

"Uncle Sammy said you had another nightmare while we were gone." Dean eased in.

"Mhmm." she nodded.

"What happened?" Cas asked softly.

"You and Daddy got hurt. Just like when you came home. Made my head hurt." Jo explained, oblivious to her fathers sudden panic.

"What-what do you mean just like when we came home, baby?" Dean asked.

"It was the same. Papa got this," Jo said, pointing to Cas' black eye, "and you got this." She motioned to Dean's wrapped leg.

The boys' eyes immediately went to each other's in dread, knowing it sounded familiar.

"What about the one's before that? Do you remember?" Cas coaxed.

"Yeah, Papa. Your arm got all blue and Daddy almost got shot by a bad man." she said.

Dean's eyes widened as he stuttered out his last question, "Does your... uh, does your head hurt when it happens?"

"Yeah, when I'm not sleepin'. Do we have to talk 'bout this anymore?" Jo asked.

"Of course not." Cas replied, wrapping his arm around her.

They all three went to bed in the boys' room that night. Jo was in between them still, comfortably wrapped in blankets and their protective arms. She was the only one to really sleep that night. Dean and Cas lay awake, terrified of the conversation they would have to have in the morning.

They followed one another to the kitchen the next morning earlier than either would like to be conscious. They left Jo in bed, sleeping soundly. Dark circles rimmed both of their eyes and their footsteps were dragging as they got coffee and a seat. They tangled their legs under the table, staring contemplatively at their mugs.

The silence wasn't broken until Sam came in, closely followed by Eileen. They both looked sweaty from running, Sam's hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.

"Dude, what's with the man bun?" Dean asked, eyeing over Sam's hair.

"Eileen did it." Sam said happily.

"You are so whipped." Dean mumbled, shaking his head.

"You know you both look like crap?" Eileen asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Didn't sleep." Cas said, signing with his words.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked concernedly.

Dean looked up, "Talked to Jo last night. She told us about the nightmares. It's not pretty."

"So what do you think it is?"

"She said she's been watching us get beat up. It always happens while or the day before a case, and we come home bloodied up in the exact places she saw. And there's the headaches. She said they come after she wakes up the same night." Dean explained, eyes clouded with consternation.

"Sound familiar?" Cas asked dryly, staring at his and Dean's intertwined hands.

"Um, that sounds a lot like-" Sam began.

"We know. How do we fix it?" Cas interjected.

"We can look at the lore, but I don't know if it'll fix it. Anything from your angel days, Cas?" Sam asked.

"The list is... foggy. All of the other angels that would even consider helping are dead or MIA." he replied.

Dean shook his head, "Well, then, looks like we're making a call to the big man upstairs."

Everything seemed to fall back into place the moment he’d stepped through the front door. His chair in the morning was used as if it had never been empty, his coats hung on the hangers alongside their own and his car soon found its place in their driveway as if it had always parked there. It was like he’d never left, or at least that’s how Claire should have felt, but sitting at the kitchen table watching as Dean made breakfast felt wrong. Not comforting and definitely not familiar.

Everything about the situation was wrong, stiff, awkward, forced. Yet no one else seemed to notice or maybe they just didn’t care, as Cas leant against the kitchen counter watching his boyfriend cook and Jack sat at the other end of the kitchen table flipping through a comic book like the dork he was.

Dean himself stood at their stove saying something to Cas as he made them pancakes. He wore a pair of grey sweat pants and nothing else, letting Claire stare at the burn that covers the majority of his upper back. The burnt skin continued along his right shoulder, and down his right arm just stopping above his elbow. It was an older burn, the skin wrinkled and brighter than the rest of his pale skin, keeping Claire’s attention no matter how many times she tried to look away.

She could ask about it.

Was it part of the reason he’d gone to jail? Did he get it at jail? Were there more? All bitchy questions, but it wasn’t like Claire was above being an occasional bitch.

She opened her mouth, though before she could get the words out Dean was turning her way and her gaze quickly dropped to the plate in front of her. The sounds of footsteps came then from the corner of her eye Claire watched as Dean set a tray of pancakes onto the table.

“Still like blueberry pancakes?” Dean asked as he took the seat on her right, and her dad took the one to her left. Which was incredibly wrong, Cas had always sat on her right, but it wasn’t like Dean cared about what they normally did.

She looked up, meeting his gaze. Dean had a smile across his face, one that wasn’t completely easy, more cautious as if he was trying to bargain for her trust.

“No,” Claire replied, hoping he could hear the annoyance in her tone. “Not since I was five.”

“Well I do!” Jack cut in. Dean’s features dropped for a second, in maybe even defeat before he was once again smiling and had turned his head to talk to jack.

Leave it to her brother to try to play peacekeeper, even though just last week they’d both agreed they weren’t happy about Dean returning.

Fucking traiter.

She gave her brother a quick glare before pushing her chair back with a more than satisfying screech, and walked across the kitchen to grab cereal. The conversations continued on behind her as she grabbed a bowl and filled it with milk and cereal, a blur of words that she didn’t really care about or want to hear.

It was too early for conversations, especially with a stranger that she was supposed to just pretend was part of her family. She preferred when it was just her and Jack in the morning, Cas working one of the hospitals morning shifts or still asleep after a late shift. When it was quiet, and more important when it was without Dean.

She grabbed a spoon and shoved a mouth full of cheerios into her mouth before she went back to her spot at the table.

“Claire,” Cas said as she sat down. She hummed in response. “Dean has offered to give you a ride to school today.”

She glanced to Dean before looking back to her dad. “I’m fine taking the bus,” Claire said, “I’m sure he’s busy.”

“He offered.”

“I like the bus.” She liked walking the forty minutes if it meant not sitting in a car with Dean.

“I can give you a ride,” Dean insisted. Clenching her teeth Claire glared at the other man, “it isn’t that big of a deal, I’ve gotta stop at the courthouse anyway,” he continued.

“Schools in the other direction,” Claire argued through clenched teeth. Dean’s gaze darted to Cas as if looking for some kind of helping and Claire couldn't help but be proud of herself. Causing Dean to be speechless, to lose his easy smile for not once but the second time that morning.

“I have a math test today!” Jack suddenly declared, causing everyone to look over. Claire rolled her eyes before looking back to her bowl of cereal and poking at the cheerios floating in the milk.

“Shit” Dean hummed through a mouthful of food, because apparently eating with your mouth closed was too hard of a concept “that sucks.”

“I like math.”

Dean raised an eyebrow looking to Cas, “what the hell did you do to him.”

Claire’s grip around her spoon tightened. Other than actually raise him, and work every hour the hospital offered him to pay the bills, and make sure they were both happy and nopt fukcing leave. The list of things her dad did was endless.

