Fic: Supernatural: Dean/Future Cas: The Long Road Back (18/28)
Special thanks to my beta weslyn
Title: The Long Road Back
Author: nicole9514
Rating: R (maybe NC-17 later to be safe)
Chapters: 18/28
Warnings: gore,language,violence, drug use, eventual slash
Spoilers: only up to 5 X 4 (but you'll see me draw from information we found out later)
Characters/Pairings: focus on Dean/Future Cas but also Risa, Chuck, OC's, LuciferSam, and future Dean.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine and I don't own anything but a few OC's and the errors.
Summary: AU 5 X 04 The End fic. In many ways this will be a fix it story (but not in all ways). Dean stops his future self from sending Cas and the others into a trap and Zachariah seems to be missing in action. Dean has to figure out where to go from here.
A/N: This fic has been consuming my brain in a good way. I really wanted to play around in this world, i love apocalyptic type settings, and i thought it would be a good way to keep myself busy during the hiatus. This story is going to have action,violence, and some death but the focus of this fic will be a slowly evolving love story in the middle of a world gone to hell between a certain hunter and a certain fallen angel. If you have a problem with that, don't read it.
Word count: 4128 (56,000 total)
Chapter One Chapter Eight Chapter 15
Chapter Two Chapter Nine Chapter 16
Chapter Three Chapter Ten Chapter 17
Chapter Four Chapter Eleven
Chapter Five Chapter Twelve
Chapter Six Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Seven Chapter Fourteen
Dean and Cas were the only people still sitting in the building Dean had once thought of as the bat cave. Another pointless meeting had ensued where he, Mark, Risa, Chuck, and Cas had tried to solve the camp’s problems by running their mouths.
All the talk in the world wasn’t going to fix Dean’s problems. It had been two freaking weeks since the double funeral.
Still nothing from Zack. That slim thread of hope he’d been clinging to for the past week, hoping that Cas might be wrong, that Zack still might snatch him back, had snapped today under all the pressure from his worry over those he’d left behind.
His leg was finally healed; his desire to do something besides the nothing had been suffocating him.
He’d been pouring over texts trying to find a way back to his own time, or some magical exorcism to yank the devil out of Sam. It wasn’t doing a thing to help his restlessness. Fuck, all he’d been able to do for the better part of a week was distribute supplies, get to know people, and do mild chores that didn’t involve strenuous activity while he‘d been on the mend.
Dean’s gaze drifted to Cas’s tense shoulders and he couldn’t stop his thoughts from running over certain events during the past two weeks.
****
9 days ago
There was a loud burst of laughter behind Dean, which was quickly smothered by a fit of coughing.
“You find something funny?” Dean spun, keeping most of his weight off his bum leg, his sudsy t-shirt dangling from his hand. Soapy water dripped onto the already wet ground.
Cas’s face was beat red; that’s what happened when you were trying to swallow down an attack of the chuckles. Dean knew this from life experience. He’d done it himself a few times, usually involving Sam.
He watched as Cas sucked in a breath, blew it out, then managed to keep a straight face for about five seconds, then he lost it.
Dean tried to be pissed.
It wouldn’t stick.
Seeing Cas doubled over, clutching his stomach, laughing his ass off, felt like a gift. He couldn’t believe this was the same person he’d met such a short time ago. Cas looked so damn happy, but not the stoned-off-my-ass kind of happy - really, honestly happy. With each burst of laughter Dean’s annoyance at being the brunt of the joke faded. Dean stood there and took it like a man.
“I’m sorry,” Cas finally panted. “I just couldn’t figure out what was more soaked. You or that damn shirt you’ve been trying to get clean for the past hour.” Cas started laughing again.
Dean glanced down at himself. It was pretty damn bad. His jeans and blue shirt where glued to his body, soap streaked down both his arms, and he could feel something dripping down the back of his neck; probably meant he’d gotten some of it in his hair.
Perhaps he’d been scrubbing his shirt a bit too vigorously before Cas had decided to pay him a surprise visit. Getting all the damn blood and dirt off had been a bitch without running water and detergent.
Dean held his arms out, grinned like an idiot, and proudly said, “At least I got all the blood off.”
Cas snorted, pointed at the shirt that was hanging from one of his outstretched arms, “No, you didn’t.”
Dean held the white tee out in front of him. There was a rather large splatter still valiantly clinging to the bottom of the shirt. “You have got to be shitting me?” Dean groaned and flung the shirt back into the large bucket. He grabbed the bar of soap and went back to work.
He heard Cas take a few steps closer, still radiating amusement.
“Go away,” Dean grumbled, his tone not quite as rude as he’d been aiming for.
“I was just going to suggest you put your back into it,” Cas sputtered.
Dean’s eyes widened, he bit back a laugh as he grabbed the sopping wet t-shirt, turned, and flung it at Cas’s chest.
Cas caught it; damn impressive really, considering he was still cracking up. Water sprayed the former angel in the face.
“Does this mean you admit defeat?” Cas said while wiping his face, his chest still vibrated with barely contained laughter.
“Defeat to what?” Dean asked, bracing himself for retaliation. Cas was passing the drenched shirt back and forth between his hands. His eyes sparkling, his expression a mix of playful and hungry. His eyes had grown darker and they kept drifting to Dean’s abdomen that currently had a shirt plastered against it.
Dean felt his body heat up and there was a pleasant twitch down below; he was starting to realize there was a good chance his dick wasn’t going to change its mind. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted it to anymore.
Cas cocked his head, “To the shirt, of course.”
