Road From Perdition 2/2
Dinner consisted of baked chicken; spinach, parmesan, and tomato salad with olive oil; warm crescent rolls with herbs; Jim’s lone glass of wine; and Dean, attempting to light Jim on fire with his eyes alone.
It didn’t take a psychic to realize that Dean, along with Sam, had stopped drinking for good. Cas was the only one who touched the bottle-and then only to pour more into Jim’s glass-and Jim recognized from experience the longing on Dean’s face every time he lifted the glass to his lips. Sam wasn’t the only addict in the family, that was clear.
Jim didn’t know what to make of Cas Morgan. The man was exceptionally, almost comically, polite. He had a strange way of tilting his head when he listened that made Jim think of a bird. He kept putting extra salad on Dean’s plate and giving Sam light pats on the shoulder and back when the younger Winchester looked suddenly nervous. That seemed to happen a great deal: far more than Jim would have anticipated. Sam had always been an open soul, but Jim couldn’t recall him being an anxious one.
No-sad, hurt, scared, but never like this. Sam had always had a wisdom beyond his years, and sage calm to his thoughts and plans. Something had drastically shifted-and it was more than the head injury. Sam’s intelligence level seemed to be the same, and his memory was only spotty around the year of his assault.
This was post-addiction anxiety. Insecurity. Sam was building new support systems, new ways of coping, on top of instincts that had lead him to self-destruction, and he was constantly second-guessing himself.
Jim had lead enough faith-based addiction groups to know all of this, and in a matter of minutes.
It didn’t mean his heart broke any less when the boys told him.
Sam had lost two girlfriends. The boys had lost their father. Dean and Sam had embraced sobriety. The only good thing that seemed to have come of the last few years, besides recovery, was Dean and Cas. Neither man was openly affectionate toward the other, and they danced around any clear definition of their relationship, but it was obvious from the brief conversations they had with their glances alone, and the far-too casual way Dean talked about their house and Cas’s role in their recovery, that their relationship had weathered the worst and come out all the stronger.
Jim had never doubted that Sam and Dean could withstand just about anything: they had plenty of practice. But it warmed his heart to see that someone else understood, and stood by them, in all their co-dependent, entangled, imperfect, loving glory.
To be honest, Jim had never imagined Dean would settle down. He’d always had a restless streak, a need for variety and adventure that he filled with bars and hustling, scams and theft. If it weren’t for Sam, Jim imagined Kansas would have been long gone in the rearview mirror.
But here he was, monogamous and sober, with a caring, accomplished partner and a brother dragged back from the darkest corners of hell, and Jim couldn’t help but fear him. The way he looked at him made him feel small, insignificant...and a failure.
Dean was a force of his own particular brand of righteousness, and had been since Jim had opened the confessional door.
Dean didn’t run, no matter what his instincts told him. Dean stood and faced the threat. And he’d raised Sam to do the same. And found a man willing to stand with the both of them.
Seeing what they’d fought and overcome brought a sharp relief to Jim’s own failures, and he couldn’t hide his misery. Sam and Cas passed casual, cheerful conversation back and forth between themselves while Jim sunk lower and lower and Dean Lorded over the table like the judge and jury of a major national trial.
“Jim,” Sam finally said, smiling gently, eyes soft. “You mentioned that you weren’t with the Church? What have you been up to?”
Dean frowned. Cas tilted his head. Jim downed the rest of his wine.
“Well...after I moved to Arizona, I spent a few years at a Parish there...and then some of the larger child abuse stories began to break,” he said carefully. “I’m sure you’re aware of what the Church has been dealing with.”
“We’ve seen that there was corruption,” Cas said carefully.
“You mean feeding kids to predators?” Dean asked.
“Dean for Christ’s sake. The man got us away from an abuser. Take pills,” Sam sniped. Dean turned his murderous glare to his brother, but Sam just rolled his eyes.
“Pills are your thing, twelve steps.”
“Maybe if you’d had some you wouldn’t have been a booze-hound, Elvis.”
“Don’t you bring the King into this.”
“Cheeseburgers, Dean.”
“He died fulfilled.”
“He died on the toilet!”
“With two double bacons in his stomach and some good strong booze in his gut. That’s a man.” He stabbed a piece of the salad and pointed it at Sam. “This? This will kill you.”
“This is called nutrition.”
“You know the death rate of those following ‘nutrition?’ One-hundred and five percent.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It means everyone whoever tried it died, and they took a couple others with them.”
“Dean!” Sam whined, pouted, and put on his classic ‘bitch face,’ as Dean used to refer to it. Dean smiled for the first real time that night, and Jim realized he had his own grin plastered to his face, a mirror image of Cas’s.
“Relax, Sammy. I ate my share, okay? My system is pristine. Will outlive the pyramids.”
Sam’s face morphed into a smile. “I’m just saying, when you’re old and fat, Cas and I are putting you away.”
