The Pride of Your Heart 4
The inside of the Church was already packed, and everyone stood as Cas’s mother strode down the aisle on the arms of Lou and Michael. Cas didn’t dare glance to the back of the Church, but oddly enough, as he reached the front of the room, he felt a wash of calm and certainty. The Winchesters were here. He didn’t care how he knew, he just knew. Sam and Dean were there, watching him, willing support. And that knowledge alone gave him strength.
As Gabe took a seat beside him, and his mother settled between Michael and Lou, he turned to his brother, eyes warily on Raphael, who was seated at the aisle and had artfully avoided him at the front of the Church.
“I need to talk to you,” Cas whispered. Gabe kept his face to the altar.
“Dude, now?” he mumbled sideways.
“Raphael offered me a deal the rest of you had signed, that would essentially divide the estate into thirds, with Ralph getting all foundations and Lou managing all the investments.”
“Okay...”
“I believe they want to turn the foundations into political ones-fund think tanks and politicians, get in with top conservatives. Lead the way for Lou to invest overseas.”
“Okay...”
“It would leave Michael nothing to run the hospitals with. It would wreck everything Dad set up.”
“Hate to tell you, buddy, but you missed the boat on having a say in all that.”
“I’m not asking for anything,” Cas snapped. “But it’s not right Gabe! Lou is over there pretending to be looking out for him, and all the while he and Raphael are working to rob him of everything he’s worked for.”
“Bro, that’s all above my paygrade.”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen-I give Lou money, he turns it into more money. How he does it, I don’t think about.”
“But-”
“And do you really think you can take on Ralph and Lou?”
“Not alone.” He looked pointedly at his brother.
“Forget it, boyo. Lou makes it so I don’t have to have a real job, and I’m not jeopardizing that. You all are the brains, okay?”
“We have to at least warn Michael.”
“You warn Michael all you want, but I’m staying the hell out of it.”
“You can’t mean that.”
“Cas,” Gabe hissed. “You’ve been out of the game a long time. You have no clue how down and dirty those three have gotten. I’m smart enough to know I’m no match for them, and you should be too. You take of yours and I’ll take care of mine and leave the heavy hitting to them.”
“But Gabe-”
“Goodmorning,” the Lectern greeted them. “We’re to celebrate the life of this great man, and to offer our sympathies to his four sons, the Widow Naomi, and his extended family. Please join me in our opening hymn.”
And so began the most trying two hours of Cas’s life. Thankfully his mother had ordered a closed casket-although it was technically unnecessary-so Cas didn’t need to see his father bloodless and heavy, the way corpses always appeared to him.
Instead, he had to endure a seemingly endless parade of speakers from organizations all over the country, all who lauded his Father as some type of Divinity. The men who spoke told tales of a man’s kindness, intelligence, and dedication to the mission. The women described his unfailing chivalry and respect to their executive positions, despite the Old Boys network. Non-profit CEO’s told stories of his unfailing generosity, and some recipients of his health care scholarships spoke about their life-saving procedures.
No one spoke about his long absences from home, gruff demands, and intense drinking sessions. No one mentioned how he’d missed most of their graduations, birthdays, Thanksgivings, and plenty of Christmases.
“If Dad was so desperate for his legacy to stay intact,” Gabe mumbled, “maybe he should of done a little more fathering and a little less championing.”
Cas was in no way above feeling bitter or abandoned, but when he looked around the room at everyone who his father’s work had benefited, tearing it all down so Ralph and Lou could promote a self-serving agenda for the wealthy and privileged made him sick.
At some point, the President of the Board of his father’s first hospital asked Michael to step up, and his exhausted and slightly shaky brother made his way to the podium with an index card clutched in his hand. Cas glanced toward the back and, though he couldn’t see Dean, he caught a familiar glimpse of Sam’s brown head over the crowd, and reminded himself that they were here with him.
“Thank you,” the eldest Morgan said. “It’s a great comfort to all of us to see all of you. I just want to say that I vow,” his voice wavered, and he swallowed. Lou smiled at him and nodded reassuringly, while his mother clenched her jaw and frowned . “As the new Chairman of the boards, I am entirely committed to our Father’s vision of equal-opportunity healthcare. His mission will not be altered, and all of you can count on our full and continuing support of your individual causes.” He placed a hand on the podium and steadied himself.
“Before his death, my father and I discussed an issue raised by someone very dear to us.” Michael turned his gaze and looked directly at Cas, who suddenly wished more than anything that Dean was next to him. “It is my dearest hope that the work we do continue, while we begin a new campaign: one that will support the free or partial-reimbursement of drug and alcohol addiction treatment.” The eldest Morgan looked back out over the crowd.
“Upon study and...personal reflection, we believed it was unfair of our mission to limit treatment solely to those suffering from purely physical health issues. It was both our hope that we would begin to expand into areas classified as ‘mental.’ And as we lay our Father to rest-” Michael’s voice cracked severely, and his knuckles turned white on the podium, “as we lay him to rest, I want to impart to all of you what our Father said to me as we agreed on this-‘my greatest regret, is all the times I was too focused, too ambitious, or too busy, to just pause, to just think, and to just be kind.”
***
In the luncheon’s hall, a reception line was established, much as what would be if there had been a viewing. Their mother had forbidden one, and Cas was secretly glad-he didn’t want to stand next to his father in a coffin. It had been hard enough to see it lowered into the ground while Lou preached the virtues and values instilled in his family.
Finally, after hours kept apart, he was able to cross a packed room and make his way to Sam and Dean, who were talking quietly together and instantly brightened when he made his way to them.
“Christ,” Dean mumbled, folding him into a hug that broke about every silent rule they’d ever had. “Thought that was never going to end.”
Cas took a deep breath, filling his lungs with Dean, before pulling away and accepting a gentle hug from Sam.
“I’m sorry, Cas,” the younger Winchester said. “But I’m glad so many people turned out to speak for him. He seemed like a wonderful man.”
Cas clutched Sam to him a few seconds longer than he had to, filling himself with his friend’s kindness and sincerity.
“Thank you, Sam,” he murmured, before separating. “I assume you know we won’t be staying for the luncheon. The press will be kept out, and my duty will be done. We can go back to the hotel, and, hopefully, straight home.”
