SPN fic: 5 Dreams Dean Had
1
The twittering birds were a bit much.
“You’ve really got a tree hugger streak in you, don’t you?”
Castiel was sitting on the hood of a tire-less Ford that had once upon a time been red. He puzzled the question for a moment, gaze scoping the fairly accurate replica of Bobby’s salvage yard (except for some extra flora and fauna) and then decided not to deign it with an answer.
“What are you doing?” he asked, instead.
Dean wiped his hands on a rag before reaching in the cooler and pulling out one of two beers. “What does it look like? Working on the Impala. Dreaming apparently. What have you been up to? Back on Earth? Haven’t heard from you for more than a month now. Why didn’t you just call me on the phone like a normal person?”
“It’s good to see you too, Dean.”
“Yeah, yeah. How’s the family?”
Castiel avoided his eyes.
“Still dicks, huh? Well, you can’t choose family, they say,” he took a long pull, the liquid a rich, dark amber sloshing inside the clear bottle, condensation slipping down his wrist, and went to lean against the old Ford. “You can take Sam’s beer, if you want. Serves him right for staying in and not helping anyway,” he gestured vaguely towards the car with the hood up, and beyond that to the house, a construction bigger than real life.
Castiel shot a look at the cooler and then fixed his gaze on Dean. “I find that since being restored to my true nature I take less pleasure in imbibing alcohol. But thank you anyway.”
“I have an apartment,” Dean said, out of the blue. Reality was starting to encroach on his consciousness: he was uncomfortable for some reason. “I think I fell asleep on the couch. I have a couch, by the way. Lisa helped me find it in a second-hand shop. It’s pretty ugly, but she gave me a thing to cover it, like a blanket.”
“You are making a house for yourself. I am glad to hear it.”
“It’s a rental, but... can’t really afford much, right now. Need to find a job. Got first month out of a poker tournament, but the town’s too small to keep doing that, and I don’t really feel like driving out. I go pick up Ben at soccer practice, have dinner with them three times a week. Got a routine, can you imagine that? I think I like it. Sammy would get a kick out of it.” He frowned. There was something he was forgetting, something important...
“What are you going to do for next month’s rent?” Castiel asked suddenly, pulling him back in the dream. A starry sky had appeared right over them. It was cool and peaceful.
“Huh, Lisa hooked me up at the gym where she works; I’m teaching a self defense class.”
“I’m sure you’ll be a very good teacher.”
“I dunno, I mean, I’ve only ever taught Sam, really. Anyway it’s only for a couple of weeks, and then I’ll... have to find something else.”
He took a look around, then met the angel’s eyes again. Castiel hadn’t moved an inch. “Cars?”
“I guess.”
2
This time they were sitting on a couple of benches overlooking a park where children played. There was a road behind them, where cars sped up and down, noise and wind hitting the nape of their necks like waves. Occasionally a kid would run towards them, intent on crossing the street, and Dean would intercept them and send them back. Ben was sneaking around the playpen, shooting covert looks every time one of the other kids made a run for it. Dean knew that he was waiting for the opportunity to throw himself under a car as soon as Dean’s hands were too occupied to catch him. Good thing Castiel was helping.
“Raphael hasn’t taken my return very well. I think the possibility of our Father’s involvement in it has vexed him. Joshua says hi.”
“Still in the garden?” He darted to the left, catching a girl in pigtails who let out a peal of laughter and ran back to the swings. “Why do little kids always seem to be trying to kill themselves?”
“Ben is hardly that small,” Castiel pointed out, scooping up a toddler that had tried to crawl between his legs, and setting him back towards the others.
“You should have seem Sam: fingers in power sockets, reaching for pots of boiling water... it was defcon one all the damn time.”
“How did the class go?”
“What?”
“The class you taught. How did it go?”
“Oh, fine. It was good. Didn’t make much money, though. I’m doing some work at a garage, but...”
“You don’t like it.”