“Don’t rope him into this.”
“I think we’ve strayed quite far from the original point,” Cas said, smile still intact. “Jim, you were traveling a great deal, and I understand you were in Rome. And then you returned?”
Sam’s smile wavered back to concern, but Dean’s gaze stayed fondly on his brother, cheeks and jaw slack and relaxed for the first time since his visit. And just like that, Jim felt something in himself give way to confession.
“I went to Rome with a band of Priests to join a caucus on the reform of child safety,” he blurted out. “We were denied hearings with the tribunals, the courts, the larger caucuses, and the Pope himself.” His breath hitched. “We prayed, we visited shrines, we even went to Jerusalem...and the Church just came out to denounce homosexuality and abortion. It was like...it hadn’t happened.”
Dean’s face had tightened once more, eyes on him, but softened, ever so slightly. Cas had his head in that gentle tilt, and Sam’s eyes were watery.
“I had to leave,” Jim said, voice wavering. “I knew some of those men. I was raised with some of those men. When I went to Rome...I studied under some of them. And all that time...I never thought, or knew.” He felt his throat swell. “I thought...after I lost my brother, and my way...that I could follow a path that was guarded and watched for me. And I was wrong. I trusted an organization above my own instincts, because I was afraid I wouldn’t know what was right. And now...I’m gonna have to find my own way.” He felt his own eyes fill. “You boys...you sit here, and you’re afraid of my judgment? Well, I’m gonna be sixty years old. You’ve barely touched thirty, and you’ve remade your lives, and all you did was fall onto substances that helped ease your personal grief. I didn’t protect children, and I was a man of the cloth. I believed in the safety, and the righteousness, of my faith.”
Jim dropped his fork. Seconds later, Sam was there, embracing him, and he clutched the boy to him and held on for all he was worth.
“It’s okay,” Sam murmured. “Jim, it’s okay. You’ve done so much good-that can’t be erased by a bunch of old guys who went off the rails.”
“I don’t know what to do next,” Jim admitted, tears dripping onto Sam’s t-shirt. “But you boys always reminded me of David, and if he’d lived...he’d be where I went. So I came here. And I’m sorry...I’m so damn sorry to bring all this back up for you.”
From behind him, Dean sighed. “Well, PJ, I can tell you where we’re going next, and it’s the porch. Because I may be a loyal, sober soul, but I need a cigarette to continue this convo.”
And Jim couldn’t help it-he laughed.
***
Dean slowly smoked one single cigarette-all Cas, the good doctor, would hand over. Cas and Sam disappeared into the kitchen to wash the dishes and ready coffee and dessert, while Jim sat on the porch with Dean and a second glass of wine.
“I’m sorry,” Dean finally said. “I know I should of made this easier for you.”
“You and I have never been the best of friends, Dean,” Jim sighed.
“And that’s my fault.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “Look...I didn’t know what I was doing back then, okay? I was a kid. All I knew was I didn’t want to lose Sammy. And I guess...somehow I decided you were out to get us.”
“Sam asked me...way back when. When you showed up asking me to stitch him. He asked me to please give him last rights, if I ever thought there was a need. And I truly believed he’d recover, but I also knew I was due in another Parish, hours away. I felt I owed that to him. And I’m sorry if I brought you doubt.”
“I wasn’t thinking,” Dean sighed, and took a long draw on his cigarette. “For years, it felt like the whole world was out to drag Sammy off stage. It’s different now.” He turned and, though he didn’t quite smile, the harsh lines around his eyes and mouth warmed, and the corners of his mouth turned ever so slightly up. “I’m glad you came, Jim, really. Sammy really wanted to see you, and Cas wanted to meet you, and...I didn’t think it would be, but it’s good to see you again.”
“I’m sorry about your father.”
“Me too...but really, there were only a few ways that was going to end, and none of them were good.”
“I’m glad you found sobriety.”
“I thought you had too.”
“I did...for years and years. And then I returned to having a drink once, on rare occasions, twice, a week.” Dean looked suddenly eager. “But I went over ten years without a drink at all,” he said, causing Dean’s face to fall. “And, when I returned to it...I didn’t feel I needed it. Though I admit that, the last few months have been a bit of a struggle.”
“Tell me about it,” Dean mumbled, grinding the butt of the cigarette onto the porch. “Cas rocks, honestly, but between him and Sammy, I don’t get a vice in edgewise.”
“He’s very...polite.” Dean laughed.
“He’ll relax once he gets to know you.”
“He and Sam seem to get along great.”
“It was a rocky road at first, but now they’re pretty much in geekvana together.” He gestured to the yard. “This was all their doing.”
“Sam was telling me.”
Dean scuffed his feet on the porch. “Cas is...well, he’s pretty loaded. He comes from a super-wealthy family, and he’s a doctor and all. But he lives by my budget. We pay all the bills the same.”