“Are you sure?” Sam frowned. “I mean...are there people you want to see here? We can wait.”
“That’s kind,” Cas smiled. “But I really want nothing more than it to be the three of us again.”
“Okay. I’ll book us tickets.” Sam looked at his phone. “Actually, I just got an alert on a few discounts. So it all works out,” he beamed, and stepped aside to make his calls.
“Dean, I want to bring him back here when things aren’t so bad. I want to bring him to other places as well,” Cas said, seriously. “He’s so eager to see things.”
“Yeah, well, he can wait long enough for you to get through this. You sure you don’t want to stay?”
“No. I want to leave as soon as we can.” Cas glanced behind him, to his mother and Aunts and brothers blocking him from the seemingly endless line of well-wishers. “And I want you to stand on line with me.”
“Who will I say I am?”
“Anyone, I don’t care. I just-Dean, please.”
Dean’s face instantly softened, and he squeezed Cas’s arm. “M’right here. Sammy and me, we’re all in.” He straightened and stood by Cas’s side. “I’ll bluff my way through, okay?”
Cas resumed his position in line, attempting to ignore Gabriel’s what the hell!!!! death stare. Dean gave a solemn nod to the first man approaching them, and Cas tried not to focus on anything but keeping calm.
“Peter Philip Branson the third,” the man said, and shook Cas’s hand heartily. “So sorry for your loss, Dr. Morgan.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And this is-”
“John Jacob Heimer-Schmidt,” Dean said, boldly clamping his hand back. “Plastic surgeon.”
“Of course,” the man said. “I believe I’ve read of your work.”
“In the American Journal of Plastic and Reconstructive Consultants? That was a lovely article. The late Dr. Morgan was involved in the full aspects of treatment, and I enjoyed consulting on the reconstructive surgery that goes along with double mastectomies, jaw and throat, and the like.” Dean smiled. “Of course I could never get Mrs. Morgan in the chair-she is just stunning as she is.”
“Really?” the man’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief.
“Oh no. Just between us...nothing has ever touched her. She won’t have it. And believe me, even I envy her aging.”
The man smiled. “That is certainly nice to hear. Sorry for your loss,” he said quickly.
“Thank you for your time,” Dean said, and shook his hand extra hard.
“Dean!” Cas hissed when the man had wandered safely out of earshot.
“Relax, man, I got this.” He grinned at the next man approaching. “Thank you for coming. I’m Baron Van Halen, Special Associate to Dr. Cas Morgan’s startup networks.”
“Oh...like father like son,” the man smiled. “Will you be going public?”
“Right now we’re strictly ground floor but...we’ll keep you in mind,” he winked.
“You’re going to get me in trouble!” Cas hissed when the guy walked away.
“Please, man. I was born for this. Fair’s fair-you showed me parts of your past, let me show you some of mine.” He extended his hand once more. “Squire Leonard P. Burton, the Eighth,” he said in a pitch-perfect British accent.
And so it went-from “Jon B. Jovi, Esquire,” to “Lord Armitage Griffin of the Lower Vale,” to “Major Johnny C. Walker, United States Airforces.” Dean was surprisingly skilled at accents, careers, and excuses, and flipped in and out of them seamlessly.
It amazed--and slightly disturbed--Cas how easy it was for his boyfriend to lie to strangers. Dean must have sensed his reservations because he leaned over and lowered his voice when they had a break to say “quit looking at me like that. This is how I kept the lights on and Sammy in shoes and winter coats.” He beamed and held out his hand once more. “Edwardo la Reuben,” he said with perfectly rolled Rs.
“Dean!” Sam hissed, coming up fast behind them. “What are you saying?”
“Thank you so much for coming,” Cas said quickly.
“Good one, Sammy,” Dean snapped as the man drifted off.
“You can’t lie to these people-Michael and the rest of them already think you’re a bad influence!”
“What am I supposed to say-‘hi, I’m Dean, I’m a mechanic, and here’s my little bro’s rehab-sugar-daddy?’”
“How about, ‘I’m Dean, Cas’s life-partner?’”
“How about I shove your life up your ass, partner?”
“Stop it,” Cas snapped. “Sam, it’s alright. We just need to get through this. Dean, back off the accents a bit.”
“I got us a flight,” Sam said, lower lip jutting out in a little pout. Dean didn’t seem to appreciate being scolded either. Seeing their crestfallen faces completely emptied Cas of any frustration, and he smiled.
“Sam, before we go, I thought we’d take the subway down to Wall Street. I’ll show you the edge of the island, the ferry, the stock exchange, the Federal Reserve.”
“Really?” Sam beamed.
“Of course. And Dean...you roll your Rs perfectly. It’s charming.” He smiled, and Dean perked right back up.
“Edwardo Telemundo le Uno-Deuxo,” he said.
“Um...Sam, Mr...Telemundo’s assistant,” Sam stammered.
“Mi assistanio,” Dean confirmed.
“I hate you and I hope you die,” Sam hissed as soon as the man drifted off.
“You squashed my dreams of being a conman!” Dean snapped back, still grinning.
“You’re a sociopath!”
“I was born to act,” he extended a hand. “Walter Haschian Madow the third, assistant state’s attorney.”
Gabriel broke ranks and was bearing down on them, so Cas hurried the man along and did his best to stand between Dean and his clearly frustrated brother.
“Gabe-”
“Dude...seriously?” he hissed. “Mom’s about to have an aneurism, Mike’s about to shit, Ralph’s pretty much ceased to acknowledged you’re related, and the next person over here will be-”
“Honestly, Gabriel, you’re the most dramatic of us all,” Lou said, smiling. “Lou Morgan,” he offered, extending his hand to Dean. “You must be Dean.”
“Uh...yes.” Dean managed. “Dean Winchester.”
“So nice to meet you. I believe I’m the last brother who had the pleasure.” He turned. “And you...you must be Sam. An extraordinary pleasure.” He seized his hand. “Honestly, you were an inspiration for my own recovery, when I heard what you’d conquered.”
Dean had gone into rigid solider mode, and Cas felt himself tensing.
“Thank you...sir,” Sam said.
“No sir...we’re family now!” He beamed at Dean. “Listen...I know I’ve said things in the past that you would find offensive. But Gabe here gave me a change of heart. That coupled with our father’s death, made me realize how important it is to value family. I’m trying...truly. No one’s perfect,” he said, eyes cutting to Sam, “right? We all do things we deeply regret.”
