Things Fall Apart [Part 3/?]
Title: Things Fall Apart [Part 3/?]
Authors: kimisgirl (wrote Cas, future!dean and Future!Cas) and doubledgedsword (wrote Dean)
Pairing: Castiel/Dean
Rating/Warnings: NC17 this part. Non.Con (not this part but this story will include rape at one point) Mental and Physical abuse hinted at.
Summary: The future Dean finds himself in thanks to Zachariah is not like the past he has just left. He and Castiel are no longer together and he is shocked to find out just how bad it's gone for them. He is horrified by his future self and how broken he has become. Can he do anything
AN: This is a continuation of the "A love story" verse. It can stand alone if you don't want to read the previous story. But parts of it will make more sense if you do read it :D. This story is completely written and parts will be put up ever second day or so! Hope you like it.
Disclaimer: None of the supernatural characters or storylines belong to us :( -sad face-
Dean pulled up back at base camp and climbed out of the truck, face set hard, a smile on his face that doesn't reach he's eyes. It is for show, to make the men feel like they had done the job well. Keep up moral, as best can be done in this shit hole. He cracked a beer can while tossing one over to the tall blond man across the bonnet of the truck. He didn't like was he had to do next, but it was a part of his life now, and he didn't so much as bat an eye lash at the idea of killing his own men. Not if they'd been infected. It was one or all of them. And he could do maths thanks, one dead man was better than hundreds.
He watched the man round the truck and turn his back to him. Something in Dean that was still capable of feeling something was thankful for that, it was easier to shoot them in the back than look them in the eye and do it. He knew it was the cowards way out, but fuck, he just didn't care anymore.
He raised his hand gun and took aim. It was at that moment that his fucking clone decided to make himself known and fucking get in the way the way Dean had known he would. Why the hell do you think he left him handcuffed. He should have known better than to think a pair of handcuffs could hold him, any version of him.
He looked up as the man he was pointing a gun at turned toward Dean's yelled warning and without a moments hesitation or even a blink he pulled the trigger and watched the man hit the ground.
He rounded on Dean and glared at him before turning back to his mean and growling something about it being a fucked up situation and they'd know more when they needed too.
"You with me" he growled at himself and fucked it that wasn't the strangest thing he'd done in a while. He lead the way up to his cabin and threw his gun on the table, pulling out the whiskey and two glasses. Alright if they had to deal with this, then they would fucking deal with it. Time to talk he figured and he turned to stare himself in the face. Wondering if he still looked anything like the man in front of him. It had been so long since he'd bothered with a mirror, he really wasn't sure anymore what he looked like. Not that he gave a fuck... about any of it, nothing mattered now, not anymore, except killing the devil.
~*~
Dean watched himself cock his gun and shoot what he took to be an innocent man. He ran, trying to intervene, but it was like running through ice water - he felt colder than ever before, and he didn't seem to be moving nearly fast enough. He shouted a warning to the man, and watched his own self turn cruel eyes upon him like he was in the one in the wrong.
It felt like his heart sank in his chest. Was he really such a cold bastard in five years time? What could have happened that was so bad, so awful that he would turn into a cold-hearted hammer... He swallowed a lump of sadness, remembering how he had once called Castiel that, back in 2008. This was true coldness. Cas was a soldier, this guy... himself, this Dean... he was an assassin. Cold-blooded and as unmoveable as a mountain. He knew that this was really him in five years. He had seen the evidence of just what cruelty he would be capable of written all over Castiel's broken body, the depth of his anger carved out of the angel's soul. He felt sickened again. It was like his stomach was overworking on the bile output.
He followed his future self up to a cabin, about as happy to be alone with himself as he would be with a demon. He shook his head in disbelief. Freud would have a frigging field day if he had just heard what he had thought.
Once inside the cabin, Dean's eyebrows shot up. He couldn't believe that someone had just been shot for no reason, and now he was just pouring drinks! Dean looked at himself, and sighed. Well... easiest questions first. Tough questions after.
"What the hell was that? You just shot a guy in cold blood!" Dean asked. He was bristling, wanting to let himself know that this was the least of his questions. The stickier issue of Cas would be voiced more vehemently, that was saying the fucking least of it.
~*~
Dean downed his drink and poured himself another as he eyed himself coldly. He didn't need this right now, no fuckin' way did he need this. He didn't need to be explaining himself to... himself. Holy shit man just how fucked up could his life actually get before he just broke down and fucking laughed for the rest of eternity, cause clearly some son of a bitch was playing some sick joke on him...
He sighed heavily and decided, knowing himself like he did, it would just be easier to tell him how it is than ignore the question.
"We were in an open quarantine zone -- Got ambushed by some crotes on the way out. Crotes -- croatoans. One of them infected Yager."