“Math’s interesting,” Jack insisted. “As long as you do it right the numbers just work!”

“And what about you?” Dean asked, Claire raising her eyebrow as he looked towards her, “got any weird interests?”

Claire pressed her lips together. How long would it take for him to realize that she didn’t want to talk, or that she didn’t even like him. A week? A month? She didn’t think she could handle another hour of his constant talking.

“We should get ready,” Claire said, looking back to Jack, “or we’ll miss the bus.”

Without waiting for an answer Claire stood grabbing her bowl and carrying it to the sink, the sound of Jack’s chair filling the silent kitchen. She then walked quickly to the kitchen door only stopping at the sound of Cas’ voice.

“Claire, are you sure you wouldn’t like a ride?”

Chewing at her lip Claire looked back meeting her dad's gaze. His expression sat emotionless, though Claire could hear in his tone how much he wanted her to take it. He wanted her to pretend as if the first fifteen years of her life didn’t happen, as if they were a family, as if Dean hadn’t left them.

Maybe Cas could forgive him, but she couldn’t.

“Yah,” Claire replied, biting her lip harder as Cas’s expression dropped just for a second. “Thanks though.”

She turned away not waiting for a response and instead walked into the hallway Jack on her heels. “I wanted a ride,” he mumbled as they turned up the staircases, and Claire rolled her eyes. Of course he wanted a ride, he also wanted them all to be happy and be a family and sing songs or some kind of buillshit like that.

“Stop whining,” Claire mumbled, “the bus won’t kill you.”

Dean must be deaf, or stupid, because despite every argument she’d made over breakfast he’s waiting for her at the end of the school today. The impala unmistakable in the row of other parents' cars with Dean sat in the drivers seat waving her over.

Maybe she could get hit on her way.

She isn’t so lucky and manages to walk to the passenger door without any fatal injuries. She pulled it open with as much force as she could muster before slamming it shut with a satisfying noise, hopefully causing some kind of damage. A small dent or even a scratch, anything to mess up the untouched paint.

“Coffee,” Dean offered as Claire turned to grab her seatbelt.

She glanced at the to go cup in his hand then to his face, that easy, incredibly punch smile still across his lips. Was giving up so hard, could he not just be thankful that Jack liked him (not like that was hard).

Pressing her lips together she looked down to the seatbelt and buckled it into place. “I don’t like coffee.”

Tuesday was the same. The impala was parked in the row of parents, as if he was their parent, and when Claire sat down into the passenger seat Dean offered her another to go cup. Hot chocolate, he said, and with the same clipped tone Claire mumbled an ‘I don’t like hot chocolate.’

Wednesday he offered tea, and on Thursday Claire knew he must have talked to Cas. When she took her spot in the passenger seat she immediately recognized the blue to go cup from her favourite coffee shop -a coffee shop twenty minutes past the school-

“Caffe Mocha with almond milk”, Dean said as he offered her the drink.

Claire clenched her jaw, twisting her body to look out the passenger window. There was nothing to look at there, only the school's parking lot but anything was better than Dean. “I’m fine.”

On Friday when Claire stepped out of the high school the impala was nowhere in sight.

No matter what her feelings were towards Dean it was impossible to ignore just how much Cas loved him. Long lasting looks that left Claire rolling her eyes, quick kisses, always touching in some way or another. He smiled constantly, and it was hard to even imagine that this Cas was the same dad she’d grown up with. Always optimistic, always loving but tired from work and raising kids. Worn down from life.

Why hadn’t Dean seen that Castiel?

Why couldn’t Dean have seen all the pain he’d caused?

Claire’s grip around her pencil tightened, jaw tense as she grinded her teeth together. It was all she seemed to do the past week, clench her jaw push down the bubbling frustration, hope that Dean would just fucking understand that he wasn’t fucking wanted.

She forced a breath through her nose glaring down to her math homework before she looked out their living room window. The neighborhood was quiet for a Saturday morning, not a person in sight other than Dean and Cas, who were out cleaning the impala. Both drenched head to toe, covered in bubbles, but smiling, laughing as in between spraying the car they’d spray one another.

Happy. Castiel was so incredibly happy, and it only made everything more frustrating.

After glaring at the two men Claire looked back to her homework, scratching her pencil across the page in dark lines that only partially satisfied her frustrations. It was better than nothing.

She worked slowly down the page, keeping her head down as she solved each equation until the sound of the front door opening broke the silence and she looked up.

“Having fun?” Claire asked as Cas, still dripping wet, stepped into the living room.

Cas smiled, “I am.”

Well that made one of them.

Claire looked back down to her homework, clenching her jaw as her gaze wandered across the page. None of it made sense, of course none of it made sense it was math, but it was still better than looking at her dad. At her genuinely happy dad, who was happy because of Dean.

The sound of Cas’s footsteps came, then paused. “Somethings wrong?” He said.

“No,” Claire mumbled.

“Did something happen at school?”

“No,” she insisted, “I’m fine.”

She shoved her pencils back into their case, then closed her binder before pushing the desk chair back in a loud screech that definitely scratched the wood floors. She’d apologize for that later, for now she needed to be away. Away from Cas, and away from fucking Dean. Away from the pretend.

They weren’t a family.

Families didn’t fucking leave each other.

“Claire,” Cas whispered as she walked past him, stopping her in her tracks. “You’re able to talk to me.”

“But I’m not,” she snapped, turning towards him. “You chose him, after everything that fucking happened, after everything that he fucking did, you still chose him,” the bubble of emotion burst through her chest as her words became more frantic, fists clenched at her sides. “Why aren’t you angry at him?”

Cas tilted his head, his gaze holding Claire’s, filled with so much concern it made her sick. “You want me to be angry at Dean?”

“You should be!” Claire cried. Was it that crazy of a concept? “He left you with two kids, he left you and you're just letting him back into our life!”

“Claire,” Cas said so gently it made Claire want to scream. He stepped closer and she stepped back, keeping the same space between them despite the pained look that crossed her dad's face. “Dean- he didn’t want to leave, I understand-“

“No you don’t understand shit,” Claire spat, “he knew he had a family, he knew that,” her voice shook, and she inhaled sharply, “and he still- you just let him come back, after everything.”

“It wasn’t his choice.”

“Yes it was!” Claire screamed, “you don’t just get arrested, you did shitty things and be a shitty person, and-“ She clenched her jaw, holding her dad’s gaze. “Why are you choosing his side?”

“There are no sides,” Cas replied slowly, “and Dean, he isn’t a bad person”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Claire mumbled.