“Lou, give it a rest,” Gabriel snapped. “I don’t know what you’re taking but I don’t like it.”
Lou’s face fell. “Watch your tone,” he said, menace creeping into his voice. “I’ve been trying to turn over a new leaf for some time, Gabe. I understand you’re having trouble believing that, given that I have a lot to make up for, but I don’t appreciate you undermining my attempt to give a genuine welcome to Cas’s new family. I know Michael’s was less than perfect, and given your reputation to retreat into the bottle, I imagine yours was too.”
“Lou-” Cas started.
“And Cas, you have to know that you’re not entirely welcome here. I’m trying to say, in my own way, that I bear no ill-will, even if others do. I’m trying to support you.” He clapped a hand a little too hard on Sam’s shoulder, who winced, and instantly drew Dean’s death-glare.
“Little Castiel, and the man he left us for,” Lou said, holding up his hands. “No judgments...just taking it in.”
“Lou, go back to your place.”
“Gabriel,” a woman’s voice said, and caused Gabe to turn on his heel before Dean could retaliate. Sam placed a gentle hand on his elder brother’s shoulder and was promptly shaken off.
Cas instantly recognized the woman in front of him: it was Kali, or Kalista Patel, the woman from the champagne brunch. She was just as striking as Cas remembered, with her dark hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. She wore a tight black dress that bared her knees and shoulders, a stunningly large black hat, sharp and high black heels, and brilliant red lips and nails. She placed a perfectly manicured hand on his elder brother’s shoulder and smiled, just as she had at the brunch-warmly.
“Gabriel,” she murmured. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Gabe quickly stood straighter, tossed his hair slightly back over his ears, and nodded. “Thank you.”
“You haven’t taken my calls.”
“I’ve been busy. Dead Dad, crazy bros. You know.”
“I do.” Kali’s eyes were soft as she lifted her hand and touched his cheek. “We’re going to have a long, quiet, private dinner. And we’re going talk. I’m worried about you.”
Gabe snorted. “So worried you left Archibald Peter Baldwin the third at home?”
“Doctor Balder and I are no longer together.”
Gabe perked up. “Is that right?”
“He sent me a dozen roses every morning after we were intimate.”
Gabriel burst out laughing, than quickly covered his mouth. “What, was he suicidal?”
Kali tossed her head, a small smile on her lips. “I left him in tears.”
“You sure he’s not floating in the East River? Because I am so not your character witness for that trial.”
“I make no promises.” Kali smiled and gently kissed Gabriel on the cheek. “Take my call,” she murmured. “I want to know how you are. How you truly are.”
She strode off without a passing glance at the rest of them. Lou watched as she went, eyebrow cocked.
“Really?”
“Don’t. Stay. A. Word.” Gabriel growled.
“I’m just saying, little brother-she gets around.”
Gabe looked suddenly fierce and shoved his elder brother hard.
“Go back where you belong,” he seethed. “Because it’s not on this side of the line.”
Lou stared directly into his younger brother’s eyes before cocking a grin and turning to Sam.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, eyes on the youngest Winchester, as he drifted back toward Michael. Gabe turned on Cas.
“I will.” He smiled again, turning to Sam. “Again, thank you for inspiring me.”
Sam nodded while Dean glared Lou away. Cas looked to Gabe, but found his brother’s expression angry.
“This, Cas-this is what I wanted to avoid. For all of you.”
“That’s nothing we can’t handle,” Dean growled.
“No, but you shouldn’t have to. That is exactly why I-”
“Gabe, stop it,” Sam said, causing all three of them to turn toward him. “You’re not angry at Cas, not really. You’re angry at all this, and that’s okay. But don’t take it out on the one brother you know supports you. Trust me, that ends in dark alleys.”
Gabriel’s face softened. “Ah, hell kid, who made you Doctor Phil?”
“We lost our Dad too,” Sam soothed. “And it was a roller-coaster. It’s hard not to turn on the people you’re closest to let off steam. But you won’t feel better after, okay? Just try and get through this right now, and then you can finally grieve in private.”
Gabe sighed. “I need a drink like Moses needed a homeland,” he mumbled, and clapped Cas on the arm before drifting back to his former place.
“Thank you, Sam,” Cas said.
“No problem.” Sam reassumed his former stance. They nodded at a few people from across the room, and then Sam said, “Okay, I can’t take this-it’s killing me. Castiel?”
“Sammy!” Dean hissed.
“I seriously never would have come up with that! What is it from?”
“I it think means ‘God is my cover,’ or something to that affect,” Cas sighed. “Castiel was supposedly the angel of Thursday. My mother studied a lot of art and religion and she’d always loved the name. So since I was...unplanned, she decided to try something non-conventional.”
“It just...it’s kind of spacey, you know? It makes me think of stars.”
“Sammy, lay off.”
“Not in a bad way!”
“It’s alright, Sam,” Cas smiled. “I’m glad you know.”
A hand tapped him from behind, and he turned to see his mother standing beside him, eyebrows drawn in tight fury. “I want a word with you,” she snapped, and strode toward the back of the Church.
Cas excused himself, giving Dean’s arm a light squeeze to say it’s okay, stay put, when Dean cast a want me to come? glance at him, and following her away from the gathering and into the hall. He closed the door, turned, and immediately struck by her open palm.
“What are you thinking,” she hissed. “Bringing that...degenerate here? What would your father have said?”
“I don’t know,” Cas snapped. “If he weren’t dead I’d ask him.”
His mother’s features tightened and she struck him once more. “I raised you to pursue excellence. To set a standard of leadership. And you abandon it all for that...filth, and have the audacity to appear at your father’s funeral with it?”
“His name is Dean. Dean Winchester. His younger brother is Sam. And they’re my family too.”
“No, Castiel. They are not family. They are not people we associate with. A drunk and a druggie-”
“They’re sober!”
“Criminals-”
“They’re done with that-”
“Trash, Castiel! That’s what you want to leave as your legacy. What your Father would say-”
“Nothing. He would say nothing, which is what he always said, because he was never around.”
A third slap met his cheek. His mother grabbed his face and dug her nails into his jaw, forcing him to look at her. “You will return home. You will let Michael set you up in a proper home and job. And you will never, ever, speak of them again. If you don’t, then you forget your last name.”