Dean crossed his arms over his chest, and glowered, “I’ll get that damn stain out if it’s the last thing I do.”
Dean’s eyes widened in time to see the sopping t-shirt doing a pretty good impression of a homing missile. Dean ducked and half turned, but Cas had apparently been eating his Wheaties, because he still received a wet smack to the side of his face. His pride stung more than the shirt as he heard Cas lose it again, the laughter erupting out of him.
Dean slowly peeled the shirt off his skin and dropped it back into the bucket. He allowed himself a good laugh as well.
****
7 days ago
“You got anything else Dean?” Mark asked, his voice drained.
Dean rubbed his palms against his eyes and sighed. He’d taken on a lot of his predecessor’s leadership duties, some of it he didn’t mind, but paper work and schedules were not something he enjoyed. Give him a monster to kill, no problem. Ask him to look at numbers and graphs; Dean’s brain took a time out. He delegated what he could, but they all still came to him to approve everything. Which meant passing the buck only delayed the inevitable questions.
He could almost hear this future self’s bitter voice telling him: It’s not so easy to be me, is it, asshole?
Cas flashed him a sympathetic smile, looking up from where he’d been jotting down a few notes from their meeting. He’d started doing that when he’d realized Dean zoned out here and there during them. Dean teased him about it, but secretly he appreciated it, and always looked over them the next day. There were several occasions when those notes had saved him from looking like a complete idiot in front of his fellow survivors.
“Nope. I think we’re done,” Dean replied.
Risa got up and stretched, “I’ll get the work list out to everyone.”
Dean watched Mark and Risa leave.
Cas rose. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Hell yes,” Dean grabbed his crutches; he was close to tossing them in the trash. His leg felt good enough to put more weight on, but Molly was insistent: A few more days, just to be safe. He’d gotten quite good at maneuvering with them, so he figured he could deal with them for a little while longer.
They started for the door when Chuck who’d, been lingering in the back of the room, grabbed his arm.
“Dude, hands,” Dean said, annoyance slipping into his tone. All he wanted to do was get the hell out of this room. They’d been in here for four hours already, his patience was wearing thin. As was his anxiety. He swallowed it down, they were only a few days past Cas’s deadline, his friend wasn’t omnipotent, he might have been wrong.
Chuck let go immediately, his grin sheepish. “Sorry, I just have something I need to talk to you about.”
Dean tried not to grimace. “Can’t it wait?”
“It’s kind of important, at least I think it might be anyway.”
Dean glanced at Cas. “I’ll handle this, you go on ahead,” Dean told him, there was no reason both of them should be stuck here any longer.
Cas’s eyes darted from Dean to Chuck, his expression undecided. After a moment, he nodded. “See you soon,” then left.
Dean went back to the bench he’d been sitting on, and sat back down.
“I’m listening,” Dean managed to keep his tone civil. He knew Chuck was more responsible now, but he still had trouble taking him seriously.
Chuck twiddled his thumbs, paced a few moments, then sat down across from him.
“While I’m still young,” Dean lifted his hand, waving for Chuck to spit it out.
“I remembered something recently. I don’t know why it slipped my mind, stupid really, my brain,” Chuck made a circle with his finger in the air, “just gets so bogged down with stuff sometimes. It’s hard to keep it all straight.”
Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes. Chucks brain was definitely full of something. “The point,” Dean made his tone commanding, hoping to get Chuck to focus.
It worked, for the most part. “Right. There used to be this hunter here, I think his name was Dale. Well, he told me about another hunter, whose name was Steven Bard. He had this obsession with hoarding things.”
Jesus. Dean wondered if Chuck would notice if he took a nap while he prattled on.
Chuck tapped his fingers on the wooden table. “His biggest interest was on exorcisms. You see, his wife she got possessed by a demon or something like that. So Steven was always trying to find new, faster, and safer ways to remove the possessor without harming the host.”
Dean leaned forward, his blood pumped faster, and he was finally paying attention. “Are you saying you think this hoarder might have a book with an exorcism to yank out Satan himself?”
Chuck shrugged and started tapping his fingers more rapidly.
“Chuck, this is important. Did you ever try to verify this guy’s story?”
“Well, yeah,” Chuck said, a little offended. “It was hard to follow up because, well, the guy’s dead.”
“Of course he is,” Dean felt a migraine coming on. “Anything else?”
“I know where he lived,” Chuck said eagerly. “Dale-or maybe his name was Dave. He mentioned it.”
So he can’t remember the guys name, and he forgot all about this conversation until today, but he somehow remembers the damn address. I guess that’s Chuck for you.
“That’s wonderful, Chuck,” Dean couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
****
4 days ago
Dean walked back towards the cabin, careful not to put his foot down wrong. It wasn’t bothering him much anymore, but every now and then he’d get a twinge that reminded him not to go jumping off any tall buildings yet. As he approached, Vanessa walked out through the ever annoying wall of hippie beads.
She turned, leaned half way inside again, said something, then practically floated down the steps. She had the walk of a woman who knew she was sex on legs.
She passed him, her long, black hair blowing in the wind, and smiled. “Hey, Dean,” she purred.
Images of her and Cas together flooded his brain and Dean felt his adrenaline spike. He clenched his fists and managed a moderately polite, “Hey, Vanessa.” A small, insane part of him wanted to add Stay the fuck away from Cas, but he managed to suppress the idiotic caveman impulse. It didn’t help that he was already on edge trying to understand why Zack had stranded him here, and that his promise to save Sam followed him around like a ghost. Whenever things got too quiet, his thoughts would drift to the grave where he buried his future self.