His tone was hard, rock hard, and cold, matter of fact. Like he had done that a thousand times, like it wasn't something he needed to be sorry for. Because dammit, he didn't and it was. And he was not about to apologise to himself... oh seriously fuck this situation right up the duck pond... for something he knew had needed doing. So he grit his teeth and glared at himself, waiting for the retort he just knew was coming, because... and this was going to get old very fucking quickly... he knew himself well enough to know he wouldn't just let it the fuck go like he should.
"Trust me, he needed to go" he said firmly wondering just why he looked so damned pissed right now. Sure he had shot the guy, not like past him even knew him, not like he had fought along side him. So why did the other him look like he wanted to rip his throat out right now.
"Dude you ok? You look... a little pissed" he asked as he studied his past double. A little pissed might have been the understatement of the fucking decade...
~*~
"Frigging crotes..." Dean muttered. He had nearly been shredded by one when he arrived, and she couldn't have been much more than eight years old, if even. He listened to his doppelganger talking, and had to bite back a disbelieving snort of laughter. "How do you know he was infected? Poor mook could have just been injured," Dean protested. He had personally seen nothing wrong with the man before he had been shot, and it wounded him to think that he would end up a murderer on top of everything else.
He wished there had been some regret to his future self's voice when he spoke. If there had, well... he would have believed himself capable of changing, and of healing the damage he had done to Castiel, and himself. It was just classic Dean Winchester that it wasn't his own self he worried about, but the few people he loved. Seeing himself like this, all self-serving and soldier-like... it was really unsettling. He wondered was this one of those identity crises that Sammy had once mentioned.
"Oh, I look a little pissed, do I?" Dean asked, his tone blithe and cheery. "Well, I don't think that's much of a surprise. Let me put it this way - I saw Cas. I saw what you did to him."
He downed his drink and took a step closer to his future self. He regarded eyes that he saw every day in the mirror, but here they were so different. There was something lifeless about them - not as bad as the abandoned doll look in Castiel's, but something equally as chilling. His face was older, lined, grey hairs speckled in his close cropped locks much like they had in his father's hair before he died.
"How the fuck could you do that to Cas? You - I mean, I ... fuck it, WE LOVE HIM! How the fuck could you do that?" Dean's voice started out quietly accusing, and ended up as a cold roar. Where he was from, he was still madly in love with Cas, and equally as protective of him. Even as screwed up as this situation was, yelling at himself in the future for shit he himself hadn't actually done yet, but would, and HAD already done (ugh, it gave him a headache trying to figure out just which tense to use!) he knew he wouldn't show himself any mercy for hurting the man he loved.
~*~
He groaned inwardly as the other him did just what he'd thought he would and wanted him not to do and continued to question his actions. He sighed and rubbed his eyes hard with a tired hand, he wanted to shower, shit, eat and sleep. He did not need this, he'd finally managed to get his hands on the colt, after five goddamned years and he wasn't in any mood to talk to anyone, much less... himself...
"cause after a few years of this, i know. I started seeing symptoms about a half an hour ago. Wasn't gonna be long before he flipped. I didn't see the point in troubling a good man with bad news." he said in a tired and frustrated tone. Hoping to god, this time he would just let it go.
He froze on the spot when past him spoke next, he knew that tone and it wasn't good. What ever was coming he knew he sure as shit wasn't gonna like it. And be fucked if he wasn't right!
He was gonna fucking punch himself here in a moment. His body tensed and he glared coldly at Dean. So he had seen Cas, he knew, well that was just fan-fucking-tastic wasn't it. It was also none of his goddamn business. What happened between him and Cas these days was no one's business but theirs. Even in his head that felt a little weak. Because it was him who was looking at him like he was seriously considering the best ways to dispose of a body after he'd cut its fucking heart out.
"That... That, is none of your damned business" he growled out harshly, anger building in him. He had no idea what Cas had told this guy but he was gonna fucking make him hurt for it. He had no right to go bitching to this... hell he didn't even have a word for him right now. Oh yeah, Cas was gonna pay for this one. The junkie probably thought he could finally get a little loving from Dean again. At this thought anger bristled deep inside him. Cold, heartless anger. He was going to tell himself he hadn't loved anyone for a very long time, that he didn't have time for love. He decided that that he had no reason to open up so much and kept his mouth firmly shut. Grinding his teeth at the possibility of what this Dean had been doing with Cas while he was away...
And suddenly a sudden and dark jealousy fired through him and he growled deep in his gut. Ok, Cas wanted to fuck, he'd remind him just who he belonged to... the fucking hippy love guru was gonna learn that he was the only man he was allowed to fuck. Dean might not love the angel.. man, what the fuck ever he was these days, but that didn't mean he didn't still belong to him. Cas was his and no one else would play with him without his permission.
