A/N Just posted chapter 24 a few seconds ago so make sure you read that one first

A few months pass, and there's no sign of the Hunters anywhere. Dean doesn't stop by again. Jack doesn't run into him somewhere. They're off the hook for any major crime. It really feels like things are back to normal.

It's a Friday night and Castiel and Charlie both had the pleasure of watching a murderer get dragged off to prison. Trials can be exhausting, but moments like these make it all worth it. Justice was served, a murderer has been locked up, and now they have the weekend to celebrate.

Of course, it's Charlie, so their idea of celebrating is a Star Wars marathon at Castiel's apartment, but he can't complain. He might be the only The Last Jedi fan on the planet, but he's not ashamed to admit that he can't wait to get to that movie. It's getting late and they're only on Episode III, but they'll doubtlessly finish the saga by the end of the weekend.

"Look at her!" Charlie squeals. "It's Leia!"

CastieI stares at her. "You of all people should know the different female protagonists of Star Wars." This is very much not Leia; it's Padmé, just like the characters have been saving for the last three movies.

"No, it's Leia!" Charlie insists.

"Literally where the fuck do you see Leia?" CastieI asks, exasperated. Most of his Star Wars knowledge may come from Charlie, but at least he knows who is and is not Princess Leia.

"Pause it!" Charlie says, already reaching for the remote to do it herself. She has to wait a few seconds until it's the right moment, but when the screen switches back to Padmé, she pauses it.

CastieI crosses his arms, amused. "Please, enlighten me. Where the fuck do you see Leia?"

Charlie puts the remote down on the coffee table and walks — no, struts — up to the TV. She pauses for dramatic effect, then points at Padmé's stomach. "It's Leia."

CastieI stares at them. "You really waited through half the movie just to point out that she's pregnant? As if that hadn't been established forever-and-a-half ago?"

"Yes," they say with a smug smile. "Yes I did."

CastieI shakes his head. "You know what? You didn't follow it up by calling Padmé a milf so I'll let you live."

"That was gonna be next sentence," she tells him.

He narrows his eyes. "If I had my gun on me..."

Charlie just smirks, unphased. They sit back down by his side and grab the remote, and they're just about to unpause the movie when the doorbell rings.

"Oh, come on," Castiel groans.

"I haven't finished simping over Milf Amidala!" Charlie adds, and he gives her a playful slap on the head. Whoever let Charlie get ahold of Gen Z slang owes him money for emotional reparations.

"Who even is this?" CastieI mutters, though he supposes there's no point in trying to figure it out when he's walking to the door anyway.

"A neighbor?" Charlie suggests. "Maybe they need, like, sugar."

"Maybe," CastieI says. He doesn't see his neighbors very often, but he supposes that makes sense.

He opens the door just a crack to get a quick look and his jaw drops. He barely even processes who is standing in front of him; he's too distracted by why.

He's covered practically head-to-toe in blood. If the gashes across his face are any indication, it's probably all his own. His clothes are no better off. What looks like it used to be a tan flannel is now mostly red, and the holes in his blood-stained jeans just reveal more cuts.

CastieI eyes him up and down in wonder, and that's when he notices what has to be the worst part. He's missing a shoe, instead walking directly on his dirty foot with a very swollen ankle. The fact that he's standing on it at all is a wonder in and of itself; he's surprised he hasn't just fainted. Between the blood loss and the pain he's doubtlessly in, he probably should have.

All he says, standing helplessly in the doorway with tears streaming down his face, is, "They know."

"Jack," Castiel whispers, eyes wide. "What happened?"

"They know it was me," Jack says, barely audible through his sobs.

As much as CastieI wants answers, helping Jack has to take priority. He throws the door open and picks Jack up bridal-style. He cries out in pain, and though Castiel grimaces, he doesn't regret it. Jack should not be walking on that ankle.

"Holy fuck," Charlie whispers. "What—"

"I am so sorry to cut our movie marathon short," Castiel interrupts, "but you need to leave."

"What?"

"Now!" CastieI says firmly.

Charlie scoffs. "I'm not leaving! Look, I'll call 911—"

"No!" CastieI says quickly, and he's surprised to hear Jack do the same. He may be in immense pain, but he has his priorities straight.

"The hell do you mean, no?" Charlie demands. "He needs medical attention —"

"I am medical attention," Castiel says. "Get off the couch."