Cas pressed his lips together, eyebrows furrowing as Claire stared back. They’re was more she wanted to say, a mix of insults and swears that she’d been holding back over the week yet they stayed stuck on her lips. Her voice was suddenly gone as Cas stared at her, not carrying to hide the hurt that was clear across his face, and yah Claire knew it was her who caused it. Her words. Her actions. Her feelings, but it was Dean who’d caused all that.

Why couldn’t her dad see that?

“I’m going to my room,” Claire finally mumbled.

She turned away, no longer able to hold her dad’s gaze and instead walked out of the living room, ignoring Cas as he called for her to wait. Her footsteps were heavy as she stomped up the staircase, and she made sure to slam her door before she fell across her bed and squeezed her eyes shut.

A knock came though she didn’t move instead choking down a breath as another soon followed.

“Claire?” Cas asked softly, voice muffled through the door. “Could we please talk?”

Claire buried her face into her pillow, forcing another breath. No, they couldn’t, not now, after all the anger had faded leaving a throbbing pain in her chest.

She knew how the conversation would go, exactly the same as every other time. Cas would swear Dean was a good person, Claire would try not roll her eyes and agree to make her dad happy, then they’d pretend they were a happy family until she couldn’t handle it again.

She couldn’t do it.

Not after years of being alone.

At the sound of Cas’s disappearing footsteps Claire opened her eyes staring quietly at the photo on her bedside table. It was of the four of them Cas holding Jack who was only a few months old while she herself at only two was sat on Dean's shoulders with a wide smile across her face.

She’d always hated that photo, yet had never had the heart to replace it.

Now she wished she had.

She isn’t sure whether Cas told Dean or not about their fight, and she wasn’t sure which she prefered, but when she finally leaves her room that night for dinner, nothing seems to change. Dean still attempts to coax conversation out of her while Jack plays moderatore, making sure nothing becomes too tense. Even at the end of the night when it’s only her and her dad left doing the dishes Cas doesn't mention anything.

Sunday is the same, and when Monday comes they fall back into the same annoying routine of Dean picking them up, trying to win Claire over with drinks and baking. He really seemed to think she was that easy, that she’d let things slide like the rest of her family.

By Thursday Claire had enough of the awkward car rides, and at the end of the day found Jack outside of his locker and dragged him out the back entrance, rather than the front.

“Claire!” Jack cried as she dragged him across the teachers parking lot by his wrist. His footsteps were uneven trying to keep up with her long strides and his backpack dangled from her one shoulder yet Claire didn’t stop. She needed to put as much distance as she could between her and that stupid impala, she couldn’t spend another second listening to blaring music or he rattling of the air conditioning.

“Claire!” Jack insisted. “Please! Stop!” He gave a harsh tug pulling his wrist from Claire’s grip and causing her to stop and turn around meeting her brother’s glare. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Claire snapped, clenching her jaw. “I- just- I thought we could see grandpa.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, and yah Claire knew it wasn’t the best lie but Jack was gullible and like hell she’d tell him the truth. He'd just be pissed that she was tearing their family apart, or some dramatic statement like that.

“You want to go see grandpa?” Jack repeated and Claire nodded. “Dean could drive us.”

“Why? Your legs don’t work?”

“They work!”

“Then you can walk”

Jack gave her a glare but followed her as they walked across the parking lot and onto the sidewalk. They walked shoulder to shoulder, a silence hanging around them as they made their way down the familiar neighborhood, past the houses Claire had long ago memorized and to Chuck’s.

“Claire?” Jack asked, as they turned off the street and into an alley. “Is everything okay?”

At the softness in his voice Claire glanced to her brother, meeting his gaze for a second before she’d looked forward again. “I’m fine,” she replied, clenching her jaw.

“Are you sure?”

Could Jack not take a hint? She didn’t want to talk about it. “Yes.”

“You don’t seem okay.”

He really couldn’t take a hint.

Claire forced a breath through her nose, glaring at the parked car ahead of them, as if it would solve her problems. It was either that or Jack. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” Jack replied, “you’ve just been kind of…”

“A bitch?”

“I was going to say a jerk,” Jack whispered, “but yah.”

She scrunched her nose looking down to her sneakers before looking back to the car ahead of them. “I don’t like Dean,” she finally said, the words sounding even harsher than they had in her head.

Jack frowned, looking to her, though she kept looking forward. “Why not?”

Claire shrugged. “He left us, he hurt dad, and I just-“ she took a slow breath. The words weren’t sassy to say, there were too many thoughts, too many reasons, and too many of them she wasn’t willing to say out loud.

He left Jack.

He left Cas

He left her.

And she was terrified he’d do it again.

“I don’t think he should just get to walk back into our lives as if nothing happened,” Claire finally said.

“I think you should give him a chance,” Jack replied softly, a comment Claire decided to ignore and instead look back to her feet, letting the silence once again fall between them. It thankfully stayed that way for the rest of the walk, until they reached Chuck’s house and made their way up the back porch.

They were greeted with a wide smile and a tight hug each that Claire may have held onto a bit longer than normal, before Chuck offered tea and they both accepted. They then made they’re way into the living where Jack took a seat on the one couch while Claire remained standing instead studying the photos that lined the fireplace.

Most were of their family, her aunts and uncles with her cousins though it’s the center one that she stared at. One at her aunt Anna’s wedding maybe twenty or so years ago. It was of all her aunt’s uncles at the beach, arms slung over one another’s shoulders with Anna and her husband standing in the center. At one end Dean and Cas stood together, younger but definitely them, Cas laughing at something someone had said, well Dean grinned at Cas.

Even in photos it was impossible to ignore how much he loved her dad.

“And how are my favourite grandkids?” Chuck hummed his footsteps filling the silent room followed but the sound of cups being placed onto the table. The sound of her grandfather sitting down came though Claire didn’t turn instead continuing to study the photo.

“I’m good,” Jack said as the sound of the teapot being poured came, “soccer starts next week, and I’m doing this really cool project in socials class where we get to plan a city.”

“And what about you Claire?”

She shrugged, “I’m fine.”

When no one continued speaking she turned around, just getting a glimpse of the questioning look her grandpa gave Jack. “Claire is uh-“ Jack began causing Claire to glare at him. God help her brother if he decided to keep speaking, “her and Dean aren’t getting along.” She was going to kill him.

Chuck stopped pouring the tea, his gaze immediately looking up. “Dean’s been released,” he said in a clipped tone, placing the teapot back down before he picked up his own cup. “I forgot that was happening.”

Claire pressed her lips together, her gaze darting over her grandfather's features which sat in an unreadable expression, though definitely not a pleased one. “You don’t like him?” She finally decided.

“I-“ Chuck looked down to his cup, seeming unable to decide whether he should tell the truth or not. God Claire hoped he would. “I’ve never been fond of him,” Chuck finally said.

