89. Chapter 89

They met Gabriel for lunch, and, while they were waiting for their food, he showed Dean a very nice set of flavored whiskey that he promised Balthazar would adore. Dean gave an approving nod, muffling a yawn with his hand as Gabriel snapped the whiskey away. It was nice and warm inside the restaurant, a stark contrast from the chilly wind outside, and he was beginning to feel sleepy.

Their waitress came over with their meals: cheeseburgers for Dean and Castiel, and steak for Gabriel. Dean propped his chin on his hand and looked down at his meal. As wonderful as it looked and as delicious as it smelled, he couldn’t muster up any enthusiasm. Idly, he thought that if Sam could see him now, disinterested in a bacon cheeseburger of all things, he’d be dousing Dean in holy water.

“Eat your lunch, Dean,” Castiel said. There was a bit of ketchup on the corner of his lip, which he had to lick off.

“I don’t want it,” Dean said, making an executive decision. He pushed his plate away.

“You don’t want a cheeseburger?” Gabriel said with obvious surprise.

“No,” Dean said. He lifted his hands and rubbed at his eyes, missing the look that Gabriel and Castiel exchanged.

“Dean, you should try to eat something,” Castiel told him.

“I don’t want it!” Dean snapped. Unexpectedly he felt like he wanted to cry, but he didn’t know why. He scrunched his nose up and turned his head away to stare out the window.

“Is there something wrong with his food?” Their waitress had been passing by and, evidently hearing Dean’s comment, had returned to look at the untouched dish with concern.

“It’s fine. Someone’s just being cranky,” Gabriel said. Dean scowled at the window and rubbed his eyes again.

“How about a bottle of milk?” the waitress suggested.

“Please,” Castiel said.

Dean turned to glare at them. “I don’t want a bottle,” he said, but the waitress had already walked away. So he turned his glare on Castiel instead.

“Then you don’t have to drink it, but at least you’ll have the option,” Castiel said pleasantly. Dean narrowed his eyes. Sometimes it was hard to tell if Castiel really meant that, or if he was just pacifying Dean. The utterly bland expression on Castiel’s face gave nothing away.

“Fine,” Dean muttered, turning back to the window. He really was being cranky, but he wasn’t sure why. He’d been fine in the pet store, but now that he was sitting down, he suddenly felt out-of-sorts. He rested his head against the cold glass of the window, watching the people walking around outside. Everyone looked so happy. All he could see were smiles.

Maybe this was what people meant when they talked about the holiday spirit.

The gentle clinking of silverware and the murmur of Gabriel’s and Castiel’s voices behind him provided a pleasant backdrop to the happy shoppers. Dean drifted for a little while, taking note of all the angels, humans, nestlings, and hatchlings walking around. There were so many different wing colors too, he noticed, but none of them were exactly like Dean’s.

“Dean.” His daddy’s wing curled around him, gently pulling him back from the window. Dean went along without protest, finding himself guided up against Castiel’s side. Because it was there and at the perfect angle, Dean let his head rest on Castiel’s shoulder.

Then Castiel picked up the bottle and pressed the nipple to Dean’s mouth. At one point, not so very long ago, Dean would have been mortified to even think about drinking a bottle in a bustling restaurant. But right then, he felt so sleepy and so cozy that he opened his mouth without even thinking about it. The first suck brought the taste of perfectly warmed milk to his tongue, and that was enough to make him decide he was a little hungry after all.

He drank most of the bottle before he’d had enough, turning his head away slightly until Castiel got the point and set the bottle down. Then he closed his eyes and slid his thumb into his mouth.

“Ah, you don’t want a sore tummy. Come on,” Castiel said, patting Dean’s back until Dean burped.

“Do you want to do some more shopping? I know there’s things for him you wanted to pick up,” Gabriel said. His voice sounded like it was coming from a long way away.

“Sure. Do you have his stroller handy?” Castiel said.

The next thing Dean knew, he was being shifted away from his daddy. He whined, trying to grab on, but Castiel slipped out of his grasp. Then Dean was being set down on something soft and comfortable. Before he could decide whether he was happy about that or not, a blanket was pulled up around his shoulders, a pacifier was pressed between his lips, and his bee was tucked in his arms.

He opened his eyes a slit and found himself looking up at the top of his stroller. The soft swirls of blue, green, purple, and silver lights were instantly mesmerizing, especially when the stroller began to move. Dean watched the beautiful lights until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. His eyes drifted shut, and he sank into sleep.

But it seemed like he had only just closed his eyes before someone was shaking him. Dean grumbled into his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, wishing that Sam would just go away. He was very comfortable and not interested in dealing with whatever hunt Sam had cooked up. Before he could say as much, a very familiar voice laughed in his ear.

“I’m not Sammy, sweetheart. And if you don’t wake up, you won’t be able to pick out the perfect gift for Bobby.”

It all came back to Dean in a rush – there were no hunts, and all he had to worry about was Christmas shopping – and he opened his eyes to see that his uncle’s smiling face was about a foot away from him. Without even thinking about it, he reached out and put his hand on Gabriel’s face. Gabriel blinked a couple times, then squawked when Dean unceremoniously shoved his face back. Behind Gabriel, Castiel burst out laughing.

