[Fic] John'Verse - Story Nine - By Grace of God
Title: By Grace of God
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: I don’t own Cas, Dean, Sam or Bobby.
Rating: PG
Warnings: slash, kid!fic, angst, fluff, wing!fic (in a way), language, slight H/C
Pairing/Characters: Castiel/Dean, John Tabris mentions of Sam and Bobby
Word Count: 1500+
Summary: Sometimes life is difficult and Dean feels the strain.
Author’s Notes: Okay, this one is a tiny bit heart-wrenching. I’m sorry! I couldn’t shake a few of these images and just had to combine them. But of course it’s my John’Verse so it’s a happy ending! I hope you enjoy!
John’s Age: 4 weeks
*****************************
By Grace of God
Dean leaned his forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall, letting the almost too hot water scald over his aching, tense muscles. He was running on little more than black coffee and toast instead of the decent sleep he should be getting. John had been whiny and fussy for the past several days, hardly giving Dean a moment after Dean had only just come back from a solo hunt to help an old acquaintance.
He had left John in the combined capable hands of Sam, Bobby and Castiel, dreading it but mentally assuring himself that the three of them could handle one four week old infant. He really needn’t have worried, but he’d hardly let the child out of his sight since he came filtering into being.
When he came back home to Bobby’s however, it was to find a tense looking Sam, a more sullen than usual Bobby and not a trace of Castiel. Dean immediately worried and asked what had happened. Castiel had been called unexpectedly back to Heaven, a scuffle had broken out. Dean didn’t want to think of the implications of a ‘scuffle’ when the all-powerful angelic beings were involved.
Dean managed to get a few hours of sleep before he found himself being shaken awake and peering into Sam’s tense face. An old college buddy had called him and he had to go. Dean nodded and shut his eyes again. Bobby came in an hour later and informed Dean that several demons were wreaking havoc and he had to be on his way as well. As soon as the two other men left John began to start up.
Dean wondered and worried if he sensed what was going on in Heaven and hoped he didn’t but saw no other explanation really for his son’s sudden distress at four weeks of age. Trying to soothe and comfort was how Dean spent the next 60 hours. Spending several of them with guilt ridden thoughts about being an awful father, wondering if having John was a mistake, if he was actually cut out to raise another human being and why on earth he couldn’t help. Of course, the more awful of those thoughts were stress induced and Dean didn’t mean a word of them, but he felt as if he was falling apart nonetheless.
Then finally, at last Castiel shimmered into the room and stumbled into Dean’s arms, clinging to the man and kissing him with such ferocity that Dean was momentarily taken aback. Then Castiel pulled away and wrinkled his nose, pushing Dean unceremoniously towards the bathroom. And despite the desperate need for a shower and the alone time Dean still found himself uselessly fighting because for all his lack of experience with babies Castiel had less. He couldn’t fight for long though when a millennia old, celestial being had it in mind to make him go.
Dean startled faintly when he felt warm arms curl around his waist and a firm chest press against the wet heated skin of his back, “John?”
“He’s sleeping,” Castiel murmured.
“How…?” Dean managed to get out, having to attempt that very thing for far too long.
Castiel waited several long moments before answering, “He’s sleeping, Dean.” Dean wasn’t sure how to feel about his angel mojoing their four week old into the slumber but just chalked it up as the miracle it was. He snorted ironically.
“People should start praying to you from now on instead of your Dad when they want their fussy babies to sleep,” Dean mumbled. “You may actually have some sympathy for their plight.”
Castiel snorted, “Quite. I’ll trade in my Angel of Thursday moniker for Angel of Fussy Infants.”
“You’ll certainly have more work if that’s the case,” Dean found it strange how he still managed to stay upright with his words sounding so slurred and the exhaustion so intense that he actually felt it beating through each cell of his body. Then he realized that he wasn’t really keeping himself upright and Castiel was supporting most of his weight under the warm stream of water.
“God Cas, can I do this? Really? With my life and all the shit I go through?” Dean said, hating the roughness of his voice from the barely checked fatigued tears threatening to spill over.