“Nope. Always thought that’d be what I’d do if I didn’t hunt, you know? Like my dad. But I only really like to work on the Impala, and classic cars are pretty scarce on the ground. Don’t have much options, though.”
“You never desired to try other jobs?”
“You sound like Sam, now. He used to say that. Well, not ‘desired’, but... I wanted to be a fireman when I was little. It’s stupid.”
“It sounds very reasonable.”
“I can’t, though...” Dean pointed to Ben, who was standing in the middle of the playground, feet splayed and eyes narrowed in defiance.
“You decided that yourself, or did you talk to Lisa about it?”
3
Instead of swiping the whetstone on the blade Castiel was rubbing the edge of the knife over it in slow, harmonious passes. It was bothering Dean, though not so much that he’d mention it. Besides, he was too busy disassembling all the guns, cleaning the parts and then dumping them in the bin.
“More and more angels want to walk the Earth, smiting sinners. It is getting increasingly difficult to keep them in Heaven, now that they believe that our Father’s orders no longer stand.”
“Trouble in Paradise?” Lisa quipped, a doll-like smile quirking a face that wasn’t animated enough to be the real thing. She was sitting cross-legged on the rug with Ben, and both of them were scooping Lego pieces out of the bin where Dean was putting all the teeny tiny parts he was breaking the guns into.
“You gotta do what you gotta do,” Dean sighed, eyes on the blade between Castiel’s deft fingers. “I was about to punch in my asshole of a boss’ face yesterday, but if I lose the job I lose the apartment, and if I end up on the street Lisa is going to kick my ass right out of her life, and she’d be right to do it.”
“Is it not going well between the two of you?”
“I don’t know, man. I just don’t know. One day it seems fine, and the next we’re fighting. She encouraged me to volunteer with the firefighters, which was awesome at first, by the way, but it only made me realize just how much I hate my job, and then she’s saying I should change jobs, like that’s so easy... haven’t found a ‘wanted: supernatural hunter’ ad in the paper yet. When I mentioned going bounty hunter she went all cold and said ‘if that’s what you want’... I don’t know what I want! Crazy woman. I wish I could talk to Sam about it, but that’s not going to happen.”
“Have you considered a more stationary type of law enforcement? There are plenty of jobs that would benefit from your skill set.”
“I know what you’re doing, you know? Every time I mention Sam,” Dean put down the gun and looked at Castiel, just as the angel turned and met his gaze with an unflinching one of his own.
Dean wanted to say thanks, but the words never passed his lips.
4
“Why don’t you make me dream of fishing anymore? Or, I dunno, eating pie of something like that?”
“I don’t create these dreams, Dean, I only come to visit you in them.”
“But now that we have an angel,” Victor supplied, “can he kill the demons for us?” He took the mallet from Dean’s hands and handed it to Castiel, then motioned him to the giant whack-a-mole machine they’d been playing at. “I’ll do the paperwork if you smite them,” the FBI agent offered, taking up a pen and a clipboard. On the machine, a little plastic mole with a deranged grin and black eyes popped up, badly synthesized evil laughter blaring through the speakers. Castiel looked at it perplexedly for a moment then hit it sideways with the hammer, breaking it clean off the base.
Dean tugged at his tie and hung back, looking dispiritedly at the deserted county jail around them. “I don’t want to be a cop,” he grumbled, “it’s not just that I can’t, since if someone does a background check on me I’m screwed, but I really don’t want to. I’ve dealt with enough supernatural crap, don’t want to have to deal with the stuff people do to each other as well.”
“Then don’t,” Castiel suggested, taking another swing and breaking another demonic mole off.
“Last time I was on duty with the firefighters I saw something that I wouldn’t mind trying, but I doubt I’d pull it off. There’s an exam and everything, they say it’s pretty tough. Sam might have... in fact, I know he’d be better at it than me.”
“I’ve seen you do research in your own right, Dean. You should have more faith in your learning abilities.”
