abraxaslogs | [Open] Call Me Little Sunshine

He really never did. Between the Winchester Stupid, and the devil's blood. He was doomed from the start. Kelly's DNA had its work cut out for it.

Jack made a noise of acknowledgement as he looked back to the passing plants and tried to enjoy the bumpy ride. This was important, and he needed to give Dean time to process, so just focusing on the world around him helped. "Mmm?" He looked back to Dean and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess? If you're from 2018. You are definitely older in my time. Not that it's a bad thing, mind you."

Jack can't help but smile, the way that lights up his face when Dean comes to that realization. "Of course, you are." Though, he did think of Cas' words of dying and coming back being a rite of passage. He's snapped from his thoughts as Dean rolls up his sleeve. He sees the mark and his smile fades, a look of confusion. "That looks really bad." He spoke, a touch of worry.

Lifting his hand to place an inch or two over it. Looking very focused like he was trying to do something. But his powers were cut off, and even if they weren't even at home, Jack couldn't have healed the Mark of Cain. "No." He finally said, dropping his hand. "I've never seen that before."

At least Dean got some good news.

Something in the way Jo freezes up gives him all the answer he needed.

Much like Jodie. Or Bobby. He heard enough stories on long nights in the Impala to cases and while the refugees from Apocalypse world were in the bunker. Had he heard of Jo? Had anyone told him, or was it too painful to recall the downfall of Harvelle's Roadhouse to tell the young angel?

When she spokes, he nods, trying to look just as happy. But that's wow. Ten years was a long time. At least for someone whose technically only four years old. "Wow. Well, I am very happy to meet you, Jo. I look forward to getting to know you." All earnest and truthful words. He said it, he meant it.

Ten years is a lifetime.

Ten years ago, she was a child.
Ten years from now ... she's just gone.

"Yeah." It's an uncertain word. Just hedged out there. Like a rock in a stream. A word because there was supposed to be one. Because the kid went out looking surprised-cheerful and still so earnest, and she kept feeling that number hit a little harder with each heartbeat, even as she was shoving it down harder for each, too.

She bunts with questions that don't require her focus so much as open the floor for him. It's easy, old hand, very bartender. She needs a breather, and details can't hurt. "What are things like for all of you there?"

Beat. "How did you end up with them?"

Ten years ago, Kelly Kline probably wasn't even out of college. Much less shacking up with the President. Ten years is a very long time, and despite all Jack knows, thats time his mind doesn't really grasp fully given how fast life goes for him. One world ending crisis to another.

Reaching up he pushed his messy wet bangs from his face, before he considered the question. "It's pretty bad... but we're doing our best. Doing what we have to do." He didn't want to tell her about Chuck, or any of the terrible. But, he felt that was enough. If he could spare someone from the pain he had, wasn't that enough?

"It's a long story... but they were there when I was born. I've stayed with them mostly since." Deaths and a few runaways aside.

"I truly do not." Cas mutters under his breath, hopefully too quite for the peppy boy to hear. Bringing his mood down would feel like kicking a puppy at this point. Well, happy to see him is leagues better than murderous to see him, so he'll take it. He's quick to carry on, already turning back in the direct of Mag's, hand on Jack's shoulder steering him.

"Yes, newly arrived, as I am, though I did spend some time here before." That's another story, but if it'll save him time from having to explain that he doesn't actually recognize this kid, all's the better. "I spent roughly 9 months in this world before returning home for a time."

If he's walking a little fast, that's because he's a terrible liar and he knows it. The boy knows Sam, so this can't be just another person who met the Castiel that was here for the month in between his absence that he just doesn't recognize. He's someone from home - their home - which could mean a lot of things. Usually not great things, but so far, nothing's raising any red flags.

"When did you arrive?"

Oh, he heard it, he did. But he didn't bring attention to it. This was Castiel. He had chosen Castiel, and he would follow him wherever his chosen father lead him. Part of him hoping deep down that everything would be okay.

"Me too, just a few hours ago. I was worried about you..." He admitted, Castiel had been off looking for a way to stop Billy's plan, but he had already spoken to Dean. And part of him worries that Castiel may not be from the same time... but if he is, he hopes it's before Castiel found out.

He doesn't try to move away from Castiel's lead, moving with the ease of someone very comfortable with the angel leading him by the shoulder. "I saw Dean, he looks a lot younger, and he doesn't know me." A touch of sad in his voice before he smiles Castiel's way. "And a woman named Jo, she seems to know Sam, Dean and you too." He was happy about Jo. Even if she didn't know him, she had an air about her like Mary did.

