Do You Want To Play A Game (of Clue)?

by BookofBeesSneeze, TheWitchBoy

Summary:

Chuck has a sick sense of humor, so when he gains enough power he takes over Jack's body, using him as a puppet for “game night.” Chuck calls some of his old “pals” (who may, or may not, have wronged him in the past) to a surreal dinner party.
One of them is cursed to be the murderer, and none of them can leave until the game is “finished.”

Old mansion? Check. Thunder storm? Check. Resurrections? Check. Murder? CHECK.

Notes:

Based on the 1985 movie Clue (and the board game) but with a… Supernatural twist.

(PSA: It is an older movie so some parts for sure haven’t aged well, lol. But it is a good movie imo.)

Also, this is 'my' sort of fix-it-fic for the ending of Supernatural.

Enjoy!!!

Chapter 1: Get A Clue

Summary:

The game pieces arrive...

Notes:

Everything for this is written. They're getting final beta'ing and edits and will be up no longer than once weekly, per chapter, unless DEATH happens. Or, like, life gets inconvenient. 💛🐝

Thunder cracked outside of the large mansion. It had been pouring all evening and into the night.

Sam and Dean stood side by side outside of the double doors of the house. 

The boys were dressed very differently from their normal day-to-day clothes. Dean wore a black suit with a red continental tie, and shiny red shoes. Sam wore a dark purple (almost black) suit with a purple tie.

They looked at each other, confused on how they got there and at what they were wearing. Then the doorbell rang twice. 

The door opened.

The boys entered the house.

(They almost couldn’t help but walk in.)

 

The room itself was huge and beautiful. It was lit by two chandeliers that hung on the high ceilings. 

The foyer had four doors that led to the library, billiard room, lounge, and study; though the boys couldn’t tell, because they were all shut. There were stairs that led to the second story and a door behind the stairs that led to the kitchen.

“Dean, what the hell is going on?” Sam turned, giving the room a onceover.

Dean didn't answer, because frankly, my dear, he didn’t give a damn… and he didn't know either. Dean’s eyes searched the room.

Then a familiar voice came from the top of the stairs, “Sir Scarlet and Mister Plumb have arrived.”

The two boys turned their attention to the stairs, where Jack Kline stood on the landing, looking down at them.

“Jack?” Sam knit his brow, the handmade sweater of concern making itself known.

Jack wore a black suit, a black button up, a black tie, and black shoes. (Unus…?) ((Annus.))

“Hey kid!” Dean hadn't seen Jack in weeks , ever since he left for Heavenly duties. Dean broke into a smile, “The hell is all this?”

Jack dropped his head solemnly, eyes closed as he attempted to compose himself. Dean’s smile fell at seeing his kid act so… strange . 

Dean began to walk up the steps, but Jack frantically shook his head ( no ), causing Dean to stop.

Jack moved closer to the banister of the stairs, overlooking the foyer and the color-coded guests standing below him, “You guys have to--” Jack seemed to skip a few frames, then rewind as if he were a Blockbuster VHS tape, until he was back standing exactly how he was when the Winchesters first entered. 

“Jack?” Sam looked at Dean (damn, that concern-sweater was coming along) then back to Jack.

“Hey!” Dean tried to get Jack’s attention, Jack only moved his eyes to look at him. He looked scared.

Then, the doorbell rang.

“Mrs. Peacock has arrived.” Jack informed the house. His voice was a flat monotone, strangled into uncaring, professional submission.

The doors opened to Jody. She wore a waterfall skirt, paired with a blue fitted blazer.

She looked confused as she looked around the large house. She walked over to the Winchesters, “Hey, what’s--?”

“We don’t know.” Sam answered quickly.

Jody’s eyebrows began to knit their own concern-sweater.

Dean turned his attention back up to Jack, who was looking back down at them.

“Jack, what’s going on here?” Dean demanded.

“I...” Jack whispered as his voice tightened around itself, choking the air out of his words and pulling him back until he couldn’t even be heard.

Jody looked at Sam. “Is that Jack? Is he alright?”

Sam turned to her, his face written all over with his concerned confusion (damn, maybe he’s making a sweater-dress). “I don’t know…”

“Kid.” Dean spoke softly, placing a hand over his heart. “You’re starting to scare us.”

Jack looked down at them and swallowed hard. 

The doorbell went off again.

“Miss Mustard has arrived.” Jack spoke again.

“What the hell?” Jody turned to look at the door.

Eileen walked in, looking as confused as the last. She wore an elegant black dress, with a dark yellow shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

Lightning struck outside, causing the lights in the house to flicker out for a moment.

“ What’s going on?” Eileen signed as she walked over to the others. 

“We don’t know.” Sam signed as he spoke.

Eileen saw Jack standing alone, and waved at him. Jack slowly raised his hand, and waved back microscopically. Eileen looked back at Sam and Jody, “What do you mean?” Eileen asked.

“I just showed up.” Jody raised her hands and eyebrows, shaking her head.

“Yeah. Us too.” Sam pointed back and forth between himself and his brother.

Dean gave Jack one final look before rejoining the group, “Alright. What’s the last thing you guys remember before showing up here?”

“I was getting in my car, to head to the Bunker.” Eileen said. Sam nodded in agreement.

“I was making popcorn for this crappy movie I was about to watch.” Jody gave a slight laugh.

“Well, I was in my room, watching TV,” Dean shrugged, then thumbed over at Sam to end his show-and-tell.

“Yeah, and I was reading in the library, waiting for Eileen.” Sam said, pondering for a moment “So, what do those have in common?”

“Nothing.” Eileen shook her head and gave Sam a look that roughly translated to ‘Seriously?’  

Sam frowned at her and Eileen reached over and wrapped an arm around him.

The doorbell rang once again.

“Madam Green has arrived.” Jack intoned.

Eileen followed Sam’s eyes to the front door. The doors opened to Claire, who tripped in, looking like she was ready to fight whatever may be on the other side. She tilted her head at the crowd of faces she knew, “Um, okay. Hey.”

Claire wore a dark green, satin dress that stopped a few inches above her ankles. She also wore a pair of black studded red bottom heels.

Claire walked over, stumbling slightly over her new shoes (and cursed under her breath).

“Before you ask, we don’t know.” Dean forced a stilted but welcoming smile.

“Okay...” Claire looked at her Mom, and Jody gave her an exaggerated shrug.

“I’m sorry,” Jack's voice was forced and rough, as if a noose was around his throat and tightening… tightening… tightening , ”I’m sorry I--I--”

Dean ran over, but kept his distance as Jack requested. “Hey, hey! Kid, take it easy.”

Jack seemed to be fighting something that no one could see, “But, I-I did something good ,” he choked out.

They all shifted.

Claire tilted her head and looked up at the young man. She assumed he must be Castiel's mysterious son (with his platonic-wife… person?). The kid looked so much like Castiel...

“Dean,” Jack looked down at him, his face scrunched in pain, “I did good .”

“I believe you, Jack. I--”

The doorbell rang once more.

Jack reset again, like the VHS tape being rewound once more, but without stopping it first (that’s bad for tapes). “Mister White has arrived.”

Dean let out a shaky, concerned breath of defeat. “How many people are gonna show up in the damn place?”

They all turned to the doors. Which opened to present Castiel. 

Cas wore a sleek, black trench coat that had a white, silk inner lining. He had his normal dress pants on and a white, tieless, button up that was tucked in.

Cas’s mouth gaped open upon seeing his friends. Was this a trick from The Empty? How could it be so cruel… In return, everyone else looked at Cas in wonder and, maybe, a bit of suspicion.

“Cas?” Sam gave an amused laugh, then smiled under his eternally concerned eyebrows.

Claire broke off from the crowd, slipping out of her heels in the process, to tackle the angel into a hug. Sure, it was a bit like tackling a brick wall, but it seemed satisfying, too.

 

(Dean had visited the Mills home a few weeks back, and Dean told Claire what happened to Cas. He told her everything; even the things he hadn't had the strength to tell Sam... Claire was devastated at the angel's death--)

 

Claire collided into Cas’s arms, and was even more relieved to have actually felt him, and heard his breath escape his mouth when he laughed at her actions.

Claire scoffed wetly and buried her face in Cas’s chest. “You're really back.”

Cas embraced her back, and gently stroked her long hair, “It seems that way.”

Claire broke free of the angel's embrace, wiped her face with a tiny sniffle, then turned to look at Dean. “It’s really him, Dean.”

Dean swallowed hard, trying to avoid any tears, damn it , then beelined to the angel, his feet moving almost without his permission.

Claire stepped away, giving the two space. Dean stopped less than an arm's length away from Cas.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas said with a warm smile.

Damn, he’s gonna make Dean cry with those ocean eyes.

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Dean said harshly. But not so harshly that it wasn’t obvious how much emotion he was trying to keep down.

Cas gave a tiny frown and leaned slightly away, as if he was about to step back. 

Don’t leave!

Dean huffed and curled a hand into the lapel of Cas’s trench coat. He couldn’t leave Dean again. “I never got to--I never told you… Cas .”

Dean was bad at words, and he knew this, so he decided the best course of action would be to say nothing at all. Thank god… err. Maybe not him. Thank goodness that he didn’t just stop speaking, though. Miscommunication and lack of communication, obviously, got him in this damn mess in the first place.

Dean reeled Cas in, his free hand going to the back of Cas’s neck. Cas, being an angel and all, probably could have pulled away, but he was inextricably drawn in by the gravitational pull of Dean Winchester. He had always been unable to extricate himself from Dean’s presence, though.

The kiss was warm and full of everything Dean hadn’t said, had wanted to say. For Cas, it was also achingly unexpected, bittersweet in its almost-too-late arrival. Cas was surprised, but quickly turned from surprise to returning the gesture, trying to express with every iota of his existence how much he loved Dean, how relieved he was to see Dean again.

It wasn’t a sudden kiss, and it wasn’t a quick one. It was, however, chaste. Almost innocent.

And Jody barely resisted the urge to try and cover her adult daughter’s eyes, after they hit the ten second mark and Cas made that tiny, almost desperate noise in the back of his throat.

After Dean broke away, he pulled Cas into a hug. Cas held Dean tight.

He was back. Dean couldn’t believe Cas was actually back. God--

Once Dean had Cas in his arms again, he didn't know if he could ever let him go again. Dean burrowed his face into Cas’s shoulder, taking in as much of him as he could. He smelled like ozone and spring (and goddamn bees, what the fUCK).