“Why?”

“Growing up he had… problems, getting into fights, skipping school, stealing, he was always looking for attention,” Chuck said. He brought the cup to his lips, taking a small sip before continuing. “I didn’t want Castiel around that, he was a nice kid and too trusting for his own good, but your father is incredibly stubborn and wouldn’t listen to me. I don’t know how many times I’d found Dean climbing through his bedroom window.”

Claire pressed her lips together, waiting for Chuck to say more as he leant forward and grabbed the spoon from the sugar bowl. Each movement was far too slow, getting a small spoonful of sugar, pouring it into his cup, stirring it in, testing the drink, then adding more.

“I’d assumed,” Chuck finally continued leaning back into the couch, “after the most recent arrest Castiel would come to his senses but-“ he shrugged, “here we are.”

“Most recent arrest?” Claire asked.

Chuck hummed, “there are a handful of times when he was a teenager, and I believe three or four as an adult.”

Electricity seemed to buzz under her skin, the information blurring together. It was more than she’d ever heard about Dean from anyone. She’d learned from a young age not to talk to her father about him, it only ever made Cas sad, and even when he was willing to talk about a Dean it was rarely ever much more than how much Dean loved them. It was certainly never about his arrest, or apprenalty multiple arrests.

It was addicting. She wanted to know more, here everything her father had refused to tell her. Everything that confirmed her suspicions. Dean shouldn’t be released, he shouldn’t be in their house, and he definitely shouldn’t be pretending to be a part of their family.

Claire took a seat next to Jack, continuing to stare at her grandfather who sat on the couch across from them. “Do you know why he got arrested?”

“Claire,” Jack whispered, voice uncertain, though she only ignored him.

“Your father never told me the full story,” Chuck replied, “I believe a fight may have been part of it, though anything is possible.”

Claire pressed her lips together. She had more questions, endless questions though they’d all become a blur, unsure which ones were more important than others, or which ones Chuck would refuse to answer.

Her lips parted and Jack shifted, “please stop,” he whispered.

“What did dad say about it?”

Chuck lowered his cup though before he could reply Jack stood and without a word walked out of the room.

The walk home is quiet, Jack always a few steps ahead refusing to look at her, and maybe she should care but she didn’t. Hell she was thankful for the space for the silence that allowed her to replay everything Chuck had told her. She’d been right, or at least the unease she’d felt around Dean was right.

There was a reason she couldn’t trust him.

So why couldn’t her dad see that?

When they get home still without a word Jack goes to his room, leaving Claire to quietly walk through the house and into the kitchen. She opened the kitchen cupboard looking for something to eat until the sound of footsteps came causing her to to turn her head as Dean walked into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he greeted offering a smile that she didn’t return.

“Hey,” Claire replied. She didn’t move as Dean opened the fridge and took out a beer. “Do you know where dad is?”

“Hospital called,” he replied, “he’ll be working till seven.” Claire grit her teeth as Dean took a seat at the kitchen, propping his feet onto the other chair. Every action had been so casual, as if he’d been living in the house for years rather than two weeks.

“What about you?” Dean asked, twisting the cap off his bottle, Claire only raised an eyebrow. “Where were you and the kid at?”

“Our Grandpas,” she replied in a clipped tone.

Dean frowned, causing Claire to clench her fists. “Chucks?” He asked as if it was the craziest thing in the world.

“Yah,” Claire replied, “is there a problem with that?”

“No, just never pictured him as a number one grandpa,” Dean shrugged, “I always saw him as more of a grandpa joe type.”

Claire clenched her jaw, teeth grinding together as she looked back to the open cupboard. “Well at least he helped raise me,” she muttered.

“What.”

She turned around meeting Dean’s gaze, every inch of her skin alive with energy, emotion bubbling through her chest as she clenched her fists tighter. “I said,” she began voice harsh, and slow, “atleast he helped fucking raise me.”

Dean’s eyes widened and Claire didn’t look away, holding his gaze with her jaw clenched and chin tilted up. She hoped it hurt. She wanted it to hurt so bad.

Claire sucked in a harsh breath, and before Dean could reply she walked out of the kitchen with long strides. Her eyes burned as she wiped at them, the pain once again settling in her chest as she rushed up the staircase and into her room.

Much to her relief, Dean never followed

She doesn’t come out of her room for dinner, or when her dad comes home, or when her phone dies and the charger’s still in Jack’s room from when he’d stolen it the day before. She can’t see Dean, especially not with Cas around, and so it isn’t until eleven when she’s sure everyone will be at least in their rooms that she slides out of her own quietly walking the hallway she’s stopped by the sound of Dean and Cas’s voice.

“I just- there’s nothing I can do,” Dean said, his voice getting louder the closer Claire got to their bedroom. The door was just cracked open letting a sliver of light fall through and for Claire to see them, Dean sat on the edge of their bed while Cas stood between his legs still dressed in his nursing scrubs. “She doesn’t want me around.”

Cas tilted his head.. “Why would you think that?”

“Have you been paying attention?” For once Claire had to agree with him.

Cas sighed, “Claire is stubborn.” He raised a hand lacing his fingers through Dean’s, “But she will come around, she just needs time.”

“I don’t think time’s going to do shit.”

“Claire is hurt,” Cas replied, “things weren’t always always easy. we didn’t always have the money, and I didn’t always have the time to be there for them.”

Dean raised the hand he had laced with Cas’s and pressed a kiss to the top of Cas’s hand. “I’m so sorry angel,” Dean whispered the words filled with so much pain Claire sucked in a breath. “For everything.”

“Dean, it was never your fault, a systems failure isn’t your fault.”

Silence fell and suddenly her heart beat was too loud, her breathing was too loud, everything was too loud as she watched Dean and her Dad stare at one another. Not a word spoken yet Claire can’t help but feel as if she’s missed a million different conversations, words said that only they would understand.

Dean raised a hand resting it against the side of Cas’ face as he continued to stare at the other. Slowly Cas leant down pressing a kiss to Dean’s lips.

“I didn’t know Chuck was such a good grandpa,” Dean teased as they pulled away, “thought he’d be more of the grandpa joe type.”

Claire rolled her eyes, it wasn’t funny the first time, what would make it funny the second?

Cas tilted his head either not thinking it’s funny or maybe just not getting it. Claire was going with the first option, cause it wasn’t funny. “He looked after them often when they were children and I had worked, though I am amazed at how well he did with them,” Cas replied, “he’d even let them have candy.”

“Shit really?”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips, “I believe it’s unfair, he believes it was good parenting.”