“Yeah, whatever. How’s it going with you? You’ve been quiet. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“The ranks are breaking off into small fractions, none of them big enough to overcome all the others. I fear we’re heading to an internal war, and there’s nothing I can do to prevent it.”
“Family, man. Can’t choose it,” Dean sighed.
“You did,” Castiel replied, willfully misinterpreting the saying, “and I did. But sometimes it seems to me family doesn’t have to choose you.”
5
Dean was holding a plastic liver and was trying to puzzle how to fit it behind Adam’s ribs and stomach without taking them out first. Adam, meanwhile, was just lying on the gurney, nursing a bad temper and telling him to hurry up. “You’ve done this hundreds of times in Hell,” he’d scold, motioning with his head to his open chest, where all the organs were life-sized but made of plastic, “now get a move on!”
“Tearing souls apart is nothing like putting bodies back together!” Dean snapped back, growing more and more frustrated. “I am never going to pass this exam. What was I thinking?”
“You fell asleep on your anatomy text-book,” Castiel suggested helpfully, peering inside the open chest as well while Adam glared at the both of them.
“I quit my job to become a paramedic! I’m moving in with Lisa to save on rent and become a paramedic! Only, I’m not going to become a paramedic because I’m not going to pass the frigging exam!” He pushed the liver in sideways, and it slotted in place easily, jostling the other organs slightly.
“You seem to be doing fine,” Castiel deadpanned. “I gather the relationship is doing better as well?”
“I took Ben and his troop camping for a weekend and suddenly I’m a hero. Then I go and tell Hank at the garage to go fuck himself with a watermelon and I think, ‘this is it, can’t even hold a job six months together, she’ll tell me to take a hike’, and instead she’s all ‘you already have a toothbrush here’, like that’s got anything to do with anything, and now I’m selling my ugly couch on e-bay.” Despite himself Dean broke into a huge grin. “So what’s your problem? You look more constipated than usual.”
“There’s a faction that wants to storm the Cage to free Michael. Fortunately they do not want to free Lucifer as well, and have refrained to take action, for now. I suspect there is also a faction that wants to free Lucifer instead, but I haven’t been able to scope more information. It is all very frustrating.”
Dean dropped the spleen he was holding and grabbed Castiel by the lapels of his coat. “Could they? Could they free Sam and Adam as well?”
“Adam’s soul is in Heaven,” Castiel droned, voice even flatter than usual. “Apparently that’s how Michael works with his vessels: he gains consent, then sends the soul away to preserve it, though I suspect it’s more like he doesn’t want to be bothered by it, and then restores it to a repaired body once he’s done.”
“What?” Adam growled from his gurney.
“Why didn’t you mention this before?” Dean yelled, trying to shake an immovable angel, which was frustrating him even more.
“I didn’t know, Dean. Michael was chief in command, I was hardly privy to his private actions. But I’ve since personally guided Adam to see his mother. They seemed... at peace.”
Dean’s anger deflated, and he sat back on the gurney, suddenly tired even inside the dream.
“So Sam’s the only one there. I’m- I’m glad for Adam.”
Castiel looked at him, stone-faced as ever though over time Dean had learned to interpret his thousand-miles angel stare, and he could tell that there was more, and the tight lipped bastard was holding out on him.
As if reading his thoughts (and maybe he was, they were already inside his head after all), Castiel looked to the side like he used to at the beginning, during their first conversations, and confessed “I’m not sure Sam is in the Cage either.”
“Say again?”
“The Cage... it was made to hold an archangel, not a human soul... or body. It is possible that Sam wasn’t contained by it, that he simply... slipped through.”
“So he’s-“
“He’s not in Heaven, of that I’m sure. And I don’t think he’s in Hell, either. I’ve been making some... inquiries, but I don’t know anything concrete. He could have simply ceased to exist, though I think we’d know for certain if that were the case. That’s why I haven’t mentioned anything to you, Dean, I just don’t know.”
Dean snorted, shaking his head almost fondly. “You and me both, Cas. You and me both.”