She gave him a once over, then seemed to realize he had nothing else to say, and walked off. Dean watched her leave, jealousy simmering just below boiling point.
This was getting ridiculous.
He should be terrified of it, but he couldn’t hide behind his own bullshit anymore. That sneaky little bastard had gotten under his skin and he wasn’t going away.
Do you really want him to?
His sub-conscience was such a freaking asshole.
“Figures. I finally meet someone who can stand being in my presence for more than five minutes and it’s a flipping guy,” Dean muttered to himself.
He stomped up the steps, wincing when his knee protested, and flung the beads aside.
Cas was humming. The son of a bitch was freaking humming. He must have had a damn good time.
Dean knew he was acting like a child as he slammed the box of Coco puffs down on their counter. The box hadn’t been sealed correctly and bits of chocolaty goodness splattered everywhere.
Cas fell silent, his gaze half amused, half concerned. The former angel made a clicking sound with his tongue, gestured to the box of cereal, and said, “Did the Coco Puffs offend you?”
“No, but the smell of skank in the house sure does,” Dean snapped.
Cas eyebrows shot up, and his lips pressed into a thin line. Cas didn’t say anything as he stood up and left the table. He stopped a few inches from Dean, and for once Dean didn’t mind the personal space invasion. Cas’s expression was neutral as he leaned closer, but his eyes were calculating. Dean tried to wet his lips, but the dangerous look Cas was giving him had his mouth doing a pretty good impression of sandpaper. Cas hovered there - waiting, close enough that Dean could feel his warm breath tickle his chin, but far enough to make Dean want to close the distance. The space between them seemed to vibrate with tension. Dean prayed Cas would do something-anything.
And yet, he’d just been with Vanessa hadn’t he? Maybe Cas didn’t appreciate the slur against his… whatever she was. Dean couldn’t help but think how easy it would be to wipe the memory of her from Cas’s mind. All he had to do was lean in and-
Cas pulled back leaving Dean a bit breathless. Something burned in Cas’s eyes, an odd mixture of desire and annoyance, then he bent down and grabbed something from underneath the counter. Cas rose and set a jar of honey on the counter. “I asked Vanessa to bring this over,” Cas paused, his gaze was both scary and arousing. “For you,” he added. “I know it’s your favorite.”
Awkward.
“Oh,” Dean squirmed under Cas’s scrutinizing gaze.
Cas stepped in close again, he looked down at Dean’s lips, let his eyes linger several heartbeats, then they narrowed and met Dean‘s gaze. “I‘d appreciate if you didn‘t refer to one of my friends as a skank again.” His eyes hardened on the word, an edge of smite lingering on his features.
Cas turned and left Dean standing there in the middle of his cereal mine field feeling chilled and hot-blooded all at once.
Dean watched him walk away until he disappeared into his bedroom.
Dean swallowed, bent down, and started cleaning up his mess. He snuck a sideways glance at the bedroom door and wondered what they’d be doing right now if he hadn’t been such an idiot.
Well Dean, you sure as hell wouldn’t be picking up stale pieces of cereal from the floor.
Yep. His sub-conscience was definitely an asshole.
****
Present day
“Are you going to keep staring into space all day or are you actually going tell me why we‘re still sitting here?” Cas’s firm voice brought him back to reality.
Dean glared at Cas. “Were here because none of this makes any goddamn sense,” Dean growled.
“What do you want me to say?” Cas sounded exasperated, probably because they’d had similar arguments before, but Dean couldn’t get past it.
“I want you to help me figure this out!” Dean bellowed, his hand slamming down on the table. “You were a freaking angel for Christ’s sake, Cas. Give me something. Why the hell would Zack strand me in Croatapoluza?”
Cas leaned forward, his palms pressed against the wooden table. “There’s nothing to figure out Dean,” Cas sighed, his eyes frustrated. “I don’t know why he left you here. The only thing I do know is that Zachariah’s not coming back.”
“There‘s got to be a reason.” Dean stood up and started pacing. “There has to be a point to all this.”
Cas leaned back and met his gaze. “Maybe something happened to him,” Cas offered, his blue eyes weary.
“Or maybe he wanted to get me out of the way,” Dean mulled the thought around, anything to keep his mind busy.
“Dean,” Cas’s voice was soft, but intense. “It doesn’t matter why, it changes nothing.”
Dean whirled on him. “It changes everything, Cas!”
Cas continued in a calm, but edged voice. “The reality is you’re here. This is your life now and you need to start accepting that,” Cas rubbed the back of his neck. “This isn’t something you can defeat if you hit it hard enough or scream loud enough. ”
Cas’s words tore into him. He’d voiced the exact thing Dean had been trying not to face.
Dean felt his fear and anxiety erupt. “Are you saying I should just give up? Fuck Sam? Fuck Bobby? Fuck the other you I left behind?” he roared grabbing the closest thing he could find, a cup someone had left, and hurled it against the wall behind him.
It didn’t make him feel any better.
Cas flinched slightly, if Dean hadn’t known him so well he’d have missed it, then recovered and fired back, “I didn’t say that, but you can’t help them. I know your pissed but sooner or later you‘re going to have the face the facts,” Cas paused, leaned forward, his gaze sad, his tone one of finality. “You can’t save everyone, Dean.”
Dean felt his muscles coil with tension; he had a headache coming on. Cas and his goddamn ability to read him was fucking annoying as shit. Dean opened his mouth to lash out, but Cas cut him off.
“But you did save me,” Cas’s gaze didn’t waver, his eyes were gentle.