“I love him. I love them.”
“You’re perverted.”
“Mother-”
“Don’t call me that.” Her eyes filled. “We gave you everything. I gave you everything! You were mine, Castiel...your father took all the others, but you, you were mine-mine to name, mine to love, my angel of the week. And you left...without a word...you just left!”
Cas reached toward her. “Mom-”
“You think I’m cruel,” she jerked away, wiping at her eyes. “I know you do. But you tell me, Castiel-how is it to watch your sons, and your husband, be torn to pieces by the press over things like tears, or botched speeches, or bad investments? Five of you, I had to raise, and four of them your Father molded to his image. But you...you were my little love. And you threw all I tried to give you aside for that... garbage-”
“Don’t call them names!”
“They’re bottom-feeders. They’re eating your work, your success. Nothing more. What could they possibly understand about love?”
“Dean loves me.”
“He’s brainwashed you.”
“Please, just meet him. Speak with him. He’ll show you. He’s so good to me-”
“I’m sure he tells you sweet things when you hand him money. But you can’t possibly believe that’s love.”
“I don’t ‘hand him money,’ we’re equals-”
“You are not his equal. He will never be close to your equal. You are a Morgan. That used to mean something to you.”
“They’re good men,” Cas pleaded.
“Enough. I don’t want to hear another word from you until you’re ready to apologize. Go through Michael. Beg him to take you back. I trust his judgment.” She took a step away. “From now on, you call me Mrs. Morgan. Not ‘Mother.’ Not until I say otherwise.”
She wiped her eyes, drew a shaky breath, and then walked slowly back into the Church. Cas stood, reeling, heart breaking ever-further. He wanted to go home. He wanted to lie down with Dean. He wanted to watch TV with Sam. He wanted Anna to smile when he walked on the floor. He wanted Peter to make some dumb joke.
He wanted to be anywhere but here.
Dean poked his head into the hall. “Dude. There is a smokin’ hot chick out here saying she’s looking for ya.”
Cas swallowed, hard. “Thank you.”
“Hey...you hanging in?”
“Of course.”
Dean let go of the door, crossed to him, and leaned forward, letting their foreheads touch. “I know this sucks times a million,” he murmured, taking one of Cas’s hands in both his own. “Little longer, and then we’ll go back to the hotel and get in bed and you can cry or vent or sleep or eat yourself sick-whatever you wanna do. Promise.”
“I want to go home,” Cas admitted, voice cracking. Dean instantly gripped him tighter, stroking his hair with one hand while he cupped his lower back in another.
“And we’re gonna. You and me and Sammy, okay? We’ll sleep in and watch crap TV and go get barbecue. Whatever you want.” He let go of Cas’s hand and hugged him, briefly. “C’mon. I think it’ll do you good to see your ol’flame.”
“The girl’s Rachel?” he asked, pulling back.
“Of course it is. No way she wouldn’t be here. I never even met the girl and I know that.”
Rachel. Rachel. Cas could hardly believe it. Rachel was here. He’d thought of her so often over the past few years, spoken to her far too little, and now she was just a threshold away, and he couldn’t believe it.
And suddenly nothing his mother or Lou or Raphael said mattered: nothing anyone said mattered, because Rachel was here, and Rachel loved him, and he was going to get to introduce her to Dean and Sam, and she was going to get to see that he’d done what she wanted him to do, which was make a life of his own choosing.
And he.couldn’t.wait.
He half shoved Dean out of the way in his rush to get back into the Church, where he easily spotted Sam’s massive, floppy head above the crowd, and beelined toward it, rounding a few suits to spot her: Rachel.
Still tall, still beautiful, still blonde, Rachel. Smiling at Sam, touching his arm lightly, clearly helping ease him through the conversation that must be causing him anxiety.
She turned, saw him, and her hand dropped from Sam’s arm and she opened herself to him, grinning from ear to ear, and calling “Cas!”
Cas half-lifted her off the floor. She laughed against him, even as she said “Cas, oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry about your Dad, I shouldn’t be happy, but it’s so good to see you!” He squeezed her gently, set her down, and pulled back, feeling his own eyes wet.
“Rachel,” he said, still disbelieving. She touched his cheek.
“God, you look good. Dean, you’ve made him sleep!”
“Oh yeah,” Dean smiled. “He doesn’t get away with being an insomniac with me.”
“Oh...Rachel, this is Dean. And Sam. Dean and Sam, Rachel.”
“We met.” She placed a hand on her stomach, and Cas suddenly realized that, even beneath her black dress, her normally narrow frame had widened, slightly. “Sam was telling me how this is his first time in New York. I was telling him some places they should go that wouldn’t be overrun by tourists.”
“Excuse me, excuse me,” Victor Hendrickson, Rachel’s husband, mumbled as he pushed through the crowd. “Here you go, honey,” he said, handing her a Sprite-which Cas knew she never drank-before wrapping Cas in a quick, manly hug. “Cas, sorry about your father. We made a donation in his name.” He pulled back, smiling. “Is this Sam and Dean?”
“Yes. Dean, this is Victor Hendrickson, Special Federal Agent. Rachel’s husband. Sam, Victor.”
Victor held out his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking Dean, than Sam’s hands, smiling broadly. “Rachel’s told me such great things.”
Cas watched as Rachel opened the Sprite-not even diet-and took a long drink. As he studied her, he realized her face had gotten ever so slightly rounder, and she was wearing flats, not heels, and she kept laying a hand on her abdomen. He couldn’t believe it.
“You’re pregnant,” he gasped.
Sam, Victor, and Dean all turned to him, than to Rachel. She lowered the can, swallowed, hard, and glanced around, than lowered her voice.
“I...I was going to tell you. No one else knows, Cas, but Victor and I. I’m just at three months, and the first trimester’s the toughest time. As soon as I got past it I was going to tell you. I just-”
“You’re pregnant,” he gasped, feeling his eyes burn. “Rachel.”
“This isn’t the place-”
He pulled her close, taking care not to push on her stomach. “A baby, Rachel, a baby! You and Victor...you’ll be such...I’m so happy.”