“Sam told me Cas paid for his rehab,” Jim said slowly.
“Yeah...I wasn’t thrilled with that. Still not.” He shrugged. “But...it’s Sammy.”
Jim nodded and stared out over the lawn. “It’s...very, very good to see you again, Dean. Truly.”
“Yeah...likewise,” Dean grumbled, in that overly uncaring way that meant he really did care. “What’s next for you?”
“I don’t know,” Jim sighed. “I could teach. And I do have a counseling background...I’ve been leading alcoholics anonymous and various faith-based addiction groups for years, but I would probably need a proper degree in it. What I really need is a better wardrobe...that’s not exactly my strong suit,” he smiled. “Then, I guess, I could interview at centers, halfway houses, and the like.”
Dean frowned. “You lead sobriety groups?”
“Faith based, for drugs and alcohol. I actually have a few certificates in it, but no solid degree.”
“You thinking of sticking around here?”
Jim met the younger man’s eyes, but there was none of the previous hardness in his face. “I’d like to.”
“You should. Because we three know a great program who could use a friendly hand.”
Jim had been wandering, it felt, for years. But when Dean smiled and began to tell him about Rosemount, and Sam opened the door and told them dessert and coffee would be ready in ten, he finally felt like he’d come home.
***
“Are they keeping peace?” Cas asked Sam.
“So far so good,” Sam grinned, and took a dish from Cas’s hand to dry. “Thanks for backing me up and letting him come here.”
“Thank you. I froze earlier. When he knew about Lou.”
“Does he really only sleep ever other day?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Cas sighed. “He’s very driven.”
Sam scooped coffee into the filter and poured water into the pot. “This probably sounds awful,” he said slowly, “but I don’t quite understand how so many kids could be abused without their parents knowing.”
Cas placed the last of the larger pots and pans into the dishwasher and turned to face his friend, taking care not to show any judgment. “Well...I’m not a psychological doctor by any means, but I think parents trusted the stewards of their faith to be men of God. It was a great honor to have your son or daughter be favored by a Priest.”
“I guess...” he looked up, slightly anxious. “It’s just...when I think back, Dean never let me go anywhere with people he didn’t know. He assistant-coached soccer until he decided the coaches weren’t bad news. If I went on an overnight somewhere, he went too, unless it was at a friend’s house, and that was super-rare, and only after he’d spent time with the kid’s parents. I mean...it’s been years, and he still sees Jim as some sort of threat.” He blushed slightly. “Guess I was just lucky, huh?”
“It’s more than that,” Cas said gently. “Let’s take, for example, Bobby Singer.” He held up a quick hand to try and deflect Sam’s instant death glare. “I know, of course, that Bobby would never do anything untoward. If for no other reason, than Ellen would murder him. Slowly.” Sam smiled at that. “I’m merely saying, predators are very clever. Dean would trust you with Bobby because he had proven himself trustworthy, over and over, to both of you. That’s how these men worked. They didn’t only gain the trust of their victims, they gained the trust of the families. A clever pedophile would never just approach you and offer to take you for a night or two: they would build a relationship over time.” He dropped his voice. “And they’d build trust among their own colleagues...I believe that’s something Jim has had to learn.”
“He really loved his job.” Sam glanced toward the porch. “I hope he’ll be okay. I don’t want to come between you and Dean, but you should know that Jim really was good to us. He tried to do the right thing. We were sleeping in his church...he had to.”
“Of course, I understand. And I know Dean. There’s a lot wrapped up in this for him, and I’m glad he has the chance to move past it.”
Sam smiled in that warm, loving way that made Cas feel ten feet tall. “I’m really glad he has you.”
“I’m glad we can double-team him,” Cas said. “Now, let’s pull out the pie before he starts yelling for it.”
***
Dessert and coffee were, blessedly, much, much lighter. Sam told Jim some of his best Ash and Andy stories, while Dean grumbled about the evil Missouri and some of his favorite characters at the garage. Cas told them some of their favorite stories about Peter’s hijinks, and the long-suffering Anna’s efforts to keep him employed for no reason other than the children who adored him. Jim told a few choice confessional stories, including one about a woman doing lewd things with her garden hose, and another about a man who was constantly aroused by his boss-a fifty year old, bald, heavy-set man-wearing jeans on Fridays.
By the end of the pie and seconds rounds of coffee, all four of them were laughing, relaxed, and at ease. Cas and Dean cleaned up the dessert plates while Sam and Jim sat chatting on the porch, talking about whatever it is they talked about.
“Dude,” Dean said, “in case I haven’t told you? You’re awesome.”
“I’m aware of that,” Cas said, and briefly touched his forehead to Dean’s, smiling against him. “I believe Sam mentioned spending Saturday night at Andy’s. So we’ll just have to be a little more quiet until then.”
