The reflection of broken, Dean/Dean, NC-17 1/2
The reflection of broken 1/2
Pairing: 2009!Dean/2014!Dean
Rating: Nc-17
Warnings: AU, angst, incest or masturbation (depending on your look on Dean fucking himself), graphic M/M, language, [bottom Dean, and while were at it top!Dean ;)] Spoilers up to 5x04
Disclaimer: I do not own the boys, I just took them out to play.
Word Count: ~11 g
Summary: Dean meets his future version who lives a miserable and lonely life and decides to help him out some.
Author's notes: I started writing this thing after seeing 5x04 first promopics and continued through the promos intending to publish it just before 5x04 aired but my net connection died on me and it never got there and after seeing the actual episode most of my concepts seemed ridiculous and I cast it all aside. A while later I came back to this treading as any other AU - while it has some cross points with the original (the scenes from the promos) most of it is still quite different from the actual episode.
Dedicated to my beautiful and kind big_heart_june who shares my pervy love for Dean/Dean :D
Betad by quick and sharp casiedearestfic Thank you for helping me out of the pit with this one! :)
"Zach! Zach!? You son of a bitch…” The last words died on Dean’s lips, as it was becoming obvious that he was all alone in the building, looking big and abandoned. Zachariah, that douchebag excuse of an angel, had again disappeared on him after dropping him there.
Wherever “there” was.
From the looks of it, Dean guessed it could have been an old, out of use motel. That got him thinking of the words Zachariah had left him with before he had puffed out of existence. More like a warning, really.
“We want you to know what the consequences of your mindless actions are. Look around and pay good attention, boy, because this is the world you’ll know in 2014. Everything that has happened here, has happened as a result of you, Dean, saying no to us. Think about it - you could have stopped it all, but you were too stubborn, too selfish to do that.”
Dean blinked and shook his head. Could Zach really do it? Send him to the freakin' future? Cas had had no trouble showing him the past, so…
Dean took few cautious steps towards the broken corridor window and looked outside.
It was… destruction. Everything he could see was either broken, covered in graffiti, or pushed over. All the buildings and cars were vandalized, and there were big piles of junk lying around everywhere. But, what was stranger than anything else, was the fact that there were no humans. He couldn’t see anyone. Dean stilled and tried to listen, but all he could hear was the howl of the wind swirling through the empty streets, and his own heartbeat thumping loudly. He heard his pulse speeding up, and felt the adrenaline rise.
Maybe this was it? Maybe he was all alone in the world. The apocalypse had went down and…
The sound of an empty can rolling on the asphalt startled him out of his thoughts.
He wasn’t all alone. He couldn’t have been. There had to be somebody else left.
Nonetheless, Dean braced himself for the worst as he slowly made his way out of the motel, and down to the street he had heard the noise from.
It all looked even worse up close, nothing Dean could see wasn’t utilized or vandalized in some way. Dean wished to God he had his trusty Colt 1911 with him, 'cause he had the worst kind of gut feeling about this, and he sure as Hell didn’t liked being unarmed in the midst of this crazy devastation.
Relax man. He tried to calm himself as he cornered the abandoned building that looked like it once might have been a movie theater.
He stopped behind a trashed truck and scanned the street for any danger.
There. Somebody crouching at the end of the alley.
Dean felt a cold jolt in his heart when he realized that the figure was too small to be a grown up. A child. All alone in this mess.
Dean again looked around to make sure it was just the two of them before cautiously stepping closer to the small girl in dirty brown dress and bristling hair.
She was still sitting almost unmoving, only very slowly rocking herself back and forth and staring down at the pieces of shattered mirror-glass before her feet. There was also a tattered Teddy bear lying close to her, staring at Dean with it's only bulging eye, and looking almost as creepy as any supernatural monster he had ever seen.
“Hello?” Dean called out, hating how loud the single word sounded in the still streets.
The little girl, however, didn’t reply, and acted like she hadn’t even heard it at all. She just continued the small rocking movements and stayed still on her spot.
Dean frowned, but stepped closer to her anyhow, trying to make contact with her, 'cause she was the only plausible source of information he could see.