Dean’s mouth snapped shut, temporarily at a loss for words.
“And we do have a lead that might help you save this Sam,” Cas added.
Dean rolled his eyes and let out a whoop of bitter laughter. “Chuck’s little fairytale,” Dean bit out. “I‘ll bet that‘s gonna pan out real well. We could never verify that anything Chuck‘s mysterious source said was true.”
Dean had searched though his dad’s journal and all of Bobby’s old notes and books. There had been nothing on this Steven Bard. If he was a hunter, there seemed to be no record of him actually hunting anything.
Cas gave him a pointed look. “We‘ll find out soon enough. Your leg is doing great, as soon as Molly gives you a clean bill of health, we can hit the road whenever you want.”
Which would probably be very soon. She’d told him at the rate he’d been healing, his sprain had been mild.
“Always the hard way,” Dean knew he sounded bitter. He just wished for once things could be simple. Zack would have shown up, sent him back, and he could have reached out to Sam. Now he had to chase a rumor and try and exorcise Lucifer himself.
“Better than no way at all,” Cas reminded him.
Dean growled, started pacing again, then finally flopped back down onto the bench across from Cas. The thought of at least doing something, taking action, calmed him enough to realize something amusing.
Jesus, we’re turning into an old married couple. Dean flashed Cas one of his cheeky grins.
Cas blinked. “What?” he asked, his tone still wary.
“Nothing. I was just wondering if you think we might find a TARDIS hidden somewhere in this dude’s basement?” Dean asked, keeping his tone deadly serious. “It might prove to be useful.”
Cas pursed his lips, and raised both eyebrows. “A what?” he was wearing an expression that said: has my friend finally cracked under the pressure?
Dean kept a straight face. “You know, a blue box that can transport you through time?”
“Are you screwing with me right now?”
Dean felt his lips twitch.
“You are,” Cas smiled, his eyes widened, then darkened. “So does this mean we’re done arguing?“
Dean shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet,” he felt a lot of his tension melt away as Cas’s soft, playful tone flowed over him. It was hard to stay angry when your skin was tingling, and your dick was letting you know it was getting tired of all this damn foreplay and wanted you to get on with it.
“You know, there are better ways to work off your frustration,” Cas reached across the table, his fingers brushing Deans, “than to argue with me.”
Dean felt his gaze drift to Cas’s slightly parted lips.
Cas had been getting bolder over the past few weeks, Dean didn’t mind.
Now Dean had a decision to make.
Dean knew what he wanted, even though it scared him more than any demon or shape shifting hell beast ever had. He wanted to cross over the line they’d been walking on for the past few weeks.
Dean wiped his palms on his shirt. Stop being such a freaking pussy; since when have you ever not gone after who you wanted?
Dean stood up, Cas eyed him curiously.
He walked around the table, his heart slamming against his chest.
“Everything okay?” Cas asked, rising up off the bench. His captivating blue eyes were wide.
Dean came to a pause about half a foot away from Cas.
Just do it.
Dean bridged the gap between them in the space of a heartbeat and covered Cas‘s lips with his. Dean could feel Cas’s surprised hesitation, then after a moment, Cas kissed him back.
Their mouths fell into an easy rhythm. The kiss started gentle, Dean took his time memorizing the contours of Cas’s warm mouth. Cas nipped his bottom lip, demanding more. Dean felt his hunger explode, the kisses turned more primal. Their noses bumped together several times as they devoured each other. Cas’s stubble brushed against his chin, triggering a low growl in Dean’s throat.
The most amazing thing of all-it wasn’t weird. All his worrying had been for nothing. That insecure voice that had pestered him so much in the beginning, seemed to have taken a jump off a really tall bridge. The only thing Dean heard was the sound of Cas’s lips colliding with his and the rush or breath between them.
All his anxiety melted away as another kind of tension built. He knew it would be waiting for him later, but for now he embraced the need he’d found. He let himself drown in it.
Cas’s lips were soft, and he tasted of chocolate, probably from the dry Coco Puffs Dean had talked him into eating this morning. Dean decided they tasted a lot better this way. His hands slid around Cas’s waist, pulling him even closer. Cas moaned a bit, Dean smiled, and deepened the kiss.
Why the hell did I fight this?
Cas hands came up around his neck and his fingers buried themselves in the back of his hair.
“De- Oh shit. I’m so sorry.”
They both jumped and pulled apart.
Chuck was standing there, looking like a deer stuck in headlights, clutching his clipboard to his chest.
Dean flashed Chuck a cocky grin, daring him to made a comment. “Man Chuck, you really have bad timing.”
He heard Cas make a strangled sound, followed by laughter.
Chuck turned bright red.
“Did you need something?” Dean managed.
“Ju- just double checking my list. I wanted to see if you two…ne-needed anymore supplies,” he stammered.
Dean turned towards Cas, who couldn‘t stop smiling. “I’d love some more of that cereal if we’ve got it. What about you?”
Cas’s lips were redder than normal, and his eyes were burning with something that had Dean wanting to pin him against a wall. “I think I‘ve got everything I need.”
Chuck stood there, jotted something down. Then blurted, “I’ll just be leaving now.”
“You do that,” Dean smiled.
Chuck was already gone.
“Well,” Cas started, “That was direct and to the point. I‘ve always liked that about you.”
Dean chuckled. “I thought it went well.”
“So did I,” Cas gave him a look that made it very difficult to concentrate.
Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and started dragging him in the direction of their cabin.
Apparently, Cas’s dick was just as fed up with all the waiting as his was.