“Now who’s the man-skank?” Dean teased. Cas blushed.
“It’s...exciting though, isn’t it?”
“Dude, you keep talking like that, and we’re gonna end up in the basement like teenagers.”
“I didn’t have relations as a teenager.”
“Christ almighty, Cas, you’re gonna kill me here.”
Cas chuckled. “You wash, I’ll dry.”
“Even that sounds hot now.”
“Dishes, Dean.”
***
Jim hugged all three of them goodbye. Cas was paged around ten and vaulted off with a promise to check in as soon as he could. Sammy disappeared to do laundry and call Andy, and Dean slumped onto the sofa with some mindless crap on TV. He was falling asleep when he felt a knee bump his, and then the edge of his kid brother’s overgrown foot nudge his shin.
“Y’okay?” he mumbled.
“Brought you something.”
Dean cracked his eye open to see Sammy’s fresh squeezed lemonade and his kid brother smiling. He shook his head fondly.
“Any chance it’s Irish?”
“Dream on, assface.”
Dean chuckled and took a long drink. Sam sank dramatically beside him and pressed lightly against his side, an invitation for Dean to toss a casual arm over his shoulders. As good as the lemonade was, it wasn’t what he wanted: the warm, deeply relaxing, satisfying relief of booze. One day, he hoped, he wouldn’t think of it that way: booze would be a memory, and relaxation would come from something deep and secure inside him. He wasn’t quite there yet.
“How do you deal?” he asked. He knew Sammy didn’t need context.
“Talk to you. Or Ash or Andy.” Sam leaned back against the sofa. “When I was in-patient, they kept telling us to ‘sit with our feelings.’ Normally we’d just go up and running toward whatever our drug of choice was to avoid them. I hated being told that. But now it makes sense. It’s not easy and it’s not fun, but working through them makes them less. Over time.”
“You almost dying doesn’t get easier,” Dean snapped.
“That’s not what set you off tonight,” Sam said gently. A dozen sarcastic responses flew through Dean’s head, but he couldn’t bring himself to say any of them. Sammy knew him too well anyway.
“I know,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. “I know we’re not kids, I know it’s all changed...but sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.” He felt Sam listening, knew exactly the face his brother was making, and smiled to himself. “You remember when we first met him? You said you’d kick him in the shins.” Sam huffed a laugh. “Three feet tall and you were nothing but attitude.”
“Yeah, well, guess where I picked that up from?”
“You miss drinking?”
“Sure.”
“Booze wasn’t really your thing.”
“No, but I still did too much of it. And once you’ve...gone down like I did...it’s better to just...stay clear of anything that can be abused. And there was Dad, Dean. He didn’t exactly teach us moderation.”
“He did the best he could.”
“I know he did.” Sam scooted closer. “Dean, I know you don’t want to talk about this, but I think it’s important. What is it you want to call Cas?”
“’Cas.’”
“Don’t be a jackass.”
“I don’t know what else to call Cas!”
“Partner? Boyfriend? Companion?”
“No. I hate that. I hate all those words. I don’t know. Everyone usually gets it when I introduce him. He’s...Cas. Like Gordon was Gordon and Bella was Bella.”
“C’mon, man. I know we never talked about this, but I’d do laundry, I used to find condoms in your pockets with names like ‘The Back Door,’ on them, and I knew you were going both ways, and I didn’t care. I just didn’t want you to get sick. You were a huge ho for awhile.”
Dean felt his face heating up. “I’m ten seconds away from calling Ash to haul you back.”
“I just want to know. I want to do right by you. I love you and Cas and I want you to know that.”
“I do, dumbass. And we’re gonna call him Cas. That’s all.”
“I don’t know if that’s liberal and revolutionary or just plain unhealthy,” Sam sighed. Dean reached up and rubbed his knuckles over his brother’s head, taking care to avoid the scar.
“You know how hard you rocked tonight?”
“I’m happy here,” Sam blurted, suddenly beet red. “Thank you for letting me come back. For awhile...I didn’t know if I ever would.”
Dean smiled. “Well, I knew you would.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, bud.” He touched the amulet, the one he’d boasted proudly around his neck since Sammy had entered the halfway house and passed it back to him. “I’m not good at this whole ‘higher power’ thing like you, but I believe in my kid bro.” Sam smiled. Dean put an arm across the back of the sofa-and his brother’s shoulders-and handed him the remote. “Find us something,” he said, and gulped the awesome lemonade made by his awesome brother in his awesome living room owned by him and his awesome boyfriend.
***
When he wakes up, Sammy’s asleep on his shoulder, breathing softly, and Jaws 4 is on television. His phone is vibrating against his hip and he reaches down to check his texts.
Cat lady back. Peter and I trying to get it out from MRI. Be home around 7:00. See you before work?
Dean smiled. Breakfast waiting.
