Chapter Text
When Sam woke up precisely at 5:30 that morning, he expected another routine day. He got up, stretched, check his phone and other phone for messages, got dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, and made his way down the hall, stretching his arms up as high as they could go along the way. As he passed by Dean’s room, he noticed the door slightly ajar. Unable to help himself, he peeked in.
Dean was sprawled on his bed on top of the covers, mouth ajar with drool dripping out of one side, and surrounded by empty beer bottles.
Sam felt a spike of irritation. He just bought that case two days ago. At this rate, his brother’s water weight would be 90% beer and 10% water. He knew that the last year hadn’t been easy for Dean but it wasn’t easy for Sam, either. But, you don’t see him drowning his sorrows in cheap alcohol.
Shaking his head, Sam pushed the door open and loudly proclaimed, “Dean, seriously?”
His brother’s sleeping form twitched, followed by a soft pained groan.
Instantly, Sam felt guilty for waking him up like this. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” he said, much more gently this time.
Dean mumbled something that sounded like, “Leave me alone, Sammy” before turning on to his stomach. He was snoring again in seconds.
Sam felt himself sighing as he pulled the covers from under Dean and tucked him in. He patted him on the back, hoping to give him some form of comfort, even if he wasn't conscious for it. Then, he left the room, shut the door behind him, and made his way out of the bunker for his morning run.
There was always something about seeing the early morning sunrise that made Sam a little emotional.
Maybe it was all the close calls with death. Living to see another sunrise is a blessing to every hunter, but apparently, for a Winchester, it was practically a miracle.
The nearest park to the bunker had the best view of the sunrise and sunset. So, naturally, Sam picked that as the place to be whenever he was out running.
Slowing down to a walk, Sam kept his gaze on the rising sun over the horizon and began to pray. He didn’t know if anyone up there was still listening but it didn’t hurt to try.
Hey, Jack. How are you doing up there, kid? I hope you’re alright. We’re all pretty okay down here.
He paused, suddenly thinking about Dean because truth be told, Dean was not okay. He was far from okay. But, Jack had a lot more important things to take care of than worry about them. So, he refrained from talking about Dean.
We miss you, he finished his prayer. Take care.
With that last thought, he took off again and made his way back home.
He could smell the eggs and bacon before he even made it to the bottom of the stairs. So, at least Dean had gotten up on time. Sam could even hear him cooing at Miracle, telling the dog what a good boy he was.
“Soup’s on, Sammy!” Dean barked when he saw him at the door. “We got eggs and bacon and that turkey bacon shit you like. You want waffles, too?”
Sam rolled his eyes as he sat down at the table. “I’m fine, Dean.”
“Uh huh.”
A plate filled to the brim with waffles joined the eggs and bacon, anyway.
If Sam didn’t know any better, he’d think Dean was trying to clog up his arteries so he would die an early death. At least that would be a more natural way to go compared to any of their previous deaths. And the notion that they had more than one death experience was pretty weird and crazy. Their life in the past year had been, for the most part, quiet and normal. But, who knew how long that was gonna last?
As usual, they didn't talk about Dean's night. They never did because if Sam even uttered a word, Dean would shut down. He'd assure him he was fine, that no, he wasn't an alcoholic, what are you talking about, Sammy, he was just enjoying their brand spanking new life of freedom and free will. It was what they fought and suffered and lost people for. Why shouldn't Dean enjoy it? Lighten up, Rapunzel!
A creaking sound that could only be the bunker door opening made Sam pause, turkey bacon halfway to his mouth. Across from him, Dean also froze, his eyes moving to the doorway. Someone was in the bunker. And seeing as no other hunter had made a call to let them know they were stopping by, what they had was an intruder.
Perhaps, Sam had spoken too soon.
Quietly, the older Winchester stood up, headed for the kitchen counters, and snagged two knives. Sam followed behind him, taking the second knife Dean wordlessly offered.
“Stay,” his brother whispered to Miracle, who let out a soft whine but stayed in his spot under the table.
Together, the two men tiptoed out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the war room. They spotted jean-clad legs making their way down the stairs. Sam tightened his grip on the knife, getting ready to pounce.
But, when the figure showed itself in full, Sam felt his mouth fall open in shock.
“Hello.”
That broke Sam out of his stupor. “Jack!” he exclaimed, dropping the knife and rushing over to the kid.
Their kid.
Who was now God.
Man, their life was weird.
With an overjoyed laugh, Sam pulled Jack into a hug. The kid returned it, gripping Sam, tightly.
“I missed you, guys,” he whispered.
“We missed you, too.” Sam pulled away and stepped back, taking a few seconds to look at him.
Jack looked more or less the same as they saw him last, a year ago. Same tousled dark blonde hair, same white jacket and light blue jeans that Sam remembered getting for him at Walmart, and the same shy, innocent smile that reminded everyone about how young he actually was despite his physical appearance.
Dean took that moment to give Jack his own hug, patting his back in that fond way he does before letting him go.
“You look good, kid.”
“You, too, Dean.”
“What are you doing here?”
Jack appeared to not hear. Instead, he looked in the direction of the kitchen, subtly sniffing the air.
“Something smells good. Are those waffles?”
Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Come on. Have breakfast with us. You can tell us what’s been up with you in the past year.”
He picked up his knife and together with Dean, they led Jack into the kitchen where the food still waited for them.
With Jack sitting across from him and Dean, it felt like nothing had changed in the past year at all, except for the dog sitting at Jack’s feet and the empty space where the fourth member of Team Free Will 2.0 usually sat.
The two of them watched as Jack dug into his waffles, eagerly. He had smothered them in maple syrup and powdered sugar. Normally, Sam would say something about his teeth rotting. Jack had an uncontrollable sweet tooth (which kind of reminded him of Gabriel but, then again, the two were related).
Jack looked so happy that Sam couldn’t bring himself to say anything and just let him enjoy it.
“So, kid, not that we’re not happy to see you,” Dean began. “But... uh... why are you back here?”
Jack’s pleasant chewing slowed down. He was avoiding their eyes.
“Is something wrong?” Sam couldn’t help but ask. Something always went wrong. Jack was acting too shifty for nothing to be wrong. “Is it Heaven? Is there trouble?”
Jack didn’t answer. Instead, he swallowed, first, before taking a long drink of his orange juice.
His silence only worried Sam more.
If Jack was here, then who was running Heaven?
Now that Sam thought about it, were there even enough angels left to help Jack with things?
“Kid, if there’s something up, we need to know about it,” Dean said, serious for the first time all morning. “No more secrets and no more surprises, got it? We need to know what we’re up against.”
“Nothing’s up,” Jack finally answered, though he couldn’t look them in the eye. “Can’t I just come for a social visit?”
“A year ago, when we asked you if we were ever gonna see you again, you said you were gonna be in the trees and the waters and all that bullshit. What’s up with that now?”
“Jack,” Sam took over, a bit more gently. “We just need you to tell us the truth. Why are you really here?”
Jack swallowed and mumbled something Sam couldn’t decipher.
“Speak up,” Dean growled, his patience clearly wearing thin.
Sam wanted to glare at him but he couldn't take his eyes off the boy.
“I…” Jack mumbled again.
“Jack, just tell us, please,” Sam pleaded.
“I... I ran away!”