Nope. He's not letting himself think about Mary. This is not the time for a parade of pain.

"Worried? About me?" That stops him. It isn't that Cas has never had anyone concerned for his well-being, Sam and Hannah have said so, and even if Dean rarely voices it, he knows the signs of it. Given his nature, Cas is far from the most fragile of the group. Concern isn't usually warranted.

It's just how Jack puts it out there so open and candidly, disarmingly sincere. The warmth the sentiment inspires feels a touch awkward in him, but appreciated nonetheless. What an endearing kid. Cas finds himself more invested in his arrival being more a blessing than an omen.

"Well, thank you, but I'm, um, I'm fine." Cas flashes a small smile, genuinely touched. "No need to worry."

"Yes, Jo Harvelle, she and her mother operated a roadhouse bar for hunters. Sam and Dean knew and worked with her several years ago, though... circumstance caused a separation." Circumstances like death, but Cas knows better than to air Jo's trauma for all and sundry. But on to that point about Dean looking older... Castiel's vessel doesn't age much (contrary to Misha Collins' mortal obligations), but the stress of the hunting life and all that the Winchesters endure will doubted show on them in years to come. "How old was Dean when you left home?"

The sadness in Jack's voice is telling, and it pangs him. Guilt gnaws at Cas, knowing he'll have to break it to the kid soon that he doesn't remember him either.

That sounds a little too much like the constant normal. She would have said that was what it was back where and when she'd come from. But something else sweeps in there more importantly and far more easily pickable. Arguable. Her forehead furrows even as he says it; Jo may not have done more than a semester at college, but one did not need college to know that didn't add up.

"That doesn't make sense." She ticks it off with a finger out. "You're what, 17-18 at most?"

Way too fresh-faced for what Jo even expected of someone that old, but hell, she avoided most of the world where she could have unless she needed them to foster the next step on one of her hunts. But ages weren't hard. At 17-18, she'd still been in high school, surrounded by kids her age, even that number was all they had in common, and they existed in wholly different worlds: one that was real and one that was a paltry oblivious lie.

"Yes." He replied, as if it was never even a question. Worried. He worried about them all since the return of his soul. "I've lost you once before, I don't want to again." He had his nagging worries, but he spoke from his heart.

The fact Castiel didn't know him, well, that he could deal with when he finds out. At least his powers were still dampened. He could just zap himself away to go cry alone if it became too much.

"I see that, and I am glad." He replied, his smile remaining. Castiel was here, and clearly fine. He looked the same as ever. Unlike Dean and his smile lines, that they don't speak of. "That explains it yes. She told me a little of it. She... feels very trusty worthy. I like her." It was easy as that. If he felt it, he could generally say it. More so now that he had all the happiness and burdens of a freshly returned soul.

"I... don't think Dean's actually told me." He admitted. "It is the year 2020, Dean asked me about that, as did Jo." He explained, before choosing to try to distract his chosen father before they could delve into more of home. "How far away is where Sam is?"

He was watching her. Only reaching down to where his ignored plate to lift the drink and take a drink. Having his soul back made flavors really pop again. He had missed that. He was holding the mostly empty glass as she realized the issue of what he had said.

That smile turns awkward. "Do I look that young?" He always liked to think he passed for twenty-one or twenty-two. But maybe that's why the shopkeeper kept refusing to sell him Dean's beer even with the fake IDS. He looked around, no one really paying attention to them and yet.

"I'm..." He needed to tell her. "Four years old." He spoke, lifting the glass awkwardly taking another drink. "I'm not fully human. I was born looking like this." He looked at her. That same sincerity was there, with more awkwardness returned. "I'm not supposed to talk about these things."

Jo raised her eyebrows—in a doubtfully unapologetic 'Are you kidding me?—at that first question and his ludicrously hopeful thoughts on his age, as though to say no one was going to buy him as a fully-fledged adult-like this. Even his response smacked of something that was too hopeful and crestfallen about not hitting the optimistic head of that mark.

The rest.

Jo stares and goes rather still. She can feel the pickle on her shoulders and upper arms, upper back muscles tensing; that would be a chill if it weren't for the blasted arid wind of this unending desert the base and The Free Cities in total found themselves in. Four. Years. Old. Born looking that old. Four years old. Not supposed to talk about those years. Four years old???