Sam held onto Eileen and rested his head on top of hers. Sam could feel the weight that had been dragging his brother down for weeks finally give way.

“This is great and all, but does anyone want to find out why we’re here?” Claire said. Not that she wanted to interrupt, she just really hated being strapped into surprise dresses and having her boots stolen. And where the hell was her jacket?

Dean slowly turned to look at Claire, “Why don’t you bite me?”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you have a boyfriend for that, Dean ?”

Dean gaped at her.

Sam, the traitor, laughed.

“Why are we here?” Cas questioned, with Dean still wrapped up into his arms and, honestly, never getting further than three feet away, ever again.

Eileen simply signed, “ We don’t know .”

“Also, where’d Jack go?” Jody added.

They all looked up at the stairs to see that Jack was missing.

Notes:

It is so late... while putting this up so... wow, lol.

Sorry if anythings funky or misspelled <3

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

(I'll try my best to put the rest of the chapters up... in due time.)

—📖🐝🐝🐝

 

💛🐝 Witch beta'd. They're the worst (lol), but also: they write okay kiss scenes so there's that. Screw you, you passive aggressive toaster streudel! 🐝💛

(minor note: this is not canon to the other stories in Witch's Supernatural Family Fluff stuff.)

Chapter 2: Welcome to Jumanji

Summary:

Worst. Family. Dinner. Ever.

Notes:

Bee: ya'll hungry?
Witch: Cuz we got this bread.

“Jack?” Dean's eyes searched the room.

“Jack’s here, too?” Cas asked.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, “But he’s not really here like the rest of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Sam sighed, ”He was here before anyone else was, and he can’t really be with the rest of us for some reason? That’s… that’s all we know. So far.” So much for his ‘so get this’ mentality.

They all heard footsteps coming from upstairs and looked up, expecting to see Jack, however, and to their dismay, it was Chuck’s footsteps they heard. 

“Good evening, everyone.” Chuck said as he approached the banister railing. He had a content smile on his face. Dean wanted to punch that smile off his face, as soon as possible.

They all gave him their death stares, not just Dean, and Claire reached for her pocket knife (she was aware that it’d probably be useless, but it would make her feel better). She reached for her boot, but--

Stupid fucking heels! 

--Claire found that her switchblade was missing. In fact, all of their weapons were gone. Dammit!

“Son of a-- What did you do!” Dean yelled.

“Shh,” Chuck raised his finger to his lips, and Dean covered his own mouth with his hand. He did not, however, stop sending Chuck his noisy death stares.

(Dean mumbled behind his hand, and it sounded something like “ mother ” and “ suffer ,” but Cas wasn’t quite sure.)

“You have all been invited... to dinner.” Chuck clapped his hands together.

“We’re not hungry.” Jody gave her best fake smile.

“No. You’re actually starving.” Chuck snapped his fingers and everyone reached for their stomachs. What the fuck??

“Dinner will be ready at seven-thirty.” Chuck walked out of their sight.

 

Everyone's stomachs rebelled, twisted, and pinched, like a towel being wrung.

Cas had to help Dean take his own hand off his mouth, “I hate him.” Then Dean made a face while he reached for his abdomen, “I really hate him.” Dean then tapped himself down looking for his gun or his phone, but nothing. 

Wait, nothing?  

“That son of a bitch took my car keys.” Dean pouted.

Cas placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder in solidarity. “We have bigger problems. Baby will be fine.”

Claire turned back to Jody, with her hand on her stomach. She scowled at Jody. “You had to taunt him, huh?“

“Yeah, not my best moment.” Jody said, clutching her own stomach.

Sam slouched over, “I’m too tall for this shit.” His stomach growled loudly.

Cas eventually reached for his own stomach, looking uncomfortable.

“Wait, are you hungry too?” Dean asked.

“Yes. It would appear I’m human... again.” Cas frowned and looked down at his empty stomach. “I hate maintaining a corporeal form.” he shook his head.

“Dinner is ready.” Jack appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He raised his hand and--

 

Everyone was suddenly seated at a large table. Candles were lit and the table was set.

Chuck sat at the head of the table. Jack stood behind him a few paces, head bowed and expression resigned.

“Jack?” Cas tried to stand, but he couldn't get up. No one could. Their seats were inescapable, though no visible binds held them in place.

(Jack didn't look at his father, though he must have heard his name. Jack seemed afraid that if he even looked at Cas, Chuck might become angry and punish him.)

Chuck folded his hands, “It’s good to see everyone has arrived safely-”

CRASH!

Everyone turned to the window that allowed for a view from the dining room, straight into the kitchen. 

Rowena, who was wearing this long black sparkly dress with a comically small apron wrapped around her waist, showed up in the window holding a giant pot. “Soup is no longer an option.” Rowena said, with false kindness and a terrifyingly fake smile. Around Rowena’s neck lay The Witchcatcher.

Rowena left the window and Crowley popped in frame, wearing a ridiculous chef hat and one of those all-black chef ensembles. The former King of Hell slammed his hands down on the window sill and hissed out the most vicious “Soup was never an option!”

Crowley popped out of frame again and shouted, from elsewhere in the kitchen, “And where is the lamb sauce?!”

“Well, I’m sure I don’t know!” Rowena squawked.

Chuck turned an ear towards her, “Thanks, Sweetheart. And Crowley.” Chuck turned back to the table. “You’re all probably wondering why you're here, and the simple answer is: you’ve all wronged me. And I thought, well, as long as I have the means , I might as well have some fun. And maybe some payback, you know, if it fits into the schedule.”

Sam swallowed hard, and took Eileen’s hand under the table. (Sap.)

“And now, because I am a generous God, I have decided to let you live. If…” Chuck raised a single finger, “If you win.”

“Win what ?” Dean spat.

“Have you ever played the game Clue; or, better yet, watched the movie?” Chuck asked.

“Yeah, the maid was hot--” Dean froze when he met Cas’s eyes (the two visible ones, anyway), then he cleared his throat and took Cas’s hand, which was resting on the table. “ Sorry ,” he muttered.

“Well, my child .” Chuck said. ”That is the game. One of you is going to be the murderer, while everyone else's job is to find out who that is. You know, before everyone dies.” He shrugged, then steepled his fingers in front of him.

Suddenly plates of food floated in, one-by-one. The plates had a tint of sparkling purple magic guiding them to their spots. When the food all rested in place, the table was set brilliantly, enough to make Norman Rockwell want to paint it.

“Ah, good.” Chuck clasped his hands together. “Please, enjoy.”

Rowena exited the kitchen; as she passed Jack she layed a motherly hand on his shoulder. He continued to look down at his feet solemnly, barely acknowledging it.

“None of the food has been poisoned.” Rowena stood on the other side of Chuck, to mirror Jack's position. ”It should be safe to eat.” Rowena had a slightly unsettling smile. “ Probably ,” she muttered under her breath.

A cascade of pots and pans could be heard crashing to the floor in the kitchen, followed by a litany of curses.

They all hesitated, but the cramping in their stomachs gave them no real choice. They dug in.

Surprisingly the food was delicious. Jody noted to ask Crowley for the recipe… If they survived, of course. But damn, these potatoes were amazing! Very Scottish. Practically comfort food, as opposed to fine dining. And who needed fine dining when you had comfort food?

 

After a few minutes, Claire spoke up. ”So. Out of curiosity . What makes you think we’re going to kill each other instead of, I dunno, conspire against you? Because one of those sounds a lot more likely than the other.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes.

“Oh,” Chuck took a sip of his wine. ”I know you won’t. That’s why I’m not gonna give you a choice.” Chuck laughed once, “You won't even know if it’s you ! Fun, right?”

Claire felt a cold chill go up her spine and everyone tensed.

“Oh,” Chuck shifted in his seat, “How rude of me! You’ve all been given an alias, now let me introduce you to,” He gestured over to Rowena, “The Maid . Obviously, Crowley is our bumnbling chef this evening. Sorry about that. If I’d known he would be so uncoordinated, I would have given him the maid outfit instead.”

Rowena made a face at Chuck's back. Actually, everyone made a face, having accidentally imagined Crowley in a maid outfit.

Chuck gestured to his other side, to Jack. ”My lovely grandson is The Butler , of course.” 

Jack stood unmoving, still looking down at his shoes. They're so shiny. (And had laces. Jack was terrified that one of his shoes would untie, and then what would he do?)

Chuck stood up, “And you can call me Mr. Boddy.”

Sam snickered, “That means you die first.”

Chuck sighed.

“You know what?” Chuck leaned back and straightened his suit. “You just lose breathing privileges.”

Jack's eyes shot up, his eyes glowing a fiery gold around a buildup of fear, horror, and barely restrained tears. Sam reached for his throat, gasping harshly. Eileen grabbed Sam’s arm and took a turn knitting the worry sweater, not really knowing what else to do.

Dean tried to stand and almost knocked his chair back in his effort. “Stop, stop! Please--” 

Chuck revelled in their combined fearhatedesperation for a moment. “Don’t worry.” He snapped his fingers again, “The game hasn’t started just yet. And, being a benevolent Creator, I’ll give you one… last… chance. Okay?”

Sam took a breath, then another, and so on. Sam sat straight, and signed, “ I’m fine,” and took Eileen’s hands in his own. “I’m fine,” he murmured. She nodded.

As if just to ruin the moment, a cacophony of shattering glass echoed from the kitchen and Crowly set about listing off another impressive stream of curses. “Oh, Maid ,” he sing-songed with false cheer.

Rowena wrinkled her nose and scowled vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.

Chuck snapped his fingers once more.

Dean squeezed Cas’s hand in anticipation, but nothing happened. (Or so he thought.)

“Now, one of you has been chosen.” Chuck gave an unsettling smile. “Let the games begin.”

Notes:

Note:The Witch (stream check out Witch's SPN stuff?, lmao) demanded to bring Crowley into this, so you can thank them for his appearance. lol, he was not apart of my og plan, so it may be slightly... strange, but probably not, because *whispers* they're really good at writing (Witch presses X for "awwww").

