Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dean has never really been big on labels and things that other people use to define. It feels restrictive, especially coming from people who don’t have the awareness to realize that things can change.

Dean Winchester, LPN RN BsN PNP DNP

The ID photo is awful. Possibly worse than every license and fake Dean has ever had, combined, and definitely not representative of the four years he had spent getting the stupid degree.

“It suits you.”

Dean snorts. Cas is far more familiar with all of the stupid letters and what they mean. He’s still getting used to it.

“How was your day?” Cas asks, kissing his cheek as he puts his things away, work clothes coming off.

“Fine.”

Dr. Dean Winchester, but not really. The crappy, power tripping MDs scoff at him, and it doesn’t help that he apparently radiates ‘sub’ energy.

On the other hand, a bunch of people have suddenly pulled respect out of their ass. A bunch of senior nurses, all of the resident doctors, suddenly care about what he has to say just because of a few stupid letters.

It’s stupid. Everything is stupid, including the stupid letters.

Cas is hanging over his shoulder, taking the ID badge and setting it down near Dean’s work bag.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

Cas’s hands guide him to stand up, and Cas has him lying down in the corner, head pillowed on his elbow. He watches quietly while Cas prepares what seems to be the perfect bath. There was a time where Dean might have scoffed at the idea of waiting in the corner. He’s being put away. Stripped naked, out of the way, to rest, and Cas doesn’t expect anything out of him other than just that. To rest.

You loved me before I had all of those stupid letters.

Cas is undressing and testing the water, humming quietly along to the soft rock he’s put on, and Dean soaks all of that warmth up for everything’s he’s worth.

Cas gets down, bending one knee and moving to Dean’s level. He looks up, slightly jarred as he warms himself up and gets ready for whatever Cas is asking, but Cas’s hands are firm on his hip and his outstretched arm.

“No talking, for now,” Cas soothes softly. “You’re being absolutely perfect, sweetheart. Now, you have two choices, and you may respond with your head. Understood?”

Dean nods, still peering up at Cas.

“That’s perfect,” Cas says. “Would you like for me to bathe you, or get in the tub together? Once for the first option, twice for the second.”

Dean nods twice quickly. Sometimes, Dean really needs Cas to touch him, and Cas needs that kind of control, so he gets bathed quite often. They don’t do this much. They don’t do it enough.

“Okay,” Cas agrees readily, expressing his understanding. “Now. After the bath, I’m going to dry you off and you’re going to wait on the bed for me. Understood?”

He nods again, but the flush is working its way down his neck, and he has to swallow raggedly.

“I will either take your cage off, open you up with my tongue and my fingers, and tease your hole until you come,” Castiel says, his voice rough. “Or, I will leave the cage on, and I will use your sweet little hole to get off.”

Fuck.

It’s been a few weeks. Dean isn’t some kind of horny teenager who needs to get his rocks off five times a day, but ever since his three month denial post almost-prison time, Cas has been a lot less generous with Dean’s pleasure. He’s caged literally every day, and when Cas finally unlocks him it’s usually more frustrating when Cas can freely tease him. Dean groans desperately, shifting under Cas’s hand.

“Easy enough question, boy,” Cas says, hand moving lower. “Would you like to come?”

Even though Dean absolutely hates it, and he gets horny at the drop of a motherfucking hat, it settles something inside him he hadn’t even been truly aware of.

Cas’s sadistic tendencies don’t often surface solely with physical pain. He definitely likes giving pain, but he even more enjoys when Dean is past enjoying receiving it.

The mental torture - the constant, unforgiving weight of control - is what really does it for him. It’s what he needs - what both of them need.

“I need an answer.”

Dean shakes his head, frustrated tears already building. Cas hauls him up, sitting him with his back against the wall, kissing him.

“My good boy,” Cas says softly. “So perfect for me, sweetheart. Mine.”

Dean loves biology, sometimes, because then Cas is picking him up bridal style and settling them in the tub, arranging arms and legs until Dean is comfortable, and he can finally close his eyes.

You believed me before I could defend myself.

Somewhere, Dean is vaguely aware of Cas soaping him up, washing the two of them in blissful quiet. The music is soft, and the water soothing, and Dean might as well die right here.

“So, so beautiful.”

When Cas has him on the bed, hips pushed up and back arched, Dean can’t help whine desperately at the perfect stretch, and he does his best to stay tight and clenched, working Cas’s cock with his hips. He’s doing good. Being useful, because Cas is using him and that’s all he needs to do, just be good and make it good.

By the time Cas comes, Dean might be sobbing.

“Thank you, baby,” Cas says, still slightly breathless. “Come here.”

His quiet, gentle sobs slow as Cas holds him, and he tells him just how good he is, for letting himself be used and allowing Castiel to give him what they both needed, and Cas loves him.

Oh, how he loves him.

__

The comfort gently hums through his body. It’s a pleasant clarity, which he’s learned is actually a good thing. A natural high, one that doesn’t hurt him.

“Dr. Winchester!”

Dean looks up, trying to hide his surprise.

“There’s a pediatric case headed in to the ER,” she says hurriedly, even as his pager goes off. “They need you.”

Dean’s nursing specialty ended up being a double certification. Pediatric Nurse Practitioner was the form of Doctorate of Nursing Practice, and his secondary specialty was trauma thanks to his years in the emergency room.

“On my way,” he promises, quickly shutting off the computer he was using to notate charts. The page has little information- just that it’s a six-year-old kid, with some sort of blunt trauma. Dean does his best not to jump to any conclusions, but the initial symptoms sound vaguely fitting and all too common. Dean sighs as he prepares himself, putting on the scratchy trauma gown and a fresh pair of gloves just as the sirens come within earshot.

There’s only one paramedic in the ambulance, and he gives Dean the spiel while sitting next to a wide-eyed, terrified kid. Dean can see a few superficial injuries, but he almost cringes upon seeing the kid’s chest. He can track the bruising all the way down the left side of his torso.

Another gangly, overgrown kid follows him out of the ambulance, clutching onto the rails of the gurney.

“What’s your name, little dude?” Dean asks, belatedly, trying not to express his anxiety and freak the kid out. “My name’s Dean, and I’m gonna take care of you, alright?”

Overgrown kid is watching him almost dangerously. Something about his posture is protective, and Dean is saddened when he thinks about what he had to protect them from.

“I’m Jack,” he says proudly. “An- And that’s my big brother.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dean says. “And you too, big brother. Are you hurt? What happened?”

The older brother doesn’t answer, but Jack has no problem babbling on, almost too fast for Dean to understand. His speech is weak. Not nearly developed enough for a six-year-old, and Dean reminds himself to page neuro.

“He don’t talk,” Jack says. “We forgot to save money so mama said she was gonna fuck him up, but I got in the way, so she couldn’t.”

His chest puffs up and he’s so proud of himself, and it seems incongruous. Jack is- he’s six. Where the fuck was he learning this kind of language and smiling because he had managed to ‘get in the way?’

“Did she hurt you, too?” Dean asks, a gentle hand reaching for the kid’s shoulder. He tenses up completely under Dean’s touch, and when he pulls away Dean can just barely see his face.

His blood freezes. The kid jerks away uncomfortably, hiding his face as soon as he shows it, but they’re both stuck, thrown four years into the past and the last time they had been together, in this room.

“Lucas?”

Chapter Text

There aren’t any missing kids matching Lucas’s description.

Dean couldn’t believe it. He had asked Benny to do some recon, check in and hopefully figure out what the hell was going on, but there’s absolutely nothing. The hospital doesn’t even have his chart, because someone had deactivated it.

Lucas still wasn’t talking, but he hadn’t left Jack’s side. Dean hasn't been able to treat him beyond an ice pack for his clearly dislocated shoulder. Not even for a second. Jack’s arm is splinted as they figure out whether or not the breaks need surgery, and radiology just confirmed he’s got some broken ribs.

“Alright, Jack,” Dean says. “Here’s the deal. You busted up your arm pretty bad, and there’s some things going on in your chest.”

Jack’s jaw drops. “Like a heart attack?”

“Nope,” Dean is quick to affirm. “It’s more like how you busted up your arm. This bone right here has a few cracks in it, and you have the same kinds of bones in your chest that have some cracks, too.”

Lucas’s anxious eyes dart back and forth between the two of them.

“You’re going to be just fine,” Dean says, and Lucas exhales. He pats Jack’s hand, and it seems to calm him down, too. “You might have to hang out here for a while, though, but I do believe we might have a Wii console floating around here somewhere.”

“Awesome,” Jack says, grinning. “Luke, I wanna watch TV.”

Lucas chuckles as he hands the remote over to Jack, allowing him to settle on some animated kids show.

“Hey, Lucas,” Dean says eventually. “Mind if we talk?”

Lucas shoots him an annoyed glance before choosing to fix his eyes on the TV, ignoring Dean.

“We can talk in here if you want, but I do have to ask some sensitive questions,” Dean says. “But you gotta lay down so I can check you out."

Jaw clenching, Lucas has tensed up so far Dean is almost worried he’s gonna tear his stitches. Jack is worried too, and he starts to tug anxiously on Lucas’s sleeve, a comfort behavior Dean is all too familiar with.

Lucas shakes his head, giving Jack a thumbs up and patting his shoulder before walking past Dean, finally sitting on the other hospital bed in the room. By the way he’s moving, Dean is worried about his injuries. If there’s anything he knows, it’s that Lucas would have taken as many hits for Jack as he could. He pulls his shirt off before Dean can say anything, and he barely hides his nausea. Lucas's torso is mottled with ugly bruises.

Gently, Dean, takes his arm, following the fresher wounds down until he gets to his shoulder, examining the familiar, circular bruises.

“Lucas, do you remember me?” Dean asks quietly, testing his range of motion.

Lucas nods once, fists clenching.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I told you,” Jack interrupts. “He don’t talk.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dean asks, gaze drifting back to Lucas.

The self-projection is strong. Dean worries that he’s shoving his life onto this little boy, who can’t be more than 14. He needs to be careful not to rewrite Lucas’s story to be more like his. This isn’t about Dean.

He needs the story. He needs more.