~*~
Dean nearly spat out his words. "Troubling a good man? You just blew him away in front of your own people. Don't you think that freaked them out a little bit?" he demanded. This wasn't just cold, this was downright frigging Antarctic. Looking at his future self made him all the more determined to make sure he never ended up like this. He wouldn't let anything happen to Castiel. He wouldn't let himself degenerate into this grade A douchebag. No way in fucking hell. He'd crawl back into the pit before he'd end up like this.
He had never in his entire life wanted to kick the shit out of someone as much as he did now... and the irony of it all was that it was his own self he wanted to beat up! Seriously... Freud would lap this crap up. It'd be Freud's dream case. Dean shook his head and glowered at himself, wondering if he killed the future version of himself, would he still be okay back in 2009? Urgh... this was too weird.
"Oh, it's all my business, Chuckles. I AM you, and Castiel is my... our partner. So," he dropped his voice to a growl to match the one his other self was making, "this makes it very much my fucking business. And I just want to tell you this much - you're one sick puppy if you think that you can raise your hands to someone you supposedly love. If you chance that shit while I'm still here, I swear by Heaven, Hell and everything in between, I will make you the sorest, sorriest asshole in the world. And you know I can do it, so don't think I won't."
John Winchester would never have stood for his boys beating on someone they loved. Hell, Dean would have kicked the crap out of Sammy if he had so much as looked crooked at Jessica. It made no difference that this was himself he was threatening. He was god-damn lucky that he wasn't using all those interesting techniques Alistair had taught him in Hell, and using them to their fullest extent.
"If Dad could see you now... He'd never have sold his soul to keep us alive. He'd have let us die," Dean spat at himself. "Hope you're frigging proud of that, asshole."
~*~
For fuck sake, could the man just let it go, for the love of god...
"It's 2014. Plugging some crote --it's called commonplace. Trading words with my friggin' clone -- that might have freaked them out a little" he spat at him and growled. Yeah he really didn't need this right now, and never mind what he was saying before about eating and sleeping. He knew exactly where he was going next... and that was to teach his 'lover' a thing or too about opening his goddamn mouth.
"Listen, and listen good, cause I'm only gonna say this once." he said dangerously. "What happens between me and Cas is our problem, not your's. This is my time, not yours. Remember that and keep your place." He knew it would do no good, he could see it in his.. Dean's... fuck the other him, eyes and he knew it was gonna hurt, but he could give a fuck right now, the more the guy wailed on him, the more angry he got with Cas for bring this shit on him.
"So what you've still got some fucked up crush on the guy, go cry me a fucking river and get over it. Things are different now Dean, we're not in love with him anymore, and he sure as fuck ain't in love with us. You should be happy we got over what ever the fuck that was... because the truth man, that was some fucked up shit... I'm not gay, you're not gay, what the fuck we fall for a fucking male angel? You should be happy right now man"
He let his anger get the better of his mouth and ran with it like a stallion with the bit between his teeth. He knew it was gonna get him punched but fuck it, he didn't care, he could give as good as he got, and the way he saw it, he had five years of battle combat on his side to help him along that his other self didn't, walk in the park it should be then.
He was going to rise to the crack about his dad, but you know what, he didn't even care enough about that any more to say anything. If his dad had been here, he knew he'd have told Dean to keep doing what he was doin', kill Lucifer no matter the cost. And he sure as shit wouldn't have wanted no fairy boy faggot as a son either...
~*~
"So, what mission was so frigging important it meant you'd risk a so-called 'good man' for it. Not that you'd know a good man if it bit you in the ass, you sick sonofabitch..." Dean added in an undertone, hoping his future self would only hear the first part and not the last.
"It's my problem if I'm gonna turn into you, you fucking asshole!" Dean bellowed. "I'm going to do everything in my god-damn power to make sure that this future never happens, and no matter what the cost I'm going to see to it that I never become you. You remember what Dad said? A man's only as good as the things he does to his family -- and I'll be damned if Cas doesn't count as family."
"He's like a beaten dog in there, Dean! He's so broken it's a miracle he's still breathing, but all he wants is you to treat him the way you used to..." Dean felt pain welling in his chest, the memory of Castiel's tortured voice pleading with him to love him once more still fresh and caustic in his mind. Jesus Christ, he'd be lucky if he could ever forget that image, or at least think of it without wanting to cut out his own heart. "Castiel saved us, don't you remember that? He pulled us from the Pit, and put us back together afterwards, and this is how you fucking repay him." He looked sadly at his future self and said, bitterness etching every syllable, "You... you don't deserve him."
He sighed, and gritted his teeth. "Uh... since when are we homophobic? It was never about being gay, and you know it. It was always about him. I still love him, and I'm hopin' there's still some little spark of humanity left inside of you, because if there is, it means there's hope. It means I can go back to 2009 and not feel sick thinking about my future." He laughed bitterly, and looked hard at himself. Was he so broken that he didn't realise that Cas still loved him? Poor bastard. He was really far gone. "Course he still loves us. Christ, man! You think he'd be this torn up if it wasn't because we turned on him? Bobby would call us idjits if he could hear this. Fucking hell..."