Also, I feel like I should add that I [Bee] have been studying ASL for awhile, so: sorry if Eileen or Sam sign anything oddly specific, I use the signs that are "easy" (for me) or "efficient," to try and make it feel more natural... but not supern-- you know what, never mind. lol

Thanks for reading!! 💙✨

Sorry if anything is funky or misspelled!! 💛🐝

Bananas are 60% genetically similar to humans, making all us banana munchers tantamount to cannibals! Have a good day, fellow pseudo-cannibals!

Chapter 3: The Gifts

Summary:

*shakes gift box* Nope, not LEGO... :(

Notes:

Sup and good mornighternoon. Welcome back.

Caution: Character Death Contained Within 💙

Jack raised his hand. Power lit up his eyes in burning gold.

 

Suddenly everyone was standing in the lounge. The room was spacious and had a fire going in its fireplace. (The place for the fires.) (The place meant for the fires.) (The place specifically designed to hold the fires.) (That place.)

They all gathered themselves, taking in their new surroundings. The room radiated comfort and style, but was poisoned by an undercurrent of Chuck’s plans and power that left everyone on edge.

The power flickered off and on again, followed by a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder.

When the lights came back on, Chuck and Jack stood in the previously empty spots by the only door to the room.

“One last thing.” Chuck snapped his stupid little fingers again, and suddenlym with the flicker of the lights, they went from emptyhanded to each holding a small box in their hands. “A gift.”

As soon as Chuck was done speaking, the lights flickered and the lightning flashed and both he and Jack were gone.

 

They all cautiously opened their boxes. Jody found a candless-candlestick in hers. She looked at it curiously, as did Sam. 

Sam opened his next and found a rope tied into a macabre, if exaggerated, noose.

“The moose has a noose ,” Claire said, like she was telling a scary story around a campfire. 

Elieen opened hers to find a rusty old wrench, which she picked up and showed everyone with an amused smirk. 

Cas had already opened his and found a lead pipe wrapped in tissue paper, Cas was very confused by this.

Dean opened his next to see an ASG Scholfield with a white pearl handle. Dean nodded in approval. “Nice.” Then he realized he’d just complimented Chuck and made a face.

Claire cautiously looked her gift over. Everyone else had received weapons that were old-fashioned and themed after the game, after the original Clue game pieces. Claire’s was so very different.

Claire lifted her gift up, showing the group her golden archangel dagger. “Is this what I think it is?” she asked.

The three Winchesters (the Boys and Cas, of course) shifted and exchanged looks. Castiel took a step towards Claire. “Yes, it is.”

“Why would Chuck give me this ?” Claire scrunched her nose and looked up at her pseudo-father.

“Maybe Chuck didn’t,” Jody spoke up. ”Maybe it was Jack .”

“Excuse me?” Dean turned towards Jody.

“Well,” she spoke carefully, trying to be as inoffensive as possible. “Jack seems to be under Chuck's control, yes ? So maybe… maybe Jack left us with his way out .”

“The fuck, Jody?” Claire spat.

Jody dropped her head, and bit her lip. It was logical, but she still seemed to feel some measure of shame at being the one to verbalize it.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, until Dean dropped his head into his hand, rubbing his eyes.

Eileen lightly tapped Sam, “ Don’t listen to her.” Eileen signed.

Sam sighed, then mouthed, ”What if she’s right?”

Eileen took his hand, and leaned her head against his shoulder. Jody’s wrong, she has to be...

Claire looked back up at Castiel, who looked distressed, then she extended the dagger to the angel, giving it up to him.

However, Cas shook his head and reached up to close Claire’s hand around the dagger. “We should probably keep the weapons we were given; that way if anyone gets hurt , we’ll know who did it.” A dark, but logical, thought.

Cas placed a comforting hand on Claire’s shoulder. She nodded, looking for a place to put the dagger. (Damn, if only she had her jacket.)

“Yeah, good idea.” Sam agreed.

Dean cleared his throat, “Sweet.” He forced a smile, and looked down at the gun. “‘Cause ya’ll’s suck.”

Eileen pouted down at her wrench. “Yeah.”

Dean opened his gun to examine it further, “Hey, FYI: this thing only has three bullets.”

 

After a while, Sam and Castiel attempted to break one of the windows in search of an escape. 

They used one of the solid metal statues from the mantle as a projectile. However, the seemingly thin glass must have been transparisteel, because the statue bounced right off and didn’t even leave a scratch.

Sam and Cas looked at each other, and before anyone could stop the two, they decided to shoulder the window on the count of three.

One, two, THREE!

However, yet again, nothing happened… to the window. However both Sam and Castiel practically shot backwards as if the window was a spring. They collapsed to the ground. Sam landed on top of the angel, and as they looked at each other face-to-face Sam spoke up, “I thought that would work.”

“As did I.” Cas said.

“Okay, okay. Hey, break it up.” Dean walked over and helped Sam up (well, more like pushed him off Castiel), then helped Cas.

The two men walked away from the window, tending to their bruised shoulders and egos.

 

A few hours passed as they all just sat around and listened to the rain and waited anxiously for what would happen next. They decided the best course of action would be to just stay put and keep an eye on eachother.

 

Claire sat on the floor and attempted to play the knife game with her hand and the archangel blade. However, Claire felt a primal-child-instinct, and looked up to see Castiel looking down at her, and he looked displeased. 

Claire pursed her lips, and slowly put the blade away. “ What ?” Please don’t send me to my roo-- you’re an adult, Claire!

 

All was well until the lights went out again, but this time it was accompanied by a scream that came from the kitchen.

“Rowena?” Jody said.

They all scurried (like rats) to the kitchen to find Rowena looking disheveled.

 

“What's wrong?” Sam asked, breathless as usual.

Rowena turned with a huff, and tugged at the Witchcatcher that was still around her neck. “Everything was fine , I was with the boy, until--'' She grunted, as she pulled on the Witchcatcher. Someone had cinched it tighter, by the looks of it. “Can somebody take this bloody things off me!”

Crowley sat on the counter, eating an apple and looking pleased with himself. Rowena tossed him a poisonous glare.

“Hold on.” Dean walked towards the witch and placed the gun on the counter.

“Good luck, Squirrel,” Crowley offered. He seemed to be in a much better mood now that Rowena was uncomfortable and pissed off.

“What happened?” Dean asked.

“What do you think happened?” Rowena snarled.

Dean rolled his eyes, then struggled for a moment with the Witchcatcher, but then the power went out again, this time for a considerable amount of time, until--

BANG ! 

Followed by a lesser bang as an object hit the… floooooooooooooooooooooor .

The lights came back on to the sight of the smoking gun on the floor (though it should be mentioned that revolvers don’t smoke, for they do not have lungs and, even if they did, revolvers are far too health conscious for that kind of bullshit) . Dean looked up at the group with horror written across his face, and they looked back at him with equal shock. Rowena slouched over into Dean's arms, and Dean shifted to catch her. Everyone rushed over to crowd the victim and make it harder to ascertain whether or not the victim would be okay.

Crowley stopped his self-satisfied munching and looked over the scene with a growing sense of horror and outrage.

Eileen picked up the gun and opened it. “Witch-killing bullets.”

Sam looked up at Dean, “Dean, you said there were bullets in it, not that they were witch-killing bullets!”

“No, I never said what kind they were.” Dean stated.

They all looked at Dean with questioning eyes.

“Look, does it matter? I was nowhere near the gun.” Dean said.

“He’s right.” Cas agreed.

Claire glared up at Cas, “Of course you’d say that.”

Cas turned the brunt of his unamusement onto Claire.

The room grew quiet. They were all uncertain… it really could have been anyone.

“ Shit .” Dean said under his breath, as he closed Rowena’s eyes.

“We should leave, we don’t know why she was agitated.” Jody said. Crowley threw his hands, and his apple, in the air. 

Jody stepped closer to Claire, “It may be unsafe.”

Crowley hopped off the counter and, like a pissed-off cat, pushed a glass of milk off the island counter and onto the floor, right at Jody’s feet.

Claire frowned at the milk, then at Crowley.

“Jackie Boy doesn’t need it anymore, I’m sure” Crowley told her.

Claire made a face at the demon and shook her head.

“We can’t just leave her like this.” Sam interrupted, turning to Dean.

Claire was still frowning at Crowley, who scowled at Sam for interrupting his moment. (Crowley worked hard to get into this goddamn fanfiction on the last edits, man.) ((The editor nods in editor. The beta nods in beta.))

Dean lifted Roweana’s body and walked her over to the kitchen table. Everyone followed behind Dean solemnly. Except Crowley, who kicked the broken shards of the milk glass and muttered to himself nonsensically, under his breath. (“This is ridiculous. She’ll be back…”)

Crowley stalked from the room.

Dean placed her on the table, “Sorry, Row.” He spoke to Rowena’s corpse. He looked back up at the group, “Let’s go find that bastard.”

 

They all decided to split up in three different groups to search the basement, main floor, and the upstairs. Eileen and Sam took the upstairs, Claire and Jody would do the the main floor, and Cas and Dean (having lost a vicious tournament of Rock-Paper-Scissors with the others) would have the honor of checking the basement.

Dean smirked, “ Alright gang let’s split up, and search for clues!”

“You want us to find the board game?” Castiel asked, tilting his head slightly.

Claire elbowed the angel, “Scooby-Doo, old man .”

“He… wants us to find Scooby-Doo?” Cas asked. “He’s here, too…?”

Claire gave up.

 

[Somewhere, Crowley walked into an abandoned lounge with its marble fireplace, the kind meant for fires (the place specifically intended for fire). As Crowley walked through the door, the candlestick (formerly a gift to Jody and since abandoned during the scurrying) decided to attack him, falling off the top of the doorframe, bonking him in the head, then landing in his hand.]

[“What the--”]

[On the candlestick was a sticky note.]

[‘ My milk has been avenged ’.]

[Crowley crumpled the note. “Well-played,” he muttered.]

 

Eileen and Sam walked side by side up the stairs, cautiously taking in their surroundings. 

There was a huge window, with its curtains pulled back, at the top of the stairs and as soon as Sam’s head passed the threshold of the floor he was greeted by a frighteningly close bolt of lightning on the other side of the window. Sam startled his spine like uncooked pasta (lol). He gasped.

Eileen amusingly took his hand and patted his arm. “Don’t worry, I've got you.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “ Thank you.” He signed to her. He startled and checked his sign. Just in case. Yeah, he didn’t accidentally call her a slut ( again ).

