Chapter Text
Jack let out a big yawn as he pushed his blankets aside and swung his legs over the bed. The child—or rather, the Nephilim—glanced at the clock on his nightstand.
5:30 a.m. flashed across the screen.
He groaned, sinking back against the bed. Sleep had been scarce—maybe five hours at best. Jack couldn’t remember exactly when he’d fallen asleep, probably around midnight.
It was far too early for either Winchester to be awake, and Castiel was likely still in bed with Dean. Maybe I could head downstairs and watch the sunrise, Jack thought, hesitating. There was a chance one of the archangels was already up.
It was complicated how they all ended up staying in the bunker. Jack wasn’t exactly sure. Everything after Mary going into the other world and getting Cas back from the Empty was a blur. All he knew was Lucifer refused to part from him, and the archangels had reconciled—no final battle. They were brothers again, working on rebuilding Heaven. Bullshit, if you asked Jack. The Nephilim has heard about Lucifer and well, everything. It seemed unwise to trust the angels at all.
But that wasn’t an option.
Nor was that the only problem.
Jack had a new issue. Two different families.
Both of whom seemed hell-bent on having Jack all to themselves. A day didn’t go by that Castiel and Lucifer weren’t battling over what was best for Jack, which was ridiculous, in his opinion. He was three years old, so basically fully grown and quite capable of taking care of himself.
Jack shook his head. Sitting here contemplating his dilemma would do the three-year-old Nephilim no good.
Releasing a deep sigh, Jack winced as the cold wooden floor made contact with his bare feet. Slowly, Jack crossed his room and opened the door—blue eyes peered down the hall. No one was in sight. Softly, so as not to wake the sleeping, Jack stepped into the dimly lit hallway and closed the door behind him with a soft click.
Carefully, Jack made his way through the hallway and into the kitchen entrance.
“Fuck,” whispered the baby angel under his breath. The light was on, so at least one archangel had to be in there. Jack prayed it was Gabriel or even Raphael. The healer was quiet, and the messenger was the only one Jack felt comfortable around.
“You’re a Winchester,” Jack whispered, encouraging himself.
The Nephilim cautiously turned the doorknob and stepped into the kitchen. The lights blinded Jack for a moment before his vision adjusted. Jack glanced around anxiously before his gaze settled on light blue eyes—one shade lighter than his own.
“Lucifer.”
The archangel visibly winced at the name, but Jack felt no sympathy. If Lucifer wanted a paternal title, then the archangel would need to earn it.
“Little one,” greeted Lucifer, rising from his seat and moving towards his son. “It is early yet. Why are you up?”
Jack shrugged, moving his shoulder to avoid Lucifer’s hand. The Nephilim stared at his fa—Lucifer—for a moment. He almost felt bad when a flash of heartbreak and sadness entered the archangel’s eyes, but it was gone in a flash. He would not open his heart up to Lucifer. No, Jack knew how the story would end if he did that. His heart would be the one left aching.
“Would you like something to eat?” Lucifer asked, after collecting himself.
His baby boy would come to love him eventually. Jack simply needed time to see how much Lucifer loved him and that the archangel wasn’t going anywhere.
“No, than”—grrr….
Jack blushed violently, arms wrapping around his traitorous stomach.
Lucifer laughed, eyes twinkling in a way they only did around Jack.
“Come, sit. I will whip something up for you.”
Jack pulled out a chair and took a seat, eyes following Lucifer’s every move. Who knew the devil could cook? Where had Lucifer even learned to cook or had the time to learn? And wasn’t that a human thing? Last time Jack checked, Lucifer didn’t like humans and certainly did not imitate their way of life.
Lucifer turns, mouth open as if to answer the questions that plagued Jack’s mind—Jack seriously hopes he didn’t just project his thoughts again—only for the kitchen doors to bang open.
“Hey, fellas,” exclaims Gabriel as he sashays into the room, with a disgruntled Raphael and an amused Michael right behind him.
“Gabriel, it’s not even 6 am,” complains Raphael. “Please, for the love of our Father, calm down.”
“Buzzkill. He’s such a buzzkill, right, Jackie?”
Jack sighed, eyes closing as he looked upwards.
