Chapter Text
In retrospect, Dean should’ve known better.
Claire has been hanging around more lately, and that's not a bad thing; it’s quite the opposite. Cas loves to spend time with her, and no matter how many cruel age jokes she makes at his expense, Dean is always happy to see her.
Jack adores Claire; he follows her around the house talking nonstop. He asks Claire unending questions on a wide array of topics. Her childhood; hunts; Kaia; nail polish remover; community college; Batman; even her favorite color of crayon. Nothing is off-limits.
Despite her surly attitude and gruff replies, Claire is genuinely fond of Jack. She lets him get away with a broader scope of questioning than anybody else, and though she’d never admit it, she’s flattered that he considers her to be his sister.
She fits in with the three of them seamlessly; the short visits are almost always good ones, and Dean and Cas give her the guest bedroom whenever she wants or needs to stay longer. To Jack, Claire is a cool older sibling whose attention and affection he will do anything to keep. To Dean and Cas, she’s their surrogate daughter. Odd as the dynamic may be, it’s worked well for everyone so far.
That’s why, when Jack goes on a trip with Kaia, Alex, and Patience, it doesn’t raise too many alarms for Dean. It isn’t as if they’re going on a hunt - Donna’s cousin has a water-front cabin on Lewis and Clark Lake that the kids are renting from her for four days. They're on a vacation, which still seems like a strange concept to the more seasoned hunters in this Post-Chuck world.
Dean and Cas did some discreet digging through archives and local news stories to gauge the likelihood of the young adults running into danger while on the trip, but everything seemed aboveboard in the area. There were a few drownings in the lake a couple decades ago during a really rainy year. Nothing that causes Cas concern or creates any worries that keep Dean up all night.
Claire, Kaia, Alex, Patience and Jack are at the lake house for a grand total of six hours before they find a case. Turns out the teenagers that drowned in the lake during the early 2000’s were murdered, and now they’ve come back as ghosts to finish off the innocent descendants of their murderer: a reclusive fisherman who'd committed suicide only two months prior.
Just frickin’ peachy .
Dean is halfway through packing up his rifles and his fishing rods when Cas stops him with a hand lightly pressed to his sleeve. “Dean. I think we should let them handle this.”
“What? No - c’mon, Cas, they’re just kids. We can head out and have those ghosts ganked by tomorrow evening, and then you and I can sit by the lake, stick a blanket on Baby’s hood and lay back under the moon and stars....”
Cas smiles and brushes a kiss to Dean’s jaw. “Well, I think that sounds nice. Romantic, even. But they’re not kids, Dean. They can handle a couple of ghosts without us.”
“Jack’s a kid,” Dean protests. “I mean, he does look like a grown ass man, but we both know he’s only four.”
“Yes, he is four,” Cas agrees gently, “But he’s also the most powerful being to ever walk this Earth, and maybe even the most powerful person to ever exist. He’s not in any danger from a ghost or two. And Claire and the other girls are skillful Hunters. They may be young, but think of all they have each gone through, then look me in the eye and tell me you consider them still children.”
Dean blows out a breath, looking away. “Yeah, okay. Fine. God, I hate it when you’re right.” He leans in to peck a quick kiss at the corner of Cas’ mouth to soften the bite of his words.
Cas doesn't answer, a look of supercilious triumph on his face. He can afford to be a gracious winner.
Jack updates them on the case frequently in a group chat that also includes Sam and Eileen, and Dean worries a little less with each text or gruesome photo of corpses Jack sends because it means they're all still safe and alive.
By nine o'clock on the second night, the case is solved. The ghosts have moved on, and the civilians are saved. Dean feels slightly weak in the knees with relief when he hears the news, and though Cas is the one who had made the argument to stay back, his tense shoulders finally relax.
Later that evening, the messages Jack sends them take on a strange quality. At first, Dean can’t quite put his finger on why he's bothered so much. The texts are unclear and stilted, and the photos Jack takes seem blurry, as if his hands were shaking when he snapped the shot. Dean squints down at the pictures on his phone because he is too stubborn to purchase glasses (Eileen has been ribbing him lately about couples who start to look like one another after a while; she says Dean now squints as badly as Cas). Everybody in the picture seems fine; they’re grinning broadly at the camera while warming themselves by a cheerful bonfire. It seems that they are roasting marshmallows. Claire and Kaia are cozied up together on a fallen log with a plaid blanket on their laps, Patience waves, and Alex gives the camera a peace sign: her mouth is open mid-sentence.