“Dean,” Castiel said urgently, turning the green eyed man around and pushing him up against the shower wall, “you would not have been given this gift if you couldn’t handle it and were not worthy of it. Trust me. Also trust that you are not alone. I may not know that much about children but I want this for me, for us, just as much I ever wanted it for you. We’ll learn, we’ll find our way somehow.”
Dean finally managed to take in how strained Castiel seemed, how his lip was split and his eyes were a dark smudge of bruises underneath. How despite being able to support 180 pounds of Dean he was favouring one side just a little, if the off-centre tilt of his shoulders was anything to go by.
“Jesus Cas, what the fuck?” Dean blinked.
“I’ll heal, you should have seen me an hour ago,” Castiel smiled bitterly. “The situation is under control now.”
“Come on, this is ridiculous, neither of us should even be standing right now,” Dean slapped off the spray of water that was rapidly beginning to cool anyway and slid across the cheap vinyl curtain with a scrape-squeal of plastic rings on faintly rusting metal. He winced. He really had to tempt Bobby into renovating.
Dean let go of Castiel’s hand just long enough to dry himself quickly and wrap the fluffy blue towel around his waist. He grasped Castiel again after the angel followed suit and the two of them stumbled across and down the hall to the guest room. Dean collapsed on the bed the moment he saw it. Expecting Castiel to follow but could only watch with drowsy eyes as Castiel pulled on one of the several pairs of discarded jeans and padded over to the crib. Not remembering the last time Dean saw Castiel so uncertain, he watched as the angel bit his lip and fluttered his hands towards the crib. Dean stumbled off the bed and grabbed a pair of jeans for himself before walking over to Castiel and gently shouldering the angel aside. He reached down and lifted the tiny, sleeping infant as if he would shatter, before turning to the angel. Castiel actually took a stuttering step back, his eyes widening.
“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean whispered. “You won’t break him.”
“But you…” Castiel’s eyes jumped from the baby to Dean’s eyes before settling on the baby again. Dean found that the unvoiced point was a valid one. Dean himself was probably overly cautious with the child, not sure exactly how to handle him yet. It was still all so new.
Dean let out a shaking breath through his nose, “I know, but we’ll figure it out. Like you said. Now come on.” Dean took a step closer and Castiel didn’t step away this time just watched reverently as Dean brought the baby over to him and encouraged Castiel to lift his arms.
To this point the occasions that Castiel had held the child were rarer than he’d like to admit. Feeding was while sitting and Dean was there solid and comforting at his side. Changing wasn’t a challenge. The baby was placed secure on his table for that task. Bathing he was seated in shallow water in the sink. He had only held the child, completely without some form of support once: the day he came into being. That was four weeks ago almost to the day.
Now Dean was here ushering the baby into his arms and taking a step back and away towards the bed.
“Dean,” Castiel’s panicked gaze tracked him.
“Castiel, you’re fine,” Dean said firmly the use of his full name jolting the angel more than anything else may have.
That’s when Castiel felt it and his eyes looked over at Dean wide and startled, “Dean!”
“Cas, seriously you won’t-”
“No, Dean, shut your eyes!” Castiel said urgently. Dean obeyed that tone without question as he always did. Then there is was, a flare brilliant and beautiful warm and all-encompassing light. John’s eyes that had been blue, greened over entirely and flew open with more awareness than a child his age had any right to possess. And there, curling out of his small shoulders were small gossamer, feathered wings, rainbow and transparent like a bubble. A pulse of the infant’s grace, a mirror of Castiel’s own, fired through older angel stronger than anything he had felt since he had been in His Father’s presence. Castiel felt his eyes burn and tears fall before he could stop them.
Dean hesitantly cracked open one eye, then opened them fully and he let out a little choked noise, “Cas are those…?”
“Yes Dean,” Castiel whispered. “John’s come into Grace.”
Dean launched himself off the bed, all tiredness forgotten in awe as he stumbled over and brushed a delicate finger against the feathers at the child’s back, before they shimmered out of sight.
The infant gurgled happily, all trace of pain, tears and fussiness completely vanished.
“Cas, his eyes…” Dean murmured.
“Yes.”
“Cas he’s…”
“Yes Dean. I know. He is indeed.”