He was so unbearably angry. Even Lilith had never pissed him off this much, and she had possessed children and committed atrocities in the name of Lucifer. At least she had the honesty to wear her evil openly. This man who at first glance seemed to be a defender of humanity had done some of the sickest shit Dean had seen happen on Earth, and still didn't see how wrong it was. If he didn't show even the tiniest scrap of remorse, if he didn't even look the slightest bit sorry... Dean was going to punch the living crap out of him.
~*~
Ok he really really didn't need this shit right now, especially from himself. "For fuck sake, when did you turn into a girl?" He snapped and then completely ignored all the other shit he went on with... because damned if it didn't cut a little too close to the bone. He really did not need to think about Cas or what he'd become. Or how it might somehow be his fault. And he really didn't need to think about what they'd used to have. Or that Cas had saved him. Course he remembered, how could he forget who had saved him from hell. Problem was, he really no longer cared, and he sure as fuck didn't see it as being saved anymore. All this bullshit would have never happened if he'd never been taken out of hell... At least that was his reasoning behind it right now, even if he knew deep down it was bullshit.
He snorted and glared at Dean. "Yeah right, he loves me, that's why he fucks any woman who will lower herself enough to crawl into his bed. Whatever man, I'm not talking about this shit with you."
He snapped and turned his attention back to something he was ok to talk about. He pulled out the colt and laid it on the table in front of them.
"Tomorrow, I'm gonna kill the devil" he said calmly as if it were the easiest thing in the world. No emotion, just cold determination. That was what he was now, a machine with one purpose and be damned anyone who got in his way.... even those he used to love.
~*~
"Since when did you turn into the biggest asshat since Zachariah?" Dean countered, his voice a feral snarl at this stage. A girl? Seriously? That was the best comeback he could cook up? Dean supposed it was because his future self was too busy trying to hide the fact that he was ashamed of himself, and if he wasn't... then Dean was going to make damn sure that he would be, and then he'd make him grovel on his knees for Castiel's forgiveness, and if he wouldn't, then Dean would just have to bitch slap him until he realised what a douche he was being.
"Am I really this stupid?" Dean asked incredulously. "You know what we're like - we fuck to make the pain go away. We do it so we don't have to think about Hell, and so before that it was because we needed some way to unwind after hunting. Why should Cas be any different? Hell, I'd say he's got more reasons than anyone to bury himself in women when the man he loves is a complete dick. Bet you've noticed he hasn't touched any other man than you. Man, you're a major dick." Dean crossed his arms huffily, too pissed off to keep talking about this.
He stood up straighter at the sight of the gun. He knew that gun's every inch by heart. It had saved his ass so many times, it had unlocked the gate to Hell, and it had been missing for longer than he cared to admit. "Is that the Colt?" Dean demanded, staring at it like it would fix all his problems. He wondered would it really kill the devil, or was it just another desperate hope.
"So how you planning on finding old Nick?" Dean went on. "Are your douchebag senses tingling when he gets too near?"
~*~
Dean glared and complete ignored everything the man was saying to him about Cas. He heard it, Oh yeah, he heard, but be fucked if he was going to have this conversation with some twisted fucked up old... young... fuck who knew, version of himself. Not going to happen thanks.
He snorted and raised the colt in front of him. "No it's a fucking rubber duck, what else would it be genius." he snapped wondering if the amount of hatred for this him was more or less than what he felt for himself right now.... More, definitely more...
He cleared his throat and shrugged. "I know where he's gonna be but that can wait till tonights meeting. Be here at twenty one hundred hours."
With that he downed his scotch and moved to put the colt somewhere safe, clearly telling the other him that they were done with his body language. Before turning back and glaring.
"And stay the hell way from Cas, I don't need you fucking with his head right now, putting stupid ideas in his head." he growled angrily, possessively, Cas was his and no one else's not even past him. Even if he didn't want the angel any more. Even if he hated him because every time he looked at Cas it reminded him of what it used to be like. Before this bullshit, and that was altogether too painful. And that just made him even angrier.
~*~
Dean listened to himself rabbit on like he knew it all, as though he were the king of what was left of the world, and found the rage was building, rather than dissipating. So, he had the Colt. Still didn't make him Superman or nothing. Killing Lucifer wasn't going to be no cakewalkm, especially not if the bastard had already all but won. It would most likely be a suicide mission, with maybe one or two survivors at the end, if even. Dean knew that, so his future self had to know it too... and yet he was still willing to go ahead with it.
"Twenty-one hundred hours, huh? Sure, I'll be there with freakin' bells on," Dean snarked.
He was ready to turn tail and leave until he made that comment about Cas. That was it. He had already turned to walk to the door, but after that crack about putting stupid ideas in his head, Dean was livid. More than livid, he was fucking insanely angry.