The twittering birds were a bit much.
“You’ve really got a tree hugger streak in you, don’t you?”
Castiel was sitting on the hood of a tire-less Ford that had once upon a time been red. He puzzled the question for a moment, gaze scoping the fairly accurate replica of Bobby’s salvage yard (except for some extra flora and fauna) and then decided not to deign it with an answer.
“What are you doing?” he asked, instead.
Dean wiped his hands on a rag before reaching in the cooler and pulling out one of two beers. “What does it look like? Working on the Impala. Dreaming apparently. What have you been up to? Back on Earth? Haven’t heard from you for more than a month now. Why didn’t you just call me on the phone like a normal person?”
“It’s good to see you too, Dean.”
“Yeah, yeah. How’s the family?”
Castiel avoided his eyes.
“Still dicks, huh? Well, you can’t choose family, they say,” he took a long pull, the liquid a rich, dark amber sloshing inside the clear bottle, condensation slipping down his wrist, and went to lean against the old Ford. “You can take Sam’s beer, if you want. Serves him right for staying in and not helping anyway,” he gestured vaguely towards the car with the hood up, and beyond that to the house, a construction bigger than real life.
Castiel shot a look at the cooler and then fixed his gaze on Dean. “I find that since being restored to my true nature I take less pleasure in imbibing alcohol. But thank you anyway.”
“I have an apartment,” Dean said, out of the blue. Reality was starting to encroach on his consciousness: he was uncomfortable for some reason. “I think I fell asleep on the couch. I have a couch, by the way. Lisa helped me find it in a second-hand shop. It’s pretty ugly, but she gave me a thing to cover it, like a blanket.”
“You are making a house for yourself. I am glad to hear it.”
“It’s a rental, but... can’t really afford much, right now. Need to find a job. Got first month out of a poker tournament, but the town’s too small to keep doing that, and I don’t really feel like driving out. I go pick up Ben at soccer practice, have dinner with them three times a week. Got a routine, can you imagine that? I think I like it. Sammy would get a kick out of it.” He frowned. There was something he was forgetting, something important...
“What are you going to do for next month’s rent?” Castiel asked suddenly, pulling him back in the dream. A starry sky had appeared right over them. It was cool and peaceful.
“Huh, Lisa hooked me up at the gym where she works; I’m teaching a self defense class.”
“I’m sure you’ll be a very good teacher.”
“I dunno, I mean, I’ve only ever taught Sam, really. Anyway it’s only for a couple of weeks, and then I’ll... have to find something else.”
He took a look around, then met the angel’s eyes again. Castiel hadn’t moved an inch. “Cars?”
“I guess.”
2
This time they were sitting on a couple of benches overlooking a park where children played. There was a road behind them, where cars sped up and down, noise and wind hitting the nape of their necks like waves. Occasionally a kid would run towards them, intent on crossing the street, and Dean would intercept them and send them back. Ben was sneaking around the playpen, shooting covert looks every time one of the other kids made a run for it. Dean knew that he was waiting for the opportunity to throw himself under a car as soon as Dean’s hands were too occupied to catch him. Good thing Castiel was helping.
“Raphael hasn’t taken my return very well. I think the possibility of our Father’s involvement in it has vexed him. Joshua says hi.”
“Still in the garden?” He darted to the left, catching a girl in pigtails who let out a peal of laughter and ran back to the swings. “Why do little kids always seem to be trying to kill themselves?”
“Ben is hardly that small,” Castiel pointed out, scooping up a toddler that had tried to crawl between his legs, and setting him back towards the others.
“You should have seem Sam: fingers in power sockets, reaching for pots of boiling water... it was defcon one all the damn time.”
“How did the class go?”
“What?”
“The class you taught. How did it go?”
“Oh, fine. It was good. Didn’t make much money, though. I’m doing some work at a garage, but...”
“You don’t like it.”