“I do believe you have annoyed the fledgling, Gabriel,” interjects Michael as he wrangles his youngest brother into a chair before taking a seat on the other side, right by Jack.
“Hey! I have not!”
“You absolutely have. Do you ever pause?” Raphael gruffed, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.
It was no secret how much the older archangels adored their youngest brother. Even before their reconciliation, the older three had always had a soft spot for Gabriel—especially Lucifer.
It was refreshing to see. Jack wished Gabriel all the happiness in the world. His uncle had suffered enough.
Truly, they had all suffered enough. Yet, the suffering never really ended, thought Jack. He rarely slept anymore. His dreams are plagued by the horrors of the other universe and the cruelties of the current one too. Jack knew it was the same for most of the bunker's occupants.
Sam skipped sleep as much as Jack and hardly ever ate.
Dean had his own problems too. He drank less now; it was still way more than what could be considered healthy.
Castiel seemed more put together than Sam or Dean, though Jack knew that illusion was false. Castiel hovered constantly. The Seraphim was always right by his side and by the Winchester’s sides too.
And didn’t that thought just open up a can of worms?
Jack’s family or families now had become overprotective. Guidance and care was what Cas called it, which was bullshit if you asked Jack. He was three years old, so basically fully grown. Cas had been extra “rude” when Jack had pointed that out. The angel had simply laughed and ruffled Jack’s hair while explaining that having a teenager/young adult form did not make Jack fully grown.
"It’s not fair," thought Jack, eyes squinted in annoyance and bottom lip out.
The nephilim would have continued on complaining in his head, but the feeling of a warm hand touching his cool forehead forced Jack back into reality.
Jack glanced up to see Michael’s dark eyes filled with concern. The archangel’s hand was on his forehead, checking for a temperature. Jack blushed lightly as he took note of his surroundings. The archangels had stopped their bickering and were looking at him with great concern. His dad—Lucifer—was hovering next to Jack’s chair, hands fidgeting as if unsure what to do. Raphael looked two steps away from performing a medical exam right there in the kitchen. Even Gabriel looks serious, Jack noted with slight amusement.
Jack coughed lightly before giving a sheepish smile.
“Sorry, I got lost in thought.”
“Try not to do it again, kiddo,” replied Gabriel, chuckling slightly. “I thought I was going to dump some cold water on you!”
“You wouldn’t dare?” Jack exclaimed, eyes wide with mock indignation.
Gabriel threw his head back and let out a deep belly laugh, wings twitching along with the rest of his body.
Jack sighed, rolling his eyes.
“Well, I have an overly stocked supply of orange dye. If by some chance, I was rudely woken up by cold water, you may just end up with extra colorful wings,” replied Jack, eyes shimmering with mischief. He watched in amusement as Gabriel’s eyes lit up with shock and some other unidentifiable emotion.
Jack startled lightly when warm hands laid themselves on his shoulders and a snort rang out.
“Be careful; your uncle takes prank wars very seriously,” warned Lucifer, hands gently rubbing his son’s shoulders.
“There will be no prank wars today,” declared Raphael, wiggling his fingers at Gabriel in pretend sternness and then giving Lucifer his “Bitch, you better be joking” face.
“Lighten up, Ralph,” whined Gabriel, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.
“How about you—“
“Raphael. Gabriel. Enough,” interrupted Michael, a slight stern look entering his eyes.
He sighed softly as both his younger brothers looked away. Michael did not like to be the bad guy, but sometimes, it was necessary. Plus, these two tended to argue over everything and anything, though Michael supposed some of the blame lay with himself and Lucifer. After all, Raphael and Gabriel were raised by him and Lucifer, and well, Lucy and he argued a lot. However, he was working on it and accepted Gabe and Ralph too as well.
“Did you sleep well, little one?” Michael asked, turning to face his nephew. The poor thing looked exhausted and in need of a nap.
“Yes,” replied Jack, eyes filtering up to Michael’s for a moment before looking at the table.
It was made of rather nice wood, elegant-looking. It even had his name carved in it along with Sam, Dean, and Cas’ names. Jack smiled slightly, remembering the day he carved his name into the table. It felt like ages ago, even though it wasn’t. The nephilim’s smile faded as nightmares and memories swam to the surface of his mind.