"What?" It is more of an outlandish explosion of sound than anything else. "Yeah, I'm gonna go with that really doesn't work for me. You're gonna wanna explain what that means, and—" Her voice growing a little sterner, stiller, closer to steel; but not louder. "—what that makes you."

That eyebrow raised and Jack knew. He just knew she didn't buy that he was an adult. That's that same look Dean gives when he does something that nearly gives them away. Without the exasperation, anyway. Or the random attitude. He misses Dean. He always knows what to expect, and yet this world, he knew nothing.

The way that she stays quiet lets him finish draining the glass and sitting it aside. The human side of him still needed to eat, sleep and drink. While not as much as normal humans by any means.

"Can we...." He started, feeling awkward as he looked up. "Talk about this somewhere else?" His eyes shifted around to the others around the busy room. "I promise I'll answer."

Jo's torn almost instantly between getting his uncertainty toward people and there being no trust anywhere in this equation about the idea of being alone with whatever this kid who distinctly said he isn't, wasn't, and that being on par with the greatest of stupidity. She's still got her sword and she's got that new power, but she's not as good at it as she'd like, and while there are soldiers everywhere she'd rather not be in the debt of them.

"You can't seriously think after saying something like that—" And connecting her to people like Dean, Sam, and Cas. "—that I'm going to let you take me into some kind of alley for this conversation, so where are you thinking?"

Beat. "Cuz I'm not taking you back to anyone without having a better bead on all that."

Jack was watching her, he carefully sat the glass down back on the table, and crossed his arms. Mostly, to try to look less uncomfortable than the whole situation made him feel.

He had a feeling it was a no before she spoke up. It was expected, he remembered how Sam and Dean reacted those first weeks he was alive. It was expected.

"I was hoping... I admit." He spoke quietly. "Just... please..." He started to say to not tell, but who would she tell? He didn't know if anyone else was here. What would it matter in this new world. "Never mind, it's fine."

Taking a breath, he looked down at his feet and less at her. "I'm a nephilim. Half Angel, half human. People have been trying to kill me, or use me for their purposes, since I was born." He added the last bit, as a means to let her know why he was less inclined to share around the people near them. "I would show you... but my powers are not working."

Of course you are.

He exhales slowly. It isn't quite... relief that he feels, but it's something. It's space in his chest, where previously things had been tensed so tight he couldn't even breathe. It seems like these days, the best he can hope for is to just buy himself another temporary inch of breathing room until that gets strangled out all over again.

He'll take what he can get.

"Okay. It's alright, that's- fine. It doesn't matter." Not to this kid, and not right now. His eyes open again, new resolve steeling them, something decisive settling into his posture. "Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna get you back to the inn, we're gonna get you set up with the dungeons and dragons starter pack. Get you a room. Get me a drink. Then we'll sit down and go over the details. Sound good?"

Rolling with the punches and taking the tiny victories, these were the ideologies he had been raised on. The little victories and the lives saved were worth everything, even when the world felt like it was crushing down on him.

Which, despite him trying to act fine, he certainly did feel like the world was crushing down on him.

He looks back to Dean once again when he speaks. Rapt attention on his every word. "The Dungeons and Dragons starter pack?" Had he ever had time to play? Probably not, but he'd learn it soon enough. "A drink sounds good, yes." He nodded after a second. "But we are heading the wrong way, aren't we?" He really had no idea where he was or where he was heading. He had caught the first wagon he saw going by just to explore.

"You lost me-" It takes him so much by surprise, Castiel's mind reeling from what all 'lost' could have been. It's not without precedent to him to die and resurrect, but how many damn times is that fate in his future? But 'lost' could mean any number of things, even just 'estranged'. There'll be time to dig through all of this later, once he finds Sam. "Of course. I'm sorry I worried you."

His speed picks up as Cas leads Jack through the streets, back towards Mag's inn, as he soaks in what Jack tells him. 2020 is still a good six years into their future, anything could has happened at that time, and it isn't like they haven't picked up strays along the way.

Castiel's memory flashes to Kevin, and he immediately regrets it. He can only hope this boy's time with them goes better than... well, nearly anyone that's remained in their sphere of influence for long. Clearing his throat, Cas pushes that line of worry aside - no point in getting anxious over it now, with so many questions still unanswered.

"Not far. We're staying at an inn, the Sarstina. We'll find Sam there. Then we can talk."