“It’s unfair,” Dean replied. He looked down to their joined hands, a smile still across his voice though his tone came out more distant. “What about my dad?”

Cas pressed his lips together, and Claire leant closer to the door. The tension that had settled in the room was clear, whatever playful atmosphere that he'd been there suddenly gone, replaced with something more serious, more personal.

She should leave. Get a phone charger like she’d meant to or just go back to her room. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“John has called twice,” Cas finally replied, voice steady, maybe even careful, “once when they were children, and a second time a year or two ago. He’d wanted to meet them but I said no.”

“Good,” Dean mumbled, “don’t let that son of a bitch near them.”

“Have you talked to him?”

Dean shook his head, and Claire leant in a little closer, holding her breath as she watched, trying to hear whatever would come next. Maybe some kind of explanation, something that would answer one of the million questions she had, or at least feed her growing curiosity, though it seemed neither of them wanted to continue the conversation as Cas stepped away from Dean and out of Claire’s view.

“You did a good job,” Dean said as the sound of a drawer being opened came. “Jack- the kids amazing, and Claire,” he paused, and Claire could almost hear every possibility racing through his mind. Annoying. Rude. How would he say it nicely in front of her dad? “She’s beautiful.”

The statement comes like a sucker punch.

“I know,” Cas replied, walking back to his spot in front of Dean, now in his pajamas. An old AC/DC shirt and his bee pajamas pants that Claire had bought him as a joke. “She reminds me of you.”

She scrunched her nose, that had to be a joke, a cruel joke.

“She’s much better than I ever was,” Dean replied, and yah Claire isn’t perfect she knew that but for a second time that night Dean was right. “Have you seen the painting she’s working on,” Dean continued, “She has Leonardo looking like some amateur, and her grades! She’s talented as hell and some kind of genius- her music tastes shit but we’ll work on that.”

Claire bit at her lip, her stomach uneasy from all the praise, as Cas pulled Dean into a hug. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to be there,” Cas whispered softly.

Dean’s expression was full of pain, his eyes staring up to the ceiling, looking exhausted if not completely dragged, despite that his voice came out steady. “Remember how much she’d draw?” Dean whispered, “I swear the moment she could grab a pen she never stopped. They were so shitty.”

“You hung everyone on the fridge.”

“And she’d sign them bear.”

“That's because you made her believe her name was bear.” Cas replied.

A small smile tugged at Dean’s lips, though it was still nothing like the smiles Claire normally saw across his face. “Claire Bear was a cute name.” He whispered

“It was alright.”

Dean rubbed a hand at his eyes as he continued to look to the ceiling. “I fucked up,” He whispered and Claire stepped back. She couldn’t watch anymore, not with the weight of emotion that crushed her chest.

Her feet moved forward, as she forced herself to take a breath. The conversation repeated in her head as she walked down the staircase, once then twice, making her more sick each time. The pain in Dean’s voice, the pain across his face, his kind words, the adoration.

Why couldn’t he just hate her.

It’d be so much easier if he’d just hate her

Claire hated feelings. She always had and in the days after Dean and Cas’s conversation she only hated them more.

Being angry at Dean had been simple, she knew her feelings, she knew why she had those feelings. They’d always burned from the inside out, an energy that tore through her very veins, but an understandable energy. Now there was something else, a small pain in her chest that left her awake at night. That left her gasping for breath and wishing she’d simply die.

Maybe it was fear.

A small part of her wanting to let Dean in but that was far too aware of the pain that had caused the first time.

Thh feelings, the blur of anger and fear, all laced with confusion. She hated it, and she hated Dean for causing it.

“I can’t believe you still have those,” Dean grumbled as they walked along the forest path, Claire’s gaze darting to her fathers swim shorts. They were a bright obnoxiously blue colour, covered in yellow rubber ducks, a pair he’d owned, and she’d hated for as long as she could remember.

“I like them,” Cas replied and Claire was pretty sure the rubber ducks would like to be put out of their misery.

“Doesn’t stop them from being ugly as hell,” Dean called over his shoulder.

As they stepped out of the forest the scenery opened up onto a cliff side, the sound of crashing water filling the silence.

It’d been just over a month since Dean had been released and between school, Cas’s work, and Dean dealing with the court house or whatever he did, other than having meals together they hadn’t done anything as a family. Claire hadn’t minded, hell she preferred it that way, though apparently no one else agreed.

Claire laid her towel next to Jack’s, a few feet away from the cliff's edge and sat down, watching as her brother walked to the edge and peered down to the water below. “Jump!” Claire called.

“Is it safe to?” He asked, looking back to Dean and Cas who were laying out their own towels next to Claire’s.

“Just do it!” Claire replied.

“It’s safe,” Dean reassured. Way to ruin the fun

Jack looked back down to the water, then to them, chewing at his bottom lip. “it’s really high,” he said and Claire couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Bitch.

“There’s a ledge closer to the water,” Cas said, Ashe placed down the cooler they’d brought. “I’ll show you.”

Cas walked over to Jack amd lead him down the side of the cliff, leaving her and Dean alone.

Claire glanced to her right, Dean’s own gaze forward watching the cliffs. He’d taken his shirt off allowing her a glimpse of the burn that covered his right back, as well as another burn on his left shoulder. It was a perfect circle, barely bigger than a quarter, matching the one Claire had seen on the back of his left hand. It even had the same purple tone to it, faded but definitely there.

As gross as she found the scars and burns it was hard not to stare. To study each one anytime Dean wasn’t looking. She’d wanted to ask and maybe a few weeks ago she would have but now, she couldn’t get the words to come out.

From just under the hem of his swim shorts she could see a few more scars. Thin white strips, some no bigger than an inch while others traveled across his whole thigh. Not one overlapped, all parallel to one another and perfectly placed.

Dean turned and Claire immediately looked away, biting at her lip as the guilt tugged at her stomach. “How was Jack's Soccer game?” She asked, keeping her gaze forward despite Dean’ eyes still on her.

He definitely knew she was looking, he had to.

“Awesome,” Dean replied, “yah, Jack he’s- he’s uh.”

“Awful,” Claire offered. She’d been to a handful of his games and she was sure that in every single one Jack had been hit in the face with the ball at least once. He was hands down the worst player on their team, if not the league and yet he absolutely adored it. She’d never understand her brother.

“He’s crap,” Dean agreed. “I thought he’d been messin’ around but he’s just shitty.”

“Yah, I think he might have two left feet.”

“Or’s blind,” Dean said, causing Claire to bite at her lip, stopping the smile that tried to form. “Kinda lucky I’m not coachin’, woulda sucked to bench him.”