Rachel put a gentle, careful arm around him. “And I’m so proud of you, Cas,” she whispered, her voice choking with tears. “A family, a real family-you have it. You did it. I am so, so proud of you.” She kissed his cheek. “So,” she said, touching her stomach once more and turning back to Sam and Dean, “now that you know...name suggestions?”
Part 5
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
As Gabe took a seat beside him, and his mother settled between Michael and Lou, he turned to his brother, eyes warily on Raphael, who was seated at the aisle and had artfully avoided him at the front of the Church.
“I need to talk to you,” Cas whispered. Gabe kept his face to the altar.
“Dude, now?” he mumbled sideways.
“Raphael offered me a deal the rest of you had signed, that would essentially divide the estate into thirds, with Ralph getting all foundations and Lou managing all the investments.”
“Okay...”
“I believe they want to turn the foundations into political ones-fund think tanks and politicians, get in with top conservatives. Lead the way for Lou to invest overseas.”
“Okay...”
“It would leave Michael nothing to run the hospitals with. It would wreck everything Dad set up.”
“Hate to tell you, buddy, but you missed the boat on having a say in all that.”
“I’m not asking for anything,” Cas snapped. “But it’s not right Gabe! Lou is over there pretending to be looking out for him, and all the while he and Raphael are working to rob him of everything he’s worked for.”
“Bro, that’s all above my paygrade.”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen-I give Lou money, he turns it into more money. How he does it, I don’t think about.”
“But-”
“And do you really think you can take on Ralph and Lou?”
“Not alone.” He looked pointedly at his brother.
“Forget it, boyo. Lou makes it so I don’t have to have a real job, and I’m not jeopardizing that. You all are the brains, okay?”
“We have to at least warn Michael.”
“You warn Michael all you want, but I’m staying the hell out of it.”
“You can’t mean that.”
“Cas,” Gabe hissed. “You’ve been out of the game a long time. You have no clue how down and dirty those three have gotten. I’m smart enough to know I’m no match for them, and you should be too. You take of yours and I’ll take care of mine and leave the heavy hitting to them.”
“But Gabe-”
“Goodmorning,” the Lectern greeted them. “We’re to celebrate the life of this great man, and to offer our sympathies to his four sons, the Widow Naomi, and his extended family. Please join me in our opening hymn.”
And so began the most trying two hours of Cas’s life. Thankfully his mother had ordered a closed casket-although it was technically unnecessary-so Cas didn’t need to see his father bloodless and heavy, the way corpses always appeared to him.
Instead, he had to endure a seemingly endless parade of speakers from organizations all over the country, all who lauded his Father as some type of Divinity. The men who spoke told tales of a man’s kindness, intelligence, and dedication to the mission. The women described his unfailing chivalry and respect to their executive positions, despite the Old Boys network. Non-profit CEO’s told stories of his unfailing generosity, and some recipients of his health care scholarships spoke about their life-saving procedures.
No one spoke about his long absences from home, gruff demands, and intense drinking sessions. No one mentioned how he’d missed most of their graduations, birthdays, Thanksgivings, and plenty of Christmases.
“If Dad was so desperate for his legacy to stay intact,” Gabe mumbled, “maybe he should of done a little more fathering and a little less championing.”
Cas was in no way above feeling bitter or abandoned, but when he looked around the room at everyone who his father’s work had benefited, tearing it all down so Ralph and Lou could promote a self-serving agenda for the wealthy and privileged made him sick.
At some point, the President of the Board of his father’s first hospital asked Michael to step up, and his exhausted and slightly shaky brother made his way to the podium with an index card clutched in his hand. Cas glanced toward the back and, though he couldn’t see Dean, he caught a familiar glimpse of Sam’s brown head over the crowd, and reminded himself that they were here with him.
“Thank you,” the eldest Morgan said. “It’s a great comfort to all of us to see all of you. I just want to say that I vow,” his voice wavered, and he swallowed. Lou smiled at him and nodded reassuringly, while his mother clenched her jaw and frowned . “As the new Chairman of the boards, I am entirely committed to our Father’s vision of equal-opportunity healthcare. His mission will not be altered, and all of you can count on our full and continuing support of your individual causes.” He placed a hand on the podium and steadied himself.
“Before his death, my father and I discussed an issue raised by someone very dear to us.” Michael turned his gaze and looked directly at Cas, who suddenly wished more than anything that Dean was next to him. “It is my dearest hope that the work we do continue, while we begin a new campaign: one that will support the free or partial-reimbursement of drug and alcohol addiction treatment.” The eldest Morgan looked back out over the crowd.
“Upon study and...personal reflection, we believed it was unfair of our mission to limit treatment solely to those suffering from purely physical health issues. It was both our hope that we would begin to expand into areas classified as ‘mental.’ And as we lay our Father to rest-” Michael’s voice cracked severely, and his knuckles turned white on the podium, “as we lay him to rest, I want to impart to all of you what our Father said to me as we agreed on this-‘my greatest regret, is all the times I was too focused, too ambitious, or too busy, to just pause, to just think, and to just be kind.”
***
In the luncheon’s hall, a reception line was established, much as what would be if there had been a viewing. Their mother had forbidden one, and Cas was secretly glad-he didn’t want to stand next to his father in a coffin. It had been hard enough to see it lowered into the ground while Lou preached the virtues and values instilled in his family.
Finally, after hours kept apart, he was able to cross a packed room and make his way to Sam and Dean, who were talking quietly together and instantly brightened when he made his way to them.
“Christ,” Dean mumbled, folding him into a hug that broke about every silent rule they’d ever had. “Thought that was never going to end.”
Cas took a deep breath, filling his lungs with Dean, before pulling away and accepting a gentle hug from Sam.
“I’m sorry, Cas,” the younger Winchester said. “But I’m glad so many people turned out to speak for him. He seemed like a wonderful man.”
Cas clutched Sam to him a few seconds longer than he had to, filling himself with his friend’s kindness and sincerity.
“Thank you, Sam,” he murmured, before separating. “I assume you know we won’t be staying for the luncheon. The press will be kept out, and my duty will be done. We can go back to the hotel, and, hopefully, straight home.”
“Are you sure?” Sam frowned. “I mean...are there people you want to see here? We can wait.”
“That’s kind,” Cas smiled. “But I really want nothing more than it to be the three of us again.”