“Hey, uh... What happened here? Where is your family?” He tried to coax the child to talk.
But, quite expectedly, he was met by only more silence.
All of the hair at the back of Dean’s neck stood, telling him that there was something wrong here. Maybe it was all a trap? Or, maybe he really had just managed to hook himself up with a problematic child, and the Winchester in him was being paranoid.
Dean took the final step towards the girl, asking: “Are you hurt?”
Maybe she was in a shock as she didn’t seem capable to communicate.
Dean spread his arms as a gesture of resignation and to show her that he wasn’t armed.
“You know that `not talking´ thing is kinda creepy, right?” Dean asked as he crouched down next to the girl.
Suddenly there was a big drop of dark blood falling from the girl’s face and onto the shattered mirror.
Then the girl was moving, turning herself quickly in his direction, grabbing one of the sharp ended pieces of class and stabbing it at Dean.
The older of Winchester brothers groaned as he didn’t manage to pull up and away fast enough and his side got cut.
But the girl came at him again, screeching loud in frustration only this time Dean managed to evade the hit aimed in his direction and punch the girl, taking her down.
Dean stared at the small limp body lying on the ground to make sure that the thing wasn’t gonna move again cause he was pretty sure this wasn’t no ordinary human.
The hunter moved, making a pained sound as the pull of muscles around the fresh wound made his side twitch with pain.
He ignored the pain, very well aware that there might be more supernatural monsters around than the child looking thing.
He turned around to check if anyone was approaching (the girl looking monster had made awful lot of noise) and then spotted a big graffiti at the back of the alley.
“Oh… Oh crap.” Dean mumbled, his adrenaline rushing as his head connected the dots while reading the word “CROATOAN”.
The demonic virus. The same he and Sam had barely escaped back at the Cold Oak, the one that turned ordinary people into bloodthirsty killing machines.
And then a bunch of hobo looking men appeared from behind the corner next to the graffiti, empty look in their eyes and thou Dean’s hurt side protested as he stumbled a few steps backwards before turning around and running for his life.
The bunch of infected zombies wasn’t too far behind and Dean stumbled, knocking over a trash can while cornering the movie-theater in a rush and just stumbling forward, not really caring where he was going as long as it was fast and away from the bloodthirsty bunch.
He ran down the main street, dirt and scattered junk making it hard not to fall and keep moving straight but he managed to keep a small advantage. He dared a few glances over his shoulder to see if the chasers haven’t closed in on him.
Not yet.
The street then turned and Dean turned too, only to see a huge barbwired fence only thirty feet ahead of him, blocking the whole street.
Shit. Shit! Dean cursed in his mind, coming to a halt in front of the obstacle.
There was no way he could climb over that quickly enough, not without cutting himself on that barbwire or more likely the zombies catching up.
Realizing there was no other option; the hunter quickly turned around to face the angry bunch and maybe take out a few before they used their mass to their advantage and captured him.
The first guy running towards him looked quite determined and Dean had just enough time to plat his feet and register the blow swung at his head before he had to duck. Dean didn’t wait for a second before he grabbed the man’s hand and yanked him by it, making him, it, loose its balance and stumble face first to the ground.
Dean turned towards the others, breathing hard from his little spurt but ready to fight till the last breath.
If he somehow survived this all he was so gonna kill Zachariah.
Suddenly the sound of shotgun being fired filled the air and zombies turned all towards the sound, their expression remaining emotionless but they started to move the same, turning on their heels, loosing all interest in Dean and running away back the way they had came from.
Dean swallowed hard and frowned - he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or worried to Hell about the fact that some of these creatures appeared to wear shotguns. Well one thing was for sure - there was no way Dean was just gonna sit here and be their targeting practice. He pulled a face as moving still hurt and stumbled towards the nearest house, carefully checking he was all alone in the hallway before settling to lean against the wall near one of the windows which gave him a good view to the street outside.
He guessed it must have been about ten minutes of just the empty street gain and his own fast breaths before there was movement on the street again. At first he could just make out a small group of humans approaching. Five figures. And yeah - they definitely seemed to be wearing guns.