Would it ever be the same? Was the happiness that had filled those days long gone? Jack hoped it wasn’t, but the nephilim had learned hope was a dangerous thing.
“Jack, look at me,” commanded Michael, his voice gentle but unwavering.
Jack dragged his eyes away from the table and glanced upward into his uncle’s warm, understanding eyes. Michael’s eyes were always warm and understanding in a way that squeezed Jack’s heart. It wasn’t pity but steadfast love and care. It was overwhelming and left Jack raw. He did not deserve the kindness Michael was showing him. Jack was an abomination. He was a Nephilim.
“Ow,” yelped Jack, reaching back to rub his thigh. “What the hell, Lucifer!”
“Language,” scolded the archangel automatically. “And if I ever hear you call yourself that word again, my hand and your butt will have a full-blown conversation. I’ll pull out the soap too,” threatened Lucifer, eyes flashing with sternness that sent shivers down Jack’s spine.
“Sorry,” mumbled Jack, hands rubbing his thighs nervously. He had meant to say that part out loud.
“Forgiven, my angel baby,” responded Lucifer, leaning down to kiss Jack’s forehead. To the archangel’s surprise, Jack allowed the contact and even offered him a brief smile.
“Now then, I think breakfast is in order,” declared Michael, snapping his fingers.
Jack’s eyes widen in fascination as the kitchen table is then covered in various plates of food. It was magical, like Harry Potter-level magical.
“It’s called Grace, nestling,” explains Raphael, eyes softening as he glanced at the small fledgling. “You will be able to do the same when you are older.”
“How much older?”
“A few centuries at the least, young one,” replied Raphael, chuckling at the child’s eagerness.
Jack sighed, a pout tugging at his lips. He turned to look at Gabriel, eyes widening and filling with tears.
“Uncle—“
“Nope! Sorry, bucko, but Raphael is correct about this. You are too young,” explained Gabriel, feeling slightly bad. He was supposed to be the fun uncle, but Jack’s safety came before the child’s desire to have fun.
“Whatever,” Jack replied, shoving his fork into a sausage link and dragging it up to his mouth to take a bite. It tasted rather good, and Jack hummed in appreciation. He had not been on earth long, but he had learned that food was man’s best creation. It was good, and Jack wished he could travel and try more kinds of it.
“Do you like it, bucko?”
“Yes, but nougat is better,” replied Jack, grinning at Gabriel.
“That’s right, squirt. Glad to see your taste buds aren’t messed up like your dad’s.”
“Refined, Gabriel. My taste is simply refined,” scoffed Lucifer, rolling his eyes.
“More like boring, Luci,” argued Gabriel, gold eyes flashing with happiness. By Father, he really had missed his family, especially Lucifer. His older brother had been and always would be his idol, even though he could be a dick. Lucifer had raised him, and their bond was special. Gabriel was glad Lucifer was back. He had missed his sarcastic, yet fiercely protective older brother.
Lucifer seemed to understand where Gabriel’s thoughts had gone as the older archangel had placed a hand on his leg and squeezed.
“You are a brat, Gabe, and you know what happens to brats?” Lucifer asked, scooting closer to his little brother.
Gabriel shook his head, his leg bouncing with his slight nervousness.
Lucifer gave him a shark grin before yanking Gabriel onto his lap and digging his hands into Gabriel’s sides.
“They get tickled!”
“Lucifer!”
“Lucifer!”
“Hahahaha.”
”Stop.”
”Hahahaha—Lucifer—bahha,” Gabriel giggled, body wiggling frantically in an attempt to escape the attack.
“Hmm, do you think you have been punished enough? Because I don’t!” Lucifer declared before reaching one hand up to lightly tease Gabriel’s golden wings.
“Lucifer—noooo!”
Jack chuckled, smiling at his—Lucifer and Gabriel. It was good to see them both happy, even if Lucifer may or may not deserve it. The atmosphere was nice, and Jack wished every day could be like this. It was nice, and it made our terrifying nightmares and agonizing memories fade.
The nephilim let out a breath, toes clenching and unclenching. It was racking in here, and Jack knew he would be wise to take advantage of the calm.
It certainly wouldn’t stay that way for long.