End
Return to Master Post
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: I don’t own Cas, Dean, Sam or Bobby.
Rating: PG
Warnings: slash, kid!fic, angst, fluff, wing!fic (in a way), language, slight H/C
Pairing/Characters: Castiel/Dean, John Tabris mentions of Sam and Bobby
Word Count: 1500+
Summary: Sometimes life is difficult and Dean feels the strain.
Author’s Notes: Okay, this one is a tiny bit heart-wrenching. I’m sorry! I couldn’t shake a few of these images and just had to combine them. But of course it’s my John’Verse so it’s a happy ending! I hope you enjoy!
John’s Age: 4 weeks
*****************************
By Grace of God
Dean leaned his forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall, letting the almost too hot water scald over his aching, tense muscles. He was running on little more than black coffee and toast instead of the decent sleep he should be getting. John had been whiny and fussy for the past several days, hardly giving Dean a moment after Dean had only just come back from a solo hunt to help an old acquaintance.
He had left John in the combined capable hands of Sam, Bobby and Castiel, dreading it but mentally assuring himself that the three of them could handle one four week old infant. He really needn’t have worried, but he’d hardly let the child out of his sight since he came filtering into being.
When he came back home to Bobby’s however, it was to find a tense looking Sam, a more sullen than usual Bobby and not a trace of Castiel. Dean immediately worried and asked what had happened. Castiel had been called unexpectedly back to Heaven, a scuffle had broken out. Dean didn’t want to think of the implications of a ‘scuffle’ when the all-powerful angelic beings were involved.
Dean managed to get a few hours of sleep before he found himself being shaken awake and peering into Sam’s tense face. An old college buddy had called him and he had to go. Dean nodded and shut his eyes again. Bobby came in an hour later and informed Dean that several demons were wreaking havoc and he had to be on his way as well. As soon as the two other men left John began to start up.
Dean wondered and worried if he sensed what was going on in Heaven and hoped he didn’t but saw no other explanation really for his son’s sudden distress at four weeks of age. Trying to soothe and comfort was how Dean spent the next 60 hours. Spending several of them with guilt ridden thoughts about being an awful father, wondering if having John was a mistake, if he was actually cut out to raise another human being and why on earth he couldn’t help. Of course, the more awful of those thoughts were stress induced and Dean didn’t mean a word of them, but he felt as if he was falling apart nonetheless.
Then finally, at last Castiel shimmered into the room and stumbled into Dean’s arms, clinging to the man and kissing him with such ferocity that Dean was momentarily taken aback. Then Castiel pulled away and wrinkled his nose, pushing Dean unceremoniously towards the bathroom. And despite the desperate need for a shower and the alone time Dean still found himself uselessly fighting because for all his lack of experience with babies Castiel had less. He couldn’t fight for long though when a millennia old, celestial being had it in mind to make him go.
Dean startled faintly when he felt warm arms curl around his waist and a firm chest press against the wet heated skin of his back, “John?”
“He’s sleeping,” Castiel murmured.
“How…?” Dean managed to get out, having to attempt that very thing for far too long.
Castiel waited several long moments before answering, “He’s sleeping, Dean.” Dean wasn’t sure how to feel about his angel mojoing their four week old into the slumber but just chalked it up as the miracle it was. He snorted ironically.
“People should start praying to you from now on instead of your Dad when they want their fussy babies to sleep,” Dean mumbled. “You may actually have some sympathy for their plight.”
Castiel snorted, “Quite. I’ll trade in my Angel of Thursday moniker for Angel of Fussy Infants.”
“You’ll certainly have more work if that’s the case,” Dean found it strange how he still managed to stay upright with his words sounding so slurred and the exhaustion so intense that he actually felt it beating through each cell of his body. Then he realized that he wasn’t really keeping himself upright and Castiel was supporting most of his weight under the warm stream of water.
“God Cas, can I do this? Really? With my life and all the shit I go through?” Dean said, hating the roughness of his voice from the barely checked fatigued tears threatening to spill over.