“I told you not to get so close,” Castiel said, still chuckling as he nudged Gabriel out of the way.

“So rude,” Gabriel huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. But there was a slight smile on his face, so Dean knew he couldn’t be very mad.

He lifted his arms up towards Castiel, who smiled and reached down. His hands gripped Dean under the arms and lifted, pulling Dean up and out of the stroller and onto Castiel’s hip. Dean wound his arms around Castiel’s neck and yawned, sleepily nudging his nose against his daddy’s wing. As annoying as it was to have Gabriel in his face two seconds after he woke up, Dean was so grateful that he hadn’t woken up in some dank hotel room.

“Come on. Now’s our chance,” Castiel said, stepping off the curb to cross the street. Gabriel flicked a finger towards Dean’s stroller, which instantly vanished, and followed.

The shop was tucked away on a quieter street, nearly hidden between a women’s clothing store and a bustling café. The curtains were drawn over the windows and honestly, it didn’t even look like it was open. But Gabriel walked towards it with confidence. Dean tightened his grip on his daddy and looked at Castiel, not feeling overly hopeful when he saw that there was a doubtful expression on Castiel’s face.

“Maybe it looks better inside?” Dean said hopefully.

Castiel sighed. “Let’s hope so. I swear, your uncle…” He shook his head.

“Come on, you two!” Gabriel called back, opening up the door and gesturing to them. Castiel sighed again but dutifully carried Dean up to the door.

As they stepped inside, Dean’s nose was tickled by a familiar scent. He sneezed a few times before sniffing and wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. It smelled like – like – his eyes landed on several pots of oil, and he made a face. It smelled like a couple of witches were going crazy with a ritual of some kind. The numerous candles set carefully around the oil didn’t do much to settle him.

“Is this place owned by witches?” he hissed at Gabriel.

“Now Dean-o, not all witches are bad,” Gabriel replied, which was basically his way of saying yes, and casually sauntered further into the shop like he entered a witch’s domain every day. Which, knowing Gabriel, might actually have been the truth.

Dean, on the other hand, chewed his lower lip and looked around with a growing sense of apprehension. Had he known this was where Gabriel planned to bring them, that would’ve been a solid veto. His history with witches wasn’t the best. Any encounters he and Sam had with them usually left the both of them in some kind of pain. The last thing he felt like doing today was getting cursed or worse.

“It’s okay, Dean. You’re safe,” Castiel murmured, rubbing Dean’s arm comfortingly, and Dean was able to relax a little. Whatever else happened, he knew he was safe with his daddy.

“Okay,” Dean said, still a little scared – it wasn’t like he had a gun on him to pull if a witch tried something funny. He huddled a little closer to his daddy as Castiel followed Gabriel into the shop. They emerged through a curtained-off area and Dean gasped softly.

Everywhere he looked, all he could see was items for hunters. Knives, guns, and other weapons. Crosses and what appeared to be glass jars of holy water. Plenty of silver items in all shapes and sizes. Even some protective gear. His eyes immediately went to a really cool-looking jacket, and he squirmed to get down. Castiel set him on the floor and Dean walked right over to the jacket.

It was made of some odd grey-green fabric that looked like cotton, but had an unusual feel when Dean pinched it between his fingers. The plaque beside the jacket didn’t name the material, but merely said that it had been woven by a witch and imbued with magical protection spells. Dean frown at the plaque, wondering if that was really true. Could spells be woven into clothing? Good spells?

“What did you find, Baby?” Castiel asked, coming up behind him.

Dean pointed to the plaque. “Does this really have protection spells woven into it?”

Castiel looked the jacket over before he reached out to touch it. His eyes closed briefly, eyebrows drawing together in concentration, before he nodded. “Yes. Not just spells, either. There are some Enochian symbols of protection in this as well. This may have been made by a witch, but it was a witch in very close contact with an angel.”

“So it wouldn’t be dangerous?” Dean asked.

“No. There are some good witches out there, Dean. I know you and Sam haven’t encountered any, but they do exist,” Castiel said. He looked from Dean to the jacket. “Were you thinking of this for Bobby or for Sam?”

“Bobby,” Dean replied. Bobby didn’t hunt a lot now that he had settled down with Jody – and now that their family had two angels basically on call. But every once in a while, Bobby got restless and would find a hunt to deal with. A jacket like this, if it could do what the plaque said that it could, would be really useful for him.

Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t going to be hunting much in the near future if Gabriel and Castiel had anything to say about it. It would be a really long time before Sam hunted again, and when he did, he would be an angel. So while Dean knew Sam would probably like the cut and style of the jacket, the protective properties would be a bit of a waste and were better suited to someone like Bobby.

“I think that would be a great gift,” Castiel said. “Would you like to look around a bit more first? Or do you want to just go with the jacket?”

“Let’s look around. Maybe I’ll find something to go with,” Dean said.

“Good idea.” Castiel held out his hand and Dean happily took it. He felt much more comfortable about walking around and looking at the other things in the shop now.