Claire raised her eyebrow, “you were going to coach”

“Yah,” Dean replied, “the kid asked me to but you can’t have a criminal record so…” Dean shrugged. His tone was casual as if that really didn’t bother him, though the way his jaw was set and his chin was tilted up, gave him away.

It bothered him. A lot.

“And you were going to bench him?” Claire asked.

“Hey,” Dean said, a smile once again across his lips, “I only coach winners.”

Claire bit her lip harder, stopping herself from laughing. She could picture it easily, Dean in the matching tracksuits that all the coaches wore, overall excited and more passionate than any of the players. He’d be Annoying as hell and Jack would’ve loved it.

She brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, as Cas climbed back onto the cliff's edge, completely dry.

“You didn’t jump in?” Dean yelled, causing Cas to look at them.

Cas tilted his head. “It’s very cold,” he replied.

“What a bitch,” Dean whispered, causing Claire to raise an eyebrow. He stood and walked over to Cas, saying something that Claire couldn’t make out before he wrapped his arms around the other’s waist. Slowly Dean leant down pressing his lips to Cas’s in a slow, incredibly gross kiss.

Claire scrunched her nose. Could they have not done that anywhere else?

Slowly they pulled away, noses still almost brushing as Dean said something else and then picked Cas up by his waist. “Dean!” Cas screamed struggling to get out the other’s grip as Dean carried him towards the cliff's edge.

“Any last words, angel?” Dean asked, a grin across his face.

Cas glared back. “I want a divorced.”

“We gotta get married first,” Dean replied. He took a step closer to the edge and Claire chewed at her lip, stopping the smile that came as Cas struggled in Dean’s arms. “Ready?”

“No.”

“Three,” Dean began counting down slowly, “two.”

“Dean, please I-“

“One!”

And with that Dean jumped off the edge, taking Cas with him.

Claire jumped to her feet, and ran to the edge. The water was far below, the small waves crashing against the cliff side as Dean tried to keep his head above the water while Cas attempted to shove him back under.

As much as Claire hated it, she couldn’t help but smile.

They spent the rest of the day at the cliffs, the sun warming her skin as she jumped in the water or sat at the edge laughing as Cas pushed Dean back in. It’s almost too easy, too soft, the feelings, the thoughts, the actions, and yet she couldn’t, the happiness was so refreshing she couldn't help but welcome it.

She’s even disappointed when Cas gets a call from the hospital asking him to come in for a night shift cutting their day short. Though that doesn’t stop her from humming to Dean’s music as everyone else sang along, or agreeing to ice cream when Dean offered, or for once letting herself enjoy the man’s company.

When they got home Claire made her way to her room. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the photo on her bedside table. They looked happy, like any other family out at the park. Dean holding her feet to keep her safe on his shoulder, Jack just a bundle of yellow blankets, his small hands reaching up to Cas.

Claire picked up the wooden frame, grip tight around it as she held the photo in her lap.

They’d taken a photo on the cliff's edge, the four of them smiling as if they’d done it a hundred times before and they could have.

They could have taken family photos together, had family dinners and breakfasts. Gone on vacations and to the movies, been a family, if Dean hadn’t left.

Claire clenched her jaw, the tip of her nose burning.

She could trust Dean, that’s what her dad would say, that’s what he’d always said and she wanted to. She wanted to be happy, she wanted to be a family, she wanted it more than anything else. She’d give anything for it, but with the pain settling in her chest and the tears blurring her vision, it was too late.

They weren’t a family.

And they never would be.

A knocking at her door came and Claire wiped the back of her hand across her eyes just as the door opened. “Hey,” Dean said. “Me and the kid were thinking of goin’ to the movies, would you wanna come?”

Claire gripped the frame tighter, biting her lip. She couldn’t look up, not with the way her nose burned or her hands shook. Not with Dean’s eyes on her, caring and still loving her after everything. Why did he still love her?

Couldn’t he give up?

She sucked in a breath and Dean’s footsteps followed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Claire whispered.

“Well that’s a shit lie.”

She looked up to Dean who stood in front of her, a worried expression across his face, causing a dull pain across her chest. Claire clenched her jaw as if that would somehow stop it, or at least numb it out with something else. Anger.

Anger she could handle, it was familiar, understandable. She knew how to live through it, what to expect from it, the pain though, that was unbearable.

“I said,” Claire replied through clenched teeth, “I’m fine.”

Dean glanced at the photo in her hand, before looking back to her, his expression so gentle she wanted to cry. “Look if you don't want to talk I'm not going to make you,” Dean began, the wood digging into the palms of Claire’s hands as she gripped the frame tighter. She wanted to snap it, hear the crack as the wood broke in half. The tear as the picture was ripped into two. Anything to release the bubbling emotion. “But I'm here if you change your mind.”

“I was fine.” Claire replied in a clipped tone. Dean raised an eyebrow, giving Claire a moment to turn back, to stop the fight she knew she was starting though she only tilted her chin and narrowed her eyes at the other. “Everything was fucking fine,” she snapped, “everyhting, until you came back!”

Dean’s expression didn’t change, staying emotionless as he stared at her and somehow that made everything worse.

“You’d left us!” She screamed, not carrying what she said, just anything to get rid of the pain, to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. “You left dad alone, and you left me!” Claire continued, the tears brimming her vision. “You jackass.”

Dean stepped forward, and Claire could only shake her head between her stumbled words. “You- you can’t- you left.”

“Claire-“

“Don’t.” She whispered, the word barely parting her lips.

She stared at Dean, lips barely parted.

There was so much more she wanted to say, so many more feelings she wanted to explain, yet she couldn’t find the energy to form them. Her vision still blurry as she held Dean’s gaze, though her grip around the frame had loosened and she couldnt find it in her to stop it from falling. It hit the ground with a loud crash, the glass shattering across her floor.

It wasn’t as satisfying as she thought it would be.

“You left for fifteen years,” Claire finally whispered, the words barely coming out. “And now I’m supposed to pretend as if everything’s okay and I can’t.”

“You aren’t my dad,” Claire whispered, “I didn’t want you back.”

She looked down to her floor, the shards of glass covering the wood, as the photo stayed flipped upside down only letting her see the back of the frame. Still she kept looking. She refused to look up, she didn’t think she could. “Get out.” Claire finally said.

“Can we please-“

“I said, get out.” When Dean doesn’t make a move Claire squeezed her eyes shut. “Now.” She demanded.

This time Dean listened.

It’s when Dean and Jack leave to the movies that Claire finally forced herself to stand, her legs weak under her weight as she walked out of her bedroom and into Cas’s.