This time she does as she's told, and Castiel gently lays the boy down. He lets out a small whimper, but after the first few seconds he seems to get a little more comfortable. CastieI slips his two throw pillows under Jack's swollen ankle. It's not elevated too much, but hopefully it's enough.

"Do you have more pillows?" Charlie asks. "I can go get —"

"Charlie, you know I love you," CastieI says, "but you really have to leave."

"Not until you tell me what's going on," Charlie says firmly. "Why won't you bring him to a hospital? Look at him!"

CastieI whips around to face them. "I can't deal with this with you looking over my shoulder! Go home, Charlie, before you get in too deep."

"What —" Charlie's eyes widen. "He's a Hunter, isn't he?"

"Charlie —"

"I promise, Cas, the hospital will not care," Charlie says. "What they will care about is this kid covered in blood. You have to take him —"

"I'm not going to a hospital!" Jack says, his voice hoarse.

CastieI gestures to him in an I told you so way to Charlie before turning his attention back to Jack. He kneels by the kid's side so they're closer to eye-level. "I'm gonna grab some ice, okay?"

"I'm on it," Charlie says, and by the time CastieI looks behind himself, they're already running to the kitchen.

CastieI sighs. Well, if he can't get her to leave, at least she's making herself useful.

"Jack," he says quietly, "I'm so sorry, but if they won't leave, you're going to have to be really careful what you say. They're a cop, and unlike me, they don't think kindly of Hunters. I don't want you to get in trouble just because you came to me for help."

Jack's entire takeaway from that is just, "'They'?"

"Her." He jerks her head in Charlie's general vicinity. "'They' is gender-neutral. She goes by both." Why is he explaining this to him right now?

"Oh." Jack gives a small smile. "I like that."

God, this fucking kid. He shows up covered in blood and his first priority is to talk about pronouns? It would be frustrating if it wasn't so goddamn cute.

Charlie runs back into the room with two long, foldable ice packs and two kitchen towels. CastieI stands up and holds out a hand, and Charlie gives him one of the ice packs and towels without a word. He gently lifts Jack's leg and slips a towel-covered ice pack under it, then takes the other ice pack and gently rests it on top of his ankle. Jack whimpers, biting his lip.

"Do you think it's broken or just sprained?" CastieI asks.

"Whichever one hurts more," Jack replies.

CastieI nods sympathetically. "And I'm sure walking on it didn't help."

"I didn't have a choice," Jack says. "They broke my phone. I couldn't call for help."

"Who did?" Charlie asks.

"No," CastieI says immediately, though he has to admit, he's dying to know, too.

Charlie scoffs. "What's that for?"

Jack gives a small smile. "Funny, last time it was you I wasn't supposed to talk to."

CastieI smiles back for a moment just to humor him. "I don't know anyone's numbers, but if you want to use my phone to call your dad —"

"No!" Jack says immediately. "No, he'd kill them. He'd track them down and kill them all."

Maybe he should.

"I'm assuming the same goes for your uncle?" CastieI guesses. He almost says 'other uncle,' but he catches himself before he does. Charlie doesn't need to know that.

"It goes for all of them," Jack says. "You know that. I mean, if you weren't a cop, I'm sure you'd kill them, too."

Well, he can't deny that.

"I know you told me that I should only come if there's an emergency," Jack says, "but do you think I can stay here for a few days?"

"If this isn't an emergency, I really don't know what is," CastieI says. "Don't you think your dad's gonna get worried, though? Are you sure you don't want to at least let him know that you're okay?"

"And tell him what?" Jack asks. "That I'm staying with you? I don't think so."

"Your dad loves me," CastieI says. "I don't think he'll care."

"But he'll start asking questions," Jack says, "and I really don't want to get him involved. Not yet, at least."

CastieI nods in understanding. He's sure Lucifer will be freaking out by the time Jack goes home, but if it makes the kid feel better, he'll go along with it.

"Hey Charlie?" CastieI looks up at her. "Can you go grab a wet towel for me?"

"Yep!" They run out of the room, and he has to appreciate how quickly they agree to do everything he asks (except, of course, leaving).

"Let's try to get you cleaned up," CastieI says. "Can you take your flannel off?"

Jack does as he's told. The left side comes off easier than the right; CastieI has a feeling his hand or his wrist is hurt, but nothing seems swollen, at least. Jack holds the bloody flannel up and looks around uncertainly. CastieI just takes it and tosses it to the floor. He doesn't particularly care about the blood getting on the carpet — though he is a little peeved that he's going to have to get a new couch. Couches are not cheap. It doesn't feel like that should be his priority right now, though.

