Legacy (Supernatural) [Rogue Trilogy] {3}

11. Sully

11. Sully

When I'm up the next morning, Cas isn't there like he said he would be.

Instead, I'm met with a note on top of what looks to be a gray robe. I unfurl the note, reading Cas's scribble.

Sorry to not be here. Figured you might want something instead of the towel.

I crumple the note, shaking out the gray robe. It looks a bit big, but it feels fluffy. A smile is on my face as I rub the back of my head. As I think back to last night.

Something can't be wrong, something must've just come up that he didn't want to wake me up for. He would've explained the situation if something was wrong.

I quickly exchange the sheets for the robe, tying it tight around my slim figure. It makes me feel puffy, like I'm wearing a winter coat. It's not like having Cas's body against mine, but it'll do for now.

Figuring there's no point in going back to sleep, I shuffle out of my bedroom. I stand in the middle of the hall, yawning, stretching big, my joints cracking.

"Well, don't you look happy, sunshine," Dean greets me as he walks through the hall in his own gray robe. He nods towards me. "Where'd you find that?"

"Oh, uh...Cas found it for me." On that awkward note, I start for the kitchen, but I hear Dean following me. I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Go ahead. Start ragging on me for sleeping with him."

"I wasn't gonna do that. I wasn't sure what to think of it at first, Jo, but, it seems like he's really doing some good for you."

"You think so?"

"I can see it. I mean, he brought you back home. He cured you. It's deep, whatever you two have."

I smile. "Thanks for the approval, Dean." I clap him on the shoulder. "You're taking this awful well."

"Hey, as long as you're happy, I can't be mad about it, right? Just...don't let us hear you two roughhousing anytime soon, okay?"

For that, I punch his arm. "What, can't stand the noise? Or are you jealous because you don't have someone to 'roughhouse' with?" I smirk.

Dean doesn't answer, which makes my smile that much bigger.

When my brother and I enter the kitchen, we find our younger brother. Only...something's off. And I say that as in Sam looks to be holding empty air in a threatening stance.

"This can't be happening," he mutters.

"Dude," Dean says. "Who you talking to?"

"Him?"

"Are you having a stroke?"

I sniff. "Do you smell toast?" I ask. I look to see a buffet of treats. It's a mixture of junk food, something that I know for a fact we don't have lying around in the bunker. Shit, I forgot to tell them about the leftovers. "What is all of this crap? When did you start eating this stuff? Is that marshmallows on nachos?" That looks kinda good.

"Yeah, it wasn't me," Sam insists.

Out of nowhere, someone smaller than me appears at Sam's side out of thin air. I jump back, startled. He seems...cartoonish, almost, in his appearance. Like he's dressed like how a little kid would be, but he's not a little kid.