“You know, Jack,” Dean says, digging in the trauma supply cart. “Lucas and I actually go way back.”

Lucas shoots him a sharp glare, but Jack is already babbling.

“Luke came to live with me, and my mama and mama’s real son.”

“Real son?” Dean asks.

“Yeah,” Jack says. “Because she actually made him. Mama says me and Lucas gotta earn our keep. Cause the gov’ment don’t pay her enough. So Lucas tries to work lots. But his stupid boss told him he can’t stay cause he don’t talk, so that’s why Mama got mad.”

“Well, cut that out,” Dean says firmly. “Y’all are both worth more than just money, you got that?”

Foster system involvement, Dean notes. Which doesn’t make much sense considering he has two very healthy parents.

“Is Ben doing alright?” Dean asks softly.

Lucas’s breath catches, although it might be because of the silver sulfadiazine he’s applying to the burns. “Sorry. Did he ever get a transplant?”

Lucas shakes his head. Once, sharp and short.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says softly, focusing on the treatment. “Where is Lisa, Lucas?”

He shrugs, feigning disinterest even as his whole being radiates discomfort.

“Who’s Lisa?” Jack asks.

Lucas tenses up immediately. Lucas swallows heavily, looking desperately back at Dean. He pleads without words, and Dean sighs.
“Just a friend of mine,” Dean says. “She’s pretty awful. I hope you never meet her.”

“Dr. Winchester?” Jack asks.

“What’s up?”

“Do we gotta go back to Mama’s?”

The question hovers in the air.

“I really hope not, Jack,” Dean says honestly. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that, okay? And I promise I’m gonna do my best to make sure y’all go somewhere where they take care of you.”

Lucas scoffs in disbelief, rolling his eyes, but Dean can’t find it in him to be offended.

“Lots of people let you down,” Dean says to him. “I know that. And I can’t promise anything, cause life fucks us up. But I can promise you that I will do everything I can to get you home. Wherever that is.”

Lucas doesn’t answer. He doesn’t look up at Dean, nothing, until Jack giggles.

“You said a bad word,” Jack says, laughing, and it pulls half a smile out of Lucas.

“Don’t tell,” Dean says, smiling. “Alright, fellas, I’ve gotta go make some calls. I’ll show you how to ask for Jenna or another nurse to come in here.”

He shows them the call buttons, and even how to adjust the beds before slipping out of their patient room, closing the door behind him.

“Jesus, Dean,” Gabe says from where he’s looking over the chart. Gabe’s shift didn’t start until after the kids had already been admitted, so Dean would guess he’s playing some catch-up. “What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know,” Dean says honestly. “It’s hard to get the whole story out of kids as young as Jack, and he doesn’t talk so good.”

“You doing alright?”

A twinge of irritation plucks at him. As though child abuse is supposed to affect him more because he was abused. Why can’t it bother him just because he has a fucking conscience?

His pager goes off, interrupting his spiral, and Dean takes a deep breath.

Gabe’s right. Like a mirror that only reflects his worst features, Dean can’t just write it off as projection.

“Could you call social services?” Dean asks. “And Benny is on his way. Page me when they get here.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Hurrying back toward the emergency room, Dean has enough time in the elevator to tap out a quick message.

I need your help

Neglect. For kids in hospital.

By the time Dean has gotten to the ER, Cas has answered.

[Cas]: On my way, sweetheart.

[Cas]: proud of you. <3

Chapter Text

Castiel was incredibly proud of Dean for asking for help. It might seem small to anyone else, but Dean is stubborn. Independent, to a fault, and there was a time where he would have destroyed himself before asking for help.

For him to ask for help, straightforward and definitive, is a beautiful example of his progress. Even if it’s for work, Castiel is so proud.

The elevator doors open, and Castiel wanders toward the nurse’s station. Dean isn’t there, but Pam is talking to Benny and an agent Castiel knows from DCFS - Meg Masters. Although he doesn’t wish to intrude, Castiel gathers that they’re all here for the same reason, so he joins their group.

“Dr. Novak,” Meg says, sweet as saccharine. Castiel rolls his eyes fondly.

“What’s going on?” He asks. Benny passes him a copy of the case file, and he scans it while they fill him in.

“Two boys brought in via ambulance, picked up at a public park,” Benny says. “Younger kid’s got an absent father, Mom died during childbirth. Bounced around foster homes his whole life.”

Castiel sighs, shaking his head.

“Older kid entered the system at eleven years old, and we don’t have a record of him before that,” Meg explains. “Tough placement, because the kid doesn’t talk. We know his first name is Lucas, but he hasn’t told us anything else.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“We aren’t sure.”

The picture is coming together. Everything is a little clearer, and Cas has finally been let in on the elephant in the room.

“What do you need from me?” Castiel asks, just to make sure. He’s an excellent interviewer and experienced with communication issues, most likely why Dean called him.

“Someone is getting tried for neglect and possibly abuse. We aren’t sure who because we don’t know what happened to them,” Pam says. “We know, medically, but we can’t get any context cause Lucas doesn’t talk and Jack is six and developmentally behind.”

“Developmental delay?” Castiel checks.

“No, just behind,” Pam says. “I’m not neuro, but I would definitely call it neglect rather than a developmental disability. We’ll get him working with a speech pathologist.”

“Understood,” Castiel murmurs, leafing through the file. “Where’s Dean?”

“I think he got paged to the E.R,” Pam says, checking her phone. “If you want to talk to the kids now, I’ll page him for you. Should be up here by the time you’ve finished.”

Although Castiel would prefer to see Dean first, he knows there’s somewhere they both need to be, so he nods gratefully and hands the physical file back to Benny.

“Have someone scan that and send it to me, please,” he says. “Which rooms are they in?”

“Sure, Castiel. 803.”

It’s right across from the nurse’s station. Castiel knocks softly before entering the room, where both boys are sprawled out on the same bed. The older one has a protective arm around the younger one, and it appeared they were watching something on television. It was a younger kid’s cartoon, not something Lucas would have chosen, likely for Jack’s benefit.

“Hello,” Castiel says. “My name is Castiel.”

“Huh?” Jack asks. “Why’s your name so weird?”

Lucas huffs, cuffing Jack’s head softly, looking at him pointedly. It’s clear and expressive, and Castiel can’t help but think of Dean.

“Castiel is the angel of solitude and tears,” he says. “My brother’s name is Gabriel, and he’s the angel of messengers. My mother was big on angels.”

“Oh,” Jack says, brow furrowed, then turns to Lucas. “What am I the angel of?”

Puzzled, Lucas shrugs and looks back to Castiel for an explanation, so he takes out his phone.

“Your name doesn’t have the right parts to be an angel’s name, but it is equally as meaningful,” Castiel says, typing quickly. “‘Jack’ means health and grace. ‘Lucas’ means bringer of light.”

Jack smiles really big, revealing a missing front tooth.

“We got cool names,” he announces to Lucas, and Lucas nods emphatically.

Castiel decides to take a seat at a safe distance from the boys, taking off his trench coat and suit jacket to lay across the arm of the chair.

“You guys seem very close,” Castiel says. “Do you like having a big brother, Jack?”

Jack bobs his head. “Luke is my real brother. The other one is- other one is not nice to me.”

“Other one?”

He smiles. “Yeah, Mama’s real son, Mikey. He puts bad things in my food so I can’t eat it.”

It’s horrible, because that could mean anything from poison to snot.

“That’s not very nice of him.”

“Luke’s tummy sucks, so he lets me finish his food,” Jack says.

Ah. He’s got an inkling Luke didn’t really have any tummy troubles, other than hunger.

As a big brother, it might have been familiar enough for Castiel to recognize that kind of sacrifice. But while Cas has always taken care of Gabe, he had never needed to give up a necessity. He had never once gone hungry, in order for Gabe to eat.

No. Castiel is intimately familiar with that kind of sacrifice, but not because of his own experience.

“Could you tell me more about your Mama and Mikey?” Castiel asks.

“Why?”

He sounds suspicious. As suspicious as a six year old could sound, anyway, and he scoots closer to Lucas. He ruffles his hair, but his own face has taken on a wary expression, and Cas is quick to adjust.

“A big, big part of my job is to make sure that people who do bad things go some place where they can’t hurt anyone else,” Castiel explains. “And something tells me that someone has been hurting you both for a long time, and I want to make sure you aren’t going to keep getting hurt.”

“Good,” Jack practically spits. It’s uncharacteristic. Sounds odd, coming out of such a young mouth. “Mama keeps fuckin’ Lucas up, and his Mama before that, too. He needs- people can’t do that no more.”

Lucas flushes, and he curls in on himself.

God. They could have been related. Castiel would believe it, instead of two kids in the same shitty situation.

“I want to do everything I can to make that happen,” Castiel says, focusing on Lucas. “I can’t promise you anything other than that I will do my best. I need your help. I need to know what happened.”

Jack looks at him a little too long, and then looks back at Luke, tugging anxiously at his sleeve. He levels his gaze back at Jack, and something in his eyes softens.

He nods, giving Jack his assent.

“Okay,” Jack says.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Even subspace can’t keep Dean away from his responsibilities forever. 

Vaguely, Dean can recognize when Cas starts to bring him up, and he fights is as long as he can. He wants to stay here, surrounded by his own happiness, ignoring any and everything else. 

But the closer Dean gets to the surface, the more he realizes that he needs to get his shit together. 

"Do you remember a patient a few years ago?" Dean manages, right into Cas's chest. "I- Uh. Was during Mary's trial. Little brother needed a liver transplant, and parents were pressuring him into donating."

"I do, actually," Cas says softly. They're laying on the couch together, soft music playing on the Smart TV in the background.

"S'Lucas."

Cas pauses. "The same situation, or the same person?"

"Same person," Dean says. "He remembered me."

The words seem to fly further away the longer time passes. Dean doesn't want to sit up. He likes this, needs to feel Cas connected to him, but his voice is failing. Frustrated, Dean huffs, turning his head to the side and away from Cas. 

It's useless, though. Cas starts to move him, and even as Dean whines, Cas has him situated and kneeling, waiting patiently.

