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The hug lasted a long while, Jack enjoying the relief he felt at being with someone familiar. Billie and her reapers were fine company to stave off the loneliness, but they weren’t home. And he was glad it was Cas who’d saved him, even if he really couldn’t feel anything beyond that simple relief with his soul gone. He wondered what this moment would feel like if he weren’t so broken.
Still, Jack sank into the gentle touch, face tucked into Castiel’s shoulder. Cas’ arms were tight around his back, and Jack was grateful for the hug. Because even if he couldn’t feel the mess of emotions he thought he should be feeling, he knew that this hug, this freely given and fierce hug, meant that Cas still loved him. And that knowledge was enough to send the tension right out of his body, leaving a space where a mix of happy and sad should be.
Jack felt Cas heave in a breath and pull back, hands still heavy on Jack’s shoulders. Jack looked into his eyes, wishing he could understand the emotions he saw written there.
“It’s really you,” Cas whispered, a hand coming up to Jack’s cheek. Jack didn’t know what to say.
“It’s me.” Maybe that was enough, because Castiel smiled a smile Jack thought looked sad, but was interwoven with a million invisible things. Lots of it felt like love.
Cas seemed to tear his eyes from Jack’s face, then, and dropped his gaze to the mess of cuts all over Jack’s chest. They stung a little, but he’d all but forgotten they were there. Some of the blood had gotten onto Castiel’s clothes.
Closing his eyes, Cas pressed two fingers gently to Jack’s forehead, his grace rushing through and knitting the cuts back together. Jack watched his face, and realized Cas was struggling to heal him. Which didn’t typically happen. Was something wrong?
When he was all healed Cas looked a bit more tired than usual, and Jack’s shirt was still torn open, though the blood was gone.
“Better?” Cas asked, and Jack nodded. Cas squeezed Jack’s upper arm, before sliding his hand away.
“Why don’t you button this up, and then we can go,” he said, gesturing to Jack’s jacket. He nodded again, obliging while Cas leaned down to retrieve his angel blade.
“Ready?” he asked upon straightening, a hand hovering at Jack’s elbow. But Jack couldn’t leave yet.
“Um, Cas?”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
Whoa. That wasn’t normal. “Nothing,” Jack said, slowly. “I just- I need the heart.” He looked to the Grigori corpse across the church, and Cas’ gaze followed his.
“Jack, the police are on your trail. We don’t have much time-”
“I’ll be quick. And I can explain everything later, I just- I have to.” Well, he could explain almost everything later.
Castiel’s jaw worked, and Jack wondered absently if he should be worried. If he would be anxious with an intact soul.
“Okay,” Cas said. Jack looked at him, eyes wide in a hollow surprise. Cas flipped his blade around and passed the hilt of it to Jack. “Quickly, alright?”
Jack nodded, and ran off to eat his last Grigori heart. Cas was still hovering close by, and Jack found himself more at ease than he'd been in weeks.
-------
The sight of that battered blue truck made something twist where Jack’s soul should be.
The walk back to the car had been quiet, their pace brisk. Cas had a hand hovering between Jack’s shoulder blades, and he couldn’t tell if it was to guide him along or to catch him if he fell. Both were likely, and the hearts always did leave him feeling a little queasy. Thankfully that was the last one.
Silence accompanied them until they drove out of town, and Castiel’s whole demeanor seemed to deflate in relief. Jack fiddled with his hands, staring straight ahead. Every few minutes Cas would look at him, but he wasn’t asking questions yet. How Cas still trusted him, Jack couldn't fathom.
“Where are we going?” Jack asked, after a while. Cas’ eyes flicked back over to him again, about forty-five seconds ahead of schedule.
“To the bunker,” he said, watching Jack closely for a reaction. Jack felt… apprehensive. Maybe a few steps away from scared.
“I- are you sure I can go back there? Sam and Dean-”
“Jack, it’ll be alright. Okay?” Jack met Cas’ eyes, and Cas looked away, back to the road. “Sam and Dean miss you. We’ve all missed you. Having you back is more important than what’s happened in the past.”
Well, if Cas was sure. Still, though, Jack worried.
“I’m working with Billie,” he said, changing the subject. Cas’ hands stayed steady on the wheel, even though his eyes were narrowed as he processed the new information.