Dean’s eyes narrow suspiciously. They seem happy. Too happy.
The next morning as Dean goes down to the kitchen to start coffee, he checks his messages. Fewer and fewer texts came in as it got later, and so far this morning, no messages have been sent. He frowns, puts the phone back in his pocket, and gets started on making breakfast.
By noon, there are still no texts. Cas shrugs when Dean mentions the lack of communication, saying that he hopes it means they’re having a good time.
At 2pm, Sam calls Dean.
“Well?” Sam begins without preamble.
“Either they’re in some kind of trouble, or they're making their own trouble as they go along,” Dean answers shortly. Sam didn't need to say what he's thinking; despite hunting less and living further apart, they're still on the same wavelength. Sam and Dean grew up relying on one another when they had nobody else to depend on and that’s something that distance cannot diminish.
“Mhmm.” There’s muffled background noise on Sam’s end, and Dean hears him murmuring to the sleepy baby Eileen's just placed in his arms. “Cas worried?”
“Not yet,” Dean grunts, looking out the window. Cas has taken Miracle for a walk, but they’ll probably stop and check in on Cas’ garden after they’ve come back inside. “He trusts them.”
At that, Sam lets out a quiet huff of amusement, attempting not to startle his sleeping child. “Yeah, you’ve raised a lot of kids at this point, Dean. Cas hasn’t had as much experience with the kind of trouble they can get into. Hell, it’s not like he was ever even a kid to begin with.”
Dean sighs. He’s worried about Jack and Claire, about all of them, really, and he’s tempted to call Jack so he can try to weasel out some kind of information about what’s going on, but at the same time….
“I trust them too, Sammy,” Dean admits. “It’s hard as hell to relax, but they’re good kids. Good people. And they know we’ve got their backs if they really need us.”
“Aw, look who’s finally a grown-up,” Sam teases, “I guess love really can change a man. Hey, tell Cas from me that- ”
Dean hangs up on Sam. He can get away with it; they’re on the same wavelength after all.
At 4:50 pm, not long after Cas picks up and sets his phone down twice in a row to see if he’s missed any messages, Jack finally texts them.
Hi! We are packing up tonight and then we’ll be home tomorrow afternoon! XOXO - Jack
Dean and Cas squint at their respective phones with suspicion. Dean raises an eyebrow at Cas, who stubbornly refuses to engage in speculation by ignoring the pointed look Dean casts in his direction.
A full day passes. Jack sends them a photo or a text here and there on the drive home; a picture of bored cows munching grass in the fields, a comment on how much he likes the new single by Adele (Cas Googles it immediately), a hilarious meme about the Backstreet Boys, and so on.
What Jack does not do is mention the near radio silence he'd kept on the day before.
The sun’s just beginning to set as Claire’s car pulls up the long driveway of the home Dean and Cas built on an acre of property the Men of Letters owned. It is on the outskirts of the forest, above a portion of the Bunker so that the warding can extend into their house.
Cas opens his arms wide as Jack, Claire, and Kaia stumble out of the car, and Dean notices, as Jack sinks into his father’s arms, how the boy tries to hide a wince when Cas’ hands land on the space between his shoulder blades.
“So, how was the trip?” Dean asks casually, thumping Claire’s back as he goes to hug her. She winces even worse than Jack.
Interesting.
“We kicked ghost-ass,” Jack answers matter-of-factly as he cautiously extracts himself from Cas’s arms. Clearly, it’s a phrase that someone else used and Jack has adopted.
The bags under Kaia’s eyes seem deeper than usual; she must not have slept much lately. “It was a straightforward hunt. Jack did really well.”
“I never had any doubt,” Cas tells her warmly.
Claire clears her throat. Her face is haggard and she’s rolling her shoulders and neck like she’s uncomfortable, desperate to get back on the road. “Well, we’ve dropped the kid off safe and sound. Kaia and I are gonna hit it, we’re heading back to Sioux Falls tonight. Alex and Patience went straight home. We’ll see ya later.” She takes Kaia’s hand, and turns, preparing to flee.
“Not. So. Fast,” Dean thunders.
Everyone freezes. Cas alone looks confused, the others avoid Dean’s glare guiltily.
“Jack, shirt off,” he orders abruptly.
Eyes widening, Jack looks at Claire and Kaia for help, then turns his gaze pleadingly on Cas. “What are you talking about? Why? It’s too cold out here, Dean!”