The two walked over to what they assumed to be a bedroom door, but found it was locked. They moved onto the next door and found it was the same as the last. All the doors on the second floor were locked. Even the last one they tried. Shocker.

Eileen turned to Sam and simply signed “ strange.”

 

Downstairs, they had worse luck. Cas and Dean couldn’t even get to the basement, because the door was locked. The chaotic couple had tried to kick the door open but there was still no luck. After the window debacle, one could probably question the wisdom of letting him decide the next course of action, but Dean was nothing if not consistent in giving bad ideas a shot. Like the Malek box.

Claire watched as her two father figures shouldered the old door (this after failing to kick it down, mind you), only for the door to defy them like the transparisteel window had defied Sam and Cas, earlier. Claire just shook her head at the two dumbasses.

Jody checked all the doors, including the front door, but no luck, there, either.

Every room in the house (besides the kitchen, dining room, and the lounge) were locked to them.

Sam and Eileen came down the stairs,

“Everything’s locked upstairs.” Sam said.

“Same down here.” Jody placed her hands on her hips.

“The basement door is locked, too.” Claire added.

Dean kicked the door once more out of spite.

 

They all decided that, once again, it would be safest to all stay together, so they all headed back to the lounge. 

 

It was very late for them at this point and they were all tired, emotionally and physically. 

Basically, as soon as they sat down they passed out. 

Sam and Eillen had one of the couches to themselves, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Jody had a plush seat to herself. She crossed her arms and fell asleep fairly quickly.

Dean, Cas, and Claire sat on the other couch, Cas sat squished between the two, though he did not mind much.

Claire rested her head on the armrest, and was gone.

Dean leaned against Cas, his head on Cas’s shoulder, dead to the world, but not dead-dead, dead asleep. Cas had an arm around Dean, and rested his own head on top of Dean’s.

For being stuck in a house with a murderer, they all slept fairly well.

At some point in the night Claire awoke. She looked around the room that was lit by the fireplace. (The one meant for-- okay, sorry. It’s getting old.)

She looked over to see if Cas, or even Dean, may have shifted or hit her in their sleep, but it seemed like they hadn't moved.

Claire rubbed her eyes, assuming she must have been woken up by the continuing storm outside, until she looked up to see a figure standing beside the fireplace. Her eyes adjusted to see that it was Jack. (Which made more sense than her initial assumption of Crowley.)

“Hello,” Jack said softly, with a raised hand.

“Hi,” Claire whispered.

Claire sat up straight, and turned to the sleeping angel. “Cas--”

“No, don’t.” Jack extended his hands towards her.

Claire turned her attention back to Jack, “Why not?”

“I came to talk to you… I’m sorry I woke you,” Jack said.

“Me?” Claire raised her eyebrows.

“Yes. Because I know when the time comes... you’ll be able to kill me.”

Claire visibly startled, completely taken aback by his words.  “Is that w-why you gave me the--”

“Archangel blade.” Jack nodded slowly.

Claire swallowed thickly. How the hell was she supposed to respond to that ?

“ No . No!” Claire harshly whispered, “I’m not gonna kill you, Jack! Whatever is happening here we’ll find a better way.” Besides, Thanksgivings were awkward enough without actively killing her… whatever Jack was in relation to her.

“You don’t understand,” Jack began. ”Chuck doesn't have his powers, it’s all me! He’s controlling me ! What happened to Sam? I had to do that! And I had to let Rowena die!” Jack sounded like he was fighting back tears. “If you kill me, everyone you love well be s--”

Jack was gone with no warning, leaving behind a hiss of the last consonant he’d managed to get out.

Suddenly, the sound of every single door in the house (besides the front door) swung open, making a terrible crashing noise that echoed throughout the empty hallways.

Everyone shot up, suddenly wide awake. Dean practically jumped up to his feet, the only thing that stopped him was Cas’s tightening arm around him. Dean opened one eye up to Cas, relaxing seeing his angel. Dean was still cuddled up to Cas, so he just mumbled something about coffee, and closed his eyes again. Apparently Dean was not afraid to die. (As if that was unexpected: it’s Dean .)

Claire sat still, just looking down at the armrest feeling uneasy. What was she gonna do?

Sam walked out to see the doors all now opened and turned back to the group, “Looks like we can search the rest of the house, now.”

Notes:

Note: I [Mara/Bee] got my braces back on yesterday (don't ask why i had to do it 'again', my teeth are just stupid, okay) so, -- yeah I posted this one slightly early because... Pain? (Note: I [Witch] have a headache, so lollllll. If there's weirdness, we're both in pain so *blows raspberry*)

Also Note from Witch(er): Do you like chaos? Siblings who compete with things they can't help (like heights)? Do you like Batman's ridiculous family? If you said yes to any or all of those, Witch would like to present: A "Short" Dispute, a oneshot they wrote on a whim and just... something they really really wanna share with as many willing victims as possible. :) 💙✨
(Note From Mara/Bee: Read it for Tim Drake. Do it for me.) 💛🐝

Chapter 4: Roll Your Dice, Move Your Mice. Nobody Gets Hurt.

Summary:

(Veggie Tales Intensifies)

Notes:

Warning for: major character death (again) & blood

They all walked out into the foyer to see all the visible doors were swung fully open. It stood to reason that the rest were, as well.

The three groups split up once more, in search of something -- anything .

Sam and Eileen headed back up the stairs, Jody left for one of the ground-floor rooms, and Cas and Dean headed for the basement. Before Cas and Dean’s departure, however, Claire grabbed the arm of the angel. Her intentions were to tell Castiel what happened before all the doors had flung themselves open, but when he turned to her, asking “ what's wrong?” ...well, how could she tell Castiel that Jack wanted her to kill him (kill Jack, not Cas)… “I --Uh... just be careful, okay?”

Castiel looked at her for a moment, then gave her a soft look. “I will do my best.”

Claire threw her arms around his neck, holding him for a long moment. (How the hell does he smell like bees?? How the hell does she know what bees smell like???)

If she had to kill Jack she wanted to take in as much as she could of Castiel while he still tolerated her… and what about Dean? How would Dean react if she--

“Claire?” Castiel reached his hand around to cradle the back of her head, gently carding his fingers through her hair. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah…” She squeezed him tightly, then let go. “Of course. I mean no, because were stuck in a murder house... but I’m as fine as I can be.”

“Cas.” Dean called from behind. He gestured to the open basement door.

Castiel turned back to Claire. “You need to be careful too.”

“Hey, it’s me.” She said it as if it were comforting, then lightly pushed Castiel’s shoulder. “Go on, now. Don’t keep the boyfriend waiting.”

 

Castiel and Dean walked down the creaky, wooden stairs to the basement.

Creak.

     Creak.

          Creak.

“Hey, you hear distant drums growing louder or find a box that says Jumanji? Ignore it and fucking run , we don’t have time for another fiasco, today,” Dean said.

Cas side-eyed Dean.

“Or some vintage ass tin board game shit, like Zathura? Pass on that, too.”

Cas didn’t quite roll his eyes, but it was a near miss. He glanced forwards. “Thelma and Louise kissed,” he said.

“What--” Dean turned, but spied a flash of white out the corner of his eye and got distracted. It was a plastic, white lighter on a shelf above the stairs. He picked it up with a whispered “ nice.”

“You once said we’d go out like Thelma and Louise,” Cas intoned.

“Wasn’t that, like, ten years ago?”

“Yes. I wanted to volunteer equally useless knowledge.”

Dean turned his attention to the basement with a huff of laughter and an amused shake of his head. “Okie-dokie then.” (I like him, he says okie-dokie.)

The basement was dark and dusty, with literal Spirit-of-Halloween-like spiderwebs hanging off the ceiling. The floor was dirt-- good for hiding a body, bad for overall moisture levels.

It was an open basement, stairs in the center, that gaped in every direction, dark and forbidding and deeply shadowed. Dean looked at Cas and shrugged, then nodded to one side of the basement. Cas nodded in understanding. They turned to split up and search the basement, each to one side.

“Careful, Angel.” Dean said while pushing webs away.

“Careful, Human.” Castiel said while keeping his pace.

Dean turned around with his hands raised to his sides. “Come on, I was trying to be cute!”

Sam and Eileen walked into one of the many rooms on the second floor. This room looked like an old nursery, one which had (regretfully) been given a circus theme, complete with dancing elephants, monkeys, and seals on the wallpaper and lions and lion tamer on the cradle’s mobile. In a word: gross.

They walked about the room, Eillen headed towards the closet while Sam was headed towards a strange, large box sitting on top of the frankly ridiculous vanity (who put a vanity in a nursery?).

Sam attempted to open the box, but the top seemed stuck. (Ominous music started to play. What ?) He tried again but this time (the music cut out and--) a large clown head popped out on a spring, screeching a pre-recorded laugh that would haunt Sam’s nightmares. Sam flinched backwards, and hit the clown with a right-hook powerful enough to send the whole contraption flying to the other side of the room.

The jack-in-the-box flew past Eileen and crashed into the wall, next to the closet, still laughing it’s awful clown laughter. Eileen almost died from her own (not pre-precorded) laughter at Sam’s battle with the jack-in-the-box.

Sam straightened his suit and gave her a quick thumbs up, notifying her he was a-ok . Though he was as pale as a ghost, and tossed a brief, nervous glance back at the KO’d clown.

“Room’s clear.” Eileen said walking out and to the next room, Sam following close behind.

It looked like Eileen was signing lyrics… “ round and around on a music box that’s wound by a key...” Sam (luckily) didn’t understand the reference.

 

The next room that Sam and Eileen found themselves in had mirrors on every wall, and standing mirrors scattered across the room. Just to make life difficult.

Sam turned to Eileen and signed ‘ creepy’, then walked further into the room. Still on guard for more clown interlopers. The colorful little bastards could be anywhere.

Eileen was slightly more apprehensive than Sam, this time.

“Creepy.” Eileen said under her breath, catching her reflection in a broken mirror. She wasn’t as quiet as she probably thought she was, but Sam respectfully pretended not to hear her.

Then the lights in the house turned off, with a rolling rumble as the only warning. Eileen was alone in the dark. She closed her eyes and waited a second for the lights to come back on like they always did, but this time was different...

Cas found what seemed to be a bunch of old rocking horses clustered and stacked in a corner of the badly lit basement. He looked at them curiously, “That’s... not normal.”