“Nope. Always thought that’d be what I’d do if I didn’t hunt, you know? Like my dad. But I only really like to work on the Impala, and classic cars are pretty scarce on the ground. Don’t have much options, though.”
“You never desired to try other jobs?”
“You sound like Sam, now. He used to say that. Well, not ‘desired’, but... I wanted to be a fireman when I was little. It’s stupid.”
“It sounds very reasonable.”
“I can’t, though...” Dean pointed to Ben, who was standing in the middle of the playground, feet splayed and eyes narrowed in defiance.
“You decided that yourself, or did you talk to Lisa about it?”
3
Instead of swiping the whetstone on the blade Castiel was rubbing the edge of the knife over it in slow, harmonious passes. It was bothering Dean, though not so much that he’d mention it. Besides, he was too busy disassembling all the guns, cleaning the parts and then dumping them in the bin.
“More and more angels want to walk the Earth, smiting sinners. It is getting increasingly difficult to keep them in Heaven, now that they believe that our Father’s orders no longer stand.”
“Trouble in Paradise?” Lisa quipped, a doll-like smile quirking a face that wasn’t animated enough to be the real thing. She was sitting cross-legged on the rug with Ben, and both of them were scooping Lego pieces out of the bin where Dean was putting all the teeny tiny parts he was breaking the guns into.
“You gotta do what you gotta do,” Dean sighed, eyes on the blade between Castiel’s deft fingers. “I was about to punch in my asshole of a boss’ face yesterday, but if I lose the job I lose the apartment, and if I end up on the street Lisa is going to kick my ass right out of her life, and she’d be right to do it.”
“Is it not going well between the two of you?”
“I don’t know, man. I just don’t know. One day it seems fine, and the next we’re fighting. She encouraged me to volunteer with the firefighters, which was awesome at first, by the way, but it only made me realize just how much I hate my job, and then she’s saying I should change jobs, like that’s so easy... haven’t found a ‘wanted: supernatural hunter’ ad in the paper yet. When I mentioned going bounty hunter she went all cold and said ‘if that’s what you want’... I don’t know what I want! Crazy woman. I wish I could talk to Sam about it, but that’s not going to happen.”
“Have you considered a more stationary type of law enforcement? There are plenty of jobs that would benefit from your skill set.”
“I know what you’re doing, you know? Every time I mention Sam,” Dean put down the gun and looked at Castiel, just as the angel turned and met his gaze with an unflinching one of his own.
Dean wanted to say thanks, but the words never passed his lips.
4
“Why don’t you make me dream of fishing anymore? Or, I dunno, eating pie of something like that?”
“I don’t create these dreams, Dean, I only come to visit you in them.”
“But now that we have an angel,” Victor supplied, “can he kill the demons for us?” He took the mallet from Dean’s hands and handed it to Castiel, then motioned him to the giant whack-a-mole machine they’d been playing at. “I’ll do the paperwork if you smite them,” the FBI agent offered, taking up a pen and a clipboard. On the machine, a little plastic mole with a deranged grin and black eyes popped up, badly synthesized evil laughter blaring through the speakers. Castiel looked at it perplexedly for a moment then hit it sideways with the hammer, breaking it clean off the base.
Dean tugged at his tie and hung back, looking dispiritedly at the deserted county jail around them. “I don’t want to be a cop,” he grumbled, “it’s not just that I can’t, since if someone does a background check on me I’m screwed, but I really don’t want to. I’ve dealt with enough supernatural crap, don’t want to have to deal with the stuff people do to each other as well.”
“Then don’t,” Castiel suggested, taking another swing and breaking another demonic mole off.
“Last time I was on duty with the firefighters I saw something that I wouldn’t mind trying, but I doubt I’d pull it off. There’s an exam and everything, they say it’s pretty tough. Sam might have... in fact, I know he’d be better at it than me.”
“I’ve seen you do research in your own right, Dean. You should have more faith in your learning abilities.”