"They got you really good," CastieI remarks. He's not sure he's ever seen anything like this, at least in his time as a Hunter. "What happened?"

"Vamps," Jack says. "Somehow they found out about... you know..."

The shootout behind the mall, CastieI presumes. That's not good. If they know Jack killed one of their own, they're not going to let him off easy. He's lucky they didn't kill him then and there — or unlucky, as the case may be. There are worse things than death, and this may be one of them.

"Do they know about Claire?" CastieI asks quietly.

"I don't know," Jack admits. "They didn't mention her, but if they know about me, they probably know about her."

Castiel frowns. He doesn't like the sound of that. "Don't you think we should warn her?"

"I think she'll be fine," Jack says. "She never goes anywhere alone — usually Kaia's with her — and she won't hesitate to shoot anybody that tries to mess with them."

"That didn't work for you," CastieI reminds him. "At least, I'm assuming you had your gun." In his experience, Hunters always have their guns.

Jack gives a small, sheepish shrug that immediately transforms into a wince. "After what happened last time, I really didn't want to shoot anyone. By the time I would've changed my mind, one of them had already taken it."

"Taken your gun?" Castiel repeats.

Jack just nods.

CastieI runs a hand down his face. This just keeps getting worse and worse. "Is there any way that gun could be traced back to you? Did you get it legally? Is it registered to you or any of the Hunters?"

"I don't know," Jack admits. "Dean got it for me for my birthday a few years ago. I didn't think to ask."

"Great," CastieI mutters. That opens up a whole new set of problems. If the Vamps use it and the cops trace it back to a Hunter, they'll be at the center of yet another major crime — and knowing the Vamps, it will probably have a high body count.

Charlie returns then, a wet towel in hand, and they hand it to him. He gently presses it to Jack's forehead, and aside from a sharp inhale and a wince, he remains mostly still.

As CastieI gently dabs away the blood, he can start to make a little more sense of the boy's injuries. It's not quite as bad as it had looked; a lot of scratches and gashes, but most look fairly shallow. He was bleeding a lot, but it mostly seems to be from the same few wounds.

The right side of his cheek is the worst. It's not scratched, exactly; it's more of an abrasion, and not a clean one at that. He might have to get a bottle of whiskey out for that. It'll hurt like a bitch, but it's better than an infection. Short of falling face-first on some concrete, he's not sure what could have caused that. He's not sure he wants to know.

"Look at that!" CastieI says with a smile, pulling the towel away from his face for the last time. "You look better already!"

Jack returns the smile with a small one of his own. "I don't really feel better, but I'll take your word for it."

"I still think you should go to the hospital," Charlie says. "I mean, this is really not good."

"I'll be okay," Jack assures her. "Worst case scenario, I get an infection and die a slow, painful death. What's not to like?"

"God, you're such a teenager," CastieI mutters.

"I'm just saying, dying would solve a lot of my problems," Jack says. "Like, you know, the problem of trying not to die."

"But then I'd have to deal with your dad," CastieI says.

"But my dad loves you!" Jack says.

"I think he might change his mind if I let you die," CastieI says, "accident or not."

"Okay, quick interjection," Charlie announces. "Who's your father?"

"It doesn't matter," Jack says, and Castiel is relieved (though not surprised in the slightest) that Jack knows not to answer.

"Is it Dean Winchester?" Charlie asks.

Jack's response to that is just a very amused laugh. Castiel chuckles, too, not at Charlie's guess but at how funny Jack finds it. He's so cute.

"Is..." Charlie frowns. "Is that a 'no'?"

"I just — I'm trying to imagine Dean trying to take care of a baby and it's so bad," Jack tells her, still laughing. "He is definitely not my dad."

Actually, the more Castiel thinks about it, the more valid a reason it is for Jack to laugh that hard. He actually remembers Dean trying to babysit Jack, Claire, and Alex at different points when they were little. It was always an experience, to say the least. At least then he could give them back at the end of the day, which is more than a parent could say.

"I'm glad my confusion can amuse you," they deadpan.

"I am, too," Castiel says teasingly.

Charlie narrows her eyes, and Castiel smiles with faux innocence. He has to admit, if anyone was going to stick around against his wishes while he helps Jack, he's kind of glad it's Charlie. As long as he can keep her from getting mixed up in things she shouldn't want a part in, it might actually be nice to have her around. He can't tease Jack the same way he can his best friend, after all.