"Alright, that's it you sonofabitch!" he snarled, turning on his heels and lunging at his past self, hitting him full force in the face with his fist, and hard enough that pain blossomed white hot across his knuckles. "I think you fucked with his head plenty enough already..." Dean said with a sneer, and stormed out of the cabin in fine fettle.
~*~
TBC
AN: Ok so future!dean is a complete asshole in this I know, but it was needed for the storyline. And honestly, we all saw in the ep that future!Dean was all broke inside, I just fed off that and put it on steroids somewhat :D
There will be more happiness coming soon I promise, so just bare with me folks :D
Outlaws dethklok ticket
Authors: kimisgirl (wrote Cas, future!dean and Future!Cas) and doubledgedsword (wrote Dean)
Pairing: Castiel/Dean
Rating/Warnings: NC17 this part. Non.Con (not this part but this story will include rape at one point) Mental and Physical abuse hinted at.
Summary: The future Dean finds himself in thanks to Zachariah is not like the past he has just left. He and Castiel are no longer together and he is shocked to find out just how bad it's gone for them. He is horrified by his future self and how broken he has become. Can he do anything
AN: This is a continuation of the "A love story" verse. It can stand alone if you don't want to read the previous story. But parts of it will make more sense if you do read it :D. This story is completely written and parts will be put up ever second day or so! Hope you like it.
Disclaimer: None of the supernatural characters or storylines belong to us :( -sad face-
Dean pulled up back at base camp and climbed out of the truck, face set hard, a smile on his face that doesn't reach he's eyes. It is for show, to make the men feel like they had done the job well. Keep up moral, as best can be done in this shit hole. He cracked a beer can while tossing one over to the tall blond man across the bonnet of the truck. He didn't like was he had to do next, but it was a part of his life now, and he didn't so much as bat an eye lash at the idea of killing his own men. Not if they'd been infected. It was one or all of them. And he could do maths thanks, one dead man was better than hundreds.
He watched the man round the truck and turn his back to him. Something in Dean that was still capable of feeling something was thankful for that, it was easier to shoot them in the back than look them in the eye and do it. He knew it was the cowards way out, but fuck, he just didn't care anymore.
He raised his hand gun and took aim. It was at that moment that his fucking clone decided to make himself known and fucking get in the way the way Dean had known he would. Why the hell do you think he left him handcuffed. He should have known better than to think a pair of handcuffs could hold him, any version of him.
He looked up as the man he was pointing a gun at turned toward Dean's yelled warning and without a moments hesitation or even a blink he pulled the trigger and watched the man hit the ground.
He rounded on Dean and glared at him before turning back to his mean and growling something about it being a fucked up situation and they'd know more when they needed too.
"You with me" he growled at himself and fucked it that wasn't the strangest thing he'd done in a while. He lead the way up to his cabin and threw his gun on the table, pulling out the whiskey and two glasses. Alright if they had to deal with this, then they would fucking deal with it. Time to talk he figured and he turned to stare himself in the face. Wondering if he still looked anything like the man in front of him. It had been so long since he'd bothered with a mirror, he really wasn't sure anymore what he looked like. Not that he gave a fuck... about any of it, nothing mattered now, not anymore, except killing the devil.
~*~
Dean watched himself cock his gun and shoot what he took to be an innocent man. He ran, trying to intervene, but it was like running through ice water - he felt colder than ever before, and he didn't seem to be moving nearly fast enough. He shouted a warning to the man, and watched his own self turn cruel eyes upon him like he was in the one in the wrong.
It felt like his heart sank in his chest. Was he really such a cold bastard in five years time? What could have happened that was so bad, so awful that he would turn into a cold-hearted hammer... He swallowed a lump of sadness, remembering how he had once called Castiel that, back in 2008. This was true coldness. Cas was a soldier, this guy... himself, this Dean... he was an assassin. Cold-blooded and as unmoveable as a mountain. He knew that this was really him in five years. He had seen the evidence of just what cruelty he would be capable of written all over Castiel's broken body, the depth of his anger carved out of the angel's soul. He felt sickened again. It was like his stomach was overworking on the bile output.
He followed his future self up to a cabin, about as happy to be alone with himself as he would be with a demon. He shook his head in disbelief. Freud would have a frigging field day if he had just heard what he had thought.
Once inside the cabin, Dean's eyebrows shot up. He couldn't believe that someone had just been shot for no reason, and now he was just pouring drinks! Dean looked at himself, and sighed. Well... easiest questions first. Tough questions after.
"What the hell was that? You just shot a guy in cold blood!" Dean asked. He was bristling, wanting to let himself know that this was the least of his questions. The stickier issue of Cas would be voiced more vehemently, that was saying the fucking least of it.
~*~
Dean downed his drink and poured himself another as he eyed himself coldly. He didn't need this right now, no fuckin' way did he need this. He didn't need to be explaining himself to... himself. Holy shit man just how fucked up could his life actually get before he just broke down and fucking laughed for the rest of eternity, cause clearly some son of a bitch was playing some sick joke on him...