Crowley, setting another on the pile, huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “You don’t keep running into them whenever you turn a corner!” He dusted his hands off and stomped back up the stairs.

Cas watched Crowley’s retreat, then turned back to the rocking horses. Their eyes stared into his Grace. “Not. Normal.”

Suddenly the power went out and Cas was surrounded by the Dark. 

The Dark clung to his skin, pulling at him (pulling him under), and made him feel cold .

It was a cold nothingness…

No.

Was he back?

Was it a dream?

He couldn’t--it couldn’t be a dream. He couldn’t have been so close to all that he had ever wanted, only to fall back in and--

No.

No, please.

“Father, please,” Cas whispered, like that would even help. Like that had ever helped.

Cas looked around the room looking for any source of light, but there was nothing. So much nothingness .

Cas tried to call out to Dean but his voice was caught in his throat, strung up in binds of fear and hopelessness and--

Chills ran up his body, feeling like dozens of tiny spiders crawling under his skin.

Castiel slowly let himself slump to the ground, pulling his legs to his chest and praying, pleading, that the lights would turn back on and it wouldn’t have been a dream. That he would be back there.

No. Please. No, no, no, n--

“Hey!”

Cas’s head shot up to see Dean maneuvering around a stack of boxes, the lit lighter in his hand, held high and away from the flammable basement clutter. “You alright, man?”

Cas took a second to calm down, then responded quietly, “Yes.”

Dean knelt beside him, “You don’t look alright.”

Dean raised a hand to brush a single, solitary tear from Cas’s cheek. Cas didn’t even realize he’d cried. Dean looked at him with an expression flooded with concern and warmth.

Cas took a breath and managed a smile. “Maybe not... but I. Yes . I will be.”

Dean nodded and pushed phantom hair behind Cas’s ear. He then glanced over and saw the cluster of freaky, vintage rocking horses.

“Was it those creepy horses? Do you want me to fight them? ‘Cuz I will, lemme at ‘em.” Dean said with a laugh, trying his best to cheer Cas up. He motioned toward the rocking horses with the lighter.

Cas couldn't help but let out a laugh, which made them both feel better.

Dean figured it was the dark that upset Cas… he talked about the Empty before and how unpleasant it was. And Cas was there for weeks--

THUD.

Cas and Dean looked up.

Dean looked back at Cas. “The hell?”

“No!” Jody screamed from upstairs…

 

Eileen was soaking in the dark, keeping as much of her surroundings known with every flash of the random lightning that seeped into the room. Through the lace curtains and valance to the far side of the room.

Suddenly a hand took hers, but Eillen and Sam were smart. They came up with ways to communicate in the dark if need be; Sam’s hand was in the shape of an ‘S’ , letting her know it was him. Of course, this also meant Sam had to fumble around in the dark to get the ‘S’ into her hand, which was another giveaway, but Eileen never had the heart to tell him.

“Hey, handsome,” Eileen whispered.

Sam smiled, then -- suddenly -- he tensed and turned to the door. Eileen tightened her grip on Sam’s hand. What's wrong with him?

Sam tightened his hold on Eileen’s hand, led her out of the room, and -- hand still around hers -- rushed his way down the stairs. Eileen was confused, but followed.

The lights flickered back on.

“Sam, Sam! What is it?” Eillen asked. Not about the lights, mind you. Eileen was more concerned with Sam’s sudden urgency.

Sam turned to her and spoke and signed at the same time to try to be clear as possible in his panic. “ Jody was,” he paused for a moment to do the constipated look of ‘remembering a sign,’ then signed: “loud .”

They rushed downstairs to see Jody, Dean, and Castiel crouched around something… someone .

“Oh my god.” Eileen breathed.

 

Claire was laying on the floor, with blood surrounding her, painting her bright hair in a dim red. The blood was obviously coming from her head...

Head wounds bleed a lot, head wounds bleed a lot, Dean kept reminding himself.

 

[Jack silently appeared in the corner of the room, watching .]

 

“What happened?” Sam asked as they got closer.

“The lights went out and I heard something fall and, oh my god-” Jody panicked. “Castiel, can’t you do something!?”

“I--” Castiel held Claire trying to do something, anything, but Cas was powerless. Praying that she was just unconscious... Castiel could not find a pulse.

Dean leaned over to pick up what appeared to be the murder wepon. It was the lead pipe.

The rest of the group took a slight step back. Except Dean.

Dean looked down at it, horrified, then at Cas. “Cas… Is that why you were freaking out--” he whispered.

“I--I didn’t do this. How -- how could I? ” Cas said, still holding Claire. He could feel her slowly grow cold. Her head lolled back, over the arm he had around her, doll-like and unnatural. Cas bowed his head lower over the child he failed. The last of the Novaks he’d failed.

 

Jack, watching all of this, was desperate to find a way to do something. He couldn’t save Rowena, but maybe, maybe, he could help Claire. Jack’s hands gripped into fists at his sides and he took a deep breath. His eyes turned a fiery gold.

Time seemed to slow down around Jack as he took his first steps towards the group.

Jack then quickened his pace until he was near Castiel. He pushed through the slowing of time, feeling as if a giant rubber band was pulling him back; like he was moving in water… and then like he was moving through pudding. Then it was drying concrete. He almost couldn’t make it over-- 

Jack was breaking the rules , but he had to! He had to get to Castiel.

Jack felt the pull grow, the rubber band tightening around his throat (around his Grace and his Soul), threatening to throw him only-Chuck-knew-where, but Jack fought it. He had to fight it!

When Jack could no longer move forward he reached out for his father. Desperate. Pained. Afraid.

Just touch him, his shoulder!

You can do it!

You can do it!

Jack's finger grazed Cas’s shoulder, a touch that was barely there. But it was enough. Time came flooding back and Jack was flung out of existence with static and light.

 

Everyone flinched back when they saw a bright, golden light erupt out of nowhere, followed by an echoed scream torn straight from the vocal cords, a sound that gave a sensation of sympathy pain for the one whose scream echoed around them. Why did that sound like Jack?

Cas raised his head up, eyes glowing a bright blue. As if sulfur burned behind his irises. He was an angel again.

Castiel wasted no time, placing two fingers on Claire’s forehead--

Claire shot up with a gasp. Clean and bloodless. (Clean and bloodless on the outside, anyway. The inside blood was still there…Cas was pretty sure she would be needing that).

“Holy crap, you got your mojo back?” Sam asked. Relief, and perhaps hope, washed over him.

“Mojo-Jojo is back?” Claire fornwed. She looked around, in a daze.

“Yes. Uh, no! No, Claire. However: yes, Sam... I believe that was Jack.” Cas said. He refused to take his eyes off the now-breathing Claire.

“That’s not how you're supposed to play the game,” Jody said darkly.

Dean made a face, then turned to Jody “Wha--”

Several things then happened almost at once, one thing after another.

First, Crowley walked into the room with a tray of snacks. This is unimportant.

Then Jody raised the archangel blade over her head.

Then Crowley stopped and looked at the scene. This is also unimportant.

Then Jody swung down, aiming for either Castiel or Claire (probably both) ((two birds, one blade)).

“Jody!” Claire’s eyes snapped to sudden clarity and she grabbed the angel's shoulders, pulling him away from Jody's blow.

Jody barely missed hitting Castiel. And gave an unearthly screech of rage. Dean grabbed Jody's wrists before she could try anything else.

Crowley turned on his heel and walked out of the room. This, too, is unimportant.

“Sam, the blade!” Dean shouted.

Sam rushed over, but just as he did Jody broke free from Dean's clutches, grabbed him by the throat, and threw him across the room with another unholy scream from the very bowels of hell. That’s right. The bowels.

“ Holy shi-- ” Sam didn’t have time to finish his thought before Jody swung around and hit him so hard that he, too, went flying-- he almost flew right into Eileen.

Eileen, having escaped the unexpected flying Moose projectile, rushed at Jody, wrench in hand. (Brave. But foolish.) Eileen hit the blade from Jody’s hand by cracking the wrench down on Jody’s fingers, then hit Jody in the face with the backswing of her blow.

Jody’s head snapped back, but she ignored what would have been a fatal blow on any human and grabbed Eileen’s arm as she cracked her neck back and forth, setting the disrupted vertebrae there--

Before Jody could do anything else, Cas wrapped his arms around her (like he did when he had had to hold back a self-possessed, newly knighted and fully demonic Dean from killing Sam) . Cas held her in place, struggling against her as she roared and clutched, eyes a sudden black as the source of her murderous rage made itself known.

Eileen jerked forward and slipped out of Jody's grip.

Claire picked up the archangel blade and stood back, her posture uncertain. 

“Jody?” Claire whispered. Her voice shook. “Mom?”

“You know what happens to cheaters.” Chuck's voice emerged from the top of the stairs and a shadow spread throughout the room, though no backlight was to be had.

“Claire, go !” Castiel insisted.

“But--”

Chuck’s shadow continued to spread and grow, taking over more of the room--

“Go!” Castiel left no room for arguing, just as Chuck’s shadow began to leave no room for light, devouring it.

Cas didn't want Claire to see Jody that way.

Or, if worse came to worst-- if they had to “deal” with Jody... Claire doesn't need to see that. Claire would be safer anywhere else. Literally anywhere else. (Maybe not a volcano...?)

 

Claire rushed out of the room, running down a hallway to who-knows-where. The hallway seemed to stretch and mutate, becoming labyrinthian. A Gordion knot, but of hallway nexuses and new doorways--

Claire (surprised that she could run in those stupid heels) stopped and turned in a full circle to find nothing of familiarity. But everything, at the same time, was also familiar. Was this Chuck or was it Claire’s own desperation?

“Try the door on your left, Darling.” Crowley walked past her, fixing his cuffs and giving her a haughty, judgemental look. “Or any of them, really. I mean, they all lead to the same place: the Observatory. It’s an illusion, though I doubt Daddy Dearest has noticed, quite yet.” And he ambled on his way.

Claire made a face. Chuck was about as far from Daddy as-- oh, ew. No.

Claire jerked the door open and tripped inside.

 

When Claire entered the room she was completely overwhelmed, but her main focus was the goddamn shoes she was -- somehow -- still wearing. She dropped the archangel blade and took one of the awful fucking heels off and threw it at one of the many windows that made up the majority of the Observatory.