“Okay. I’ll book us tickets.” Sam looked at his phone. “Actually, I just got an alert on a few discounts. So it all works out,” he beamed, and stepped aside to make his calls.
“Dean, I want to bring him back here when things aren’t so bad. I want to bring him to other places as well,” Cas said, seriously. “He’s so eager to see things.”
“Yeah, well, he can wait long enough for you to get through this. You sure you don’t want to stay?”
“No. I want to leave as soon as we can.” Cas glanced behind him, to his mother and Aunts and brothers blocking him from the seemingly endless line of well-wishers. “And I want you to stand on line with me.”
“Who will I say I am?”
“Anyone, I don’t care. I just-Dean, please.”
Dean’s face instantly softened, and he squeezed Cas’s arm. “M’right here. Sammy and me, we’re all in.” He straightened and stood by Cas’s side. “I’ll bluff my way through, okay?”
Cas resumed his position in line, attempting to ignore Gabriel’s what the hell!!!! death stare. Dean gave a solemn nod to the first man approaching them, and Cas tried not to focus on anything but keeping calm.
“Peter Philip Branson the third,” the man said, and shook Cas’s hand heartily. “So sorry for your loss, Dr. Morgan.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And this is-”
“John Jacob Heimer-Schmidt,” Dean said, boldly clamping his hand back. “Plastic surgeon.”
“Of course,” the man said. “I believe I’ve read of your work.”
“In the American Journal of Plastic and Reconstructive Consultants? That was a lovely article. The late Dr. Morgan was involved in the full aspects of treatment, and I enjoyed consulting on the reconstructive surgery that goes along with double mastectomies, jaw and throat, and the like.” Dean smiled. “Of course I could never get Mrs. Morgan in the chair-she is just stunning as she is.”
“Really?” the man’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief.
“Oh no. Just between us...nothing has ever touched her. She won’t have it. And believe me, even I envy her aging.”
The man smiled. “That is certainly nice to hear. Sorry for your loss,” he said quickly.
“Thank you for your time,” Dean said, and shook his hand extra hard.
“Dean!” Cas hissed when the man had wandered safely out of earshot.
“Relax, man, I got this.” He grinned at the next man approaching. “Thank you for coming. I’m Baron Van Halen, Special Associate to Dr. Cas Morgan’s startup networks.”
“Oh...like father like son,” the man smiled. “Will you be going public?”
“Right now we’re strictly ground floor but...we’ll keep you in mind,” he winked.
“You’re going to get me in trouble!” Cas hissed when the guy walked away.
“Please, man. I was born for this. Fair’s fair-you showed me parts of your past, let me show you some of mine.” He extended his hand once more. “Squire Leonard P. Burton, the Eighth,” he said in a pitch-perfect British accent.
And so it went-from “Jon B. Jovi, Esquire,” to “Lord Armitage Griffin of the Lower Vale,” to “Major Johnny C. Walker, United States Airforces.” Dean was surprisingly skilled at accents, careers, and excuses, and flipped in and out of them seamlessly.
It amazed--and slightly disturbed--Cas how easy it was for his boyfriend to lie to strangers. Dean must have sensed his reservations because he leaned over and lowered his voice when they had a break to say “quit looking at me like that. This is how I kept the lights on and Sammy in shoes and winter coats.” He beamed and held out his hand once more. “Edwardo la Reuben,” he said with perfectly rolled Rs.
“Dean!” Sam hissed, coming up fast behind them. “What are you saying?”
“Thank you so much for coming,” Cas said quickly.
“Good one, Sammy,” Dean snapped as the man drifted off.
“You can’t lie to these people-Michael and the rest of them already think you’re a bad influence!”
“What am I supposed to say-‘hi, I’m Dean, I’m a mechanic, and here’s my little bro’s rehab-sugar-daddy?’”
“How about, ‘I’m Dean, Cas’s life-partner?’”
“How about I shove your life up your ass, partner?”
“Stop it,” Cas snapped. “Sam, it’s alright. We just need to get through this. Dean, back off the accents a bit.”
“I got us a flight,” Sam said, lower lip jutting out in a little pout. Dean didn’t seem to appreciate being scolded either. Seeing their crestfallen faces completely emptied Cas of any frustration, and he smiled.
“Sam, before we go, I thought we’d take the subway down to Wall Street. I’ll show you the edge of the island, the ferry, the stock exchange, the Federal Reserve.”
“Really?” Sam beamed.
“Of course. And Dean...you roll your Rs perfectly. It’s charming.” He smiled, and Dean perked right back up.
“Edwardo Telemundo le Uno-Deuxo,” he said.
“Um...Sam, Mr...Telemundo’s assistant,” Sam stammered.
“Mi assistanio,” Dean confirmed.
“I hate you and I hope you die,” Sam hissed as soon as the man drifted off.
“You squashed my dreams of being a conman!” Dean snapped back, still grinning.
“You’re a sociopath!”
“I was born to act,” he extended a hand. “Walter Haschian Madow the third, assistant state’s attorney.”
Gabriel broke ranks and was bearing down on them, so Cas hurried the man along and did his best to stand between Dean and his clearly frustrated brother.
“Gabe-”
“Dude...seriously?” he hissed. “Mom’s about to have an aneurism, Mike’s about to shit, Ralph’s pretty much ceased to acknowledged you’re related, and the next person over here will be-”
“Honestly, Gabriel, you’re the most dramatic of us all,” Lou said, smiling. “Lou Morgan,” he offered, extending his hand to Dean. “You must be Dean.”
“Uh...yes.” Dean managed. “Dean Winchester.”
“So nice to meet you. I believe I’m the last brother who had the pleasure.” He turned. “And you...you must be Sam. An extraordinary pleasure.” He seized his hand. “Honestly, you were an inspiration for my own recovery, when I heard what you’d conquered.”
Dean had gone into rigid solider mode, and Cas felt himself tensing.
“Thank you...sir,” Sam said.
“No sir...we’re family now!” He beamed at Dean. “Listen...I know I’ve said things in the past that you would find offensive. But Gabe here gave me a change of heart. That coupled with our father’s death, made me realize how important it is to value family. I’m trying...truly. No one’s perfect,” he said, eyes cutting to Sam, “right? We all do things we deeply regret.”
“Lou, give it a rest,” Gabriel snapped. “I don’t know what you’re taking but I don’t like it.”
