Little Wing
“I did it. I’m back.”
Sleep cleared away. Dean focussed on the figure in front of him - Jack, carrying a large bundle of something.
“You did it?”
What the hell? He was definitely awake, but his brain didn’t want to catch up. He should really have eaten.
“I did it. But I thought - he needs some time. Some time to heal. So I’ve given him that time. See?”
Dean pushed back his chair, its whining scrape hurting his ears. He stood up, swayed, got his balance, rubbed his eyes again, blinked and tried to make sense of what he was seeing.
Jack spoke to the bundle in his arms. “Look, Dean’s here. You remember Dean, don’t you?”
The bundle had feet. Small, bare feet with pink toes that wiggled. Then the whole package changed shape and a tangle of dark hair emerged from the crumpled tan cloth.
“Come out and say hello.” Jack’s arms shifted, adjusting his grip and suddenly, with a snap, two black, shiny, somethings shot out from either side of the cloth wrapping. Jack looked up at Dean, his mouth twisting into a rueful smile. “He’ll learn to control that. It’s because he’s so little.”
Wings. They were wings. Little black, shiny wings.
“Is that?” He cleared his throat. “Is that Cas?”
“Yes,” smiled Jack. “I thought this was the best way for him to heal. To have a kind of vacation.” He smiled at the little boy - little angel - curled up in his arms. “He can play and have fun!”
“Uh…” Dean rubbed his forehead, his thoughts losing their race toward understanding. One thought made it to the finish line. “Isn’t that going to be a problem? Like… if he doesn’t get candy, won’t he, like, smite everything?”
“Oh. Oh no. He’s just a cherub. That is, he has very limited power. It’ll be fine.”
“Okay.”
Dean took a step closer.
Jack smiled. “Take him.”
The little wings had sagged. One of them flapped and twitched and then fell limp again. And then they both disappeared.
“Bye bye wings,” said Jack to the tiny Cas. “He’ll learn to control that soon. Take him, Dean.”
Dean found himself with two arms full of little boy. Little angel. He was wrapped in Cas’s trenchcoat. He looked up at Dean with clear blue eyes. And he smiled.
“Dean! Heyo, Dean!”
All of the circuits in Dean’s brain shorted out completely.
“Cas?” The small, happy face dissolved into a watery blur. Dean’s throat closed up and he felt his face crumple, as a loud, messy sob burst out, ripping through the silence of the Bunker. “Cas.”
His chest heaved. His eyes streamed. His nose streamed. He couldn’t stop. And the kid was heavy. Cas was heavy, so that Dean’s arms ached, but he held on tight, hitching up the small figure and holding him as close as he could, wrapping his arms around and rocking him and kissing him and sobbing. And he wasn’t even embarrassed at the noises he was making. He just didn’t care.
“Dean?” Sammy’s voice, worried and urgent. “Jack? What? Jack, is that…?”
“Yes, it’s Cas. I brought him back. He’s a kid at the moment. Just for a while.”
“He’s a… Right. Okay, then.”
“It’s just temporary. So that he can play. And have fun. And get better.”
Dean’s whole body shook. He still couldn’t stop. There was a hand on his shoulder and something pushing behind his knees.
“Dean, sit.”
He sat. And he held Cas on his lap and Cas’s little arms were around his neck, squeezing hard enough to strangle him, a little bony shoulder pressing into his throat.
Cas was back.
Carry on reading on AO3