He sighed heavily and decided, knowing himself like he did, it would just be easier to tell him how it is than ignore the question.
"We were in an open quarantine zone -- Got ambushed by some crotes on the way out. Crotes -- croatoans. One of them infected Yager."
His tone was hard, rock hard, and cold, matter of fact. Like he had done that a thousand times, like it wasn't something he needed to be sorry for. Because dammit, he didn't and it was. And he was not about to apologise to himself... oh seriously fuck this situation right up the duck pond... for something he knew had needed doing. So he grit his teeth and glared at himself, waiting for the retort he just knew was coming, because... and this was going to get old very fucking quickly... he knew himself well enough to know he wouldn't just let it the fuck go like he should.
"Trust me, he needed to go" he said firmly wondering just why he looked so damned pissed right now. Sure he had shot the guy, not like past him even knew him, not like he had fought along side him. So why did the other him look like he wanted to rip his throat out right now.
"Dude you ok? You look... a little pissed" he asked as he studied his past double. A little pissed might have been the understatement of the fucking decade...
~*~
"Frigging crotes..." Dean muttered. He had nearly been shredded by one when he arrived, and she couldn't have been much more than eight years old, if even. He listened to his doppelganger talking, and had to bite back a disbelieving snort of laughter. "How do you know he was infected? Poor mook could have just been injured," Dean protested. He had personally seen nothing wrong with the man before he had been shot, and it wounded him to think that he would end up a murderer on top of everything else.
He wished there had been some regret to his future self's voice when he spoke. If there had, well... he would have believed himself capable of changing, and of healing the damage he had done to Castiel, and himself. It was just classic Dean Winchester that it wasn't his own self he worried about, but the few people he loved. Seeing himself like this, all self-serving and soldier-like... it was really unsettling. He wondered was this one of those identity crises that Sammy had once mentioned.
"Oh, I look a little pissed, do I?" Dean asked, his tone blithe and cheery. "Well, I don't think that's much of a surprise. Let me put it this way - I saw Cas. I saw what you did to him."
He downed his drink and took a step closer to his future self. He regarded eyes that he saw every day in the mirror, but here they were so different. There was something lifeless about them - not as bad as the abandoned doll look in Castiel's, but something equally as chilling. His face was older, lined, grey hairs speckled in his close cropped locks much like they had in his father's hair before he died.
"How the fuck could you do that to Cas? You - I mean, I ... fuck it, WE LOVE HIM! How the fuck could you do that?" Dean's voice started out quietly accusing, and ended up as a cold roar. Where he was from, he was still madly in love with Cas, and equally as protective of him. Even as screwed up as this situation was, yelling at himself in the future for shit he himself hadn't actually done yet, but would, and HAD already done (ugh, it gave him a headache trying to figure out just which tense to use!) he knew he wouldn't show himself any mercy for hurting the man he loved.
~*~
He groaned inwardly as the other him did just what he'd thought he would and wanted him not to do and continued to question his actions. He sighed and rubbed his eyes hard with a tired hand, he wanted to shower, shit, eat and sleep. He did not need this, he'd finally managed to get his hands on the colt, after five goddamned years and he wasn't in any mood to talk to anyone, much less... himself...
"cause after a few years of this, i know. I started seeing symptoms about a half an hour ago. Wasn't gonna be long before he flipped. I didn't see the point in troubling a good man with bad news." he said in a tired and frustrated tone. Hoping to god, this time he would just let it go.
He froze on the spot when past him spoke next, he knew that tone and it wasn't good. What ever was coming he knew he sure as shit wasn't gonna like it. And be fucked if he wasn't right!
He was gonna fucking punch himself here in a moment. His body tensed and he glared coldly at Dean. So he had seen Cas, he knew, well that was just fan-fucking-tastic wasn't it. It was also none of his goddamn business. What happened between him and Cas these days was no one's business but theirs. Even in his head that felt a little weak. Because it was him who was looking at him like he was seriously considering the best ways to dispose of a body after he'd cut its fucking heart out.
"That... That, is none of your damned business" he growled out harshly, anger building in him. He had no idea what Cas had told this guy but he was gonna fucking make him hurt for it. He had no right to go bitching to this... hell he didn't even have a word for him right now. Oh yeah, Cas was gonna pay for this one. The junkie probably thought he could finally get a little loving from Dean again. At this thought anger bristled deep inside him. Cold, heartless anger. He was going to tell himself he hadn't loved anyone for a very long time, that he didn't have time for love. He decided that that he had no reason to open up so much and kept his mouth firmly shut. Grinding his teeth at the possibility of what this Dean had been doing with Cas while he was away...