He didn't have the surgical scar, Dean signs slowly. So he never donated his liver, and I think that has something to do with why he's in the system.

"It's not your fault."

Dean glares at the floor. I didn't say it was.

"It's not your fault," Cas repeats. "If Lucas's parents decided to forego their responsibilities because he didn't donate, that is 100% on them."

It's uncomfortable. He knows, and he doesn't. He knows that he was the one who told Lucas it was okay to say no, and he knows the guilt that kid feels over it. He knows Lucas probably harbors some resentment toward Dean for that. And Cas is right, as he always fucking is. Dean doesn't want to be the reason this kid lost his parents.

But he also knows it couldn't really be Dean's fault, if it wasn't Lucas's responsibility. And he's absolutely certain this kid had every fucking right not to cut himself open. He's certain Lucas had absolutely no obligation to give up a piece of his body.

Even if it is my fault, he deserves better, Dean signs. Out of that house. But then he just- he went into another shitty foster home, and then another one. Is that any better?

"Now that he's with Meg, I'm confident that you and I will be able to ensure he goes somewhere safe," Cas says. "Him and Jack both."

He shouldn't have had to go through any of this in the first place. 

"No," Cas agrees quietly. "He shouldn't have."

They sit there, in silence. 

"We gotta take care of them," Dean says. "We just- we gotta."

~

Things are better the next day. 

Both of the boys are stable, and Dean is checking their vitals while Meg talks to them. Cas had gotten the ball rolling. They had good information, had managed to find both boys' social service files.

Jack had been taken into DCFS after his parents died in a car accident. He was taken in by Amara Aquinas, who had two DCFS investigations to her name. She had been arrested, her son taken into custody by Amara's sister. 

Lucas's history is sparse. Someone called DCFS because he had been squatting in an abandoned property. They had his first name, state-appointed last name, which - along with his physical description - didn't match any of the missing persons reports. "How is that possible?" Gabe had asked. "He change his appearance? Name?"

"More likely, that means that nobody ever reported him," Benny explained.

Which means Lisa was either a deadbeat, or just plain fucking dead. 

Dean had gone through all of the hospitals files, trying to find Ben Braeden's chart. He even checked on O+ liver transplants between young boys, in case Dean had gotten their names wrong, but there weren't any that fit. Nothing that fit with the timeline, Ben's diagnosis, and it was driving Dean insane. 

Lucas hadn't breathed a word about where he came from, and Dean needs him to start talking. 

Jack was going to MRI for a repeat scan, just to ensure there wasn't any internal bleeding. Meg had gone with him. Lucas was tense, checking the clock every few seconds. 

"Dr. Barnes ran your presentation examination," Dean says, as casually as possible. "Switch, with a level 4 swing of +/- 2, should be pretty manageable. Switches usually take longer to present and stabilize."

Lucas barely reacts. 

"We added some hormonal supplements to your medications," Dean says, sliding a notebook and pen over to Lucas, who eyes it dully. "How are you feeling?"

Lucas rolls his eyes, flashing a mocking smile and a thumbs up. 

"What happened to Lisa and Ben?"

Picking up the notebook, Lucas throws it at Dean, effectively telling him to back the fuck off. Dean just barely manages to catch it, and he tosses it back onto the bed. Lucas glares at him, and Dean keeps his face impassive. As neutral as he can.

Huffing, Lucas snatches the pen, determinedly scribbling before he holds up the notebook. 

Not important.

"It is, actually," Dean says. "Lucas, I couldn't find a death certificate for her, or anyone with the same last name that fit her description. Why didn't she report you missing?"

Lucas stares at him. Deer in fucking headlights, the poor kid. He's taken aback, and Dean fights the urge to apologize. That's not what he needs. Eventually, Lucas takes the pen again, and Dean waits as patiently as he can. 

She kicked me out after Ben had his transplant from UNOS.  

Dean's heart aches. 

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Dean asks carefully. "You deserve closure. And she deserves to be arrested. That's abuse."

Glaring at Dean, Lucas writes again. Meg and Castiel will be able to use this notebook as legal evidence, able to be added to his file. 

I don't like telling people my own mother doesn't want me. 

Lucas won't even look at Dean when he shows him the notebook. His dull expression has given way to shame, and Dean struggles. It's all too familiar. Painfully so, and Dean hates the idea of another kid carrying around that kind of internalized self-loathing. 

"You don't deserve any of this," Dean says roughly. "Your mom is a dick, and I won't let you or Jack go back with Amara, alright? We will get you guys out, okay?"

Dean was expecting disbelief. Maybe some sort of irritated hostility, but it all gives way to pure fear within seconds.

Before Dean can even react, Lucas is clutching his stomach, a pained groan clawing out of his throat, his other hand on his mouth. 

"What's-"

Shoving the table out of the way, Lucas turns away from the bed, hurling. When he's done throwing up blood, dark red and awful, Lucas's terrified eyes meet Dean's for a solid second before he loses consciousness. 

"I need some help in here!"

Chapter Text

Dean took it upon himself to clean the blood off the floor. They have custodial staff. Interns, but Dean needed to keep busy while Lucas was in surgery.

Chapter Text

Gabe: social nonmedical 911

Chapter Text

Dean usually loves being on Cas's lap. 

Seriously. There are very few places he would rather be and very few things he'd rather be doing. Cas is wonderful, and he's safety and warmth and home, but he's also a sadist and a fucking jackass and Dean kind of wants to bite him. 

Cas has his wrists bound, with a soft length of rope and Cas has apparently bought new beads, because surprise! They fucking vibrate. Dean's been on his lap, knees spread around Cas's thighs, and Cas has been playing with his nipples and Dean is going absolutely fucking insane. 

"Daddy, Daddy," Dean says, breathless. "I gotta- Make it stop, please, it's too much."

"Doesn't it feel good?"

It does. It really fucking does, and knowing that there's not going to be any relief at the end of this torture makes this practically unbearable.

"Too much," Dean says again, barely able to get it out through gritted teeth. His eyes squeezed shut, he tries to concentrate on anything other than the waves of pleasure boiling in his stomach. He's dripping. Some of it has leaked through the belt, staining Cas's sweatpants. And Cas is wearing fucking sweatpants, for God's sake. "Please?"

"What do you want?"

"Turn them off."

"Naughty," Cas says, disappointed. His tone rocks Dean's whole body, and he whines, pushing his hips down. "I think you can ask nicer than that."

"Please turn them off," Dean says, all in a rush. "Please, please."

When Cas turns the beads off, Dean sobs in pure relief, which changes back to tears of frustration when Dean gets bent over the table. Cas kisses his hole, and then he pulls out the beads. Dean sobs his way through it, and then Dean is allowed down onto his knees. Cas sits down in a chair and pulls Dean's face toward his crotch. Unbalanced with the way his hands are tied, Dean practically falls forward, burying his face into Cas's lap.

He's almost painfully hard, and Dean stares up at Cas, waiting for further instruction with what is probably an embarrassingly adoring stare. Wide-eyed, his mouth is open and he's practically begging, even though words won't come out. 

Cas holds his cheek, a thumb petting softly along his jaw. 

"You're so beautiful, my love," Cas says gently. "Come here, sweetheart." 

Dean pulls down Cas's waistband, sucking Cas's cock. Gently, he tongues the slit and then runs up and down, sucking hard as he gets closer to the head. Looking up at Cas, Dean watches as Cas loses himself in the pleasure, and Dean whines when Cas groans, lowly.

Dean swallows when Cas is finished, and he pulls off gently, kissing the head before pulling back. Cas, breathing heavily, fixes his sweatpants and pulls Dean up from under his arms. Dean whines deliberately, and Cas chuckles, reaching around him to take the cuffs off. Dean wraps his arms around Cas's neck, hugging him tight. His own arousal is constricted, boiled over into frustration that simmers in his chest, warming his heart and everything else in him.

Cas reaches around him, picking up the remote and turning the TV on. He navigates to some music. He doesn't usually keep Dean in subspace long enough to go to sleep, because then he wakes up disoriented and it takes a while for Cas to bring him up. Dean has work tomorrow, so Cas knows that he's gonna have to bring him up relatively quickly. It's still pretty early in the evening, so they'll have time for dinner. 

"How you doing with the case?" Dean asks. 

Cas is surprised that Dean is talking so quickly. He usually prefers to remain relatively quiet after scenes, usually waiting an hour or so to even start signing. Castiel needs to take him down further, keep him down longer at the earliest possible convenience.

"Amara Aquinas's case is going well," Cas says quietly. "I don't offer plea deals, so the lawyer wants to go to trial but we've got far too much evidence for her to walk free."

"Good," Dean huffs. "What about Lisa?"

Cas chews his lip. He hasn't told Dean much about this, rationalizing it by saying that there's no definitive information. A lot of questions, a lot of ugliness, and there's no way to truly fix any of this.

Reading their hospitalization records and speaking with both boys made Castiel sick. It's not like he's unfamiliar with abuse and violence. He sees it all the time. It's always worse with children, but even so. 

Jack was just so bright. Still so happy, despite all of the shit life has thrown his way. There was an air of happy innocence that surrounded him, which made all of the violence seem all the more incongruous. Castiel understood the way Lucas needed so badly to protect him, and he's all too familiar with the way he's given himself up to do it.

It's a beautiful sort of goodness, one that reminds him of the person he loves most. 

"There isn't much I can do, there."

Dean sits up halfway. "Huh?"

"She's dead, sweetheart," Cas says. "The state won't allow me to try someone who's already died. I could charge their father for abandonment and child endangerment, but I would have to find him first and figure out if he even knew Lisa kicked him out."

Dean stares at him, huffing. "What about Jack and Lucas?" 

"I can't find any family for either of them who would take them in," Cas admits. "I've been in contact with Meg. I can block both boys' former social workers from working on their case, make sure they stay with Meg. It's not much, but it's better than nothing."

The tears come quickly. Cas would be lying if he said he expected them, but at the very least, he's not surprised.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Cas says, standing up to pull Dean into a hug. "I wish I could do more."

"Not your fault," Dean mutters, right into his chest. "I just want to do more. For them." 

"You're doing everything you can."