Crash!

Claire was startled to see that the evil hell-shoes had broken through the window pane.

What?

Claire walked over, smelled the rainy scent of petrichor in the air, and felt the cold air hit her skin as she got closer. She saw something…. Someone.

“Jack?”

Notes:

Okie-dokie, we're in the end game now!

Umm... Also I'm sorry for any hurt I may have/WILL cause :)

Sorry if anything is funky or misspelled (I'm not a spelling Bee). 💛🐝

Chapter 5: When God Closes A Door…

Summary:

Claire opens fucking a window...

Notes:

WARNING FOR: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH & Blood/violence

“Jack!” Claire yelled out into the forest.

Jack was completely unresponsive, laying out in the rain like some kind of poor, abandoned toy. He was dressed differently, as well. He was no longer in an all black getup, looking like a depressed butler. Now, he wore a plain, light blue t-shirt, a white jacket, and some bluejeans. And what were those? Velcro shoes?

Claire pulled her other shoe off and attempted to break the rest of the windows, and, to her shock, it was working!

“Holy shit.” She laughed to herself. Maybe heels weren’t complete bullshit, after all.

 

Claire returned to the first window she had broken and, using the studded back of the shoe, aggressively cleared as much glass as she could. She then threw her shoulder against the grilles that separated the individual panes. Once Claire had created an opening large enough for herself, she climbed up onto it, slipped on the heels, and dropped outside.

And, immediately (because God fucking hated her… wait ) the stilleto ass hell heels sank into the ground and Claire wobbled back and had to grab onto the window sill in order to stay upright.

“Fuck,” she hissed. ( Fucking glass.) ((Fucking shoes!))

Carefully, Claire pulled the heels out of the mud, rebalanced her weight on her toes, and pushed off of the window sill. Carefully.  

Luckily, this was apparently how women in heels were supposed to navigate shit like not-so-solid ground. It worked.

 

As soon as Claire was able to take her eyes off her feet (and keep her balance), she looked around and saw that they were in the middle of the woods, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. She turned around and there was no house… the only evidence of the house was through the broken window, which, from her place on the outside, looked like it was just floating there. Like a broken video game that had not finished rendering. Or a portal to some kind of secret dungeon level.

“Whoa.”

 

She looked back at the floating entrance to the mansion one last time, then walked over to Jack, not minding the pouring rain. The cold, however, did irk her. She really wished she had her leather jacket right about now.

Claire reached Jack, dropped down onto her knees next to him, and shook his shoulder, “Hey. Hey , wake up.”

Claire could see his warm breath escape into the cold air; so, he was clearly alive. But he was out cold. She knelt there, in her stupid dress and stupid heels, with her hands hovering over Jack with hesitance pressed into the worried knit of her brow. After a moment, she decided to just haul him back to the house and figure out the rest later.

Claire moved behind his head and picked him up by the armpits. She hefted him a bit higher and wrapped her arms around his middle, instead, and locked her hands together against his sternum. The fucking shoes were sinking back into the ground, again, but she had a steady hold on Jack and that was what mattered.

She pulled him around, carefully, until her own back was facing the window she’d gotten out of, then dragged him toward the house.

“For being a three-year-old,” she grunted, “You're pretty damn heavy.”

Jack did not respond.

Claire muttered a few choice words that she’d learned when Dean stubbed his toe, one morning, then winced inwardly as she dragged Jack over the part of the ground littered with glass. Her heels continued to aggressively stab the drenched ground, making the whole journey that much more tedious, but Claire was more stubborn than a pair of stupid shoes were.

 

Then they were at the window.

Claire glared up at the window. She hadn’t thought this far ahead, honestly. But she was a Novak and a Winchester and she wasn’t going to be beaten by a fucking window.

Unlike the other Winchester. And the Novak-adjacent.

Well, nothing for it. Claire began the process of shoving Jack inside in front of her. A few bruises (and a cut or two, probably) would be but a small price to pay. Hopefully.

 

As soon as Jack passed the threshold of the house he shot up, suddenly awake. A burst of warm power fell over them briefly and made the rain a distant memory for their clothes, Claire didn’t even know how one was supposed to dry clean a dress. So. That was nice.

“Claire?” Jack gasped.

“Yo,” Claire shot him a peace sign and flopped inside the window the rest of the way. 

“Claire!” Jack said, this time relieved, instead of confused.

Claire then pulled a single shard of glass from her hand, looked at it for a moment, then tossed it out the open window. “Yep. Yeah. Hey! Listen, I know you may be confused, but my Mom… but Jody is hurting people!”

“I know--” Jack beagin, but Claire had more to say.

“And Castiel, Sam, and Dean are in there too! And Chuck is in there with them! Jack, you--”

“Claire.” Jack raised his voice for a moment, then let it soften once more. “...It’s time.” He picked up the archangel blade, then handed it to her. He held his hands over hers so that she wouldn’t let it go.

Claire looked blankly at the blade, then scowled at Jack. She didn’t want this.

Jack let out a nervous laugh. “Please don’t miss.”

Claire looked down at the blade. She had to save Jody. She had to save Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Eileen. (Maybe even Crowely.) Hell, she had to save the world from Chuck, she couldn’t let Chuck win. But… kill Jack? Was it really worth sacrificing the one for the many? And this wasn’t just anyone , it’s Cas’s son.

“Jack, I--”

“It’s okay.” He gave her a comforting smile and let go of her hand. “I’m sorry we never got to meet before this. Cas spoke very highly of you... I’m glad I got to meet my sister, before I...” Jack trailed off.

Claire shuddered out a devastated breath. No. No! She couldn’t do this to him, she couldn’t do this to her family! She wouldn’t-- 

“Save our family, Claire.”

The acceptance in Jack's eyes made Claire's stomach turn.

He shouldn’t be okay with this, he shouldn’t even have to think about this type of shit!

Claire's grip tightened around the blade, a sudden feeling of clarity rushed over her.  She took a deep breath. “Alright, Jack...” 

Claire drew her weapon up, aimed, and struck. The blade was truly designed to kill things -- people -- like Jack, it pierced his skin with barest of effort...

Jody fell limp in Cas’s arms after he finally got her to sleep, or so it would seem. He slowly lowered her to the ground, then faced Chuck. Eyes burning in anger at all the hardship his absent Father had caused. And for what? His own entertainment?

Dean got up, helped Sam to his feet (with all the elegance of a newborn moose, might I add), and headed over to stand with Cas and Eileen.

Chuck slowly walked down the stairs. “Cheaters never win, you know.”

(What Chuck failed to take into account, however, was that the game of Clue -- in particular -- is a game that encourages cheating, only punishing the unclever cheaters who are caught. So, technically, Chuck was wrong. Plenty of cheaters win Clue.)

Dean started to approach Chuck. Chuck raised his fingers -- like he was going to snap them out of existence.

“Do you wanna lose your brother , or your angel ?” he gave a smarmy, self-confident smile. The smile of someone with all the power.

Dean stopped in his tracks, clenching his jaw.

“Mm, yes. That’s what I thought.” Chuck lowered his hand.

Eileen, on the other hand, simply thought fuck it (I mean they all seemed screwed either way, might aswell go out fighting ) and swung her wrench at Chuck, hitting him on the jaw.

The three boys all gasped at the same time, waiting for Chuck's response.

Chuck’s smile twisted and he aggressively snapped his fingers towards Eileen --

“No!” Sam shouted.

But then… nothing.

Everyone looked at Chuck. Chuck frowned and snapped his fingers again. Everyone flinched (as any sane person would, knowing what Chuck could do-- used to be able to do-- with a snap of his fingers) but still nothing happened.

“ Look ,” Sam pointed at Chuck. “He’s-- he’s bleeding.”

Crowley walked back into the room. He was in time to hear Sam, so he scoffed. “Let’s all thank Captain Obvious for the running commentary,” he muttered. Crowely was ignored… again.

Chuck had a thick stream of blood come a cut on his lip, given to him by Eileen.

Chuck wiped at his lip, and looked down at his hand in a mixture of fear and disbelief.

“He’s powerless.” Castiel said, staring him down.

Crowley threw his hands up. Why were these people stating what was obvious all the time ?

“Is that so?” Dean pulled his gun out from the back of his belt.

“ Wait --” Chuck threw his hands up, between himself and Dean.

Dean didn’t wait, though. He emptied the gun’s clip (which was only two bullets) into Chuck's face. Chuck gave one last look, then he fell to the ground... dead.

Chuck died like a human. No flashing lights, or a final monologue. Not as a god, nor a father. He died as anyone of unimportance should. Quick, soon to be forgotten.

Jody got up at that point, and looked down at Chuck.

Dean clicked his tongue. Then he smirked and put the gun back in his belt. “Good, Shoefield,” he said (to the gun). Nerd.

“What happened?” Jody asked.

“We won .” Sam said.

“Don’t sound so fucking surprised, Samuel,” Crowley rolled his eyes, then turned to leave. He ended up walking out the one door and walking back in, but through another door, like some kind of twisted joke. So, he’s still there. No dramatic exit for him.

“ What? Wait, how did we get in here?” Jody asked

Cas and Dean exchanged a look. “You don’t remember?” Castiel asked.

Jody rubbed the back of her neck. “No… everything after dinner is a blur.” 

“Maybe that’s for the best.” Dean said, and turned to smile at Jody.

 

The group heard the sound of heels click-clacking against the hardwood floors and turned to see Claire approaching them.

“Hey.” Claire was small in her posture. Her mouth a tiny frown.

“Claire, thank god. ” Jody said in relief.

“You really want to thank him?” Dean gestured to Chuck's corpse.

Claire shifted something in her hand. “So… it-it worked?”

Castiel tilted his head. “Did you do something?”

“I guess,” Claire grabbed her wrist, above the glass object still clutched tight in her hand. “It was Jack, really. Uh, Chuck was using Jack like some kind of bullet to Chuck's power-hungry gun. Or something . So... so I got rid of the bullets.”

The room fell silent. A loud, uncomfortable silence.

Good going, Claire. Nice job breaking it to them gently.

Castiel dropped his gaze and felt an overwhelming feeling of anxiety, and distress.

“Claire,” Dean clenched his hand into a fist. “What do you-- what do you mean you got rid of Jack?”