“Yeah, whatever. How’s it going with you? You’ve been quiet. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“The ranks are breaking off into small fractions, none of them big enough to overcome all the others. I fear we’re heading to an internal war, and there’s nothing I can do to prevent it.”
“Family, man. Can’t choose it,” Dean sighed.
“You did,” Castiel replied, willfully misinterpreting the saying, “and I did. But sometimes it seems to me family doesn’t have to choose you.”
5
Dean was holding a plastic liver and was trying to puzzle how to fit it behind Adam’s ribs and stomach without taking them out first. Adam, meanwhile, was just lying on the gurney, nursing a bad temper and telling him to hurry up. “You’ve done this hundreds of times in Hell,” he’d scold, motioning with his head to his open chest, where all the organs were life-sized but made of plastic, “now get a move on!”
“Tearing souls apart is nothing like putting bodies back together!” Dean snapped back, growing more and more frustrated. “I am never going to pass this exam. What was I thinking?”
“You fell asleep on your anatomy text-book,” Castiel suggested helpfully, peering inside the open chest as well while Adam glared at the both of them.
“I quit my job to become a paramedic! I’m moving in with Lisa to save on rent and become a paramedic! Only, I’m not going to become a paramedic because I’m not going to pass the frigging exam!” He pushed the liver in sideways, and it slotted in place easily, jostling the other organs slightly.
“You seem to be doing fine,” Castiel deadpanned. “I gather the relationship is doing better as well?”
“I took Ben and his troop camping for a weekend and suddenly I’m a hero. Then I go and tell Hank at the garage to go fuck himself with a watermelon and I think, ‘this is it, can’t even hold a job six months together, she’ll tell me to take a hike’, and instead she’s all ‘you already have a toothbrush here’, like that’s got anything to do with anything, and now I’m selling my ugly couch on e-bay.” Despite himself Dean broke into a huge grin. “So what’s your problem? You look more constipated than usual.”
“There’s a faction that wants to storm the Cage to free Michael. Fortunately they do not want to free Lucifer as well, and have refrained to take action, for now. I suspect there is also a faction that wants to free Lucifer instead, but I haven’t been able to scope more information. It is all very frustrating.”
Dean dropped the spleen he was holding and grabbed Castiel by the lapels of his coat. “Could they? Could they free Sam and Adam as well?”
“Adam’s soul is in Heaven,” Castiel droned, voice even flatter than usual. “Apparently that’s how Michael works with his vessels: he gains consent, then sends the soul away to preserve it, though I suspect it’s more like he doesn’t want to be bothered by it, and then restores it to a repaired body once he’s done.”
“What?” Adam growled from his gurney.
“Why didn’t you mention this before?” Dean yelled, trying to shake an immovable angel, which was frustrating him even more.
“I didn’t know, Dean. Michael was chief in command, I was hardly privy to his private actions. But I’ve since personally guided Adam to see his mother. They seemed... at peace.”
Dean’s anger deflated, and he sat back on the gurney, suddenly tired even inside the dream.
“So Sam’s the only one there. I’m- I’m glad for Adam.”
Castiel looked at him, stone-faced as ever though over time Dean had learned to interpret his thousand-miles angel stare, and he could tell that there was more, and the tight lipped bastard was holding out on him.
As if reading his thoughts (and maybe he was, they were already inside his head after all), Castiel looked to the side like he used to at the beginning, during their first conversations, and confessed “I’m not sure Sam is in the Cage either.”
“Say again?”
“The Cage... it was made to hold an archangel, not a human soul... or body. It is possible that Sam wasn’t contained by it, that he simply... slipped through.”
“So he’s-“
“He’s not in Heaven, of that I’m sure. And I don’t think he’s in Hell, either. I’ve been making some... inquiries, but I don’t know anything concrete. He could have simply ceased to exist, though I think we’d know for certain if that were the case. That’s why I haven’t mentioned anything to you, Dean, I just don’t know.”
Dean snorted, shaking his head almost fondly. “You and me both, Cas. You and me both.”