And suddenly a sudden and dark jealousy fired through him and he growled deep in his gut. Ok, Cas wanted to fuck, he'd remind him just who he belonged to... the fucking hippy love guru was gonna learn that he was the only man he was allowed to fuck. Dean might not love the angel.. man, what the fuck ever he was these days, but that didn't mean he didn't still belong to him. Cas was his and no one else would play with him without his permission.
~*~
Dean nearly spat out his words. "Troubling a good man? You just blew him away in front of your own people. Don't you think that freaked them out a little bit?" he demanded. This wasn't just cold, this was downright frigging Antarctic. Looking at his future self made him all the more determined to make sure he never ended up like this. He wouldn't let anything happen to Castiel. He wouldn't let himself degenerate into this grade A douchebag. No way in fucking hell. He'd crawl back into the pit before he'd end up like this.
He had never in his entire life wanted to kick the shit out of someone as much as he did now... and the irony of it all was that it was his own self he wanted to beat up! Seriously... Freud would lap this crap up. It'd be Freud's dream case. Dean shook his head and glowered at himself, wondering if he killed the future version of himself, would he still be okay back in 2009? Urgh... this was too weird.
"Oh, it's all my business, Chuckles. I AM you, and Castiel is my... our partner. So," he dropped his voice to a growl to match the one his other self was making, "this makes it very much my fucking business. And I just want to tell you this much - you're one sick puppy if you think that you can raise your hands to someone you supposedly love. If you chance that shit while I'm still here, I swear by Heaven, Hell and everything in between, I will make you the sorest, sorriest asshole in the world. And you know I can do it, so don't think I won't."
John Winchester would never have stood for his boys beating on someone they loved. Hell, Dean would have kicked the crap out of Sammy if he had so much as looked crooked at Jessica. It made no difference that this was himself he was threatening. He was god-damn lucky that he wasn't using all those interesting techniques Alistair had taught him in Hell, and using them to their fullest extent.
"If Dad could see you now... He'd never have sold his soul to keep us alive. He'd have let us die," Dean spat at himself. "Hope you're frigging proud of that, asshole."
~*~
For fuck sake, could the man just let it go, for the love of god...
"It's 2014. Plugging some crote --it's called commonplace. Trading words with my friggin' clone -- that might have freaked them out a little" he spat at him and growled. Yeah he really didn't need this right now, and never mind what he was saying before about eating and sleeping. He knew exactly where he was going next... and that was to teach his 'lover' a thing or too about opening his goddamn mouth.
"Listen, and listen good, cause I'm only gonna say this once." he said dangerously. "What happens between me and Cas is our problem, not your's. This is my time, not yours. Remember that and keep your place." He knew it would do no good, he could see it in his.. Dean's... fuck the other him, eyes and he knew it was gonna hurt, but he could give a fuck right now, the more the guy wailed on him, the more angry he got with Cas for bring this shit on him.
"So what you've still got some fucked up crush on the guy, go cry me a fucking river and get over it. Things are different now Dean, we're not in love with him anymore, and he sure as fuck ain't in love with us. You should be happy we got over what ever the fuck that was... because the truth man, that was some fucked up shit... I'm not gay, you're not gay, what the fuck we fall for a fucking male angel? You should be happy right now man"
He let his anger get the better of his mouth and ran with it like a stallion with the bit between his teeth. He knew it was gonna get him punched but fuck it, he didn't care, he could give as good as he got, and the way he saw it, he had five years of battle combat on his side to help him along that his other self didn't, walk in the park it should be then.
He was going to rise to the crack about his dad, but you know what, he didn't even care enough about that any more to say anything. If his dad had been here, he knew he'd have told Dean to keep doing what he was doin', kill Lucifer no matter the cost. And he sure as shit wouldn't have wanted no fairy boy faggot as a son either...
~*~
"So, what mission was so frigging important it meant you'd risk a so-called 'good man' for it. Not that you'd know a good man if it bit you in the ass, you sick sonofabitch..." Dean added in an undertone, hoping his future self would only hear the first part and not the last.
"It's my problem if I'm gonna turn into you, you fucking asshole!" Dean bellowed. "I'm going to do everything in my god-damn power to make sure that this future never happens, and no matter what the cost I'm going to see to it that I never become you. You remember what Dad said? A man's only as good as the things he does to his family -- and I'll be damned if Cas doesn't count as family."
"He's like a beaten dog in there, Dean! He's so broken it's a miracle he's still breathing, but all he wants is you to treat him the way you used to..." Dean felt pain welling in his chest, the memory of Castiel's tortured voice pleading with him to love him once more still fresh and caustic in his mind. Jesus Christ, he'd be lucky if he could ever forget that image, or at least think of it without wanting to cut out his own heart. "Castiel saved us, don't you remember that? He pulled us from the Pit, and put us back together afterwards, and this is how you fucking repay him." He looked sadly at his future self and said, bitterness etching every syllable, "You... you don't deserve him."