Then he pulled the phone close with one hand and his kid brother with the other, and let safety and relief and love rush through him and carry him back to sleep.
Part I
Three Kings Masterlist
It didn’t take a psychic to realize that Dean, along with Sam, had stopped drinking for good. Cas was the only one who touched the bottle-and then only to pour more into Jim’s glass-and Jim recognized from experience the longing on Dean’s face every time he lifted the glass to his lips. Sam wasn’t the only addict in the family, that was clear.
Jim didn’t know what to make of Cas Morgan. The man was exceptionally, almost comically, polite. He had a strange way of tilting his head when he listened that made Jim think of a bird. He kept putting extra salad on Dean’s plate and giving Sam light pats on the shoulder and back when the younger Winchester looked suddenly nervous. That seemed to happen a great deal: far more than Jim would have anticipated. Sam had always been an open soul, but Jim couldn’t recall him being an anxious one.
No-sad, hurt, scared, but never like this. Sam had always had a wisdom beyond his years, and sage calm to his thoughts and plans. Something had drastically shifted-and it was more than the head injury. Sam’s intelligence level seemed to be the same, and his memory was only spotty around the year of his assault.
This was post-addiction anxiety. Insecurity. Sam was building new support systems, new ways of coping, on top of instincts that had lead him to self-destruction, and he was constantly second-guessing himself.
Jim had lead enough faith-based addiction groups to know all of this, and in a matter of minutes.
It didn’t mean his heart broke any less when the boys told him.
Sam had lost two girlfriends. The boys had lost their father. Dean and Sam had embraced sobriety. The only good thing that seemed to have come of the last few years, besides recovery, was Dean and Cas. Neither man was openly affectionate toward the other, and they danced around any clear definition of their relationship, but it was obvious from the brief conversations they had with their glances alone, and the far-too casual way Dean talked about their house and Cas’s role in their recovery, that their relationship had weathered the worst and come out all the stronger.
Jim had never doubted that Sam and Dean could withstand just about anything: they had plenty of practice. But it warmed his heart to see that someone else understood, and stood by them, in all their co-dependent, entangled, imperfect, loving glory.
To be honest, Jim had never imagined Dean would settle down. He’d always had a restless streak, a need for variety and adventure that he filled with bars and hustling, scams and theft. If it weren’t for Sam, Jim imagined Kansas would have been long gone in the rearview mirror.
But here he was, monogamous and sober, with a caring, accomplished partner and a brother dragged back from the darkest corners of hell, and Jim couldn’t help but fear him. The way he looked at him made him feel small, insignificant...and a failure.
Dean was a force of his own particular brand of righteousness, and had been since Jim had opened the confessional door.
Dean didn’t run, no matter what his instincts told him. Dean stood and faced the threat. And he’d raised Sam to do the same. And found a man willing to stand with the both of them.
Seeing what they’d fought and overcome brought a sharp relief to Jim’s own failures, and he couldn’t hide his misery. Sam and Cas passed casual, cheerful conversation back and forth between themselves while Jim sunk lower and lower and Dean Lorded over the table like the judge and jury of a major national trial.
“Jim,” Sam finally said, smiling gently, eyes soft. “You mentioned that you weren’t with the Church? What have you been up to?”
Dean frowned. Cas tilted his head. Jim downed the rest of his wine.
“Well...after I moved to Arizona, I spent a few years at a Parish there...and then some of the larger child abuse stories began to break,” he said carefully. “I’m sure you’re aware of what the Church has been dealing with.”
“We’ve seen that there was corruption,” Cas said carefully.
“You mean feeding kids to predators?” Dean asked.
“Dean for Christ’s sake. The man got us away from an abuser. Take pills,” Sam sniped. Dean turned his murderous glare to his brother, but Sam just rolled his eyes.
“Pills are your thing, twelve steps.”
“Maybe if you’d had some you wouldn’t have been a booze-hound, Elvis.”
“Don’t you bring the King into this.”
“Cheeseburgers, Dean.”
“He died fulfilled.”
“He died on the toilet!”
“With two double bacons in his stomach and some good strong booze in his gut. That’s a man.” He stabbed a piece of the salad and pointed it at Sam. “This? This will kill you.”
“This is called nutrition.”
“You know the death rate of those following ‘nutrition?’ One-hundred and five percent.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It means everyone whoever tried it died, and they took a couple others with them.”
“Dean!” Sam whined, pouted, and put on his classic ‘bitch face,’ as Dean used to refer to it. Dean smiled for the first real time that night, and Jim realized he had his own grin plastered to his face, a mirror image of Cas’s.
“Relax, Sammy. I ate my share, okay? My system is pristine. Will outlive the pyramids.”
Sam’s face morphed into a smile. “I’m just saying, when you’re old and fat, Cas and I are putting you away.”
“Don’t rope him into this.”
