A/n: Hey! This is the first fanfic I have ever written. I hope you enjoy.

Wait till then

It had been weeks and Dean seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his room. He would hole up in there with beer, put on his headphones and blast music and Sam wouldn't see him for hours. He didn't volunteer anything much in way of conversation until Sam asked him a question and he only ventured out to get something to eat. Frankly Sam was positive he wasn't doing enough eating either.

He had tried getting him to talk of course and that had gone about as well as he expected. He had been completely shut down before he even managed to get all the words out of his mouth. He was not in good place right now, and grieving albeit in an unhealthy Dean way. Sam got that he really did but he wasn't exactly living the best days of his life himself. Cas was dead, Mom was stuck in an apocalypse world with Lucifer and he knew first-hand how bad that could be. He supposed the only difference was that he was mourning the death of one person while Dean was mourning the death of two.

Then there was Jack. The hour old teenaged son of Satan had caught them both completely off guard. In fact, for all of Dean's silent brooding, the nephilim was one topic which he was very vocal about.

At first Sam too wasn't sure what to make of him, couldn't figure out if the innocent confusion was an act. But then he heard him call Cas his father and saw the very real pain and the lost look on his face after being told that Cas was dead. It sure didn't feel like an act. Somewhere between Jack stealing glances at Dean to mirror his overenthusiastic burger eating and Jack asking him why Dean hated him, Sam started thinking of less of him as the all powerful son of Lucifer and more like a scared kid. A kid who had lost his mother and chosen father. A kid who was alone in this world that was completely new to him, who had nothing but the company of two strangers who were wary and distrustful of him and the apparent destiny of carrying on Lucifer's legacy. Jack wondering if he was evil just because his powers had come from an evil source reminded him of himself. When he was the freak not worth saving in everyone's eyes.

Everyone except Dean.

Dean had believed in him, believed he was worth saving, believed that he could be saved. Even when Sam gave him plenty of reasons to turn away and never look back Dean had always given him one more chance. Sam had a feeling his story would have ended a lot differently if he didn't have Dean watching his back.

He was determined that Jack would not feel alone. He would get the same help he had got and if he went darkside it wouldn't be because there had been no one around to teach him about the light. Kelly had believed in Jack, Cas too. Cas had given his life to protect him, to keep Lucifer away from him. He owed his friend that much.

The thing was, he had no idea how to go about it because 'being there for Jack' was strangely similar to raising a child. He had to be taught things like how to tie his shoelaces and how to make his bed and he had to answer a thousand questions about anything and everything. The most experience he had had with kids for any extended period of time had been close to fifteen years ago when they went to visit Jess' family for Christmas. The small gang of her young cousins had immediately attached themselves to him and absolutely refused to leave him alone until he had an hour long tea party with them while simultaneously being used as a climbing pole by the youngest- a toddler who had been excluded from the fun by his elder sisters. It was not a reassuring memory. Not that Jack would want to have tea parties. But the point remained that he was completely out of his depth. He would have to figure it out because it seemed unlikely that Dean would help out anytime soon. It was just that Sam was still getting used to the idea. Dean made all this look very effortless though Sam was beinginning to see it was anything but. He was constantly afraid that he would mess up, that he would do or say the wrong thing and that it would be Jack who suffered. He wondered if the always in control John Winchester had ever felt this helplessness, back when Dean was born and the only thing he had to worry about was being a good father.

Dean had spent about the first twenty seven years of his life idolizing Dad and trying to be like him. That Sam had turned out to be more similar to him without any trying whatsoever on his part had been a bitter truth to swallow for the both of them and for completely different reasons. They were a decade past that now and Dean had grown out of his blind faith in their Dad just as Sam had let go of his anger at all of the man's bad decisions. Still sometimes, Sam looked at his brother and saw their Dad. He saw him in the stubborn set of his jaw and in the shoulders squared in determination. He saw him in the way how people and monsters alike put him down as someone to not mess with at first sight. John Winchester was a man who liked to be respected. He considered it his right to be respected, and he threatened and bullied those who denied him that. Factor in the big stature, strong build, hard eyes and commanding voice, most of the people he met were either afraid of him, hated his guts or both. Dean was similar to their Dad in height and build but that was where the similarities ended.

Dean had tried to become like Dad but over the years he had ended up becoming just very much Dean. He was a man, the mere mention of whose name had demons afraid for their lives and he was a man who stuffed his face with burgers and pie for lunch. Who cut off the head of every bloodthirsty monster, and who referenced pop culture and was a little too much excited about LARPing. He was someone who in spite of the tragedy that was their life, found peace in saving people. Dean had been Sam's hero for the first many years of Sam's life and now he wasn't a hero just for Sam but for other people too.

There was an intensity to Dean, to his anger. He commanded the respect- however grudging- of even the most paranoid and jaded hunter and every monster capable of intelligent thought. People saw a great hunter, good man, stubborn as a mule and twice as brave and they simply couldn't help it. He was the kind of person that made you strive for their approval- someone who you wanted to make proud. This was especially true for the children they knew or had once known. Being a big brother was so deeply ingrained in him that it had become a part of his personality. It was something that was no longer restricted to Sam, hadn't been for a long time. Every lost and scared kid they met in their line of work and sometimes even otherwise got the Big Brother Treatment if Dean decided they needed it and within no time he had them feeling safe and protected. Dean always was good with children. When Dean raised an eyebrow with a 'no bullshit' look on his face, it didn't matter if the person on the receiving end was a ten year old, eighteen year old Claire, Charlie in her late twenties or thirty-four year old Sam. Everyone was bound to feel like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Apparently, Jack was no different.

Jack had become used to Sam, had come to trust him. He was doing well, but no matter how much Sam praised him, he was fixated on the censure coming from Dean. He was scared of Dean and feared Dean's opinions about him to be true more than he believed Sam's reassurances. Jack was scared of himself and sadly, frustratingly he didn't think that would change until Jack received a word of approval from Dean. Convincing his brother to give up his beloved Impala seemed more achievable to him at this point. Because the problem was not prejudice about Jack being Lucifer's son or hypocrisy concerning his being a freak. The problem was grief.

Dean blamed him for Cas' death. The striking resemblance he had to Cas' habits, way of talking and asking confused innocent questions were a mockery of his friend to Dean. It wasn't fair to Jack but there was nothing to be done. This was one situation that couldn't be solved with either words or fists. Dean was hurt and reeling and was incapable of thinking reasonably.

He would do his part, Sam thought to himself, and when he was not sure what to do, he would look to for guidance where he always did. Dean. Because this was just a matter of time. A matter of time before Dean came around. Sam was sure because he remembers the countless high fives and fist bumps shared between Dean and kids with awe and admiration in their eyes. He knows the way Dean finds place in his heart for prickly, lonely teenagers and how he finds a way in their heart in spite of themselves. He has seen the way Dean takes in the lost souls and makes them family. Sam was sure because that was the kind of person Dean was and nothing could change that. He may have lost hope right now, but he would recover. He would recognize Jack's innocence and then he would beat himself up and try to make amends because shouldering more than his fair share of guilt was another special quality of his brother. Sam rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. He would assure Jack that Dean didn't hate him as many times as it would take. Because Dean would come around.

He could wait till then.