Next Chapter
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Please don't pelt garbage at me for ending it there lol *grins* Comments are loved and adored; if you're reading this I'd love to know :)
Title: The Long Road Back
Author: nicole9514
Rating: R (maybe NC-17 later to be safe)
Chapters: 18/28
Warnings: gore,language,violence, drug use, eventual slash
Spoilers: only up to 5 X 4 (but you'll see me draw from information we found out later)
Characters/Pairings: focus on Dean/Future Cas but also Risa, Chuck, OC's, LuciferSam, and future Dean.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine and I don't own anything but a few OC's and the errors.
Summary: AU 5 X 04 The End fic. In many ways this will be a fix it story (but not in all ways). Dean stops his future self from sending Cas and the others into a trap and Zachariah seems to be missing in action. Dean has to figure out where to go from here.
A/N: This fic has been consuming my brain in a good way. I really wanted to play around in this world, i love apocalyptic type settings, and i thought it would be a good way to keep myself busy during the hiatus. This story is going to have action,violence, and some death but the focus of this fic will be a slowly evolving love story in the middle of a world gone to hell between a certain hunter and a certain fallen angel. If you have a problem with that, don't read it.
Word count: 4128 (56,000 total)
Chapter One Chapter Eight Chapter 15
Chapter Two Chapter Nine Chapter 16
Chapter Three Chapter Ten Chapter 17
Chapter Four Chapter Eleven
Chapter Five Chapter Twelve
Chapter Six Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Seven Chapter Fourteen
Dean and Cas were the only people still sitting in the building Dean had once thought of as the bat cave. Another pointless meeting had ensued where he, Mark, Risa, Chuck, and Cas had tried to solve the camp’s problems by running their mouths.
All the talk in the world wasn’t going to fix Dean’s problems. It had been two freaking weeks since the double funeral.
Still nothing from Zack. That slim thread of hope he’d been clinging to for the past week, hoping that Cas might be wrong, that Zack still might snatch him back, had snapped today under all the pressure from his worry over those he’d left behind.
His leg was finally healed; his desire to do something besides the nothing had been suffocating him.
He’d been pouring over texts trying to find a way back to his own time, or some magical exorcism to yank the devil out of Sam. It wasn’t doing a thing to help his restlessness. Fuck, all he’d been able to do for the better part of a week was distribute supplies, get to know people, and do mild chores that didn’t involve strenuous activity while he‘d been on the mend.
Dean’s gaze drifted to Cas’s tense shoulders and he couldn’t stop his thoughts from running over certain events during the past two weeks.
****
9 days ago
There was a loud burst of laughter behind Dean, which was quickly smothered by a fit of coughing.
“You find something funny?” Dean spun, keeping most of his weight off his bum leg, his sudsy t-shirt dangling from his hand. Soapy water dripped onto the already wet ground.
Cas’s face was beat red; that’s what happened when you were trying to swallow down an attack of the chuckles. Dean knew this from life experience. He’d done it himself a few times, usually involving Sam.
He watched as Cas sucked in a breath, blew it out, then managed to keep a straight face for about five seconds, then he lost it.
Dean tried to be pissed.
It wouldn’t stick.
Seeing Cas doubled over, clutching his stomach, laughing his ass off, felt like a gift. He couldn’t believe this was the same person he’d met such a short time ago. Cas looked so damn happy, but not the stoned-off-my-ass kind of happy - really, honestly happy. With each burst of laughter Dean’s annoyance at being the brunt of the joke faded. Dean stood there and took it like a man.
“I’m sorry,” Cas finally panted. “I just couldn’t figure out what was more soaked. You or that damn shirt you’ve been trying to get clean for the past hour.” Cas started laughing again.
Dean glanced down at himself. It was pretty damn bad. His jeans and blue shirt where glued to his body, soap streaked down both his arms, and he could feel something dripping down the back of his neck; probably meant he’d gotten some of it in his hair.
Perhaps he’d been scrubbing his shirt a bit too vigorously before Cas had decided to pay him a surprise visit. Getting all the damn blood and dirt off had been a bitch without running water and detergent.
Dean held his arms out, grinned like an idiot, and proudly said, “At least I got all the blood off.”
Cas snorted, pointed at the shirt that was hanging from one of his outstretched arms, “No, you didn’t.”
Dean held the white tee out in front of him. There was a rather large splatter still valiantly clinging to the bottom of the shirt. “You have got to be shitting me?” Dean groaned and flung the shirt back into the large bucket. He grabbed the bar of soap and went back to work.
He heard Cas take a few steps closer, still radiating amusement.
“Go away,” Dean grumbled, his tone not quite as rude as he’d been aiming for.
“I was just going to suggest you put your back into it,” Cas sputtered.
Dean’s eyes widened, he bit back a laugh as he grabbed the sopping wet t-shirt, turned, and flung it at Cas’s chest.
Cas caught it; damn impressive really, considering he was still cracking up. Water sprayed the former angel in the face.
“Does this mean you admit defeat?” Cas said while wiping his face, his chest still vibrated with barely contained laughter.
“Defeat to what?” Dean asked, bracing himself for retaliation. Cas was passing the drenched shirt back and forth between his hands. His eyes sparkling, his expression a mix of playful and hungry. His eyes had grown darker and they kept drifting to Dean’s abdomen that currently had a shirt plastered against it.
Dean felt his body heat up and there was a pleasant twitch down below; he was starting to realize there was a good chance his dick wasn’t going to change its mind. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted it to anymore.
Cas cocked his head, “To the shirt, of course.”