“I think we’ve strayed quite far from the original point,” Cas said, smile still intact. “Jim, you were traveling a great deal, and I understand you were in Rome. And then you returned?”
Sam’s smile wavered back to concern, but Dean’s gaze stayed fondly on his brother, cheeks and jaw slack and relaxed for the first time since his visit. And just like that, Jim felt something in himself give way to confession.
“I went to Rome with a band of Priests to join a caucus on the reform of child safety,” he blurted out. “We were denied hearings with the tribunals, the courts, the larger caucuses, and the Pope himself.” His breath hitched. “We prayed, we visited shrines, we even went to Jerusalem...and the Church just came out to denounce homosexuality and abortion. It was like...it hadn’t happened.”
Dean’s face had tightened once more, eyes on him, but softened, ever so slightly. Cas had his head in that gentle tilt, and Sam’s eyes were watery.
“I had to leave,” Jim said, voice wavering. “I knew some of those men. I was raised with some of those men. When I went to Rome...I studied under some of them. And all that time...I never thought, or knew.” He felt his throat swell. “I thought...after I lost my brother, and my way...that I could follow a path that was guarded and watched for me. And I was wrong. I trusted an organization above my own instincts, because I was afraid I wouldn’t know what was right. And now...I’m gonna have to find my own way.” He felt his own eyes fill. “You boys...you sit here, and you’re afraid of my judgment? Well, I’m gonna be sixty years old. You’ve barely touched thirty, and you’ve remade your lives, and all you did was fall onto substances that helped ease your personal grief. I didn’t protect children, and I was a man of the cloth. I believed in the safety, and the righteousness, of my faith.”
Jim dropped his fork. Seconds later, Sam was there, embracing him, and he clutched the boy to him and held on for all he was worth.
“It’s okay,” Sam murmured. “Jim, it’s okay. You’ve done so much good-that can’t be erased by a bunch of old guys who went off the rails.”
“I don’t know what to do next,” Jim admitted, tears dripping onto Sam’s t-shirt. “But you boys always reminded me of David, and if he’d lived...he’d be where I went. So I came here. And I’m sorry...I’m so damn sorry to bring all this back up for you.”
From behind him, Dean sighed. “Well, PJ, I can tell you where we’re going next, and it’s the porch. Because I may be a loyal, sober soul, but I need a cigarette to continue this convo.”
And Jim couldn’t help it-he laughed.
***
Dean slowly smoked one single cigarette-all Cas, the good doctor, would hand over. Cas and Sam disappeared into the kitchen to wash the dishes and ready coffee and dessert, while Jim sat on the porch with Dean and a second glass of wine.
“I’m sorry,” Dean finally said. “I know I should of made this easier for you.”
“You and I have never been the best of friends, Dean,” Jim sighed.
“And that’s my fault.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “Look...I didn’t know what I was doing back then, okay? I was a kid. All I knew was I didn’t want to lose Sammy. And I guess...somehow I decided you were out to get us.”
“Sam asked me...way back when. When you showed up asking me to stitch him. He asked me to please give him last rights, if I ever thought there was a need. And I truly believed he’d recover, but I also knew I was due in another Parish, hours away. I felt I owed that to him. And I’m sorry if I brought you doubt.”
“I wasn’t thinking,” Dean sighed, and took a long draw on his cigarette. “For years, it felt like the whole world was out to drag Sammy off stage. It’s different now.” He turned and, though he didn’t quite smile, the harsh lines around his eyes and mouth warmed, and the corners of his mouth turned ever so slightly up. “I’m glad you came, Jim, really. Sammy really wanted to see you, and Cas wanted to meet you, and...I didn’t think it would be, but it’s good to see you again.”
“I’m sorry about your father.”
“Me too...but really, there were only a few ways that was going to end, and none of them were good.”
“I’m glad you found sobriety.”
“I thought you had too.”
“I did...for years and years. And then I returned to having a drink once, on rare occasions, twice, a week.” Dean looked suddenly eager. “But I went over ten years without a drink at all,” he said, causing Dean’s face to fall. “And, when I returned to it...I didn’t feel I needed it. Though I admit that, the last few months have been a bit of a struggle.”
“Tell me about it,” Dean mumbled, grinding the butt of the cigarette onto the porch. “Cas rocks, honestly, but between him and Sammy, I don’t get a vice in edgewise.”
“He’s very...polite.” Dean laughed.
“He’ll relax once he gets to know you.”
“He and Sam seem to get along great.”
“It was a rocky road at first, but now they’re pretty much in geekvana together.” He gestured to the yard. “This was all their doing.”
“Sam was telling me.”
Dean scuffed his feet on the porch. “Cas is...well, he’s pretty loaded. He comes from a super-wealthy family, and he’s a doctor and all. But he lives by my budget. We pay all the bills the same.”
“Sam told me Cas paid for his rehab,” Jim said slowly.