The room hadn’t changed much since Dean had arrived, though it was enough to be noticeable. His leather jacket hanging on the closet’s door knob, his robe tossed over the desk chair, his books lined alongside Cas’s. The room was cleaner, unlike how Cas usually kept it, with stacks of papers or piles of clothing filling up any space they could. He’d never cared about keeping things clean, or maybe just never had the time, either way Dean seemed to care.

Claire made her way to the bookshelf, shuffling through the stack of scrap books Cas had made before she took the bottom one and sat at the edge of the bed. Slowly she flipped through the scrapbook, hands shaking as she studied each page. The paper everything that had been glued to, the decorations that covered it, pictures all paired with small descriptions of where and when they’d been taking. Most were of her between birth and one years old though there were a handful that had someone else in it, Dean or Cas, occasionally Chuck or one of her aunts and uncles.

When the last page came Claire could only stare. In the center was her with a birthday cake, on the top right her and Cas before her first birthday had started and on the bottom left was her and Dean after. Dean was sprawled across a couch fast asleep, while Claire slept on his chest, one of his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Her nose burned, vision blurry as she continued to stare at the photo. Even as the sound of the front door opening came, followed by the creaking of the stairs, she didn’t move.

Why couldn’t she have had that growing up.

Why couldn’t that have been her life.

What’d she do wrong?

“Claire?” She looked up to the bedroom doorway where Cas was stood still in his nurse scrubs, looking the way he always did after work, tired, though that expression quickly dropped into something more concerned as he stepped into the room. “What happened?”

She opened her mouth though nothing came, only a choked sob parting her lips as the tears fell and she finally broke.

Without a word Cas walked forward, gently taking the scrapbook from her hand before he sat on the bed and pulled her into a tight hug letting her sob into his shoulder. She gripped onto the material of his shirt, leaning further into his warmth, as she gasped for breaths. “I- I- I’m- I,” Claire choked through her tears, “I can’t!”

“You cannot what?” Cas asked gently.

She squeezed her eyes shut, listening to the steady breathing of her dad, his hand rubbing small circles on her back as the tears slipped down her cheeks, rolling slower than before. It would hurt him, her fight with Dean, he wanted everything okay and Claire was making it anything but that.

She was single handedly tearing whatever they were apart, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

“I can't- I can’t forgive him,” she finally whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Dean?”

She nodded, “I- he left. He didn’t care enough or I did something wrong or I don’t know-“ Claire clenched her jaw as more tears fell. There was nothing she could do to stop them, she had no energy left, no will, just the dull pain across her chest. “But he left, and he’s going to do it again,” she continued, “and I- I can’t.”

“Dean, he didn’t want to leave,” Cas replied.

“But you don’t just get arrested.”

“Bear,” Cas whispered. He slowly pulled away causing Claire to lift her head, meeting her dad's gaze. His eyes were rimmed red and he had his head tilted to the side as he looked at her with so much pain. Pain she’d caused. “Dean’s arrest- it was not his fault,” Cas began, slowly, “it was a failure of our system’s and a failure of his father’s. Dean only did what he had to and I apologize that you’re facing the consequences.”

Cas raised a hand gently wiping away the tear that rolled down her cheek. “You were his everything,” he continued, “being your dad was the best thing that had ever happened to him.”

The words crushed upon her as she sat motionless, crushed under the pain of things she couldn’t even describe.

“Babies are hard,” Cas said, “there are rules to raising them that know one tells you but expects you to know and I had a hard time with you but Dean,” he pressed his lips together and glanced across the bedroom. “He seemed to know everything. When you woke up at night he would spend hours holding and talking to you.”

He looked back to her, giving a sad smile. “He loved you more than anything,” Cas whispered.

She didn’t move, words, feelings she didn’t know how to explain on the tip of her tongue. Nothing could fix the pain, the damage and scars that had been caused, and part of her wasn’t sure that the future could be fixed either. The pain dug too deep. The doubt had dug too deep, the fear of being hurt again rested in her chest with every breath she took.

She couldn’t do it again, she couldn’t take anymore pain.

“What if he does it again,” Claire whispered, looking down to the blue blankets.

Cas doesn’t reply and Claire pressed her lips together, squeezing her eyes shut as she inhaled before she opened them again. Cas trusted Dean. He trusted Dean with everything he had, and he wanted her to trust him too. She wanted to trust him, but she couldn’t.

“We visited him when you were four,” Cas began, his voice rough. “I’d visited a few times before that, but this was your first time. It was almost a four hour drive and we were only able to stay for ten minutes because of how much you hated being in the visitor Center.” Cas said. “I didn’t blame you, it wasn’t a pleasant place.”

“You’d cried from the moment you arrived until we’d left,” Cas continued. “Me and Dean agreed it was best if only I came to visit, but that didn’t stop him from keeping in contact, he’d write at least once a week to you and it was only when you were twelve and had never written back that he stopped.”

Claire looked up, staring at her dad. Too exhausted to cry. Too in pain to say anything else. She just wanted it over, she didn’t want to have to fix anything, she just wanted it to work.

She leant forward and Cas without hesitation pulled her into a tight hug, letting her bury her face into his shoulder.

“You smell,” she mumbled, as she buried her nose into his clothing where the hospital smell clung.

“And you’re getting snot on my shirt,” Cas replied, causing a smile to tug at her lips. She closed her eyes and Cas brought his hand to her back once again rubbing small circles there.

“Claire,” He said and she squeezed her eyes tighter. Hadn’t they talked enough. “How you and Dean’s relationship continues is your choice, and I love you no matter,” but, “but I want you to know; leaving you was the last thing Dean ever wanted to do.”

A soft knocking came and Claire looked up from her homework and to her bedroom door where Dean stood. He looked unsure, glancing around her bedroom, and Claire didn’t blame him; it'd been two days since their fight and neither of them had talked since, not so much as a good morning. She hadn’t been sure if Dean even wanted to be around her after everything.

She wouldn’t have wanted to be around her.

“Hey,” Dean greated.

“Hey,” Claire replied.

His hand dropped and Claire bit at her lip, “do you mind if I- uh come in?”

Claire shook her head, and Dean walked to her bed, taking a seat on the pink blankets, looking just as unsure as he had in the doorframe. He glanced to her bedside table where the family photo now stood in a new frame Claire had bought the day before and Claire shifted in her desk chair, fiddling with her pencil.

Dean looked back to her and she held her breath.

Whatever he had to say, she knew she wasn’t ready to hear.

“I was hopin’,” Dean began, “if you weren’t busy, we could talk maybe?”

Claire pressed her lips together before giving a small nod of her. “Yah,” she whispered. “Yah, we can do that.”

Dean exhaled, and Claire brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, before chewing at her lip. She wasn’t ready. She wanted to, but she wasn’t ready.