Dean crossed his arms over his chest, and glowered, “I’ll get that damn stain out if it’s the last thing I do.”
Dean’s eyes widened in time to see the sopping t-shirt doing a pretty good impression of a homing missile. Dean ducked and half turned, but Cas had apparently been eating his Wheaties, because he still received a wet smack to the side of his face. His pride stung more than the shirt as he heard Cas lose it again, the laughter erupting out of him.
Dean slowly peeled the shirt off his skin and dropped it back into the bucket. He allowed himself a good laugh as well.
****
7 days ago
“You got anything else Dean?” Mark asked, his voice drained.
Dean rubbed his palms against his eyes and sighed. He’d taken on a lot of his predecessor’s leadership duties, some of it he didn’t mind, but paper work and schedules were not something he enjoyed. Give him a monster to kill, no problem. Ask him to look at numbers and graphs; Dean’s brain took a time out. He delegated what he could, but they all still came to him to approve everything. Which meant passing the buck only delayed the inevitable questions.
He could almost hear this future self’s bitter voice telling him: It’s not so easy to be me, is it, asshole?
Cas flashed him a sympathetic smile, looking up from where he’d been jotting down a few notes from their meeting. He’d started doing that when he’d realized Dean zoned out here and there during them. Dean teased him about it, but secretly he appreciated it, and always looked over them the next day. There were several occasions when those notes had saved him from looking like a complete idiot in front of his fellow survivors.
“Nope. I think we’re done,” Dean replied.
Risa got up and stretched, “I’ll get the work list out to everyone.”
Dean watched Mark and Risa leave.
Cas rose. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Hell yes,” Dean grabbed his crutches; he was close to tossing them in the trash. His leg felt good enough to put more weight on, but Molly was insistent: A few more days, just to be safe. He’d gotten quite good at maneuvering with them, so he figured he could deal with them for a little while longer.
They started for the door when Chuck who’d, been lingering in the back of the room, grabbed his arm.
“Dude, hands,” Dean said, annoyance slipping into his tone. All he wanted to do was get the hell out of this room. They’d been in here for four hours already, his patience was wearing thin. As was his anxiety. He swallowed it down, they were only a few days past Cas’s deadline, his friend wasn’t omnipotent, he might have been wrong.
Chuck let go immediately, his grin sheepish. “Sorry, I just have something I need to talk to you about.”
Dean tried not to grimace. “Can’t it wait?”
“It’s kind of important, at least I think it might be anyway.”
Dean glanced at Cas. “I’ll handle this, you go on ahead,” Dean told him, there was no reason both of them should be stuck here any longer.
Cas’s eyes darted from Dean to Chuck, his expression undecided. After a moment, he nodded. “See you soon,” then left.
Dean went back to the bench he’d been sitting on, and sat back down.
“I’m listening,” Dean managed to keep his tone civil. He knew Chuck was more responsible now, but he still had trouble taking him seriously.
Chuck twiddled his thumbs, paced a few moments, then sat down across from him.
“While I’m still young,” Dean lifted his hand, waving for Chuck to spit it out.
“I remembered something recently. I don’t know why it slipped my mind, stupid really, my brain,” Chuck made a circle with his finger in the air, “just gets so bogged down with stuff sometimes. It’s hard to keep it all straight.”
Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes. Chucks brain was definitely full of something. “The point,” Dean made his tone commanding, hoping to get Chuck to focus.
It worked, for the most part. “Right. There used to be this hunter here, I think his name was Dale. Well, he told me about another hunter, whose name was Steven Bard. He had this obsession with hoarding things.”
Jesus. Dean wondered if Chuck would notice if he took a nap while he prattled on.
Chuck tapped his fingers on the wooden table. “His biggest interest was on exorcisms. You see, his wife she got possessed by a demon or something like that. So Steven was always trying to find new, faster, and safer ways to remove the possessor without harming the host.”
Dean leaned forward, his blood pumped faster, and he was finally paying attention. “Are you saying you think this hoarder might have a book with an exorcism to yank out Satan himself?”
Chuck shrugged and started tapping his fingers more rapidly.
“Chuck, this is important. Did you ever try to verify this guy’s story?”
“Well, yeah,” Chuck said, a little offended. “It was hard to follow up because, well, the guy’s dead.”
“Of course he is,” Dean felt a migraine coming on. “Anything else?”
“I know where he lived,” Chuck said eagerly. “Dale-or maybe his name was Dave. He mentioned it.”
So he can’t remember the guys name, and he forgot all about this conversation until today, but he somehow remembers the damn address. I guess that’s Chuck for you.
“That’s wonderful, Chuck,” Dean couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
****
4 days ago
Dean walked back towards the cabin, careful not to put his foot down wrong. It wasn’t bothering him much anymore, but every now and then he’d get a twinge that reminded him not to go jumping off any tall buildings yet. As he approached, Vanessa walked out through the ever annoying wall of hippie beads.
She turned, leaned half way inside again, said something, then practically floated down the steps. She had the walk of a woman who knew she was sex on legs.
She passed him, her long, black hair blowing in the wind, and smiled. “Hey, Dean,” she purred.
Images of her and Cas together flooded his brain and Dean felt his adrenaline spike. He clenched his fists and managed a moderately polite, “Hey, Vanessa.” A small, insane part of him wanted to add Stay the fuck away from Cas, but he managed to suppress the idiotic caveman impulse. It didn’t help that he was already on edge trying to understand why Zack had stranded him here, and that his promise to save Sam followed him around like a ghost. Whenever things got too quiet, his thoughts would drift to the grave where he buried his future self.