Accurately predicted, Sam is holed up at Mag's, instilled at a table he's made as something of a home base in the midst of this different kind of bustle. He's been people watching — taking in the color that Cadens has to offer — and it's only when Castiel's familiar face steps into view that Sam acknowledges this is the first time his concern hasn't flared.

Lifting a hand, he waves at the angel, signaling in such a manner that says he figures Castiel is here to see him. And he's not wrong, although he does note that Castiel seems to have a tagalong. Luckily there are just enough chairs for the three of them.

"Hey, Cas," he greets with a smile. "Who's your friend?" Figuring that's the case — Castiel isn't the type to suffer strangers for too long — it's an easy guess for Sam that this is leading to an introduction.

"It's okay, Cas. Dean once said it's a rite of passage." Jack replied with a sad, easy smile, one whose already had to tango with death more than once in his short years. "We all get lost and come back." At least in this family, anyway.

Jack following along, almost like a lost puppy. Looking back and up at Castiel when he cleared his throat. "Oh, okay." He replied with that same awkward tone he often spoke in. He didn't know where this place was, but he followed along.

His eyes landing on Sam when he waved as the two had come in. Happiness etched over the young man's face. A glimmer of hope, hoping Sam knows him too. He still hasn't realized Casteil doesn't, but doubts were there after the people he's already met today.

That bright smile fades some, as Jack hangs his head some. Oh, the lack of a soul would have made another blow easier but, he has to buck up. Just like Dean would have told him. Jacks eyes go to Castiel a moment before he forces up another smile. "My name's Jack. I don't think you know me yet." He spoke the words out, a hint of sorrow. He adores Casteil, he idolizes Dean, but Sam. Sam had always been the stable parental figure. The question asked to Castiel removed all doubt. Sam doesn't know him.

Cas arches his brows, tipping his chin up towards Sam briefly. Buckle up, friend, we've found some weird shit. Jack, the kid calls himself. This kid who's apparently much more than just some human young man - the glow of his grace nearly blinding, wings there apparent, but he doesn't seem to quite fit into angel entirely.

"Jack is from the year 2020, and seems to know us - you, Dean and I - very well." He's more slumped shoulders and sheepish frown than he is stiff and guarding; this boy isn't a threat, just an anomaly. An deeply curious one, and Cas paces around to the side, head at a tilt as he takes a better look over him, now that they aren't making a quick journey to find Sam. "And he's... an angel? Are you?"

'Jack' doesn't ring any bells, and at this point, Cas kind of wishes it did, so he didn't have to break the hard news. But now that they're at Mag's and off the street, he ought to be honest.

"I apologize for not mentioning it sooner, Jack, but the last year I remember is 2014." It actually hurts him to say it, seeing how fond this boy of them, and how crestfallen he seems with being a stranger now. But, just because they don't remember him doesn't mean he can't still be part of this found family unit.

"Can you tell us more about how we met you, back home?"

Edited 2023-01-01 21:09 (UTC)

Feeling much of the nuance of Castiel's look upon entering quickly coming into play, Sam observes the exchange between the two with both eyebrows raised high on his forehead. Jack, who appears young and immediately eager, draws Sam's attention the most. Observing eyes pinging over his features, what he recognizes of Jack is only what he sees of other people in him: a stiff but not unwelcoming stance not unlike Castiel, an enthusiastic but mistimed smile not unlike Dean. If there's something of Sam himself in there he doesn't quite see it (but odds are Sam wouldn't even bother looking at positive traits for his own influence so it might be easily missed).

Even at a distance and knowing only what he's been told, the shifts in the young man's moods are wholly apparent. Either he's sincere or a good actor, Sam thinks to himself, but doesn't forget Kevin Tran who found a way to be both. At least for a while.

Either way, he doesn't want to risk another end like that.

"Here, come sit down," Sam insists, standing only briefly to gesture to the two of them. "I'm from a bit later," he adds. A bare glance is offered at Castiel to clarify, "2015," but his attention quickly returns to Jack as he folds his arms on the tabletop and hunches as tall people are wont to do.

Once more he wishes he could be surprised by all of this, but after running into Jo earlier (not to mention decades in the family business), this all feels like another day on the job.

It was Castiel Jack would answer first. His eyes are sorrowful, but he tries to force his smile back in place. He didn't answer the question at first, how to answer and not get chased from the building was the most important thing.

Sam he didn't think would, Castiel maybe not, but this Castiel didn't have their bond from before his birth. His chosen father. His mother's protector.