“Dean,” Castiel said urgently, turning the green eyed man around and pushing him up against the shower wall, “you would not have been given this gift if you couldn’t handle it and were not worthy of it. Trust me. Also trust that you are not alone. I may not know that much about children but I want this for me, for us, just as much I ever wanted it for you. We’ll learn, we’ll find our way somehow.”
Dean finally managed to take in how strained Castiel seemed, how his lip was split and his eyes were a dark smudge of bruises underneath. How despite being able to support 180 pounds of Dean he was favouring one side just a little, if the off-centre tilt of his shoulders was anything to go by.
“Jesus Cas, what the fuck?” Dean blinked.
“I’ll heal, you should have seen me an hour ago,” Castiel smiled bitterly. “The situation is under control now.”
“Come on, this is ridiculous, neither of us should even be standing right now,” Dean slapped off the spray of water that was rapidly beginning to cool anyway and slid across the cheap vinyl curtain with a scrape-squeal of plastic rings on faintly rusting metal. He winced. He really had to tempt Bobby into renovating.
Dean let go of Castiel’s hand just long enough to dry himself quickly and wrap the fluffy blue towel around his waist. He grasped Castiel again after the angel followed suit and the two of them stumbled across and down the hall to the guest room. Dean collapsed on the bed the moment he saw it. Expecting Castiel to follow but could only watch with drowsy eyes as Castiel pulled on one of the several pairs of discarded jeans and padded over to the crib. Not remembering the last time Dean saw Castiel so uncertain, he watched as the angel bit his lip and fluttered his hands towards the crib. Dean stumbled off the bed and grabbed a pair of jeans for himself before walking over to Castiel and gently shouldering the angel aside. He reached down and lifted the tiny, sleeping infant as if he would shatter, before turning to the angel. Castiel actually took a stuttering step back, his eyes widening.
“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean whispered. “You won’t break him.”
“But you…” Castiel’s eyes jumped from the baby to Dean’s eyes before settling on the baby again. Dean found that the unvoiced point was a valid one. Dean himself was probably overly cautious with the child, not sure exactly how to handle him yet. It was still all so new.
Dean let out a shaking breath through his nose, “I know, but we’ll figure it out. Like you said. Now come on.” Dean took a step closer and Castiel didn’t step away this time just watched reverently as Dean brought the baby over to him and encouraged Castiel to lift his arms.
To this point the occasions that Castiel had held the child were rarer than he’d like to admit. Feeding was while sitting and Dean was there solid and comforting at his side. Changing wasn’t a challenge. The baby was placed secure on his table for that task. Bathing he was seated in shallow water in the sink. He had only held the child, completely without some form of support once: the day he came into being. That was four weeks ago almost to the day.
Now Dean was here ushering the baby into his arms and taking a step back and away towards the bed.
“Dean,” Castiel’s panicked gaze tracked him.
“Castiel, you’re fine,” Dean said firmly the use of his full name jolting the angel more than anything else may have.
That’s when Castiel felt it and his eyes looked over at Dean wide and startled, “Dean!”
“Cas, seriously you won’t-”
“No, Dean, shut your eyes!” Castiel said urgently. Dean obeyed that tone without question as he always did. Then there is was, a flare brilliant and beautiful warm and all-encompassing light. John’s eyes that had been blue, greened over entirely and flew open with more awareness than a child his age had any right to possess. And there, curling out of his small shoulders were small gossamer, feathered wings, rainbow and transparent like a bubble. A pulse of the infant’s grace, a mirror of Castiel’s own, fired through older angel stronger than anything he had felt since he had been in His Father’s presence. Castiel felt his eyes burn and tears fall before he could stop them.
Dean hesitantly cracked open one eye, then opened them fully and he let out a little choked noise, “Cas are those…?”
“Yes Dean,” Castiel whispered. “John’s come into Grace.”
Dean launched himself off the bed, all tiredness forgotten in awe as he stumbled over and brushed a delicate finger against the feathers at the child’s back, before they shimmered out of sight.
The infant gurgled happily, all trace of pain, tears and fussiness completely vanished.
“Cas, his eyes…” Dean murmured.
“Yes.”
“Cas he’s…”
“Yes Dean. I know. He is indeed.”
End
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