She gave him a once over, then seemed to realize he had nothing else to say, and walked off. Dean watched her leave, jealousy simmering just below boiling point.
This was getting ridiculous.
He should be terrified of it, but he couldn’t hide behind his own bullshit anymore. That sneaky little bastard had gotten under his skin and he wasn’t going away.
Do you really want him to?
His sub-conscience was such a freaking asshole.
“Figures. I finally meet someone who can stand being in my presence for more than five minutes and it’s a flipping guy,” Dean muttered to himself.
He stomped up the steps, wincing when his knee protested, and flung the beads aside.
Cas was humming. The son of a bitch was freaking humming. He must have had a damn good time.
Dean knew he was acting like a child as he slammed the box of Coco puffs down on their counter. The box hadn’t been sealed correctly and bits of chocolaty goodness splattered everywhere.
Cas fell silent, his gaze half amused, half concerned. The former angel made a clicking sound with his tongue, gestured to the box of cereal, and said, “Did the Coco Puffs offend you?”
“No, but the smell of skank in the house sure does,” Dean snapped.
Cas eyebrows shot up, and his lips pressed into a thin line. Cas didn’t say anything as he stood up and left the table. He stopped a few inches from Dean, and for once Dean didn’t mind the personal space invasion. Cas’s expression was neutral as he leaned closer, but his eyes were calculating. Dean tried to wet his lips, but the dangerous look Cas was giving him had his mouth doing a pretty good impression of sandpaper. Cas hovered there - waiting, close enough that Dean could feel his warm breath tickle his chin, but far enough to make Dean want to close the distance. The space between them seemed to vibrate with tension. Dean prayed Cas would do something-anything.
And yet, he’d just been with Vanessa hadn’t he? Maybe Cas didn’t appreciate the slur against his… whatever she was. Dean couldn’t help but think how easy it would be to wipe the memory of her from Cas’s mind. All he had to do was lean in and-
Cas pulled back leaving Dean a bit breathless. Something burned in Cas’s eyes, an odd mixture of desire and annoyance, then he bent down and grabbed something from underneath the counter. Cas rose and set a jar of honey on the counter. “I asked Vanessa to bring this over,” Cas paused, his gaze was both scary and arousing. “For you,” he added. “I know it’s your favorite.”
Awkward.
“Oh,” Dean squirmed under Cas’s scrutinizing gaze.
Cas stepped in close again, he looked down at Dean’s lips, let his eyes linger several heartbeats, then they narrowed and met Dean‘s gaze. “I‘d appreciate if you didn‘t refer to one of my friends as a skank again.” His eyes hardened on the word, an edge of smite lingering on his features.
Cas turned and left Dean standing there in the middle of his cereal mine field feeling chilled and hot-blooded all at once.
Dean watched him walk away until he disappeared into his bedroom.
Dean swallowed, bent down, and started cleaning up his mess. He snuck a sideways glance at the bedroom door and wondered what they’d be doing right now if he hadn’t been such an idiot.
Well Dean, you sure as hell wouldn’t be picking up stale pieces of cereal from the floor.
Yep. His sub-conscience was definitely an asshole.
****
Present day
“Are you going to keep staring into space all day or are you actually going tell me why we‘re still sitting here?” Cas’s firm voice brought him back to reality.
Dean glared at Cas. “Were here because none of this makes any goddamn sense,” Dean growled.
“What do you want me to say?” Cas sounded exasperated, probably because they’d had similar arguments before, but Dean couldn’t get past it.
“I want you to help me figure this out!” Dean bellowed, his hand slamming down on the table. “You were a freaking angel for Christ’s sake, Cas. Give me something. Why the hell would Zack strand me in Croatapoluza?”
Cas leaned forward, his palms pressed against the wooden table. “There’s nothing to figure out Dean,” Cas sighed, his eyes frustrated. “I don’t know why he left you here. The only thing I do know is that Zachariah’s not coming back.”
“There‘s got to be a reason.” Dean stood up and started pacing. “There has to be a point to all this.”
Cas leaned back and met his gaze. “Maybe something happened to him,” Cas offered, his blue eyes weary.
“Or maybe he wanted to get me out of the way,” Dean mulled the thought around, anything to keep his mind busy.
“Dean,” Cas’s voice was soft, but intense. “It doesn’t matter why, it changes nothing.”
Dean whirled on him. “It changes everything, Cas!”
Cas continued in a calm, but edged voice. “The reality is you’re here. This is your life now and you need to start accepting that,” Cas rubbed the back of his neck. “This isn’t something you can defeat if you hit it hard enough or scream loud enough. ”
Cas’s words tore into him. He’d voiced the exact thing Dean had been trying not to face.
Dean felt his fear and anxiety erupt. “Are you saying I should just give up? Fuck Sam? Fuck Bobby? Fuck the other you I left behind?” he roared grabbing the closest thing he could find, a cup someone had left, and hurled it against the wall behind him.
It didn’t make him feel any better.
Cas flinched slightly, if Dean hadn’t known him so well he’d have missed it, then recovered and fired back, “I didn’t say that, but you can’t help them. I know your pissed but sooner or later you‘re going to have the face the facts,” Cas paused, leaned forward, his gaze sad, his tone one of finality. “You can’t save everyone, Dean.”
Dean felt his muscles coil with tension; he had a headache coming on. Cas and his goddamn ability to read him was fucking annoying as shit. Dean opened his mouth to lash out, but Cas cut him off.
“But you did save me,” Cas’s gaze didn’t waver, his eyes were gentle.