Dean hesitates. Cas can feel it, even though he can't see him. "What's wrong?"

There's a hefty pause.

"Nothing," Dean says, an air of defeat surrounding him. "I just wish I could- could do more, you know?"

"I know."

~

Gabe calls him in the middle of making dinner, while he's directed Dean to take a shower. He would have preferred to bathe him, but that's more for Castiel's sake than anything. Dean would drop pretty far, and then he'd have to struggle up before work. Cas considered pulling him out of work the next day, but he also knows that a majority of Dean's anxiety is being caused by two certain boys at work, and keeping him home might make it worse in the end.

"Hello?"

"Is Dean there?"

The terse opening is more characteristic of Castiel than Gabe, and it's his first indicator that something is off. 

“He’s taking a shower,” Cas says carefully. “I can ask him to get in touch with you after he gets out?”

“No need,” Gabe huffs. “I have to tell you something, because Samuel is an asshole." 

The way Gabe's voice raises at the end of the sentence tells Castiel that Sam is nearby, watching him. Smiling fondly, he puts the lid back on the pot, shifting the phone. "What's going on?"

"Sam is a bitch baby and I didn't do shit."

"...Okay," Castiel says. "I think I'm going to need some context."

"We have this case with two little boys and Dean has been feeling all mommy bear," Gabe says. "And so I brought up the possibility of them getting adopted and he threw a fucking tantrum."

It irritates Castiel, for reasons he doesn't want to examine too closely. "I'm sure he doesn't like the idea of them going to another house where they might be abused further."

"No, dipshit," Gabe says loudly. "I meant that you should adopt them. Besides, I just implied it. I didn't even outright say it." 

Oh. 

"Okay, Gabriel," Castiel says, as the shower upstairs goes silent. "I think you can go get back to your punishment now, and watch your mouth."

"Don't tell me what to do."

Gabe hangs up on him, and Cas is already lost in thought.

Okay. It would be a bald-faced lie if Castiel hadn't thought about it. His internal caveman has always loved the idea of raising children with Dean, but neither of them craved it the way some other couples did. Most of Dean and Castiel's friends had some semblance of baby fever before having kids. Sometimes, it's their whole entire life goal and dream: bonded, good job, have kids. 

For them, it wasn't like that. They had the baby conversation a few times, because all subs can undergo treatments and carry children, and the 'bigger house' comment makes far more sense. 

Dean was very clear that he did not want to carry a child, and Castiel was more than fine with that, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want kids. His first priority has always been Dean, and always will be. Perhaps that sense of priorities screws up any chance of having kids. Parenting is selflessness, after all. 

Dean strides into the kitchen, half dressed and hair messy. His heart is full, so full.

What's wrong? Dean asks worriedly.

"Gabe called me," Cas says carefully. "Apparently we need to talk about a comment he made earlier? Regarding adoption?"

He keeps his wording vague, wanting to allow Dean to tell Castiel what he thought of the conversation. He wants to know if Dean was concerned about new adoption parents, or whether he understood Gabe's implication.

Dean rolls his eyes, long-suffering. He goes toward the pot, ignoring Castiel as he inhales deeply, pulling out bowls for the soup. 

"Sweetheart-"

"Castiel," Dean snaps. I would be a terrible parent and we both know it, alright? That doesn't mean we have to fucking talk about it. That's rubbing salt in the fucking wound. 

"Excuse me?" Castiel says, his tone hard. "Take a breath, sweet boy."

I thought you understood that, Dean signs. You're supposed to know me. You're supposed to get that.

"I do know you," Castiel says. "Which is why I'm very confused as to why you think you'd be a bad parent."

Dean stares at him. Are you actually that oblivious, or are you just making me say it to be a dick?

Cas slaps him. It stuns Dean, cutting off his spiral. Gently, Cas pushes at the bottom of Dean's throat, and he can feel his breath catch. Settling Dean on his knees, Cas traces his cheek, and Dean leans in to the touch desperately.

"Take a breath," Cas repeats. "Tell me what's going on."

I don't want to be them.

"You aren't," Castiel says. "Sweet boy, you are never going to become John or Mary Winchester."

I would never lay hands on a fucking kid, Dean says.

"I know."

But what if I fucked them up anyway? Dean asks. I don't want to take that chance. I don't want to. I don't. What if I'm not even good with kids? What if-

"Dean," Castiel interrupts, taking his hands to stop his spiral. "You raised Sam. You're excellent with children."

Dean scoffs in disbelief, so Castiel holds him firm.

"You raised your brother," Cas says pointedly. "You specialized in pediatric health because children are so drawn to you. You know exactly how to handle them, how to comfort them, and how to make them feel safe. You have so much love in your heart, baby. If you wanted kids, you would be an excellent parent."

Dean glares at the floor, stubborn. 

The oven timer goes off, so Cas stands up, preparing the last pieces of their meal. He watches Dean carefully. Dean is clenching his fists, rubbing his face. 

"Do you?" Castiel asks. "Do you want children?"

Dean doesn't answer. Cas gives him more time, plating their pasta and taking the garlic bread out of the oven. Carefully, Cas sets it down, a gentle finger under Dean's chin. 

Dean huffs. He's frustrated, but his inhibitions are lowered. I don't know. 

It's honest, though, and that's good enough for Castiel. 

"You don't have to know," Cas says quietly, because he doesn't either. "Time to eat, sweet boy."

Chapter Text

The hospital is pretty slow, that day. Some intern fucks up a blood draw, and then mislabels X-rays, so things are still a little chaotic. But there aren't many traumas, very few hypochondriacs, so perhaps Dean can forgive himself for the nap he accidentally took in the lounge. Luckily, upon checking his watch, it had only really been ten minutes, but Dean still hurries back to the boys' room. 

There's been no luck for Lucas's liver, and it's driving Dean insane. They've barely had any organ donors the last few weeks, despite their level 1 trauma status. Lucas has time, but time will eventually run out, and Dean knows he's in pain. He tries to hide it. Tries to be brave, for Jack. 

When Dean finally stumbles onto the pediatric floor, he has to make sure he's actually awake. Either a strange apparition with a stupidly familiar trench coat is standing outside the boys' room, or Cas is here.

"Hi, baby," Cas says gently. "I needed some more interviews for Amara's trial, so I was just speaking with Lucas."

Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Dean asks, gutted.

Kissing him gently, Cas smiles apologetically. I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was going to until half an hour ago. 

But we could have driven in together.

I’m sorry, Cas signs again. I would have loved that.

Dean huffs, but some part of him recognizes how irrational he’s being. It doesn’t mean Cas loves him any less, or that he purposefully wanted to drive without him.

Cas is watching him carefully.

Stop staring, Dean signs, flushing.

I think we’ll be doing an extended scene this weekend, Cas signs, holding a hand up to stop Dean’s protests. Relax. You may work on Saturday morning, and then come home for the evening and the entirety of Sunday. You’ll be back on Monday.

It’s an order, and Dean knows better than to fight him. If he’s being honest, subspace sounds fucking amazing right now, even if he’s irked that Lucas and Jack will be here without him for a while. He’s managed to avoid leaving them for more than 12 hours or so, passing all of the other cases over to other practitioners. It’s difficult, but he wants to provide them some stability, and the stress is getting to him. He doesn’t want to be selfish. Wants to get his shit together, hold himself together for the boys.

“Daddy,” Dean whispers, rubbing his arms where he’s wrapped them around himself.

Cas picks him up, and Dean squeaks out the most disgusting yelp before Cas has seated him on the counter of the nurse’s station, standing between Dean’s legs. Dean flushes, hands on Cas’s chest, gently running up and down his shirt.

“I love you,” Castiel says softly. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. You’re taking care of them so well. This weekend, I need to take care of you.”

Dean nods quickly, burying himself in Cas’s shoulder when he hugs him. Cas holds him, and Dean doesn’t care that they’re in public, he needs this. He wouldn’t reject Cas’s love in front of anyone.

“I've finished with Lucas," Cas says gently. "I'm going to speak to Jack next. Perhaps you'd want to keep him company?"

Dean nods, ready to jump off the counter, but Cas's hands are firm on his hips, leaning in to kiss him. Dean wraps his arms around Cas's neck, sighing into the gentle claim. 

I'm okay, Dean promises. Saturday.

Cas nods, letting Dean down to follow him into the boys' room. Jack is watching TV, as per usual, while Lucas is doing something on the iPad. They both look up as Dean and Cas walk in, and Jack beams. 

"Mister Novak, do you know Dr. Dean?" Jack asks, excitedly. "He fixed my arm!"

Chuckling Cas smiles at Dean. "I do, very well. Dr. Dean and I are bonded."

Lucas's jaw drops. Might have hit the floor without the hinge. Smiling tentatively, Dean watches them, unsure what might be causing the anxiety tightening his chest. Lucas gazes at them in wonder, and Dean fingers his ID clip, fidgeting nervously. 

"You're bonded?"

Dean blinks, momentarily startled out of his anxiety. There's rage in Jack's voice- he's spitting the word out, as if they left the worse taste in the world on his tongue. 

Cas takes his hand, a gentle thumb on the back of his wrist. "Yes, Jack. We've been bonded for several years now."

"You shouldn't have done that," Jack says, and Lucas is sitting up, wariness etched across his exhausted face. "Mister Novak, Dr. Dean is nice, you can't make him go away. You can't."

Jack is bordering on hysterical, and Lucas pulls him closer, firm hands on him to keep him from hurting himself or anyone else. Cas squeezes Dean's hand, making eye contact with him for a second before letting go, pulling the chair up to the side of the bed for Dean. He sits heavily, and Lucas is panicking, too, unsure what's setting Jack off.

"Jack," Cas says, in that perfect, low voice. It takes Jack right out of the panic, and he pauses, wary eyes. "Dr. Dean isn't going anywhere, I promise. Even when he needs to leave for a while, he always comes back, doesn't he?"

Jack's eyes dart back and forth between the two of them, clutching on to Lucas, who's watching him worriedly. 

"He's nice," Jack protests feebly. 

"He is," Cas agrees, and he looks at Dean with such fondness he wants to melt. "He's the best person I know. That's why we bonded, because I love him. I'm in love with him."