Dean tensed as he realized that two mean ahead of the group seemed somehow very familiar…
The man with dirty blue jeans and dark beard…
It couldn’t have been! NO freakin WAY.
Dean refused to believe what his eyes were seeing.
That man was not Castiel, the oh so high angel of the Lord.
Then the man with green military jacket, gun holster and a machine gun stepped forth from behind Castiel and Dean felt his breath catch in his throat for a second.
He was staring at… himself?
Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to curl up and deny the whole situation or burst out into manic laughter.
He honestly hadn’t even thought about the plausibility that he might still be alive five years into the future.
Hadn’t he fought on the front line of apocalypse after all? Had he resided from the actual war and found a way to survive while humanity was destroyed?
Dean shook his head, not being able to imagine that really. He would rather go down swinging than save his own sorry ass - he had started the whole thing after all so he would at least try stopping it, even if it was clear he wasn’t gonna be able to do it.
The patrol was getting closer to the building he was hiding in and Dean could hear their hushed voices.
The only female of the group said: “They came this way and somebody or something must have taken the little one out.”
Castiel, -- was it really him?, shrugged and said with a slow, thoughtful voice: “They don’t kill each other these days - their only goal is to find the last survivors and infect them too. I don’t think it was one of them who knocked it out. There’s something else going on here.”
The guy Dean recognized as himself just grunted in response and scanned the surrounding buildings with his look, looking so morose and dangerous that even Dean felt a twitch of nerves he always did when faced against a particularly dangerous enemy run through his body while he knew he was safely hidden were he was.
And all though it seemed as if these were the good guys, Dean still wasn’t too fast to trust them, and he decided it would be better to stay were he was rather than revealing himself. He was pretty sure he knew what this other self would have thought of this anyhow. You’re patrolling post apocalyptic deserted city with lotsa zombies and then your look-alike appears, claiming to have traveled here from the past? Yeah - he was pretty sure he would put a bullet right thought him even before could finish his crazy sounding explanation. Especially if he had an automatic gun as nice and big as that one.
At the same time something was happening on the street. Suddenly two of the group rushed to one of the car wrecks standing across the street and then there were shouts and a brief struggle before Castiel and another guy dragged out a weary looking older man into Dean’s sight. The geezer’s face and clothes were dirty and he looked pathetic and scared like a dear caught in the headlights as his captivators pushed him forward to stand face to face with the future Dean.
“Please! Don’t! Oh God - I haven’t done anything! I’m not one of them! They’ve hunted me for days. Please!” The man’s voice was quivering as he pleaded.
Dean’s future self only stared back at him with a quite unreadable expression, if anything; it might have been disgust or fatigue.
Then he nodded to his men as they took a step back from the old man and Dean quickly draw the gun from his tight and shot the man point blank in the face.
The man’s body stood for a second, wavering, before muscles gave up and it fell face first to the asphalt with a hollow thump.
Dean barely managed to suppress an angry shout that was caught in his throat. God - how had he been sure that the guy he shot was inflected? Maybe he had killed an innocent man.
…But maybe it was war and the apocalypse and there was no good or bad anymore, the borders and morals Dean was used to living by, disappearing.
“We fall back,” His future-self finally spoke up on the street, his voice as harsh and cold as his appearance.
Dean licked his lips as he considered his options - he was pretty sure that if he stayed here there would soon be more zombies on his ass. And besides…
Dean couldn’t help but to wonder where the fuck was Sam. Why Castiel was standing at his right hand and not his brother? Was Sam… Was he dead? Was he dead cause of Dean? Had the demons been able to kill him cause his older brother wasn’t watching his back?
Dean’s stomach turned at the thought cause that was not what he had wanted to do. He had wanted to keep his brother safe. He had wanted to be able to focus on the war and ending it not on the fear of his baby brother betraying him again…
Dean shook his head to dismiss the thoughts and watched as the group turned around and started to go back the way they had came from. Since staying put was really not an option Dean decided to follow them to see if they led him to Sam. He waited a few heartbeats before tailing them, careful to stay hiding and far enough not to be noticed.
