How (thanks to Gabriel) Dean and Castiel raised each other (and Sam)

Chapter 4- A Button For Corduroy

Chapter Four

"Um." The sound echoed through Castiel's mind. He was receiving orders, listening intently until the disruption. "Castiel, this is Dean. You said I should just pray if I needed you. Uh. So I'm praying, ok?"

"Castiel?" Uriel stared at him.

"I understand." He said gravely. "All will be as He would wish."

"Good." The suspicion did not immediately clear from Uriel's face. Castiel stood impassively under his gaze until at last it gave way to annoyance. "Fine. Go on then."

He took wing. The orders were not time sensitive, but Dean's prayer might be. Time management was a new skill for him, but Castiel thought he had picked up on it rather quickly. The Winchesters were currently in Colorado, the apartment building they currently resided in buried in snow.

"Dean." Castiel said softly as he landed. The boys were both seated on the couch, tucked in one thick blanket.

"Cas!" Dean's eyes widened. "You came."

"I told you that I would." He approached slowly. "Why did you call?"

"Here, Sammy." Dean handed his brother a plastic phone and let him dial at it. When Sam was thoroughly distracted, Dean whispered, "It's Dad. He was supposed to check in two days ago."

"Ah." Castiel closed his eyes and reached out. Of the three Winchesters, his sense of John was the weakest. After one or two close calls, Dean had ruled that Castiel shouldn't make himself known to John. Without more prolonged contact, Castiel had had a hard time getting a fix on the man. "I can locate him."

"Just make sure he's ok?" Dean's smile was weaker than usual, his eyes tight.

"I will return shortly."

He located John in a cabin miles away from the apartment. He must have been attempting to root out some beast or another and been snowed in by the storm. Castiel stood at the foot of the bed where John sat, journal over his knees and a frown on his face.

Castiel did not show himself. He did not speak. But he did watch and tried to unravel this puzzle of a man. Rage curled like a serpent around John Winchester's soul, a thick ugly glutton that bit into the remains of what made him moral and good. Castiel wondered if he could exorcise that anger like a demon. Probably not. And John would not thank him anyway, if he did. John required his rage to survive.

"He is trapped by the snowstorm." Castiel stood before the sofa once more. "He is unharmed."

"Thanks." Dean breathed out slowly.

"You are welcome."

"Hey, Cas?" Dean asked before he could leave.

"Yes?"

"Why do you wear those hospital clothes all the time?"

"They were what this vessel was wearing." He didn't think about Jimmy much anymore though the boy slumbered on in some form.

"What if you want to go to the store or something? Can't do that in hospital clothes."

"I have no need of any store."

"Well, what if we need you while we're in one?" Dean challenged. "Someone might think you're sick or something."

Apparently this mattered to Dean though Castiel could not determine why. He could choose to appear as he wished.

"What would be more appropriate?" He asked.

"I dunno. Jeans and a t-shirt or something." Dean got to his feet and started rooting through a duffel bag. "Dad always saves my old stuff so Sammy can have it. Bet it'll fit you."

"I do not require clothing." Castiel said firmly.

"So?" Dean shoved a pair of jeans, a long sleeved black shirt and a white t-shirt into Castiel's hands. They smelled like Dean usually did: motor oil and grass. The jeans were torn on one knee, but they did fit around Jimmy's waist and the shirts settled easily over his shoulders.

"Is this preferable?" He didn't feel much different, but Dean seemed pleased.

"Dunno. You still look kind of cold."

"I don't feel the cold."

"But other people don't know that." Dean reasoned. He went back into the bag, digging through until he found a zippered sweatshirt with a hood. It had probably been brown once, but time and too many washes had left it a faded tan. "There."

Obligingly, Castiel put on the sweatshirt. Inexplicably, he did feel a little warmer. Dean pulled him down onto the sofa, scooting Sammy around until the toddler was balanced on Castiel's lap and the blanket covered the three of them.

"I was gonna read something to him." Dean gestured at Sam who was leaning quite contentedly against Castiel's chest. Castiel was all too aware of how fragile Sam was, how close to the skin his veins and bones lay. How easy it was for all this to shatter. He put a tentative arm around Sam, dragging him closer and farther away from the edge of the sofa. "Maybe you could?"

"Could what?"

Dean shoved a battered picture book into Castiel's hands.

"Read." He demanded though he looked unsure if the command would be followed.

"Corduroy." He looked at the cover. "I am not familiar with this work."

"Figures." Dean rolled his eyes. "You will be if you read it."

"Bear." Sam said definitively.

"Indeed." Castiel opened the book and read, "Corduroy is a bear who once lived in a department store. Day after day he waited with all the other animals and dolls for someone to come along and take him home. Dean. If he is a stuffed bear, he cannot have such thoughts."

"It's make believe." Dean shook his head. "It's just a story."

Castiel frowned down at the book, but he obligingly turned the page though he had to hold the book higher out of Sam's reach as the toddler kept grabbing for the fragile pages. He found himself absorbed in the simple story as the bear trekked through the dark department store looking for his lost button.

"The little girl was very wise." He commented when he had finished reading.

But there was no one to listen to him. Both boys had fallen asleep, Sam's head resting against Castiel's chest and Dean's pillowed on his thigh. There were things Castiel had to do, but they could wait a few more hours. He held his body still and thought about the little bear with his missing button.