Dean’s mouth snapped shut, temporarily at a loss for words.
“And we do have a lead that might help you save this Sam,” Cas added.
Dean rolled his eyes and let out a whoop of bitter laughter. “Chuck’s little fairytale,” Dean bit out. “I‘ll bet that‘s gonna pan out real well. We could never verify that anything Chuck‘s mysterious source said was true.”
Dean had searched though his dad’s journal and all of Bobby’s old notes and books. There had been nothing on this Steven Bard. If he was a hunter, there seemed to be no record of him actually hunting anything.
Cas gave him a pointed look. “We‘ll find out soon enough. Your leg is doing great, as soon as Molly gives you a clean bill of health, we can hit the road whenever you want.”
Which would probably be very soon. She’d told him at the rate he’d been healing, his sprain had been mild.
“Always the hard way,” Dean knew he sounded bitter. He just wished for once things could be simple. Zack would have shown up, sent him back, and he could have reached out to Sam. Now he had to chase a rumor and try and exorcise Lucifer himself.
“Better than no way at all,” Cas reminded him.
Dean growled, started pacing again, then finally flopped back down onto the bench across from Cas. The thought of at least doing something, taking action, calmed him enough to realize something amusing.
Jesus, we’re turning into an old married couple. Dean flashed Cas one of his cheeky grins.
Cas blinked. “What?” he asked, his tone still wary.
“Nothing. I was just wondering if you think we might find a TARDIS hidden somewhere in this dude’s basement?” Dean asked, keeping his tone deadly serious. “It might prove to be useful.”
Cas pursed his lips, and raised both eyebrows. “A what?” he was wearing an expression that said: has my friend finally cracked under the pressure?
Dean kept a straight face. “You know, a blue box that can transport you through time?”
“Are you screwing with me right now?”
Dean felt his lips twitch.
“You are,” Cas smiled, his eyes widened, then darkened. “So does this mean we’re done arguing?“
Dean shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet,” he felt a lot of his tension melt away as Cas’s soft, playful tone flowed over him. It was hard to stay angry when your skin was tingling, and your dick was letting you know it was getting tired of all this damn foreplay and wanted you to get on with it.
“You know, there are better ways to work off your frustration,” Cas reached across the table, his fingers brushing Deans, “than to argue with me.”
Dean felt his gaze drift to Cas’s slightly parted lips.
Cas had been getting bolder over the past few weeks, Dean didn’t mind.
Now Dean had a decision to make.
Dean knew what he wanted, even though it scared him more than any demon or shape shifting hell beast ever had. He wanted to cross over the line they’d been walking on for the past few weeks.
Dean wiped his palms on his shirt. Stop being such a freaking pussy; since when have you ever not gone after who you wanted?
Dean stood up, Cas eyed him curiously.
He walked around the table, his heart slamming against his chest.
“Everything okay?” Cas asked, rising up off the bench. His captivating blue eyes were wide.
Dean came to a pause about half a foot away from Cas.
Just do it.
Dean bridged the gap between them in the space of a heartbeat and covered Cas‘s lips with his. Dean could feel Cas’s surprised hesitation, then after a moment, Cas kissed him back.
Their mouths fell into an easy rhythm. The kiss started gentle, Dean took his time memorizing the contours of Cas’s warm mouth. Cas nipped his bottom lip, demanding more. Dean felt his hunger explode, the kisses turned more primal. Their noses bumped together several times as they devoured each other. Cas’s stubble brushed against his chin, triggering a low growl in Dean’s throat.
The most amazing thing of all-it wasn’t weird. All his worrying had been for nothing. That insecure voice that had pestered him so much in the beginning, seemed to have taken a jump off a really tall bridge. The only thing Dean heard was the sound of Cas’s lips colliding with his and the rush or breath between them.
All his anxiety melted away as another kind of tension built. He knew it would be waiting for him later, but for now he embraced the need he’d found. He let himself drown in it.
Cas’s lips were soft, and he tasted of chocolate, probably from the dry Coco Puffs Dean had talked him into eating this morning. Dean decided they tasted a lot better this way. His hands slid around Cas’s waist, pulling him even closer. Cas moaned a bit, Dean smiled, and deepened the kiss.
Why the hell did I fight this?
Cas hands came up around his neck and his fingers buried themselves in the back of his hair.
“De- Oh shit. I’m so sorry.”
They both jumped and pulled apart.
Chuck was standing there, looking like a deer stuck in headlights, clutching his clipboard to his chest.
Dean flashed Chuck a cocky grin, daring him to made a comment. “Man Chuck, you really have bad timing.”
He heard Cas make a strangled sound, followed by laughter.
Chuck turned bright red.
“Did you need something?” Dean managed.
“Ju- just double checking my list. I wanted to see if you two…ne-needed anymore supplies,” he stammered.
Dean turned towards Cas, who couldn‘t stop smiling. “I’d love some more of that cereal if we’ve got it. What about you?”
Cas’s lips were redder than normal, and his eyes were burning with something that had Dean wanting to pin him against a wall. “I think I‘ve got everything I need.”
Chuck stood there, jotted something down. Then blurted, “I’ll just be leaving now.”
“You do that,” Dean smiled.
Chuck was already gone.
“Well,” Cas started, “That was direct and to the point. I‘ve always liked that about you.”
Dean chuckled. “I thought it went well.”
“So did I,” Cas gave him a look that made it very difficult to concentrate.
Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and started dragging him in the direction of their cabin.
Apparently, Cas’s dick was just as fed up with all the waiting as his was.
Next Chapter
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