Lou’s face fell. “Watch your tone,” he said, menace creeping into his voice. “I’ve been trying to turn over a new leaf for some time, Gabe. I understand you’re having trouble believing that, given that I have a lot to make up for, but I don’t appreciate you undermining my attempt to give a genuine welcome to Cas’s new family. I know Michael’s was less than perfect, and given your reputation to retreat into the bottle, I imagine yours was too.”
“Lou-” Cas started.
“And Cas, you have to know that you’re not entirely welcome here. I’m trying to say, in my own way, that I bear no ill-will, even if others do. I’m trying to support you.” He clapped a hand a little too hard on Sam’s shoulder, who winced, and instantly drew Dean’s death-glare.
“Little Castiel, and the man he left us for,” Lou said, holding up his hands. “No judgments...just taking it in.”
“Lou, go back to your place.”
“Gabriel,” a woman’s voice said, and caused Gabe to turn on his heel before Dean could retaliate. Sam placed a gentle hand on his elder brother’s shoulder and was promptly shaken off.
Cas instantly recognized the woman in front of him: it was Kali, or Kalista Patel, the woman from the champagne brunch. She was just as striking as Cas remembered, with her dark hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. She wore a tight black dress that bared her knees and shoulders, a stunningly large black hat, sharp and high black heels, and brilliant red lips and nails. She placed a perfectly manicured hand on his elder brother’s shoulder and smiled, just as she had at the brunch-warmly.
“Gabriel,” she murmured. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Gabe quickly stood straighter, tossed his hair slightly back over his ears, and nodded. “Thank you.”
“You haven’t taken my calls.”
“I’ve been busy. Dead Dad, crazy bros. You know.”
“I do.” Kali’s eyes were soft as she lifted her hand and touched his cheek. “We’re going to have a long, quiet, private dinner. And we’re going talk. I’m worried about you.”
Gabe snorted. “So worried you left Archibald Peter Baldwin the third at home?”
“Doctor Balder and I are no longer together.”
Gabe perked up. “Is that right?”
“He sent me a dozen roses every morning after we were intimate.”
Gabriel burst out laughing, than quickly covered his mouth. “What, was he suicidal?”
Kali tossed her head, a small smile on her lips. “I left him in tears.”
“You sure he’s not floating in the East River? Because I am so not your character witness for that trial.”
“I make no promises.” Kali smiled and gently kissed Gabriel on the cheek. “Take my call,” she murmured. “I want to know how you are. How you truly are.”
She strode off without a passing glance at the rest of them. Lou watched as she went, eyebrow cocked.
“Really?”
“Don’t. Stay. A. Word.” Gabriel growled.
“I’m just saying, little brother-she gets around.”
Gabe looked suddenly fierce and shoved his elder brother hard.
“Go back where you belong,” he seethed. “Because it’s not on this side of the line.”
Lou stared directly into his younger brother’s eyes before cocking a grin and turning to Sam.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, eyes on the youngest Winchester, as he drifted back toward Michael. Gabe turned on Cas.
“I will.” He smiled again, turning to Sam. “Again, thank you for inspiring me.”
Sam nodded while Dean glared Lou away. Cas looked to Gabe, but found his brother’s expression angry.
“This, Cas-this is what I wanted to avoid. For all of you.”
“That’s nothing we can’t handle,” Dean growled.
“No, but you shouldn’t have to. That is exactly why I-”
“Gabe, stop it,” Sam said, causing all three of them to turn toward him. “You’re not angry at Cas, not really. You’re angry at all this, and that’s okay. But don’t take it out on the one brother you know supports you. Trust me, that ends in dark alleys.”
Gabriel’s face softened. “Ah, hell kid, who made you Doctor Phil?”
“We lost our Dad too,” Sam soothed. “And it was a roller-coaster. It’s hard not to turn on the people you’re closest to let off steam. But you won’t feel better after, okay? Just try and get through this right now, and then you can finally grieve in private.”
Gabe sighed. “I need a drink like Moses needed a homeland,” he mumbled, and clapped Cas on the arm before drifting back to his former place.
“Thank you, Sam,” Cas said.
“No problem.” Sam reassumed his former stance. They nodded at a few people from across the room, and then Sam said, “Okay, I can’t take this-it’s killing me. Castiel?”
“Sammy!” Dean hissed.
“I seriously never would have come up with that! What is it from?”
“I it think means ‘God is my cover,’ or something to that affect,” Cas sighed. “Castiel was supposedly the angel of Thursday. My mother studied a lot of art and religion and she’d always loved the name. So since I was...unplanned, she decided to try something non-conventional.”
“It just...it’s kind of spacey, you know? It makes me think of stars.”
“Sammy, lay off.”
“Not in a bad way!”
“It’s alright, Sam,” Cas smiled. “I’m glad you know.”
A hand tapped him from behind, and he turned to see his mother standing beside him, eyebrows drawn in tight fury. “I want a word with you,” she snapped, and strode toward the back of the Church.
Cas excused himself, giving Dean’s arm a light squeeze to say it’s okay, stay put, when Dean cast a want me to come? glance at him, and following her away from the gathering and into the hall. He closed the door, turned, and immediately struck by her open palm.
“What are you thinking,” she hissed. “Bringing that...degenerate here? What would your father have said?”
“I don’t know,” Cas snapped. “If he weren’t dead I’d ask him.”
His mother’s features tightened and she struck him once more. “I raised you to pursue excellence. To set a standard of leadership. And you abandon it all for that...filth, and have the audacity to appear at your father’s funeral with it?”
“His name is Dean. Dean Winchester. His younger brother is Sam. And they’re my family too.”
“No, Castiel. They are not family. They are not people we associate with. A drunk and a druggie-”
“They’re sober!”
“Criminals-”
“They’re done with that-”
“Trash, Castiel! That’s what you want to leave as your legacy. What your Father would say-”
“Nothing. He would say nothing, which is what he always said, because he was never around.”
A third slap met his cheek. His mother grabbed his face and dug her nails into his jaw, forcing him to look at her. “You will return home. You will let Michael set you up in a proper home and job. And you will never, ever, speak of them again. If you don’t, then you forget your last name.”
“I love him. I love them.”
“You’re perverted.”