Claire looked slightly startled. “Wha-- I--”

“Hello!” Jack walked in from behind Claire, fresh blood coating his neck.

Sam let out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding.

Crowley frowned. Blood?

Eileen tilted her head to the side. Yeah, that was blood.

Jody looked worried. Why was he bleeding?

Dean unclenched his fists. He looked fine… mostly.

(Jack wondered why everything was crossed out.)

“Sorry, I had to check on Rowena. She is able to be healed.” Jack looked at the group, then he met Castiel’s eyes, Jack's smile grew.

No matter how much it sucked being used by Chuck, and no matter how much emotional or physical pain Jack felt throughout the process of Chuck’s sick game, Jack could be satisfied (happy, even) that at least he got to bring his father back from The Empty, that he had been able to bring his family back together.

Jack ran to his father, and collapsed into his arms. One brick wall met another. (Or so Claire assumed, from her own hug experience.)

Crowley cringed, because now blood was going to be on Castiel’s nice white shirt. These people had no respect for good clothing!

“I missed you.” Jack murmured into Cas’s jacket.

Cas wrapped his arms around Jack and crushed him close, he quietly told Jack how much he loved and missed him. He murmured his relief in languages that had long since been lost to humanity, because English didn’t have the words he needed to express his relief.

“Alright,” Dean said with a laugh, then he turned his attention back to Claire. “Okay, kid. What’d you do?”

Claire opened her mouth, like she was about to explain--

Jack suddenly coughed loudly, and pushed himself away from Cas to cough into his hand some more. “I haven’t missed that.” Jack muttered down at his hand.

Castiel looked up at Dean and they shared a look.

Claire lifted a glass vial in her hand to show a bright, glowing, smoke-like substance stored inside. “I took his Grace.”

The group looked down at the bottle in Claire's hand.

“If Jack didn’t have his power, then neither would Chuck, right?” Claire walked over to the group, “Loophole.”

Dean took Claire into a side hug, “Clever girl.”

Claire embraced Dean back for a moment, then moved over to give Jody a hug.

“ Oh , okay. We’re hugging now?” Jody embraced her back.

She didn’t know? 

“...No reason.” Claire decided to just let that memory die.

Castiel placed a concerned hand onto Jack's shoulder, then he reached a hand to Jack's temple to heal the cut on his throat. (Castiel was very aware he could not heal Jack's inner wounds, but he could at least heal the outer one.) 

Jack coughed again, wetley--

“Alright, hand it over; Jack’s turning into freaking Doc Holliday over here.” Dean reached his hand out.

Claire happily handed the bottle of Jack’s Grace over to Dean.

Dean took the Grace, then handed it to Cas.

Cas took the cork out with an unnecessarily cute little pop , then handed the bottle to Jack. “Chuck's consciousness should no longer be attached to his Grace.”

Jack nodded, “I’m your--” he coughed, “I’m your Huckleberry.” Dean could not be more proud of his son than he was at that moment. Jack consumed the essence, which caused his eyes to burn a fiery gold for a moment. The sheer amount of power suddenly contained within Jack’s being could be felt through the whole room, by all the room’s occupants.

Crowley inched back, just in case...

“Do you feel better?” Sam couldn’t suppress the worry in his voice.

“Yes. But,” Jack frowned, “No one needs this much power.”

Jack made a face like a child eating something healthy (or Dean eating a salad) and spat a silvery-blue essences back into the bottle.

“What--what is that?” Sam asked, leaning over.

“Chuck’s Grace.” Jack lifted the bottle to examine it. “I kept my own, I just separated them. Like how Sam separates his laundry!” He beamed at them.

“You can do that?” Castiel ran his hand through Jack's hair.

“No. He can’t.” Claire rolled her eyes. “He’s lying to us. That bottle is now full of nephilim saliva and nothing else. Definitely .”

“Ooh, sassy,” Crowley nodded in appreciation. “I like her.”

Eileen, however, made a face and signed “ ew, spit.”

 

[Jack's intentions with Chuck's Grace were to make a couple “super angels.” Ones that could watch over Heaven together and be their own beings of good and peace. (Then there would no longer a need for an all powerful being.)]

[However, to do so Jack would have to leave for Heaven again, and who knows how long that would take . Castiel offered to go with Jack, and Jack all but shined in the knowledge that Cas would be with him; that he wouldn’t have to work alone in Heaven (again) .]

[Dean did not want them to go. He just got them back, but he understood that this was something Jack needed to do. That if Jack did this, then he could come home. And he could come home for good, this time. And, yeah, Dean understood that Cas should go with him. In fact, Dean wanted Cas to be with Jack. Dean just wished he could go too.]

 

After Jack regained his powers, and free will, he resurrected Rowena. He then took the Witchcatcher off of her, finally freeing her.

Rowena promptly thanked the boy by giving him a dozen (annoying) kisses to the top of his head as well as his cheek, like the annoying aunt she was born to be. Jack loved her. 

“Bless you.” Rowena said, as she retreated from her attack of kisses. She clapped her hands together in delight. “That one,” she pointed at Jack, “is better than all of you. Bless him. Treat him right or I’ll steal him for myself, boys.”

Crowley rolled his eyes.

Rowena then booped Jack's wee little nose.

Jack enjoyed having an aunt that was such a maniacally chaotic, yet sweet, witch. “Well, I owed you one. You once tried to save me.” Jack smiled warmly.

“The word being tried , my dear. I did not do as well as you just did.” Rowan smiled sadly and ruffled his hair once more.

But that didn’t matter to Jack, he knew if she had the power at the time… she would have.

Crowley approached the two holding... something in his hand. He handed Jack a cold glass of milk, “A peace offering.”

Rowena snapped her attention back to her son. “Why does there need to be a peace offering, Fergus ?”

“Because you happen to be my mother, Mother .” (Hayloft plays in the distance.)

 

Jack began taking people to their desired destinations. 

Crowely stayed in the house, however, and made it his own personal hell. Perhaps even went into business with his mother. Well, at least saved a room for her in the mansion, and maybe made a door to Hell in the basement, behind the rocking horses. Speaking of his mother:

Rowena was returned to her throne in Hell. Sam and Eileen were returned to Eileen's abandoned car. Jody and Claire were returned to Sioux Falls, though -- at the last minute (and after seeing that Alex would be with Jody) -- Claire decided to go with Dean to the Bunker. He shouldn’t be alone...

Not when Cas and Jack would be leaving him for Heaven.

With no set return date.

Notes:

Howdy!

I'll be posting the last chapter very soon (if not today). It is quite different then the last five... yeah. You have been warned. But it's all fluff...! Don't worry.

Also... did I get ya? (I love my poor child, I swear!! I'm so sorry...💛)

Also, sorry if anything is funky or misspelled. 💛🐝

(💛Happy Fathers day to all the daddies out there!💛) ((Get your mind out of the gutter.))

Chapter 6: The End Has No End

Summary:

(Not that you'd be able to read it on the shirt, lol)

Notes:

The fluff you asked for... (except that no one asked).

Dean, Cas, Claire, and Jack were standing in the Men of Letters Bunker. The comforting smell of the books in the library greeted them at the metaphorical door.

“It’s time to go.” Jack said softly.

Cas looked at Jack, then back at Dean with a worried look.

“Ah, don’t worry about me,” Dean waved him off (not very convincingly, I might add.) “Sam n’ Eileen will be here soon. Plus, I’m beat, I’ll probably just watch something stupid with Claire Bear, here.” Dean patted Claire’s head--

“Don’t do that.” Claire said absently.

Dean removed his hand from her head like he just placed his hand on a freshly painted bench. He almost wiped it on his jeans, even, then remembered she wasn’t a freshly painted bench. She was practically one of his kids. When did he get so old that he started thinking of these youngsters as his kids, anyway?

Castiel walked over to Dean and wrapped him in a warm embrace. “We’ll be back, Dean. It shouldn’t be long.”

Dean shuddered a breath, and clutched Cas’s coat.

They let go of each other, slightly reluctant.

Dean cleared his throat, and forced a smile. “You better.”

Cas turned to look at Claire, and Claire had a sincere smile as she looked at the angel. Cas was thinking about how grateful he was for his life. He had his son, daughter, paramour, ( 🎶 and Peggy 🎶 ) and Sam. He had a great life.

Cas turned to walk back to Jack, but Dean took his hand to pull him back in for a kiss goodbye.

Cas stiffened for a moment, startled at the suddenness of the motion, then relaxed into Dean’s arms. They parted all too soon for Cas.

“ I love you too, ” Dean whispered. “ Ya know , I mean. Just so you know.”

Angels can blush? Apparently. Cas glanced down at his feet, smiling. He knew, of course, but there was a definite something about hearing it said out loud. Something more .

Claire made eye contact with Jack and made a fake gagging motion, exaggerated and clearly as a joke. Jack smiled at her. Humans were so funny.

Castiel put his hands on Dean’s face and kissed him in return, bright and happy and overflowing with love. They stayed like that for a long moment. Innocent, really. But brimming with longing and I love you and preemptive missing of each other. It ended, still too soon, and Cas walked back over to Jack.

Jack raised his hand, smiling, “Bye.”

There was time enough for Cas to offer Dean a final, soft smile.

And then the two were gone.

 

Dean let out a huff. His heart ached.

He’d never actually experienced this particular kind of ache, either. In the past, he’d caused or endured aches, but not of the kind where the relationship for which he ached was so…

Dean put his hands in his blazer pockets and walked towards the Kitchen with a glance at Claire, over his shoulder. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

Claire slipped her heels off and followed Dean. “Starving.”

 

Dean walked over to the fridge and got a beer.

Claire sat on the island in the middle of the kitchen. “Can I have--”

Dean threw her a beer, and Claire barely caught it in time. “Thanks.”

“Mac n’ cheese...” Dean mumbled to himself. “You like mac n’ cheese?” he glanced over at Claire.

Claire opened her beer, “Who doesn't?”

“Lactose free freaks.” Dean pulled the milk from the fridge. “Can you boil some water for me?”

“Sure,” Claire took another sip of her beer, then hopped down to fill a pot up with water. Alex would have freaked out about Claire touching a stove with intent to cook on it, but Dean didn’t need to know that.

Dean pulled at his collar, “I need to change out of this suit.” 

Dean left the kitchen without another word.

He’s upset , Claire thought. Yeah, well, no shit.