"Mr. Cas would never hurt me," Dean adds. "We love each other, buddy. That's what bonding means."

"Mama sayed she was so mad cause she bonded," Jack says. "And that bonded is a stupid mistake and her stupid sub stole her money, an' that's why she had to take us."

Looking at Cas sideways, Dean raises a brow at Cas, completely willing to let him take this one for the team. He's always been better with children. He knows how to talk to them, how to explain difficult things. Dean doesn't know any of that. He barely knows how to explain difficult things to people his own age, let alone children.

"Jack, your Mama said many things that were not true," Cas says carefully. "When she told you that nobody would want you, for example. That was untrue. You are a smart, kind person, and any good Mama or Papa would want you around."

"And we're worth more than money," Jack interrupts, repeating something Dean has said to them practically hundreds of times since they'd met. 

"That's right, Jack," Dean says firmly. "So much more."

"Bonding is a beautiful thing," Castiel says, his gentle eyes lingering on Dean's. "And I love Dr. Dean, very much. If you bond with the right person, then you share love and acceptance and trust."

"So you love Dr. Dean."

"I do, very much," Castiel says, smiling. 

Jack's little scrunched up, thinking face creases his eyes, and Dean could almost swear he saw Cas in him. 

"Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about some of those things that your Mama said and did to you," Cas says. "How about we go to the cafeteria, and get some ice cream?"

It catches Lucas's attention, and he sits up halfway, worry creasing his brow. 

"It's okay," Dean says quickly. "Um, Dr. Novak, how long do you think you'll be?"

"Twenty minutes, max."

"If they haven't returned in 20 minutes, we can call him," Dean says, holding up his phone. "Dr. Novak is a good guy. The best, ever, and I know that he'll take good care of Jack."

"Please, Lucas," Jack begs, his eyes lighting up, previous distrust forgotten at the promise of sugar. "I want ice cream!"

Lucas sighs, but waves his hands, and it takes Dean a second to recognize the clumsily formed signs. Take care of him.

Jack barely notices, too excited to note the tension lifting. Cas helps Jack put on a hospital robe, and then they're off to the cafeteria. Lucas shifts in his bed, shutting the TV off, probably so that he won't have to listen to Caillou's voice anymore.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asks. 

Lucas huffs, leveling a look toward Dean. It's not angry, the way it was before. If Dean had to guess, it was more reproachful. How the fuck do you think I'm feeling?

"That's fair," Dean says, smiling.

"I- Uh. I understood your sign language."

Lucas looks away quickly, halfway through an uncomfortable shrug. 

"I could help you learn," Dean offers, signing exact English over his words. "If I sign while I speak, it may help you to pick some words up a little faster. What do you think?"

What if- Lucas signs, cutting himself off. Dean watches him think closely before he starts signing, fingerspelling words he hasn't yet learned. What if you don't find a liver? What happens to Jack?

"We're going to find you a liver."

What if you don't?

Dean knows better than to talk down to Lucas. He's lived through much more than any kid, and even kids don't deserve condescension.

"I'm not sure," Dean says truthfully. Part of him wants to lie, protect Lucas from the ugly truth, even though nothing irked him more as a child. "Ms. Masters was talking about foster home placements."

Can they keep us? Lucas asks. Same home?

"The two of you in the same home?" Dean clarifies. When Lucas nods, Dean sighs. "I'm honestly not sure, Lucas. Ms. Masters promised me that she'd do her best, but if not, Jack will likely go to a foster home and you to a group home."

I can't leave him, Lucas signs, determinedly. I can't. I can't die, and I can't leave him.

"I'm going to do everything I can to make sure neither of you are alone, ever again," Dean says, and it's the most truthful he's ever been to Lucas. "I promise, alright? I'm on your side."

Chapter Text

"Good morning," Castiel says, addressing the jury. "I appreciate all of you being here today, your time, and your attention. My name is Dr. Castiel Novak, and I'm the District Attorney for Cook County."

Throughout the opening statement, Cas is completely confident. He lays the case out in the simplest possible terms, still managing a complete and thorough explanation. He explains who Amara is, and then speaks about Jack and Lucas. For their safety, their names are redacted and altered, but Dean can still tell which boy he's talking about. The third boy, Amara's biological child, has been given to his other biological parent. It turns out that her submissive had fought Amara for custody, but she had somehow won.

He's safe, and now it's time to save Lucas and Jack.

Amara is in street clothes, out on bail. The stupid cash bail, one that Dean knew Castiel had fought. She's wearing a stupid suit and her hair is curled, makeup done, and she looks far too sweet for how sick Dean knows she is.

It's Friday, but Dean's shift won't start for another few hours, so he decided to attend part of the trial. Cas had already explained to him a majority of the defense and Dean is more than confident he'll close it, but he’ll be able to explain things to the kids better if he actually attends.

Not to mention, he gets to see Cas in his element.

Dean loves all of Cas; the slightly confused, awkward nerdy guy, the sweet apiarist, the casually controlling Dominant. However, Lawyer Cas? District Attorney Dr. Castiel James Novak? That Cas could murder him, and Dean would find a way to revive himself just to say thank you.

"The evidentiary portion of this trial is going to be brutal," Castiel says, always straightforward. "I will not lie to you. There are going to be pictures and testimony that are unquestionably excruciating. It is disturbing, and it might follow you home. It should. This might disturb you, but remember that two boys lived through it. The hunger, the neglect, the beatings. The cigarette burns, all of the pain. And if it's this difficult for you to hear about it, I promise you that is nothing compared to living through it."

Something catches in Cas's voice. It's practically imperceptible, even to Dean, but Cas isn't the only person who took the time to learn their partner. 

"These boys deserve something good," Castiel says. "Amara should never get the chance to touch them or any other child, ever again."

As Castiel closes his statement, he catches Dean's gaze, and Dean does his best to reassure him with a comforting smile. Cas returns it, a hand gently touching his chest, right over his heart. 

It's not a word, not sign language, but Dean understands it perfectly, nonetheless. 

The availability of shitty lawyers to defend scumbags are apparently limited, because one of Dean's absolute least favorite people - Abaddon (seriously?) - is defending Amara. She was John's lawyer, and apparently a fan of protecting people who abuse their children.

Lawyers are assholes. Cas (sometimes) included. 

Although Dean is loathe to admit it, the defense's opening statement isn't complete bullshit. They're arguing some sort of insanity. Misjudgement, poorly managed mental health after being left by her submissive, supported by the antidepressants Amara is apparently on, now. Dean's pretty sure Cas can disprove that in five seconds, but people are always so painfully uneducated about mental illness. 

Dean trusts Cas. He does, completely, but there's also only so much Castiel can do. The system is fucked. OJ Simpson got off. Central Park Five, Anthony Ray Hinton. Cas is the smartest, most integral person that Dean knows but with a system that fucked, anything can happen.

After opening statements, Metatron is already tired, and he calls a recess. Dean is actually grateful for the Justice's relative incompetence, because his shift starts in an hour and he wants to be able to say goodbye. 

It's stupid. He isn't leaving for fucking war, and they'll see each other at home. It's a few hours. Just a few hours, and Dean is utterly humiliated. But god, Dean loves his nerdy little guy and just because he can function apart from him doesn't mean he wants to. 

He waits in Cas's office, catching up on a chart when Cas comes in a few minutes later. Tossing his briefcase on the desk, Dean meets Cas halfway, tucking himself into Cas's chest. 

Cas huffs quietly. "You okay?"

Dean barely manages an mm-hmm into his chest, soaking up all of the love and affection before sliding out of his arms and into one of the chairs across from Cas. 

Abaddon needs to get a life, he signs dully. 

Castiel smiles. "She does."

She might be smart, but she still sucks.

"She does."

You were right, Dean signs. About the boys. They deserve good things, a safe home. 

Cas doesn't answer him, but his thoughtful gaze is still fixed on Dean, unwavering and kind. 

Do you want children? Dean asks. They've had the conversation, full of hypotheticals and so far in the future that it didn't feel real. Dean knows Cas has been waiting for his answer, but it can't just be about Dean. It can't be just him. 

He takes a second to think about it, fingers tapping lightly on the desk.

"I was never quite sure," he admits. "I admit that I sometimes have that primitive desire to give you children and keep you chained in my basement." 

The lilt of sarcasm helps, and Dean huffs, smiling. Dean has the fantasy sometimes, too, but neither of them actually want that. They're independent adults in this stupid capitalist world, so even if they wanted to, it wouldn't be possible.

And now?  Dean asks. What about now?

"What do you want?"

I'm asking you. 

"You are my priority," Cas says, holding up a hand when Dean starts to protest. "You are always my priority, and I have absolutely no doubt that I would be completely content and happy with you for the rest of my life. I want to do what makes you happy, more than anything."

It's warm, and honest, and so very Cas. He knows that parenting is selflessness, and that kids are supposed to come first, no matter what. 

So maybe it's unhealthy, then. And maybe they shouldn't be parents? Is that wrong? Dean doesn't know.

"I love you," Dean says shakily.

"I love you most, sweet boy," Cas says. "And if you want to have children, then I have no doubt we will be excellent parents."

But I don't want to do something you don't want to do, Dean says. Kids deserve parents who want them.

"I don't know that I necessarily want children," Castiel says slowly. 

It's out there. No taking it back, now, and Dean can't express how empty it makes him feel, but Cas is still talking. 

"I just- I want these children," Cas says, unsteadily, finally looking back at Dean. "If that makes sense."

It's a strange sensation. An A-ha! moment, where everything finally falls into place. Cas has put into words what Dean has been trying to enumerate for weeks, ever since he met these kids. He can finally put a name to the feeling. He can explain it, and Cas is fucking perfect.

It makes sense. It makes so much sense, and it's almost painfully comforting. 

"Me too," Dean says, belatedly. "I want- Jack and Lucas."

They're our kids. 

Cas is reaching for him, has him in his lap. Dean flushes, but sits obediently, relaxing into Castiel's touch.

"Talk to me," Cas says softly, gently rubbing Dean's lower back. "You want this?"