“You’re working with Death?”
Jack nodded. “That’s what the hearts are for. She told me I needed to eat them, to make myself stronger. Because once I get strong enough, I- I’m supposed to kill God.”
“Ah.” Castiel’s jaw worked again, a million indecipherable emotions all tangled up in the movement. “And you trust her?”
“I do. She brought me back to life, and she said she wants to keep order in the universe. I believe her.”
Cas nodded. “Okay.”
Jack frowned. Somehow he’d expected a fight. “That’s… all?”
“I have… questions,” Cas admitted, “but if you trust Billie, I trust you. And like I said, having you back, it’s- it’s worth more than anything else.”
Jack didn’t know what to say. He swallowed hard, turning away from Castiel’s earnestness. Because he wouldn’t actually be back for long, but he couldn’t tell Cas that. It wouldn’t go over well.
“Do you have any more information on the plan?”
Jack shook his head, eyes fixed on a cell tower in the distance. “Not yet. She’ll tell me when it’s time for my next task.”
“And it’s… it’s safe?”
Jack forced himself to meet Castiel’s eyes, suddenly very thankful that being soulless made it less painful to lie.
“...yeah. I’ll be fine.”
------
Eventually Cas turned on some music, but it wasn’t their usual playlist. It was just the radio, some old man listing trivia facts about a song’s history instead of actually playing it. It took a few songs like that for Cas to snap out of his latest round of staring at Jack in disbelief enough to speak.
“Our CD’s are in the glove box, if you’d prefer those.”
“Okay.” Jack went for them, if simply for something to do with his hands. And he wanted something familiar, hoped that maybe it would make him feel something. He wanted to feel what he saw in Cas’ face, be happier that he was with Cas and safe again, but he couldn’t. All he felt was apprehension about the Winchesters and a hollow, heavy pit in his stomach from lying.
“Jack, um.” Jack turned his head, seeing Cas drumming a finger on the steering wheel. Another unusual behavior. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I still don’t have my soul, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, that’s not-” Cas sighed. “I know that I failed you, and for that I can never properly apologize. But if there’s anything you want to talk about, just know that I’m here. And I will not fail you again.”
“You didn’t fail me, Cas,” Jack said. “You saved me. Like you always do.”
It took Cas a moment to find his next words. “Did you- did you feel like you couldn’t come to me?”
Jack kept looking at Cas, whose eyes were trained on the road again, hands tight on the steering wheel.
“Of course not. I... I wanted to. I wanted to come home, but Billie said it would be easier to stay off of Chuck’s radar if I didn’t. And that it was better to avoid Sam and Dean, because…” he trailed off, unable to say what they both knew.
Cas only nodded, solemn, and said: “I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”
Jack thought maybe that should make him smile, but all he managed was an uptick of the lips at the corner of his mouth. He did feel very tired- maybe this last Grigori had taken more energy out of him than he’d thought.
“Don’t worry, Cas,” Jack assured. “You’re here now. And as long as you’re here I know it’s gonna be okay.”
He ignored the devilish voice whispering in the back of his mind. Liar, liar, it chanted. Mocking him.
Inexplicably, Castiel was smiling. A soft kind of smile, wistful and serene.
“Your mother said that to me once,” Cas said.
“Oh.” Jack wished he felt more than a hollow pang at those words.
Cas seemed to shake himself out of whatever memory fog he was under, turning another gentle glance in Jack’s direction.
“We have another hour or so before we get home. Why don’t you shut your eyes for a while, ‘kay?”
So Jack did, the car and the song of Castiel’s grace lulling him into a dreamless, drifting sleep.
------
Castiel pulled the truck into the garage, turning off the engine and turning to look at Jack. Jack, who was alive again. Maybe not completely well- he looked pale and drawn and was apparently working with Death now, but he was here.
Knowing that, seeing that- it felt like the first drop of rain after a drought. Like the first breath back from drowning.
Cas gently shook Jack’s shoulder to wake him. Bleary blue eyes met his, and he made sure to keep his expression gentle. It felt like a Herculean feat not to pull Jack into his arms again and never let him go.
“We’re back?” Jack asked.
“Yeah. Come on, let’s get you inside.”
He got out of the vehicle and walked around to its other side, where Jack was gently closing the door behind him.