Claire set the filled pot on the stove and stood by it waiting for it to boil, sporadically shaking some salt into the still water. Fuck you ghost, this is my mac n’ cheese! She figured she should probably look for the boxes of mac n’ cheese--

“Are you gonna make broccoli with that?” A voice came from behind Claire. The sudden intrusion of an unexpected voice made her jump and pull a dirty knife from the counter. She turned on her heel and aimed the knife at--

“ Jack ? Cas ? What the hell, guys!” Claire lowered her weapon.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare--” Jack yawned, interrupting his train of thought. Whatever . Jack walked away from Claire without another word and sat the kitchen table. He slouched over into his folded arms.

“It’s-- It’s okay.” Claire put the knife down, then turned to Castiel, “You guys are back early.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” Castiel nodded. He seemed like he was hiding something.

Claire squinted her eyes slightly. “ What ?”

Claire saw something shift behind Castiel. Claire readed herself for whatever it might be, squeezing her fist into… w-well, a fist. 

Then the presence made itself known. A dark, curled head of hair tilted out from behind Castiel to look at Claire--

“ Kaia ?” Claire gasped. Her little lesbian heart almost gave out.

“ Yeah .” Kaia stepped away from the angel, and towards the blonde. ”Yeah, It’s me.”

Kaia Nieves stood before Claire, back from the dead . Kaia was still wearing the black hoodie and jeans that she died in (though there was no damage to the fabric) (or the girl).

Claire reached a single, gentle hand out to Kaia’s face. Her hand shook a bit as it met Kaia’s cheek, solid and real and warm and human and… she was really there.

Claire looked up at Castiel as if to ask if this was real . Not a trick. Not a last, cruel trick.

Castiel nodded. “Jack’s final act as God was to repay both you and Kaia for your help. Kaia for the ‘eyes to find his family,’ and you for saving his life--”

“And my family’s lives, too--” Jack’s voice, while understandable, was muffled by the table, which he was getting to know very well in his almost-napping state of semi-consciousness, “Though Kaia did save Claire, too, so like… It's a ciiiiirclllllllle... ” Jack petered off into nothing, then was silent once more.

Claire let out a laugh then wrapped Kaia in a tight hug. 

True, Claire only knew Kaia for about a day before Kaia was taken from her, but Claire never forgot about Kaia. One of her biggest regrets was letting Kaia die . She missed Kaia, and now-- 

Kaia happily returned the hug, tucking her nose into the crook of Claire's neck.

When the two separated from the hug, Kaia looked down at Claire's dress in amusement. “What are you wearing?”

“Oh,” Claire looked down at herself almost like she was embarrassed. “It was this whole thing, and I haven’t had the time to change… Why? You don’t like it?”

“ No ! I mean yes ! It-it’s nice! Very nice,” Kaia raised her eyebrows and frowned, “It looks good. You look… good.”

Claire pressed her lips together, trying in vain not to blush. And blushed.

Cas smiled at the two. His murder daughter had a crush. Awwwwwwww.

“I can take over cooking, if you’d like.” Castiel surgested.

Claire looked at Castiel, who she almost forgot was standing there. “Yeah, that would be-- That’d be great.” 

Claire turned her attention back to Kaia, “I’m gonna go change. ‘You want some new clothes, instead of your…” Claire trailed off looking at Kaia’s stomach; where she had been--

“ Yeah . Yeah, that sounds good.” Kaia laughed nervously.

Claire nodded with a smile, and then they left for the hall. Kaia leaned over and whispered something like ‘ wait, where are we exactly?’ and “ who’s the guy in the coat?”

Claire responded something like, “ Lebanon, Kansas, and that’s my not-Dad Dad… but also, that’s my dad’s face. Eh, gay angel, long story.”

“...What the fuck does that mean, Claire?” Kaia hissed back.

“Gay angel. Long story,” Claire repeated.

Castiel smiled to himself, then moved to the stove. “Jack, go to your room.”

Claire stopped dead in her tracks, then led with an exaggerated gasp. “Wait, what’d he do?”

“Nothing,” Castiel sighed, “He needs to sleep. He did a lot in Heaven, and that drained his mental and physical resources-- his energy. He’s… tired.”

“He sleeps?” Claire was genuinely curious.

“Not as much as you.” Castiel turned towards the cabinets.

Claire nodded and turned to Kaia, who just shrugged.

“Jack, go to bed.” Castiel said, not turning from the pantry.

“Hmmmmm.” Jack said, with his head still slouched in his arms - unmoving.

“ Jack .” Castiel warned.

Claire grabbed Jack by the arm and helped him up, “Come on, DiCaprio , let’s get you to your room.” 

“Whossat?” Jack mumbled.

Kaia took his other arm, “Yeah, Shawn Hunter .” 

“Ooo, good one.” Claire agreed (“What? Whossat?” Jack complained.) “What about Dean Forester?” Kaia frowned at Claire, and Claire nodded “Yeah, You’re right.”

“Eric Brady?” Kaia said.

Claire hummed, unconvinced. 

“ Young Eric Brady.” Kaia restated.

“I could see that.” Claire agreed, “Ooo, wait, Eric Bragg! You know, from Charmed?” 

“Alright, yeah, you definitely win this round.” Kaia laughed and the two both walked Jack back to his room. The only other noise to come from Jack was a steady, mmmmm of protest, like he thought the girls were trying to rename him or something .

Castiel shook his head, Good god there were three Deans now… Why the nicknames?

 

Claire and Kaia literally dropped Jack off in his room (well, on his bed).

Claire threw a quick blanket over Jack, then attempted to leave.

“He’s still wearing shoes.” Kaia informed.

Claire cringed at the thought of sleeping in shoes. Ew. Claire then turned to Kaia, “He’ll live. Besides, I’m not his mom.”

The two looked at each other for a long moment, then the two picked a foot and took his shoes off together. Maybe not a mom, but now they both get good sister points.

Claire then made sure Jack's feet were under the blanket, then she brought the blanket up to his shoulders, tucking him in.

“Night Baby Bro.” Claire said quietly, so that Kaia (and even Jack really) wouldn’t hear her acting so mushy. Claire smiled at the thought of gaining another sibling.

Kaia, however, did hear her, and couldn't help but smile warmly, though she quickly hid it when Claire turned around.

Then the two left for Claire's room.

 

Claire gave Kaia a pair of sweats and one of her coziest sweaters (that she had at the Bunker), then left Kaia to change, and waited outside, leaning against the door.

Dean marched down the hall, looking like he took a quick shower. He was wearing an old pair of hot dog print pajama pants. He frowned and raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

Claire looked at the door, then back at Dean. An idea blossomed in her mind. “I think you should check the kitchen.”

Dean tilted his chin back. “What did you do to my kitchen?”

Claire shrugged, “You might want to hurry , I don’t know.” Claire felt a slightly malicious smile appear on her face.

The little shit. Dean rushed down the hall expecting to see fire, or broken glass, or fire, or water everywhere, or FIRE, or--

“ Cas ?!”

By the time dinner was ready, Sam and Eileen were back, Claire was in some pj’s and her leather jacket (she finally got it back), and her and Kaia were sitting in the Library. Jack was still consumed in a deep slumber.

Jack got about a forty minute nap before Dean was tasked with waking the toddler. And Dean, being the adult man that he was, decided the best course of action would be a pillow to Jack's face…

Dean snuck into his kid’s room, picked up a discarded pillow, wound up, and rained down retribution upon Jack's innocuous head.

...Well, it worked. Jack was awake, so Dean was pleased. “Time to eat, sweetheart .”

Jack just slowly turned and looked at Dean how an angry, sleepy toddler might look at you when you steal some of their food. Why can’t he just get some sleep? (Because the writer said no, you’re gonna be in the end of this fic. )

Walking into the Library, Jack looked like one of those grumpy soaked cats, and his nap hair didn't help his case. No one laughed, or anything, but it was a near thing.

Sitting around the table, Sam was completely overjoyed. He had a smile on his face that seemed like it wouldn't go away. He hoped it never would.

Sam watched as Cas and Dean sat close, and how Dean laughed more than Sam had seen him laugh in months. (It was kinda gross though, because Dean’s mouth was almost always full of half eaten food.)

And Cas . Sam’s best friend and a piece of his family was back, for good this time.

Jack was finally home, and safe . He sat in his chair, probably asleep, only sitting up by his cheek in his hand and his elbow propped up on the table.

Claire attempted to balance as many utensils on Jack's head as she could before he woke up, and Kaia enabled Claire by passing her a spoon or two. (Jack had three, and counting, utensils on his head.) All the while, Kaia was telling Claire the story of how she first met Jack, and something about… cocaine??? Whatever it was, Claire was smiling more than Sam had ever seen her do before.

Sam had his fiancee, Eileen’s, hand in his own. She smiled lovingly at the kids. (Eileen turned to Sam and discreetly signed ‘I want one’ while smiling up at him. Sam just lovingly tapped her hand and kept his panicked screaming strictly inward.) Sam was so happy, he couldn’t believe it. He almost felt like he didn’t deserve it.

They really did it. Sam’s family was free. Free to start anew and live the lives they wanted.

“Alright,” Dean whipped his hands, “Who wants to play Clue?”

“ No, ” everyone said at once. Except Kaia, who had said “yes,” but now looked confused.

Jack woke up (knocking all the spoons off his head in the process) to throw a single piece of broccoli at Dean's face.

Dean was taken aback by the outcry, (especially with the cranky toddler's shot put throw of vegetables). “Okay-- okay. Touchy subject.”

 

 

Game Over… Play Again?

Notes:

Well, thanks for every person (or synthezoid) who read my little dumpster fire of a story! I really enjoyed writing this and re-writing this with Witch (they're great, you should totally check them out *wink*)! 💛🐝💛

 

Sorry, once more, if anything is funky or misspelled. 💛🐝

Looking for anything else to read? You could try:
The One About The Teddy Bear by the lovely Witch
My Fathers Ring by (just) the Bee... me :)

Random thing: I [Bee] Just re-watched my favorite episode of Psych and guess who was in it?... That's right, Mr. Calvert himself. (That's just so weird to me. lol)

And so our journey comes to an end. Will we ever meet again? Who knows... but I will always cherish our time together. Stay fly, my Bees! 💛🐝🐝🐝

Notes:

Thanks for reading!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Clue