A stupid tear leaks out.

I'm scared.

"Of what?"

What if I'm not a good parent?

Cas slaps him, and Dean blinks, stunned. 

"We have seen lots of good parents," Cas says firmly. "And plenty of bad parents. What makes a good parent?"

I have no idea, Dean says dully.

"Yes, you do," Cas says insistently. "Tell me."

Dean thinks about John, and Mary. He thinks about everything they did, and everything that he wished they'd done. He thinks about Sammy, and how hard he tried, and everything he wished he could do. 

"Have their back," Dean says, shakily. It's uncertain, and Dean is pretty positive that it tails off into a question. "Be there. Support them, always, in who they are. Love them, make sure they love themselves."

"That's really good, baby," Cas says, reassuringly. "Parents mess up. We'll likely mess up, but we can do that, yes? You've been doing that. For every single kid that walks into your hospital."

Dean might lose it. He might come apart, torn to shreds by the way Cas believes in him. 

I believe in you enough for the both of us, Cas had said, once. And one day, you'll believe in you, too.

You do that, Dean signs. For all of the kids you protect in court. You do that, too.

"We can do this," Cas repeats, holding Dean's face, callused fingers along his jaw. "Do you want to do this?"

Before he can talk himself out of it, Dean nods rapidly. 

Yes. 

"Let's do it," Cas says, smiling. "I'll talk to Meg."

Chapter Text

Things are pretty good. 

Dean is listening to a Zeppelin mixtape. Technically, he made it for Cas, but they listened to it together so often it became something for both of them. He's listening to great music on his way to a great job, to take care of two great kids. Their kids.

Cas had gotten in touch with Meg last week to start the process. Surprisingly, Meg was extremely supportive.

I was actually thinking about the two of you, Meg admitted. When I was looking for placements.

Really? Dean asked, stunned.

You get what they've been through, Meg says, shrugging. You can provide them a stable, safe place, and you aren't just their doctor. You're taking care of them, Dean. Both of you. 

Cas just smiled, and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

She had suggested keeping it between the three of them until things are more solidified, and Dean couldn't agree more. He couldn't bear the idea of providing them with hope, and then ripping it away. 

After he drops everything off in the nurse's lounge, Dean stops by the ER to see if he's needed. It's a slow day. No mass casualties, no big traumas, and while that usually disappoints him, Dean's happy to go up to the peds floor and see Lucas and Jack. 

Jack has recovered phenomenally well. He's been working with a speech pathologist and an occupational therapist, and Dean is so proud of his progress. The kid is ingenious. He picks things up so well, and Dean thinks he might even be beyond children at his own age. The kid had gone through so much, and he still smiled through it. Dean couldn't be more proud. 

Jack couldn't be doing better. 

Well. He worries about Lucas. 

His symptoms are worsening. He's coughing up blood almost every day, and incapable of eating anything even slightly acidic. Jack had snuck him a strawberry the other day and Lucas's throat couldn't handle solids for two days. 

Dean was thinking about giving him an NG tube, but that's uncomfortable and psychologically devastating for a bunch of people. But Lucas needs the nutrients. He needs to eat, or else he'll be dead. 

Sighing, Dean steps out of the elevator, heading toward the nurse's station. Once he can check Lucas's chart, he'll be able to make a decision. Probably. Hopefully. He had been agonizing over this for the last week, and last night was the first night he'd been able to go home. Castiel wasn't happy that Dean hadn't been able to make time for a more extended scene, but he had been at the hospital the last time Lucas threw up blood.

Cas worried. About Dean, about the boys. 

God, Lucas needs a fucking liver. He needs one yesterday, and then Dean and Cas could stop worrying and the boys will heal. 

They can go home. 

There's a group of people crowding the nurse's station, which isn't that unusual. Still, though, Dean hurries. When Pam makes eye contact with Dean, she goes white, and it turns Dean's stomach. She whispers something to Gabe, who proceeds to also make eye contact with Dean and suddenly lose all his color, too.

Gabe practically falls over himself trying to reach Dean, and his grubby little hand is firm on his arm.

What happened? Dean asked. What's going on? Are the boys okay? Is he-

"I'll explain everything in a second," Gabe says, yanking at Dean. "Come on."

Ripping his arm out of Gabe's grip, Dean huffs. What the fuck, Gabe?

"Dean, please," Gabe says, practically begging. Dean has never seen him so serious. "Look, they aren't dead, they're not seriously injured. Please. You need to come with me, okay? Please."

Dumbfounded, Dean lets Gabe drag him into an on-call room. He shoves Dean to sit down on the bed, running a hand through his messy hair. Gabe's stress is tangible, and he isn't even trying to hide it, the way he usually does. 

"Gabe, what's wrong?" Dean asks.

Sighing, Gabe rubs his face, dropping them in a huff. "I need you to listen to the whole story before you react, okay?"

Okay. 

"Lisa Braeden didn't marry her husband until Lucas was three."

Dean waits suspiciously. Okay.

"At that point, she had already had Lucas, but it wasn't with Arthur."

What?

"Meg has been trying to find Arthur to hopefully get a donation from him, but when she found him, he proved that he didn't have any responsibilities because he isn't Lucas's biological father, just Ben's. Lisa had him with someone else, a guy named Nick."

A wave of despair crashes over him seconds before a flood of numbness. Dean can barely breathe. There's too much. Guilt, because Dean didn't do enough, something else burning in his chest. He wants the kids. Jack and Lucas, they're their kids. Cas and Dean's kids.

But are they parents? 

Are they the best possible parents for these kids? 

"They should be with family," Dean says, monosyllabic. "M'just his doctor. It's fine."

"Dean-"

"I'm serious, it's fine," Dean says, forcing a smile. He's gonna have to tell Cas, and... fuck. Cas is going to be so disappointed. "Besides, I need to get back up there. Lucas is dying and I need-"

"Dean!" Gabe snaps. "Nick is donating his liver. Lucas is probably already in the OR."

"You should go," Dean interrupts again. "They need good scrub nurses-"

"Dean, Nick wants to take Lucas, but he's refusing to take Jack, too."

The icy fear is enough to break through the rapidly thickening walls of numbness, and it shocks him. Dean's heart leaps, and the ice keeps getting colder until it burns. It burns, and Dean's rage overtakes him.

"No."

"I know," Gabriel says. "We haven't told Lucas or Jack anything, but we can't force him to adopt or anything."

"No," Dean says, and there's something wet on his face. Rubbing his eyes furiously, Dean curses the stupid tears, because he can't afford to be sad right now. He can't allow this to happen. He doesn't have time for his own selfish, stupid feelings, because Jack and Lucas are going to be separated and that can't happen. 

Lucas went through hell. He went through hell, and the only reason he managed to make it is because of Jack. 

They can't be separated. It can't happen. 

It just- it just can't. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“We don’t have time for this,” Dean says weakly, as Cas practically ushers him inside. “Cas, we need to go back.”

Chapter Text

The warehouse was always a little bit too cold. 

They couldn't be bothered with actual beds - the kinds that clients were allowed, the places where they shot all their advertisements, posting stupid video clips to drive up their price. Dick Roman usually posted four or five different scenes in order to really build up the price before auction day. 

If they aren't being fucked or filmed, though, they're left in the cold. Drafty cells, bars standing tall on all sides. There's a camera. A tattered, thin blanket. A grate, because they couldn't even be bothered to afford subs the humanity of allowing them the bathroom. They're thoroughly cleaned before each scene anyway. Doesn't affect them.

The door swings open, letting in light and noise from the outside. There's mocking laughter, and desperate sobbing, and Dean cringes. Curling up as tight as he can, he closes his eyes tighter, covering his face and ears with the blanket on the opposite corner from his grate. 

Dean can hear him. He's crying, desperately, and Dean would guess he's coming back from a pretty rough scene, so he was not expecting them to stop in front of his cell. But Dean is so tired. He's sore, and exhausted, and he can't even bring himself to move as the big Dom shoves the sub in, with such unnecessary force. The sub is small. Young, scrawny, and he hasn't grown into his lanky figure. He lands hard on his knees, rolling over onto his side, sobs echoing as the footsteps fade away. 

Dean sits up, moving slowly so as not to scare him. He remembers this kid. Kevin- and the first day Kevin was here, he begged for hours. He cried and pleaded. He was Kevin Tran. He was an AP student, he had a real future. He wasn't supposed to be here. 

"Kevin," Dean whispers, but it's been weeks since he's spoken and it doesn't come out right. "Kevin."

The kid cries, and Dean takes in his battered body. Even if he heard Dean, he doubts that he could harness enough cognizance to respond. He's in subdrop, completely dysregulated.

Laying down next to him so that they're face to face, Dean takes the disgusting blanket and wipes Kevin's cheeks and nose. Kevin's sobs quiet - if only marginally - at the soft gesture, and he clings to Dean's wrist. Startled, Dean flinches away, but the poor kid's holding on so damn tight.

"S'okay," Dean whispers. 

"I want to go home," Kevin sobs. "I- I want my mom."

It's a pathetic plea, and Dean can barely watch him. He doesn't know what to do. He lets Kevin cling on to him, trying to wrap the blanket around him better.

"Don't beg," Dean murmurs. 

Kevin sniffles somewhere in the dark. "What- What do you mean?"

Dean doesn't actually have the words. He doesn't know how to explain to Kevin that the kind of people who buy trafficked submissives are looking for something nonconsensual. They get off on Kevin's desperate pleas, knowing that the body under them was so vehemently opposed, and then forcing them to take part anyway. It's ultimate power, ultimate control, and that's better than heroin for these motherfuckers.

Beg me to stop, he had crooned, right into Dean's ear. Beg, you stupid slut. 

Please, Sir-

No, he laughed. God, you're such a liar. Look at how wet you are.

The door screeches open again, and Dean cringes, scooting closer to Kevin. The stupid camera, and someone must have caught them.

"Don't beg," Dean repeats, shoving the blanket into his arms. "Makes it worse."

Before Kevin can answer, they've opened the cell doors.