“Are- are Sam and Dean-”
“They’re not here right now,” Cas reassured him, hating that he had to do so. “They’re on their way back from Alaska. It should be several more hours before they arrive.”
Jack nodded, biting at his lip. “What now?”
Cas settled a hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezed gently, hoping to calm him while also indulging his own desire to be in contact- to be sure that this wasn’t all a cruel dream.
“Now, we get you cleaned up. You can take a shower, and I’ll make you something to eat.”
“That sounds… good.”
“Yeah?” Cas inclined his head in the direction of the door, smiling gently. “Come on.”
Jack followed him into the bunker, trailing down the halls as if he were afraid to take up space. Every tentative movement sent barbs into Castiel’s heart. This was Jack’s home, the only one he’d ever known, and he should be able to feel safe here. They reached Jack’s bedroom, Cas taking a breath to steel himself before opening the door. He’d barely allowed himself in here, since... well. It didn’t matter anymore.
“It looks the same,” Jack said, looking around the room. “Everything’s still here.”
“Of course it is,” Cas replied. “I- we weren’t going to throw your things away.”
Jack trailed his fingers over his blankets, eyes lingering on the photograph of Kelly he kept on the nightstand. “Maybe you should have,” he whispered. Then: “Cas?”
“Hmm?” He turned back from where he was rummaging through a drawer for some clean clothes. Jack was looking at him strangely.
“How long was I dead?” Cas tried not to flinch too obviously. Jack went on, all in a rush. “I tried to figure it out from looking at a newspaper, but everything just feels jumbled up in my head. I can’t remember when I died, so the math isn’t... Cas?”
Cas forced himself to meet Jack’s eyes again. The boy moved closer, tentatively, like he was afraid he’d broken something. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just, um. You were gone for a while. But it’s alright now, because you’re back.”
“How long?” Jack’s voice and eyes were gentle, much more so than expected given his circumstances. But then again, this was Jack. His kindness was the norm, not a deviation from it. Soul or not.
“Almost four months.” Cas finished assembling a stack of fresh clothes and passed it to Jack, who was still staring at him with wide eyes and a furrowed brow.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Oh, Jack, don’t be. It’s not your fault. You just clean up and get dressed, and then meet me in the kitchen, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
-------
Cas stared at the contents of the pantry for a long moment, wondering what to make. He hadn’t had to think about food for a while, seeing as he himself didn’t need it. He considered Jack’s favorite cereal, but opted instead for soup. Fairly nutritious, and it could settle the boy’s stomach in case the hearts didn’t go down well.
He went through the motions of cooking in a bit of a daze, still in disbelief that Jack was with him again.
Soup in the microwave, bread in the toaster, glass full of water. He felt like he should be doing something more, but the simple miracle of making a meal for Jack was not lost on him. As such, he went about his task with a quiet sort of reverence, half an attempt to make up for lost time.
Everything had scarcely been ready for a minute when Jack appeared in the doorway, with hair still damp and maroon sleeves pulled down over his wrists.
“You feeling better?” Cas asked, moving closer.
“A little.”
“Good. There’s soup if you-” he was cut off by Jack coming forward and wrapping his arms around him. Cas hugged back, of course, if a little stunned. Both by the desperation of the action and the fact that it was real.
“You’re alright,” he whispered into Jack’s hair. Jack pulled away with a sharp inhale, tugging at his sleeves again.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t… I just felt like… I don’t know.”
“It’s okay, Jack. I know resurrections are jarring, and sometimes coming back to a familiar place feels worse. Whatever you need, you’ve got me.”
Jack attempted a smile, and Cas clapped him on the shoulder again. He decided that having his son back, regardless of any orders from Death or gods to kill, was the most breathtaking miracle he’d ever experienced.
-------
It wasn’t long before the sounds of Sam and Dean arriving home reverberated through the bunker. Jack looked up from the book he was reading, eyes wide with apprehension. Cas closed his own book, rising and crossing behind the table to stand next to Jack.
“Cas, what if they don’t…”
“They will. I know they will.”
And if they didn’t…
Jack didn’t have to worry about that, because Cas wouldn’t leave his side. And if either Winchester tried anything, though he doubted they would, Jack would not be the one leaving the room with an injury.
Castiel would make sure of that. Because this miracle was going to be protected.
Whatever it took.