“Yeah...I wasn’t thrilled with that. Still not.” He shrugged. “But...it’s Sammy.”
Jim nodded and stared out over the lawn. “It’s...very, very good to see you again, Dean. Truly.”
“Yeah...likewise,” Dean grumbled, in that overly uncaring way that meant he really did care. “What’s next for you?”
“I don’t know,” Jim sighed. “I could teach. And I do have a counseling background...I’ve been leading alcoholics anonymous and various faith-based addiction groups for years, but I would probably need a proper degree in it. What I really need is a better wardrobe...that’s not exactly my strong suit,” he smiled. “Then, I guess, I could interview at centers, halfway houses, and the like.”
Dean frowned. “You lead sobriety groups?”
“Faith based, for drugs and alcohol. I actually have a few certificates in it, but no solid degree.”
“You thinking of sticking around here?”
Jim met the younger man’s eyes, but there was none of the previous hardness in his face. “I’d like to.”
“You should. Because we three know a great program who could use a friendly hand.”
Jim had been wandering, it felt, for years. But when Dean smiled and began to tell him about Rosemount, and Sam opened the door and told them dessert and coffee would be ready in ten, he finally felt like he’d come home.
***
“Are they keeping peace?” Cas asked Sam.
“So far so good,” Sam grinned, and took a dish from Cas’s hand to dry. “Thanks for backing me up and letting him come here.”
“Thank you. I froze earlier. When he knew about Lou.”
“Does he really only sleep ever other day?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Cas sighed. “He’s very driven.”
Sam scooped coffee into the filter and poured water into the pot. “This probably sounds awful,” he said slowly, “but I don’t quite understand how so many kids could be abused without their parents knowing.”
Cas placed the last of the larger pots and pans into the dishwasher and turned to face his friend, taking care not to show any judgment. “Well...I’m not a psychological doctor by any means, but I think parents trusted the stewards of their faith to be men of God. It was a great honor to have your son or daughter be favored by a Priest.”
“I guess...” he looked up, slightly anxious. “It’s just...when I think back, Dean never let me go anywhere with people he didn’t know. He assistant-coached soccer until he decided the coaches weren’t bad news. If I went on an overnight somewhere, he went too, unless it was at a friend’s house, and that was super-rare, and only after he’d spent time with the kid’s parents. I mean...it’s been years, and he still sees Jim as some sort of threat.” He blushed slightly. “Guess I was just lucky, huh?”
“It’s more than that,” Cas said gently. “Let’s take, for example, Bobby Singer.” He held up a quick hand to try and deflect Sam’s instant death glare. “I know, of course, that Bobby would never do anything untoward. If for no other reason, than Ellen would murder him. Slowly.” Sam smiled at that. “I’m merely saying, predators are very clever. Dean would trust you with Bobby because he had proven himself trustworthy, over and over, to both of you. That’s how these men worked. They didn’t only gain the trust of their victims, they gained the trust of the families. A clever pedophile would never just approach you and offer to take you for a night or two: they would build a relationship over time.” He dropped his voice. “And they’d build trust among their own colleagues...I believe that’s something Jim has had to learn.”
“He really loved his job.” Sam glanced toward the porch. “I hope he’ll be okay. I don’t want to come between you and Dean, but you should know that Jim really was good to us. He tried to do the right thing. We were sleeping in his church...he had to.”
“Of course, I understand. And I know Dean. There’s a lot wrapped up in this for him, and I’m glad he has the chance to move past it.”
Sam smiled in that warm, loving way that made Cas feel ten feet tall. “I’m really glad he has you.”
“I’m glad we can double-team him,” Cas said. “Now, let’s pull out the pie before he starts yelling for it.”
***
Dessert and coffee were, blessedly, much, much lighter. Sam told Jim some of his best Ash and Andy stories, while Dean grumbled about the evil Missouri and some of his favorite characters at the garage. Cas told them some of their favorite stories about Peter’s hijinks, and the long-suffering Anna’s efforts to keep him employed for no reason other than the children who adored him. Jim told a few choice confessional stories, including one about a woman doing lewd things with her garden hose, and another about a man who was constantly aroused by his boss-a fifty year old, bald, heavy-set man-wearing jeans on Fridays.
By the end of the pie and seconds rounds of coffee, all four of them were laughing, relaxed, and at ease. Cas and Dean cleaned up the dessert plates while Sam and Jim sat chatting on the porch, talking about whatever it is they talked about.
“Dude,” Dean said, “in case I haven’t told you? You’re awesome.”
“I’m aware of that,” Cas said, and briefly touched his forehead to Dean’s, smiling against him. “I believe Sam mentioned spending Saturday night at Andy’s. So we’ll just have to be a little more quiet until then.”
“Now who’s the man-skank?” Dean teased. Cas blushed.
“It’s...exciting though, isn’t it?”