Cas looks at Dean for a long moment, and silent but thorough communication passes between them. Cas turns back to Jack, folding his arms across his chest, and says neutrally, “I believe Dean must have a good reason since he’s asking you, Jack.”
“But Castiel, I ... oh, fine.” Jack slumps dejectedly. He pulls off the flannel and the soft t-shirt underneath and turns around so they can all see his back.
There, on the raw curve of skin emblazoned with vivid lime green ink, is tattooed the words:
Ghostfacers!
“Okay, look,” Claire interrupts at the sight of their expressions. “It’s not Jack’s fault! We had a couple beers at the bar to celebrate and then we went back to the house and made a couple pitchers of margaritas and... I think we probably did shots at some point too - and then were really reeaallly drunk and still drunk the next day, and the tattoo parlor seemed like a great idea at the time because there was this sale -”
“And what did you get, Claire?” Dean interrupts suddenly, because Cas’ long buried Wrath-of-God face just made an unexpected reappearance, and even though Dean’s mad at them for being so careless, he’s not quite angry enough that he wants Cas to kill both of their kids.
Claire’s face flushes crimson.
“It says ‘ Claire ‘n Kaia 4 evah ’ in hot pink. It’s spelled out like it sounds,” Jack explains helpfully. Claire buries her face in her hands, mortified, and Kaia cringes with sympathy.
Dean blinks. “Wow. That’s...uh.” He clears his throat and looks at Kaia. “Well. And what did you get stuck with, Good Twin?”
She shuffles, embarrassed. “Oh. Um, the sale was two for the price of one and there were five of us, so…” Kaia shrugs. Dean can’t help but laugh. This one's a smart cookie. The absurdity of the awful tattoos is making his irritation fade away.
Cas definitely isn't on the same page yet. He blows a breath out of his nose, aggrieved. Dean squeezes his arm, amused despite himself. “Easy, tiger. Kids do dumb shit like this all the time. It’s part of the parenting experience.”
“And when does the part of parenting that prevents them from being so idiotic kick in?” Cas demands.
“I don’t know, Sam still seems like a dumbass to me - so, maybe never? But these three seem pretty sorry. I think they've learned their lesson. Hangovers ain't pretty." The trio nod in miserable agreement.
Cas’ eyes narrow into thin slits. "No, Dean. I think what you meant to say was: you are grounded, Jack, until we're sure you understand the errors you've made. Claire, Kaia; you may technically be adults, but Jack was your responsibility this weekend, and because of this you've lost our trust. I will be calling Jody tonight to inform her of what's happened, and you will not be taking Jack anywhere with you in the near future." Cas raises his hands against the barrage of protests and complaints that immediately come his way. "Don't bother. I'm not changing my mind. I'm extremely disappointed in each of you." He looks at Dean with exasperation. “You deal with them, Dean. I’m going to go make dinner.” Abruptly, he turns and storms back into the house, and Miracle wags her tail, oblivious to the tension, following him inside.
What a drama king, Dean thinks fondly even as he rolls his eyes. God, I love him.
Jack, Kaia and Claire watched Cas go dejectedly. Dean claps his hands and chuckles. “Whoo boy, are you guys on his shit list.” He nods at the door. “C’mon, let's go and help Mr. Smitey with dinner.”
“Uhm, are you sure that’s a good idea? I don’t think we should get in his way right now.” Kaia seems nervous at the thought; she’d never met Cas during his initial Celestial Terror days.
Dean’s glad they’re disconcerted. Maybe Cas has put the fear of God into them…Dean darts a quick look at Jack. Uh, metaphorically speaking, of course. “Don’t worry about it too much. I’ve pissed off Cas way worse than this, let me tell you. Man….” He shakes his head at the memories. “Anyhow, give him some time to cool off and I’ll talk to him. We'll work it out. He'll forgive you guys sooner than you think." He nods at the door. “Now get in there and help him peel potatoes.”
The young adults file into the house with trepidation, leaving Dean to stand outside by himself. He stays there a moment, thinking of terrible tattoos and the poor choices that these kids, his kids have made, and then thinks further back to his own childhood, and how John would have reacted to the same situation. At first Dean smiles grimly to himself, then sighs and lets the pain of his past melt away, pushing it into the recesses of his memory where it belongs. He's not the same man his father was; he's different in ways that Dean hopes are for the better.
He opens the door to his own house, this wonderful home he and Cas have built together after all of the years of sweat, blood, and tears that preceded, and he hears the sounds of life and love contained within. Dean smiles, genuinely this time, and goes inside, letting the door swing softly shut behind him.