Supernatural: Endgame

Epilogue

9 years later…

"Uncle Cas! Uncle Caaaaaaaas!"

Castiel took his glasses off and set them on the table next to the stack of term papers he had been grading. He wasn't sure how a man with no documented education had managed to procure a position as a Professor of Theology, but when Hope College had called him out of the blue 8 years ago and proclaimed that he came "highly recommended", he was quite certain that Abigail was completely responsible.

"Uncle Cas! I got another one!"

He smiled, and picked up the term papers to move them to a more secure location in anticipation of the whirlwind headed his way. He had no sooner closed them safely inside his briefcase when a breathless 8 year old came screaming into the room, a large box balanced on his scrawny arms. His bright-eyed and freckled face beamed up at him as he held the package out for inspection.

As usual, it came with no return address, no sign of who had sent it, the only difference being the lack of a plethora of international postmarks that indicated its extensive travels to arrive at their doorstop in the small town of Holland, Michigan. Packages like this one had been arriving every few months for as long as the boy could remember. They came filled with books on art and exotic cultures from around the globe, photographs of places that seemed to beautiful to be real, and the occasional treat or toy that a little boy his age might enjoy from whatever region that particular shipment had begun its journey to him. A thrill coursed through him as he gingerly placed the latest arrival on the table.

"Can we open it now? Please please please?"

Cas gave the youngster a reproachful look. "I think it might be wise to wait until your mother returns, Jacob."

"But she won't be home for hours," he whined.

"That's not true. She'll be home in twenty minutes," Cas smiled, resting his hand on top of the boy's head. His chest contracted in a pained memory as green eyes rolled, and Jake plopped himself down in a chair to wait.

"Better be," he grumbled.

Twenty-two and a half minutes later, Cas had lost that battle. The two of them sat at the table, carefully removing the contents of the package. This one held a book about The Great Wall, an intricately carved pair of chopsticks, and pictures of mist covered mountains. Jake cautiously leafed through the pages of the book, gazing at the photos of a land far from anything he'd ever known.

"There's big words in here. Will you read it to me?"

"Sure. What do you say we spend the weekend exploring China? I'm sure I can find a recipe for something authentic…"

"No offense, Uncle Cas, but your cooking?" he said, a pained expression crossing his face.

"Take out?"

A high-five was exchanged, and as Jake collected his new treasures into a neat pile, Cas broke down the box, sliding it gently behind the small table that rested under the phone on the wall. Later that night, it would go into a large box at the back of the walk-in closet of the master bedroom, in which rested all of the boxes the other packages had arrived in.

The back door opened, spilling Coraline into the kitchen. As Cas headed out to the car to bring in the rest of the groceries, Jake buzzed excitedly around his mom while she prepped dinner. She smiled as she worked, listening as the boy rambled animatedly about the things he had seen in his short perusal of the items in the latest parcel.

"…and you should see this wall, Mom, I mean, it's like, the biggest wall ever."

"Yes, I'm sure it is, but right now you need to go wash up for dinner."

"If I go wash up and do it right now with no complaining does that mean I…"

"Yes, Jacob. If you go right now with no complaining? There will be pie."

He was already halfway down the hall, and the "YES!" drifted behind him as he darted into the bathroom. Cora shook her head, laughing to herself as she tossed potatoes into a pot of boiling water. She reached down to dry her hands on a towel, glanced out the window, and froze.

It had been nine years since she'd seen the man who stood across the street, down a few houses, close to the corner. Even half-hidden in the shadow of the giant oak tree in the Vickerson's yard, she knew him immediately. His hair was still shaggy, but shorter, more manageable. As she caught his gaze, he didn't look guilty, or caught off guard. She knew that if he hadn't wanted to be seen, she wouldn't have seen him. She wanted to wave him over, invite him in, find out how he was doing. She wanted to know where he'd been. But then, she knew where he'd been. She could trace his footsteps through the world by opening a box buried in her closet.

What she wanted to do more than anything was introduce him to his nephew. She wanted Jake to know him, to hear him tell the stories about the boy's dad that she didn't know, stories she couldn't tell right. She wondered if his face would light up when he was greeted at the door with a shout of "Uncle Sammy's here!", and if the subsequent hug would manage to knock even him off balance a bit.

She wondered and wanted all of these things, but did none of them. She just took a steadying breath, and offered a sad smile in his direction. He seemed to sigh, and with a small nod, tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, turned and walked down the street and out of sight.