“Mother-”
“Don’t call me that.” Her eyes filled. “We gave you everything. I gave you everything! You were mine, Castiel...your father took all the others, but you, you were mine-mine to name, mine to love, my angel of the week. And you left...without a word...you just left!”
Cas reached toward her. “Mom-”
“You think I’m cruel,” she jerked away, wiping at her eyes. “I know you do. But you tell me, Castiel-how is it to watch your sons, and your husband, be torn to pieces by the press over things like tears, or botched speeches, or bad investments? Five of you, I had to raise, and four of them your Father molded to his image. But you...you were my little love. And you threw all I tried to give you aside for that... garbage-”
“Don’t call them names!”
“They’re bottom-feeders. They’re eating your work, your success. Nothing more. What could they possibly understand about love?”
“Dean loves me.”
“He’s brainwashed you.”
“Please, just meet him. Speak with him. He’ll show you. He’s so good to me-”
“I’m sure he tells you sweet things when you hand him money. But you can’t possibly believe that’s love.”
“I don’t ‘hand him money,’ we’re equals-”
“You are not his equal. He will never be close to your equal. You are a Morgan. That used to mean something to you.”
“They’re good men,” Cas pleaded.
“Enough. I don’t want to hear another word from you until you’re ready to apologize. Go through Michael. Beg him to take you back. I trust his judgment.” She took a step away. “From now on, you call me Mrs. Morgan. Not ‘Mother.’ Not until I say otherwise.”
She wiped her eyes, drew a shaky breath, and then walked slowly back into the Church. Cas stood, reeling, heart breaking ever-further. He wanted to go home. He wanted to lie down with Dean. He wanted to watch TV with Sam. He wanted Anna to smile when he walked on the floor. He wanted Peter to make some dumb joke.
He wanted to be anywhere but here.
Dean poked his head into the hall. “Dude. There is a smokin’ hot chick out here saying she’s looking for ya.”
Cas swallowed, hard. “Thank you.”
“Hey...you hanging in?”
“Of course.”
Dean let go of the door, crossed to him, and leaned forward, letting their foreheads touch. “I know this sucks times a million,” he murmured, taking one of Cas’s hands in both his own. “Little longer, and then we’ll go back to the hotel and get in bed and you can cry or vent or sleep or eat yourself sick-whatever you wanna do. Promise.”
“I want to go home,” Cas admitted, voice cracking. Dean instantly gripped him tighter, stroking his hair with one hand while he cupped his lower back in another.
“And we’re gonna. You and me and Sammy, okay? We’ll sleep in and watch crap TV and go get barbecue. Whatever you want.” He let go of Cas’s hand and hugged him, briefly. “C’mon. I think it’ll do you good to see your ol’flame.”
“The girl’s Rachel?” he asked, pulling back.
“Of course it is. No way she wouldn’t be here. I never even met the girl and I know that.”
Rachel. Rachel. Cas could hardly believe it. Rachel was here. He’d thought of her so often over the past few years, spoken to her far too little, and now she was just a threshold away, and he couldn’t believe it.
And suddenly nothing his mother or Lou or Raphael said mattered: nothing anyone said mattered, because Rachel was here, and Rachel loved him, and he was going to get to introduce her to Dean and Sam, and she was going to get to see that he’d done what she wanted him to do, which was make a life of his own choosing.
And he.couldn’t.wait.
He half shoved Dean out of the way in his rush to get back into the Church, where he easily spotted Sam’s massive, floppy head above the crowd, and beelined toward it, rounding a few suits to spot her: Rachel.
Still tall, still beautiful, still blonde, Rachel. Smiling at Sam, touching his arm lightly, clearly helping ease him through the conversation that must be causing him anxiety.
She turned, saw him, and her hand dropped from Sam’s arm and she opened herself to him, grinning from ear to ear, and calling “Cas!”
Cas half-lifted her off the floor. She laughed against him, even as she said “Cas, oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry about your Dad, I shouldn’t be happy, but it’s so good to see you!” He squeezed her gently, set her down, and pulled back, feeling his own eyes wet.
“Rachel,” he said, still disbelieving. She touched his cheek.
“God, you look good. Dean, you’ve made him sleep!”
“Oh yeah,” Dean smiled. “He doesn’t get away with being an insomniac with me.”
“Oh...Rachel, this is Dean. And Sam. Dean and Sam, Rachel.”
“We met.” She placed a hand on her stomach, and Cas suddenly realized that, even beneath her black dress, her normally narrow frame had widened, slightly. “Sam was telling me how this is his first time in New York. I was telling him some places they should go that wouldn’t be overrun by tourists.”
“Excuse me, excuse me,” Victor Hendrickson, Rachel’s husband, mumbled as he pushed through the crowd. “Here you go, honey,” he said, handing her a Sprite-which Cas knew she never drank-before wrapping Cas in a quick, manly hug. “Cas, sorry about your father. We made a donation in his name.” He pulled back, smiling. “Is this Sam and Dean?”
“Yes. Dean, this is Victor Hendrickson, Special Federal Agent. Rachel’s husband. Sam, Victor.”
Victor held out his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking Dean, than Sam’s hands, smiling broadly. “Rachel’s told me such great things.”
Cas watched as Rachel opened the Sprite-not even diet-and took a long drink. As he studied her, he realized her face had gotten ever so slightly rounder, and she was wearing flats, not heels, and she kept laying a hand on her abdomen. He couldn’t believe it.
“You’re pregnant,” he gasped.
Sam, Victor, and Dean all turned to him, than to Rachel. She lowered the can, swallowed, hard, and glanced around, than lowered her voice.
“I...I was going to tell you. No one else knows, Cas, but Victor and I. I’m just at three months, and the first trimester’s the toughest time. As soon as I got past it I was going to tell you. I just-”
“You’re pregnant,” he gasped, feeling his eyes burn. “Rachel.”
“This isn’t the place-”
He pulled her close, taking care not to push on her stomach. “A baby, Rachel, a baby! You and Victor...you’ll be such...I’m so happy.”
Rachel put a gentle, careful arm around him. “And I’m so proud of you, Cas,” she whispered, her voice choking with tears. “A family, a real family-you have it. You did it. I am so, so proud of you.” She kissed his cheek. “So,” she said, touching her stomach once more and turning back to Sam and Dean, “now that you know...name suggestions?”
Part 5
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3