"Putting two in one cell, Gordon? What, are you stupid?" He bawls, dragging Kevin out to dump him in another cell, slamming Dean's door, and Dean is crying. He's fucking crying, for the first time in days. He's so stupid, so stupid- can't stop thinking about Kevin, the way he clung on so desperately, the way he clutched Dean's hand as he got dragged away. 

He was just a kid. Just a fucking kid. 

And then they made it to the hospital, and everyone was supposed to be okay. They were saved. They were safe. Nobody else was supposed to get hurt. They were supposed to get help, and Kevin- Kevin was supposed to have survived.

They made it out.

Wake up, baby, it's okay.

Somewhere in the distance, someone is grabbing him, and Dean panics. He can't breathe, too caught up in this literal hell.

"Come on, baby, come back to me."

A flood of light assaults Dean. He's completely unprepared, far too adjusted to the darkness of the warehouse.

The light is bright. It's warm, and Dean isn't cold anymore. He's- he's under soft blankets, and under his hands. Under Cas's hands. Cas, who knows how to hold him, with just the right amount of pressure. 

Cas, who got him out of there. 

"Daddy," Dean says softly, on an exhale, the relief swallowing him whole. "Daddy, Daddy-"

"I'm right here, sweet boy," Cas says softly, allowing Dean to crawl into his arms. "It was just a dream. You're not there, okay? Come back to me."