The smile weak as he nodded. "I figured it out when you spoke to Sam just now, but I appreciate you telling me." His voice honest and open, Jack always preferred the truth to lies. He looked away from Castiel to take a seat when Sam offered.

Once the young nephilim had sat down, his hands awkwardly placed on the table, he nodded to Sam. "I will be born two years after 2015." He offered, yet sitting there looking nearly twenty at best. "You are the closest to my time, Sam." His smile stayed weak, but he tried, it was only then that he looked at Castiel. His choice made. He never wanted to be Lucifer's child, and who would know? His father wasn't here.

"I'm a Nephilim, my mother's name is Kelly Kline, she died giving birth to me." He explained looking to Sam, needing to keep his strength and do his best act without showing his lie. He knew he was a terrible liar, but this was for the best, and he had always felt Castiel was his father. "And Cas is my dad." There he said it, without faltering. "A lot of people wanted me dead or to use my power, so you all kept me with you. You all raised me as a family." Little lies didn't always hurt. Right?

Cas is my dad.

It doesn't hit him at first. It takes a moment of awkward, dead silence after Jack stops talking for his brain to rewind and remind himself that Cas means you. The dawning of it can be seen wash over him, sharp contemplative eyes widening, ponderous furrowed brows arching, and neutral set to his lips falling open.

"I— Wha—" He looks from Jack to Sam, as if Sam will tell him 'no, no, he obviously meant another Cas, the Cas standing behind you', and boomeranged back to Jack again. He points a finger to his chest, dumbly. Back, again, to Sam, mouth agape with helpless eyes in the tone of I didn't mean to. It's possibly the most expressive Castiel's been all year. This man is not prepared for a corner store beer run, let alone parenthood. "But that's—"

Impossible, well, not really, it's not like he doesn't know the mechanics, and there's already been moments like April, even if that ended with a double fatality. Highly unlikely, sure. But impossible? We'll just say, it's not the future Cas had anticipated for himself. Well, that makes not remembering Jack all the worse. Way to be a shitty dad, Cas.

"Me? I'm your- Your father?" Finally, Cas falls more than sits into the chair, watching Jack in wonder as if he's some glowing unicorn that just tumbled into his lap (kinda is), voice much less sturdy than he started this conversation with.

"How? And how are you—" A vague gesture to Jack's entire being. "Two?"

Edited 2023-01-09 03:03 (UTC)

Sam, having spent so very much time in hotel rooms with local channels, feels very much like he's audience to an episode of Jerry Springer unfolding. He watches as Cas grapples with this revelation, the familiar catchphrase bouncing around his head: You are the father! He wonders briefly if Dean knows.

"Nephilim must age differently," Sam finally offers, oh so helpfully. It's not blind faith — can any hunter just assume familial bonds so easily? — but his additional thoughts might provide a little clarity to Sam's thinking: "He does look a little like you..." Both shoulders lift a hair right along with his eyebrows. There's a resemblance.

"Where did your mother live?" Shifting gears, Sam decides to focus on the only other piece of information available. Her name doesn't sound particularly familiar, but considering the number of people they'd met on the road, it's perfectly possible that one (or all three of them) had run across a (or the) Kelly Kline in their travels.

He feels a little guilty but, it was for the best. It was what he always wanted. Dean wouldn't try to kill him for Lucifer's blood in him if he thought he was Castiel's child. Kelly had put all of her faith in to Castiel, and in turn Jack had done the same. He had spent many nights wishing Castiel had been his true father and as long as he played his cards right maybe he could fix that cosmic mistake and keep himself safe.

So long as he never shared what happened to Mary anyway.

He looked up at Castiel, the Angel clearly wanting Sam to say it's wrong. Jack's expression was closer to Castiel's normal default look than the smiles Jack usually wore. This city was emotionally draining.

"We do." He answered Sam when he spoke before looking back to Castiel, that awkward way of his own projecting. "I was born fully grown." Poor Kelly. "I am four years old as of May. And yes, Castiel, you are. I know it's probably weird, I'm sorry to be a bother." His birthday had been the night he was pulled from, honestly, but he'd keep that to himself too. Sometimes lies protect people.

He looked down a bit, awkwardly shifting a moment before looking back to Sam. "She was from New England, she worked in Washington DC when you all met her. I don't know a lot about her, I always felt safe with her but... I only had a video of her before..." He shook his head some. No, telling them he died and met his mother in heaven was just too much to share yet.

[Open] Call Me Little Sunshine

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