***
By the time they reached the woods, the sun was settling and it was quickly getting dark.
Dean didn’t know how long they had walked before he finally saw a big fence in the distance and the group seemed to be heading right in that direction. The hunter quickly ducked as he realized someone might spot him fallowing the patrol, so hid himself behind the nearest tree, watching as two guards opened the padlocks on the gates and let the others in, making a small military salute and thou it was hard to tell who it was directed at, Dean had a gut feeling it was meant for him.
He was… I am their freakin leader?
Dean stayed in his hiding spot while guards smoked and talked after the grouped had disappeared into one of the buildings standing further inside the fence. It was hard to tell in the dim light but they looked like they might be some kind of military facilities.
Finally guards started to move again, walking away from Dean’s sight.
Dean sneaked closer to the fence, pulling back a bit as another shift of guards walked by him, chatting with each other and luckily not noticing him.
As Dean’s eyes followed their backs moving away he also noticed a car wreck standing in the midst of weed inside the fence. The shape of the body looked familiar and thou it was dim and Dean’s brain didn’t want to believe it, deep inside he already knew what car it was. Impala - his beloved pretty.
“Oh Baby, no...” He whispered, feeling almost grief cause Impala had been one good thing in his life, one thing he could count on and now…
Dean knew he had to have a closer look, had to be sure it was his car.
He knew he had a moment between the guard patrols, so he used it to pick the padlocks on the gate and let himself in. Once inside he carefully made his way to the car - covered in dust and front doors torn away but license plate still intact and telling him he had been right - it was his car. Dean leaned down to look at the dirty interior and mumbled:
”Oh no Baby, what did they do to you?”
Those bastards had let his car decay! More importantly he had let his most precious possession become a sad looking piece of rusting metal. Dean was starting to think if maybe he had somehow managed to turn into a complete dick with just five years.
He heard the sound of footsteps behind him and had just enough time to turn around and see his future version standing above him before he received a heavy punch to the face and the world blackened out.
***
God, his head was pounding. It felt as he had been hit by a tank - his body felt stiff and sore and when he swallowed, his mouth was try and tasted like last thing he had ate was a roadkill of some sort. Dean blinked rapidly but the light only made his eyes hurt so he screwed them tightly shut again and groaned.
He was sitting somewhere and his memories were too much of a mess to make any sense - he had told Sammy to leave - that was the first thought to pierce through the haze of his mind and hit him like a gut punch.
“So -- what are you?”
A gruff voice dangerously close to him and Dean’s hunter and survival instincts kicked in, making him force his eyes open and try to stand up but the later turned out to be a bad idea as he discovered that his right arm was handcuffed to the window barbs right upon the bench he was seated on.
The memories of the day’s previous events rushed back to him as he stared eye-to eye with an older copy of himself. A murderer, leader, whatever he was. The fact still remained that he was also man with a shotgun pointed at Dean’s head.
Dean knew there could have been many ways to go about it, but sticking with the truth seemed wise at the moment - he knew future him could torture it out of him anyway.
“I'm you from the tail end of 2009. Zach plucked me from my bed and threw me five years into the future.”
The other man stared at him with a suspicious expression before rising up to tower over him.
“Well you’re not a demon, a shapeshifter or anything else I could think of to test and that could take my form.”
2014 Dean paused for a moment, assessing Dean from toe to hair.
His voice was even more gruff, laced with bitterness and barely controlled anger as he asked: “You know Zach? Are you one of those angel bastards?”
Dean couldn’t suppress a huff on his own - after all the bullshit those douchebags had pulled he was certainly not on Heaven’s team. But then again.
“I… Castiel told me I’m Michael's vessel but I told them no thanks to becoming an angel condom. I’m just you - like you were five years ago. I know it sounds crazy but I’m telling the truth here.”
Future Dean snared, his face looking like was quickly becoming bored with a tad bit of anger: “Liar. One last time - what are you?”
Dean swallowed hard, resisting the urge to tug on his handcuff - he had already made sure the thing didn’t give the first two times.