“I’m sorry,” Dean finally said, “I should’ve talked to you about everything the moment I got home, but I just- I wanted to pretend like nothing had happened cause well-” Dean gave a half smile, and Claire gave a small one back. “I’m not good at talking about my feelings and shit, that’s more of Cas’s thing.”

At least they had that in common.

“I- '' Dean continued, shifting in his spot as he looked back to his hands. “I was sentenced under the three strike law,” Dean finally said, “which gets you locked away for a long time for doing jack shit.”

Dean rubbed a hand down his face and Claire swallowed, the ache in her chest rising into her throat. She almost wanted to tell him to stop, the pain across his face, in his voice, so raw she could feel it across every inch of her skin. His lips parted, and eyes never fully meeting hers, instead on her lips or to her right, or simply blank staring forward, as if it hurt too much to do so.

“Growing up my dad wasn’t around a lot,” Dean began, looking to the ground. “He’d leave me and my brother without enough money for the both of us, or sometimes no money at all.”

Claire’s grip around her pencil tightened, the wood digging into the palm of her hand.

“One day, I think I was twenty, my dad just didn’t come back.” Dean wiped the palms of his hands across his eyes and inhaled before he continued speaking. “I had a job but it wasn't enough, so I stole what I could. I got caught a handful of times, but I was lucky and they only recorded three of them, I eventually got my shit together but that didn't clean my record,”

Dean looked up, his gaze meeting hers. His eyes were rimmed red, though gentle as he gave her a soft smile that she forced herself to return. “You were two and Cas always had you wearing the ugliest things, I was embarrassed to be seen with you,” Dean teased in some attempt to ease the tension. “Jack was only a few months old and we’d left you guys with Chuck while we went out to some bar.”

Dean licked his lips, his gaze once again dropping to the floor. “Chuck ended up calling us early, you wouldn’t fall asleep and wanted us home, so Cas went out to the car to talk to you while I paid the bill.” Dean continued, “when I got out these douchebags were being dicks to Cas so I told them to go screw themselves and when they didn’t leave us alone I broke the one guy's nose. I think the second guy ended up with bad bruising and the third went to the hospital with a concussion and some other shit. I ended up with a cracked rib.”

He rubbed the palms of his hands against his jeans before running a hand through his hair. “For the three strike law you need some kind of violent crime, so with the assault and my thefts it was enough for me to get a twenty four years sentence.”

“Still” Dean said, his expression pained though voice somehow steady, “I was lucky, lots of people get a lot longer for a lot less.”

Claire took a shaken breath, unsure how to reply, unsure how to feel, everything around her just seemed to buzz. She licked her lips, gripping the pencil tighter as if it was the only thing keeping her seated, and it might have been.

“And what about…” she began unsure how to continue. Slowly she raised her hand pointing to her right shoulder, as her gaze darted to Dean’s.

He frowned before seeming to understand what she was asking. “My dad, Dean whispered, “we were uh- out camping, he got pissed off and when he came at me I stepped back and into the fire.” He tapped the burn on the top of his left hand, “these ones were from cigarettes and these ones,” Dean brought his hands to his thighs, hesitating for a moment. “Life was shit,” he finally whispered.

He didn’t need to say anything else.

Without a word Claire stood her legs shaking as she moved forward. Mind numb. Her mouth still dry. Her heart beating heavy in her chest. She couldn’t bring herself to speak or even begin to process everything that had been said and instead she sat next to Dean and pulled him into a tight hug.

“I love” Dean whispered, as he held her. There was a crack in his voice that had Claire squeezing her eyes shut, focusing on his warmth. On the way he held back just tight enough to know he wasn’t leaving.

“Im sorry for leaving, I’m sorry for hurting you,” Dean pressed a kiss to the top of her head before resting his forehead there, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

-

Claire stopped at the entrance of the kitchen, the room lit by the afternoon sunlight. Dean was sat at the kitchen table, one hand around a beer and both feet propped up on another seat as he read whatever was on his laptop screen.

For a moment she stayed standing at the entrance unsure what to say. It’d been a few weeks since their fight and though things had gotten much better it was still awkward when both Cas and Jack were gone. Neither of them fully knew what to do around the other and though Claire would never admit it to anyone, especially not Dean, she was scared things would never come naturally, that the underlying tension between them would always be there.

“What’re you doing?” She finally asked, staying in her spot with her hands held behind her back.

“Writing my monthly report to my douchebag probation officer,” Dean mumbled, not looking up from the computer. “The jackass still won’t let me go to LA. He’s lucky I can’t own a gun.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Want me to kick his ass?” Claire offered.

“No.” Dean looked up with a smile across his own lips as he mouthed ‘yes’. “Violence doesn’t get you shit,” he continued before mouthing ‘do it’.

Claire looked to the ground, her bare feet cold against the kitchen tiles as her fingers fiddled with the paper she held behind her back. The words were on the tip of her tongue yet she couldn’t bring herself to whisper them. Her mouth dry and a heat crawling up her neck.

It’d be fine.

She just had to do it.

“I,” she finally began looking back up to Dean who was already looking at her. “I- um, I made you something.”

Dean didn’t say anything and Claire took that as an invitation to step into the kitchen. Nothing was better than no, or at least she hoped so.

Slowly she brought the painting out from behind her back and offered it to Dean. He took the painting from her hand, his gaze wandering over the paper. She’d repainted a photo she’d taken when they’d gone cliff jumping, just as the forest has opened up to the cliff side, with the water peaking over the cliffs where it met the sky in the horizon.

It wasn’t her best work, by far, water colour was hard with some of the colours blurring in spots, and the sun rays had been difficult to paint, yet she hoped Dean would at least appreciate the gesture.

And maybe not laugh at her.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered and Claire chewed her lip as a smile spread across Dean’s face. “You made this?” He asked looking up as Claire nodded, “for me?” She nodded again.

Dean stared at her for a moment, before he looked back to the painting and quickly wiped a hand across his eyes. “Holy shit.”

“You like it?”

“Like it?” Dean asked, looking back to her. His eyes were glazed over and Claire chewed at her lip.“I love it, it’s awesome.”

Dean walked to their refrigerator and Claire couldn’t help but smile as Dean hung the painting with a few magnets before taking a step back to study it. “Shit,” Dean said, grinning back to her, “Michelangelo better which out.”

Claire laughed.

This was what she’d always wanted, and maybe she didn’t have it at first but like hell she was going to let it go.

She stepped forward, raising her arms for a hug and without hesitation Dean pulled her into one. His arms were tight around her waist, as she leant into his warmth, her arms around his neck and chin rested against his shoulder. “Thank you,” Dean whispered, the emotion clear in his voice.

Claire squeezed her eyes shut, her grip around the other tightening.