“Dude, you keep talking like that, and we’re gonna end up in the basement like teenagers.”
“I didn’t have relations as a teenager.”
“Christ almighty, Cas, you’re gonna kill me here.”
Cas chuckled. “You wash, I’ll dry.”
“Even that sounds hot now.”
“Dishes, Dean.”
***
Jim hugged all three of them goodbye. Cas was paged around ten and vaulted off with a promise to check in as soon as he could. Sammy disappeared to do laundry and call Andy, and Dean slumped onto the sofa with some mindless crap on TV. He was falling asleep when he felt a knee bump his, and then the edge of his kid brother’s overgrown foot nudge his shin.
“Y’okay?” he mumbled.
“Brought you something.”
Dean cracked his eye open to see Sammy’s fresh squeezed lemonade and his kid brother smiling. He shook his head fondly.
“Any chance it’s Irish?”
“Dream on, assface.”
Dean chuckled and took a long drink. Sam sank dramatically beside him and pressed lightly against his side, an invitation for Dean to toss a casual arm over his shoulders. As good as the lemonade was, it wasn’t what he wanted: the warm, deeply relaxing, satisfying relief of booze. One day, he hoped, he wouldn’t think of it that way: booze would be a memory, and relaxation would come from something deep and secure inside him. He wasn’t quite there yet.
“How do you deal?” he asked. He knew Sammy didn’t need context.
“Talk to you. Or Ash or Andy.” Sam leaned back against the sofa. “When I was in-patient, they kept telling us to ‘sit with our feelings.’ Normally we’d just go up and running toward whatever our drug of choice was to avoid them. I hated being told that. But now it makes sense. It’s not easy and it’s not fun, but working through them makes them less. Over time.”
“You almost dying doesn’t get easier,” Dean snapped.
“That’s not what set you off tonight,” Sam said gently. A dozen sarcastic responses flew through Dean’s head, but he couldn’t bring himself to say any of them. Sammy knew him too well anyway.
“I know,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. “I know we’re not kids, I know it’s all changed...but sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.” He felt Sam listening, knew exactly the face his brother was making, and smiled to himself. “You remember when we first met him? You said you’d kick him in the shins.” Sam huffed a laugh. “Three feet tall and you were nothing but attitude.”
“Yeah, well, guess where I picked that up from?”
“You miss drinking?”
“Sure.”
“Booze wasn’t really your thing.”
“No, but I still did too much of it. And once you’ve...gone down like I did...it’s better to just...stay clear of anything that can be abused. And there was Dad, Dean. He didn’t exactly teach us moderation.”
“He did the best he could.”
“I know he did.” Sam scooted closer. “Dean, I know you don’t want to talk about this, but I think it’s important. What is it you want to call Cas?”
“’Cas.’”
“Don’t be a jackass.”
“I don’t know what else to call Cas!”
“Partner? Boyfriend? Companion?”
“No. I hate that. I hate all those words. I don’t know. Everyone usually gets it when I introduce him. He’s...Cas. Like Gordon was Gordon and Bella was Bella.”
“C’mon, man. I know we never talked about this, but I’d do laundry, I used to find condoms in your pockets with names like ‘The Back Door,’ on them, and I knew you were going both ways, and I didn’t care. I just didn’t want you to get sick. You were a huge ho for awhile.”
Dean felt his face heating up. “I’m ten seconds away from calling Ash to haul you back.”
“I just want to know. I want to do right by you. I love you and Cas and I want you to know that.”
“I do, dumbass. And we’re gonna call him Cas. That’s all.”
“I don’t know if that’s liberal and revolutionary or just plain unhealthy,” Sam sighed. Dean reached up and rubbed his knuckles over his brother’s head, taking care to avoid the scar.
“You know how hard you rocked tonight?”
“I’m happy here,” Sam blurted, suddenly beet red. “Thank you for letting me come back. For awhile...I didn’t know if I ever would.”
Dean smiled. “Well, I knew you would.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, bud.” He touched the amulet, the one he’d boasted proudly around his neck since Sammy had entered the halfway house and passed it back to him. “I’m not good at this whole ‘higher power’ thing like you, but I believe in my kid bro.” Sam smiled. Dean put an arm across the back of the sofa-and his brother’s shoulders-and handed him the remote. “Find us something,” he said, and gulped the awesome lemonade made by his awesome brother in his awesome living room owned by him and his awesome boyfriend.
***
When he wakes up, Sammy’s asleep on his shoulder, breathing softly, and Jaws 4 is on television. His phone is vibrating against his hip and he reaches down to check his texts.
Cat lady back. Peter and I trying to get it out from MRI. Be home around 7:00. See you before work?
Dean smiled. Breakfast waiting.
Then he pulled the phone close with one hand and his kid brother with the other, and let safety and relief and love rush through him and carry him back to sleep.
Part I
Three Kings Masterlist