“I… Remember how Cas sent me, you… Us back in time to meet mom and dad? Or how Zachariah let me, us, whatever, work at that firm, believing we were not brothers? Well this is sort of the same. Only this time Zachariah obviously watched way too much of “28 days later” and landed me here.”
Future Dean didn’t say anything - only a few muscles twitching in his face and Dean was pretty sure this was what he looked like when he was thinking hard while being annoyed or pissed.
“Well the way I see it, I’ve got two options - A - I’m gonna waste a perfectly fine bullet on you or B…”
He came crowding closer to Dean, taking a key out of his back pocket and unlocking Dean from the window barbs. Dean wasn’t too happy about someone invading his personal space and oh my god, almost pushing a crotch to his face, but then again - the handsome son of a gun was him.
Time to distract himself from personal space issues: “I… I wanna know where Sam is. And why did you kill that old man back in the city?”
The older version of him pulled back, giving him one more of his trademark scowls before huffing: “I killed that man because he was no good to us, if anything he was a possible threat.”
Dean massaged his wrist, a bit sore from the long bite of metal.
“Well you could have brought him back here not go all Terminator on his ass.”
The older him shrugged: “Actually -- no. He was too old - he would have been no good for fighting or breeding, just killing our short supplies.”
Dean couldn’t suppress an annoyed huff of his own: “So people are good for only two things? You killed a harmless old man just cause wasn’t “useful”?”
His future version looked indifferent, shrugging: “We need to survive.”
Dean spat at him: “You’re making decisions that I would never make. I’m not a murderer.”
Future Dean shrugged, seemingly not affected by the words: “You haven’t lived the five extra years in a Hell. On Earth.”
Dean clenched his jaw, considering the words. Could he really have changed so much in five years? Changed into pragmatic and cold, killing innocent people if they weren’t “useful” to him?
There was a knock on the door then and a female voice calling: “Winchester, sir?”
“Looks like I need to take care of this.” The older him almost sighed, taking a gun from his gunholster and checking if it was loaded. He seemed to be completely focused on the gun before he again spoke: “I would tell you to stay here but I know you wouldn’t do it anyway so you can move around the parameter but don’t get in trouble.”
“Who died and made you the boss?”
“Well I could just shoot you or lock you back up if you would like that option better.” The future Dean said with a crooked smirk.
“I’ll behave… sir.” Dean shot mockingly back at him. God he could be annoying with that smug look on his face.
The 2014 Dean sent him a disapproving look back and grunted, marching out of the door, stopping at the threshold for a second and turning a bit: “Do yourself a favor - don’t cause any trouble and be back here by 1 AM.”
Dean stubbornly didn’t nod and the other him didn’t seem to care as he pulled the door shut behind himself.
Dean let out a long breath, finally left alone. For a second there, he had been pretty sure he was gonna be a suicide victim. Well, if receiving a bullet from an older version of yourself counted as suicide.
He licked his lips and reached down to check on his side.
There was a patch there.
Huh.
He carefully peeled away one corner and glanced at the row of neat stitches.
The guy, him, had patched him up.
Dean patted the bandage back and stared at the door his future version had disappeared through. Maybe there was still hope. Maybe he wasn’t as screwed to Hell as he had thought after all.
***
“Get washed up for the orgy?” Dean still couldn’t get that phrase by Castiel out of his head as he slowly walked back towards the cabin his future-self inhabited.
It was a quiet and clear night, half moon lighting his way - it seemed these guys didn’t loved flood lamps and patrolled the perimeter in the same dim light.
A few guards saluted and greeted him as he passed by but mostly they just leave him be to his relief.
Dean let out a deep breath, stuffing his hands deeper to his jeans pockets - he really wished he had brought his jacket with him. It was freakin cold out here.
Castiel was smoking pot?
Dean had to shake his head and huff cause it was all a huge mess and too much to make sense of. The stuff Castiel had told him. Sam was… Big part of Dean’s brain wished he could deny the whole thing but a smaller, while definitely louder part was yelling at him to do something, anything, to stop this madness and face the facts. Sam was Lucifer’s vessel. He was Lucifer now. No Sam.