He was just a fucking kid. 

~~~

It had been a long time since Dean had had any night terrors, let alone one this bad. Cas doted on him all morning, feeding him and bathing him, but Dean started getting antsy the later it got. 

Cas resisted, but he eventually brought Dean up, because he did promise that they'd go back to the hospital today. Dean can't handle the thought of any more kids - their kids - suffering the way Kevin did. He needs to go back, and Cas won't admit it, but he gets it. 

Are you coming with me to the hospital today? Dean asks.

"I am," Cas says. "Alfie and I have a meeting with Nick today."

Stopping in his tracks, Dean looks at Cas, because he has no idea what that meeting might entail or if he needs to be worried.

"We're going to try and settle with him before it goes to trial," Cas says. "I'm not there in any official capacity, just as the plaintiff."

Dean tries not to feel irked. 

Shouldn't I be there for that? he asks.

"You're more than welcome to come with me, but I figured you'd want to stay with the kids."

Oh.

Cas always has a reason. He wouldn't minimize Dean, would never deign to say that Dean couldn't handle anything, and he's earned some trust here. Dean nods. No, you're right. But you'll tell me how it goes?

"I'll find you right after," Cas promises. 

It's nice to have Cas there on the drive in to work. His presence is nothing if not calming. They ride mostly in silence, but it's not uncomfortable. Not awkward. Cas has his left hand on Dean's thigh, and every now and then, he'll move up to feel the chastity belt under his scrubs, and Dean rolls his eyes. 

"Perv," Dean mutters under his breath, and Cas just chuckles. 

Miraculously, things haven't gone to shit since Dean was gone. Nick is fine. Lucas is recovering well from his transplant, already showing major improvements. Pam actually sent them a picture of Jack and Lucas eating strawberries, and Dean's entire being melted at their happy smiles. He'd give anything to see his boys - those boys - feel this more often. 

Why did his room change? Dean asked, looking back over the chart. Gabe has gone home, but Pam knows sign, and she sighs apologetically. 

"Nick requested that they be put in a room together in order for them to bond," Pam explains. "Um, but Lucas is with Jack right now in his room, while they're having their deposition meeting or whatever."

It's not Pam's fault, but Dean can't help being irritated, because there's no way that's what Lucas wanted. Lucas would have wanted to stay with his brother, and Dean wonders if anyone even bothered to ask.

Of course not. Why would they? Kids are just vessels for parental desires, after all. Nothing more. 

"I'm gonna go see them," Dean says, shooting Pam a tight smile before he goes back to the boys' room, knocking twice before going in.

Jack's face lights up, as usual, and he grins from ear to fucking ear. "Dr. Dean!!" he practically squeals. "They fixed Luke's tummy!"

"I heard!" Dean says, remembering to sign along with his words, keeping his promise to Lucas- Lucas, who's smiling too, and this must be Heaven. "How are you guys feeling?"

"Good," Jack answers, before his face scrunches up. He turns to Lucas, clumsily repeating the word before attempting the sign language, and Lucas nods emphatically. He demonstrates once more, and Jack copies him. Good! We feel good.

I'm glad! Dean signs, smiling.

"I missed you," Jack says, and it takes Dean a second to realize that he's talking to him. "And they won't let Luke stay with me, so he couldn't check for monsters."

Guilt singes Lucas's expression for a second, but he waves at Jack. Remember what we say?

Jack smiles, the sadness gone as quick as it came. "Even monsters aren't as bad as broccoli!"

Lucas ruffles his hair, tossing Jack another mini snickers bar out of fucking nowhere. Pride boils in his chest, and Dean watches them, the knot in his stomach just getting worse. 

He can't imagine letting go of this. Can't imagine tearing these two apart, and he wants to ask them right fucking now, but Cas needs to be here for that. He needs to be here.

"Alright, dudes, I've gotta run," Dean says apologetically. "But just for a minute, and then Dr. Novak and I have something to ask you guys."

It's ominous enough to set both of them on edge, but Dean is quick to assuage them. "It's nothing bad, I promise. And after, we'll see if I can find you some ice cream."

Jack's excitement is enough to assuage most of Lucas's fear, and Dean catches his eye. 

You can trust me, Dean signs minutely. We're going to take care of you.

Lucas stares at him, but it's not as overwhelmed with disbelief as Dean might have expected it to be, and he's even less ready for the single, sharp nod. 

You can trust me. 

"I'll be right back," Dean promises, not allowing the tears to fall until the door closes behind him

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“I have some homework for you to do.”

Dean looks back at Cas, confused. Thanks, but I actually failed out of kindergarten 100 years ago. 

“You graduated with a doctoral degree,” Castiel corrects. “But I need to do some trial prep.”

Dean’s expression shifts to some sort of wariness. Isn’t it the same as any other trial?

“Yes, but you’ve never testified in a custody case,” Castiel says. “We aren’t worried about you or your knowledge, Dean. It’s just about ensuring you’ve fully thought through your responses and preparing you for any traps that might be difficult to see. They’re preparing me, as well.”

Cas has had a feeling. A gut feeling. Instinct, something or other. Castiel has always been so grateful for Dean’s faith and trust, but he often worries that it leaves Dean feeling secondary. It doesn’t help that they live in a sexist world, because submissives were historically seen simply as extensions of their Dominants. Even more so, Castiel was a lawyer. He graduated from law school at the ripe age of 23, and he’s been practicing consistently since then. He has more experience in the courtroom than some people his age have in the working world. Dean has absorbed some by osmosis, but he knows.

Dean never really had a problem with comparing the two of them. They were different, which is why they worked. They can each do things that the other can’t, which is a division of responsibility that is necessary in any partnership. That’s what they are- partners, regardless.

“Lay it on me,” Dean mutters.

Castiel’s stomach tightens, but he’s careful not to tense up where his hand is covering Dean’s. The prep is going to be brutal, and Castiel is operating under the assumption that they’re both going to need some comfort post-preparation, ante-courtroom, and he didn’t want to risk this causing any sort of strife between them.

“You’re actually going to be doing most of your prep with Samandriel,” he says apologetically. “I don’t foresee this being easy for either of us, and I think that- I think it’s best we get to leave some of the tension in Alfie’s office. Keep something safe for us.”

Dean doesn’t answer, practically despondent.

Fine , he says eventually. Can you…? 

Castiel picks him up outright, and Dean doesn’t even fight him as he takes them over to the couch. He’s got Alfie’s list of questions, and he lets Dean read over it while he reconsiders his own answers. 

They have mirrors strategically placed to allow them to sign without needing to face each other, which is something of a godsend.

What am I supposed to say to these? Dean asks. These are stupid questions. 

“Just be honest,” Castiel murmurs. “We’re doing all of this for the right reasons. If you say something the lawyer might be able to twist, Alfie will warn you.”

Castiel undersold how difficult prep was going to be. Alfie had never spoken to either of them in that manner. Castiel had seen it in the courtroom, but that vitriol was different when it was directed toward him. 

Dean asked Castiel to be in the room when he was getting prepped, but he was under very strict orders not to intervene, regardless of how stressed Dean might get. Cas wasn’t exactly thrilled with the stipulations, but Dean knew he understood. 

In the courtroom, Dean won’t have Castiel to lean on. At home, sure, and whenever they’re together, but the most that Cas can do there is this. A quiet, steady presence at the very corners of Dean’s vision.

In a way, it was preparation for Castiel, too. Every single instinct he’s got is going to be screaming at him to protect Dean. Neither of them do very well when the other is under attack.

Still. Even with all of that preparation, Castiel wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay in his seat. 

Custody trials are already difficult. Cas has been in this courtroom hundreds of times, if not thousands, but it feels smaller today. Hotter. The air is just a little too hard to breathe. Dean is uncomfortable next to him, fidgeting, fingers anxiously tapping where they’re intertwined with Castiel’s own. 

“This trial is called to order to determine the custody arrangement for Lucas Braeden,” the judge intones. 

Castiel hasn’t worked much with Missouri Mosely, but he’s heard amazing things. She was a prosecutor in Wayne County before being appointed judge here in Chicago. 

“The birth father - biological father - has just recently been made aware of Lucas’s existence, but is applying for full custody. However, Dr. Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester have also begun the adoption process. While there is a legal precedent that says the biological parent is owed custody, Dr. Novak and Mr. Winchester believe Lucas’s well-being would be better suited in their home.”

Justice Mosely doesn’t appear to have any preconceptions. The fact that she’s hearing this case at all has Dean thinking that maybe there’s some level of discretion. 

“Now, Mr. Nicholas Walker,” Justice Moseley says. “Let’s get you sworn in.”

Nick walks like a snake. The closest approximation of a slither from a vertebrate, and it sets every nerve in Castiel’s body on edge. He doesn’t look at either of them, which is good, because he might feel the urge to rip his eyes out. 

Nick’s lawyer is some hotshot out of New York, where Nick lives now. Castiel’s never had the displeasure of working with him, but he is briefly reminded of Robert Kardashian. 

He takes his place, leaning back as though this is just another case. No big deal. Castiel wonders how much he’s getting paid. 

“Now, Mr. Walker,” he says. “You say you were just recently made aware of Lucas’s existence?”

“That’s correct, Your Honor,” he says. “Lisa and I knew each other very briefly. I had no idea she’d had my child.”

“And now that you know, what is your plan?” the lawyer asks. 

Castiel might be judging unfairly, but the way that he takes a deep breath, sighs, lets his voice crack just enough for the microphone to catch it. That all feels rehearsed. Disingenuous compared to the way that he’s spoken to Castiel, but Cas isn’t the one on the stand. 

Dean is chewing on his lip, and Cas tsks quietly, squeezing his hand once in warning. Dean drops it, but refuses to look at him, still focused on Nick’s testimony.  

“He’s my son,” Nick says. “And- and after losing my first son, so tragically, I need to provide the sort of life for Lucas that I wasn’t able to give. I’m planning on enrolling him in the best schools, getting him whatever help he needs in order to adjust to life with me.” 

Castiel has to choke back a laugh when he sees how hard Dean rolls his eyes. It violates the hearsay rules of evidence for Dean to testify to any of their private conversation, but Castiel knows the kinds of things Nick has planned. Boarding schools. Speech therapy, which would be helpful but is definitely not the most imperative type of therapy that he needs. 

“This is Lucas’s father,” the lawyer intones. “Under the 14th amendment, biological parents have the fundamental right to the custody of their children. The fact that this case is even being heard is preposterous.” 

When Nick steps down from the stand, he smirks at Castiel, and Dean tenses up next to him. Castiel locks eye contact, doesn’t look away until he’s sitting down, his back turned. 

Their nerves have been difficult. Things are tense, as custody trials are, but being in the same room as Nick seems to dial all of Dean’s nerves up to 11. 

As anxious as Castiel is to see these children safe, a selfish part of him is also anxious for all of this to be over. Give Dean some breathing room, take a source of stress away.

But the logic brain knows better- if they lose their kids, Dean’s not going to breathe easy for the rest of his damn life. 

His hands sart shaking, and Castiel needs to remind himself how to breathe. 

Alfie’s assistant stands up, hurriedly whispering in his ear, and Castiel sees his entire face light up. 

“Is there a problem, Counselor?” Missouri asks. 

“None at all,” Alfie says, practically beaming. Dean sits up, confused, eyes locked on Alfie as he starts to rustle through his briefcase. He looks up at Dean, smiles, tight lips. 

Trust me, he mouths.

Castiel can feel Dean start to tense up, so Cas starts to rub at the pressure point in his hand again, leaning in to whisper to him. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Castiel says. “We’re going to do what we can.” 

Repeating Dean’s words back to him seems to settle him some, and he pouts, and Cas wraps his arm around Dean’s shoulders. 

“We’d like to call Ms. Masters to the stand,” Alfie says. 

Confused, Dean turns away. Castiel hadn’t even realized Meg was here today. She’s not dressed for court, either, and if he had to guess he’d think she was rushed out of the house. 

Meg wasn’t part of Alfie’s original case. She provided some expert witness testimony, but no personal statement and she definitely wasn’t supposed to testify. 

“Ms. Masters, could you give us your full name and your relationship to Lucas?”

“Sure. My name is Megan Masters and I’m Lucas’s social worker. I took over his case after he showed up in the emergency room showing severe signs of neglect and abuse.”

“And what, if any, is your relationship to the two parties in the case?”

“Dean, Castiel and I have all worked together in a professional capacity,” Meg says. “Social workers often need to communicate with the medical team for neglected and abused children, and Dr. Winchester has been working with pediatric traumas for a long time, and Castiel is Cook County’s District Attorney. He served as the Assistant District Attorney for years before that, and then as a prosecutor before that. So, long story short, we’re both old.” 

Dean chuckles, despite the tension. The jury seems to enjoy the humor, too, which Dean notices- Cas feels a little tension melt from his shoulders. Unexpected, but it’s not detrimental.

“And what about Nick?”

“I have no relationship with him,” she says, tone curt and dismissive. 

“Is that typical?” Alfie asks. “For you to be out of contact with someone adopting one of the children in your care?” 

“Not at all,” Meg says. “Nick and I have had perfunctory meetings to discuss the necessary paperwork, but the majority of his communication has been through his lawyer.”

Watching, Cas sees the jury start to react to that. He tries not to be a vindictive person, but part of him wants to rub Nick’s face in that. 

“Could you tell us about your experience with Nick as a potential parent for Lucas?”

“Usually, adoptive parents are eager to be working with the social workers,” Meg says. “I don’t get along with a bunch of them, but the good ones are aware that they need to cooperate with me if they want their kids back. Nick went through his lawyer because he wanted to make sure everything was over the table, claiming it was because of his public status, but even Angelina Jolie was kind to her social workers.” 

“It sounds like you’re saying that Nick was prioritizing his image over his biological child?”

“Objection,” Abaddon says. “Speculation.”

Missouri raises a brow at Alfie, who nods. “It definitely could seem speculative. Ms. Masters, allow me to rephrase. Is there anything that you’ve found within the scope of your duties as a social worker that would corroborate my suspicions?” 

“There is, indeed,” Meg says, smiling directly at Dean. 

He gasps, just a little bit, sitting forward in his seat. Castiel can’t help his own spark of excitement. 

“I found a non-disclosure agreement,” Meg says. “And I requested for the file to be opened, but the statute of limitations expired with Lisa’s death.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the non-disclosure agreement was made between Lisa and Nick,” Meg says. “Six months after Lucas’s birth.” 

Oh, holy shit. 

“I’d like to enter this agreement into evidence,” Samandriel says. 

“Objection!” Abaddon snaps. “This was not properly discovered.” 

“Ms. Masters came across the agreement during her search for potential adoptive parents,” Samandriel says. “This is a document prepared in the State of Illinois with a judge’s signature on it, Your Honor.” 

Missouri almost looks like she wants to laugh, but she remains as professional as always, admitting it into evidence and directing the bailiff to display the agreement on the jury’s screen. 

“Now, if you could read the highlighted line for me, Ms. Masters.”

Meg clears her throat, scrolling through the tablet until she gets to the right portion. Castiel holds his breath. Dean holds his hand tighter.

“This agreement ascertains that Lisa Braeden will not disclose the paternity of one Lucas Braeden to any parties, including Lucas himself. The privately examined DNA paternity test will be destroyed, and Lisa Braeden will not add a name to the paternity section of the birth certificate.”

Oh, holy fucking shit. 

“And the date?”

“Six months after Lucas’s birth.”

Oh my god. Oh my god. Dean turns to him, his eyes wide. Does that mean what I think it means? 

“This agreement proves that Nick was aware of Lucas’s existence,” Samandriel continues. “And that he only chose to be back in Lucas’s life when he began to fear bad press to damage his brand. Nick has set a precedent showing that he has no desire to be a parental figure, but when he found out Lisa had died and thus, the NDA expired, he knew he needed to save face.”

Abaddon is sputtering, seeming to be searching for anything in her brain to be able to object to this. Nick- Castiel swears he can see actual steam emitting from Nick’s ears, and he can’t even blame him. They’re literally watching his image start to crumble- the reporters are losing their minds. There’s so much typing that Castiel has to strain to hear the rest of Samandriel’s statement. 

“Dean and Castiel have no reason to bring these children into their lives,” Samandriel says. “There is no legal benefit, no monetary benefit. Nothing that would change in their careers. They simply want these children because they love Lucas and Jack.” 

Nudging Dean, Cas smiles at his beaming sub. That’s what we call a “smoking gun.”  

Dean is practically wriggling, so fucking excited, and Castiel knows what he’s feeling- their kids, closer, closer. 

“Before I close today, I’d like to read this letter,” Samandriel says. “I asked Lucas Braeden to provide a written statement telling us what he wants. Obviously, Lucas couldn’t be in the courtroom today, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve a voice.” 

Some punched out noise works its way out of Dean’s throat. Castiel takes his hand again as they properly enter it into evidence, providing the jury with a copy of the written statement, shaky handwriting Castiel is already so familiar with. 

Their son.

Castiel knows. As a lawyer, witnesses are so important to the case, because it’s always better to hear good things about someone from a third party. Dean and Cas had no problem going on the stand, but that’s a different type of effective to the jury than it is hearing it from someone else.  

Closer. 

Clearing his throat, Samandriel turns outward toward the courtroom, taking a deep breath. 

Hello. My name is Lucas, and I'm writing this letter because I don't want to live with Nicholas Walker. 

Nick wants me with him because of my blood. Just like how Lisa needed my blood, Ben needed my liver, and Lisa threw me away once she knew I wouldn’t donate. Arthur didn’t want me because I’m not his blood. Despite what our doctors have told Nick, he refuses to take Jack, too, because Jack isn’t his blood. Dean and Cas were even willing to drop their custody suit as long as we stayed together, because I told them how much Jack needs me, and how badly we need each other. 

Jack and I aren’t blood, but he’s more of a brother to me than Ben ever was. I always knew family didn’t end with blood, but it doesn’t start there, either. 

Dean and Castiel don’t have our blood and they don’t need it. Even when Dean and I first met in the hospital, years before, he supported me in a way that I’d never gotten from Lisa. I think that’s what parenting is supposed to be. You support your kids, guide them in the right direction. Know they’re going to mess up, keep them safe. 

I’m familiar with danger. I know what it feels like, and I know what safety feels like. 

If I get to choose, I choose Dean and Castiel, because I know they’d support me and Jack and love us anyway. I choose Dean and Castiel because they created a safe space for us, and they were warm and welcoming and gentle. Jack deserves to feel as safe as possible, and I think he needs me as much as I need him. 

I hope you'll let me choose. I'm tired of fighting.

Lucas

It's hard to make out the jury's reaction through the tears in his eyes, but Castiel's ready to get down on his knees, beg. 

"Let Lucas go home," Samandriel says. "Let him go home with Dean and Cas."