Dean sent a longing look towards the Impala, considering going to her, sitting down and thinking about it all for a moment. He needed a plan and Impala really seemed like the only familiar and safe place around here.
“I said by one AM…” The low rumble of his own voice against his ear, and it took every bit of his self-control not to startle or flinch away from it.
The guy, himself, had had no trouble creeping up on him. And quite frankly - Dean just hated that.
“…soldier.”
The word was somehow heavy in the chilling night air and made a small shiver run down Dean’s spine.
He could feel the heat radiating from the body behind him as his future version pressed closer to him from behind, his hot and moist breath now making goose bumps rise on the back of his neck.
Dean forced himself to stay put thou a part of him was saying that this was going somewhere he shouldn’t go.
“You are a soldier, aren’t you?” The rumble of that voice against his neck, words laced with bitterness, hope and a freaking army of emotions Dean couldn’t and wouldn’t begin to decipher.
Suck it up, you are not a girl. He is certainly not.
“I’m a hunter.”
A laughter. It sounded almost wrong coming from his grim twin but it was certainly an amused one.
“Don’t worry kid - you will be. I finally became what my father taught me to be. It took me way too much time, I refused to learn my lessons at first, to except myself for who I am but finally I’m here. I’m a soldier.”
Not seeing the man talking to him was unnerving Dean for some unnamed reason and he tried to turn around to face him but then the guy was really up in his, sorry, their (thou Dean still regarded it his) personal space, grabbing his throat from behind, effectively cutting off his air supply and immobilizing him.
What the friggin' Hell?
Dean struggled in his hands, trying to break free but the bastard knew very trick he did (and knew when he used them) not to mention it seemed, a few more.
Finally Dean went still, just breathing heavy through his nose as his future version eased his grip a bit.
“Good.” The word breathed into his ear and…
Dean went completely still, even forgetting to move as he felt the other man’s thigh press up between his spread legs, his freakin gun holster grinding against his crotch… oh God… His, his body was not…
Dean let out the most annoying huff he could muster and tried to keep his voice even, even maybe a little snarl as he noted: “Dude - You’re gun…” A small moment of hesitation and oh fuck no… The shift of leg against his groin making him flush red and his body un-naturally hot “… is kinda crowding my gun.” He managed to finish his remark before he drew in an almost hiccuping breath, his future version slowly shifting his leg back and forth.
“Well your gun doesn’t seem to mind.”
Dean swallowed hard, grinning nervously: “Well you’re a handsome dude and all… But I don’t swing that way and you know it. As a matter of fact - I thought you didn’t either.”
His double finally released his hold on him after that note and okay, the way Dean’s cock twitched in protest was totally wrong and perverted.
Getting a freakin legjob from himself and almost liking it was going right into his “Freakiest things ever” list next to stripper midgets and teenage Sam incident.
He woke from his thought as the other Dean stepped back into his view and nodded towards his cabin: “You up for some drinks?”
Well that certainly didn’t sound too inviting coming from a man who had just molested him, Dean thought with sarcasm. Besides… There was another place he really would have liked to be.
“Um… Dude? What about the orgy? Aren’t we like invited or something? Cause it might be a regular Saturday night thing for you but I would certainly like…”
He never got to stating what he would like as the older man cut him off: “No.”
“No - we can’t go?” Dean asked with confusion and disbelief.
“No - It’s not a regular thing for me and no - we are not going today either.”
Dean knew he should at least try to act more grown up but he felt like there was really nothing like some good old pouting that would tell this asshat just how much he disapproved that thought.
And what the Hell?
“Dude - you are trying to tell me that you have regular orgies but you don’t attend them but leave all the good stuff to Cas?! Are you for real?”
His older version looked tired and tense as he sent him a long look before shrugging: “Look, Sunshine, there has been stuff, things you can’t even imagine right now.” He let out a weary sigh: “It would be easier to explain over a drink.”
Dean couldn’t help a small smirk. Great minds think alike. It was starting to seem to him too that all this stuff would seem much nicer after a few emptied glasses. And maybe, just maybe... He could get this stiff stick to loosen up some and give him the information he wanted. Needed, to save Sam.
Continued here