He sighed, and gritted his teeth. "Uh... since when are we homophobic? It was never about being gay, and you know it. It was always about him. I still love him, and I'm hopin' there's still some little spark of humanity left inside of you, because if there is, it means there's hope. It means I can go back to 2009 and not feel sick thinking about my future." He laughed bitterly, and looked hard at himself. Was he so broken that he didn't realise that Cas still loved him? Poor bastard. He was really far gone. "Course he still loves us. Christ, man! You think he'd be this torn up if it wasn't because we turned on him? Bobby would call us idjits if he could hear this. Fucking hell..."
He was so unbearably angry. Even Lilith had never pissed him off this much, and she had possessed children and committed atrocities in the name of Lucifer. At least she had the honesty to wear her evil openly. This man who at first glance seemed to be a defender of humanity had done some of the sickest shit Dean had seen happen on Earth, and still didn't see how wrong it was. If he didn't show even the tiniest scrap of remorse, if he didn't even look the slightest bit sorry... Dean was going to punch the living crap out of him.
~*~
Ok he really really didn't need this shit right now, especially from himself. "For fuck sake, when did you turn into a girl?" He snapped and then completely ignored all the other shit he went on with... because damned if it didn't cut a little too close to the bone. He really did not need to think about Cas or what he'd become. Or how it might somehow be his fault. And he really didn't need to think about what they'd used to have. Or that Cas had saved him. Course he remembered, how could he forget who had saved him from hell. Problem was, he really no longer cared, and he sure as fuck didn't see it as being saved anymore. All this bullshit would have never happened if he'd never been taken out of hell... At least that was his reasoning behind it right now, even if he knew deep down it was bullshit.
He snorted and glared at Dean. "Yeah right, he loves me, that's why he fucks any woman who will lower herself enough to crawl into his bed. Whatever man, I'm not talking about this shit with you."
He snapped and turned his attention back to something he was ok to talk about. He pulled out the colt and laid it on the table in front of them.
"Tomorrow, I'm gonna kill the devil" he said calmly as if it were the easiest thing in the world. No emotion, just cold determination. That was what he was now, a machine with one purpose and be damned anyone who got in his way.... even those he used to love.
~*~
"Since when did you turn into the biggest asshat since Zachariah?" Dean countered, his voice a feral snarl at this stage. A girl? Seriously? That was the best comeback he could cook up? Dean supposed it was because his future self was too busy trying to hide the fact that he was ashamed of himself, and if he wasn't... then Dean was going to make damn sure that he would be, and then he'd make him grovel on his knees for Castiel's forgiveness, and if he wouldn't, then Dean would just have to bitch slap him until he realised what a douche he was being.
"Am I really this stupid?" Dean asked incredulously. "You know what we're like - we fuck to make the pain go away. We do it so we don't have to think about Hell, and so before that it was because we needed some way to unwind after hunting. Why should Cas be any different? Hell, I'd say he's got more reasons than anyone to bury himself in women when the man he loves is a complete dick. Bet you've noticed he hasn't touched any other man than you. Man, you're a major dick." Dean crossed his arms huffily, too pissed off to keep talking about this.
He stood up straighter at the sight of the gun. He knew that gun's every inch by heart. It had saved his ass so many times, it had unlocked the gate to Hell, and it had been missing for longer than he cared to admit. "Is that the Colt?" Dean demanded, staring at it like it would fix all his problems. He wondered would it really kill the devil, or was it just another desperate hope.
"So how you planning on finding old Nick?" Dean went on. "Are your douchebag senses tingling when he gets too near?"
~*~
Dean glared and complete ignored everything the man was saying to him about Cas. He heard it, Oh yeah, he heard, but be fucked if he was going to have this conversation with some twisted fucked up old... young... fuck who knew, version of himself. Not going to happen thanks.
He snorted and raised the colt in front of him. "No it's a fucking rubber duck, what else would it be genius." he snapped wondering if the amount of hatred for this him was more or less than what he felt for himself right now.... More, definitely more...
He cleared his throat and shrugged. "I know where he's gonna be but that can wait till tonights meeting. Be here at twenty one hundred hours."
With that he downed his scotch and moved to put the colt somewhere safe, clearly telling the other him that they were done with his body language. Before turning back and glaring.
"And stay the hell way from Cas, I don't need you fucking with his head right now, putting stupid ideas in his head." he growled angrily, possessively, Cas was his and no one else's not even past him. Even if he didn't want the angel any more. Even if he hated him because every time he looked at Cas it reminded him of what it used to be like. Before this bullshit, and that was altogether too painful. And that just made him even angrier.
~*~
Dean listened to himself rabbit on like he knew it all, as though he were the king of what was left of the world, and found the rage was building, rather than dissipating. So, he had the Colt. Still didn't make him Superman or nothing. Killing Lucifer wasn't going to be no cakewalkm, especially not if the bastard had already all but won. It would most likely be a suicide mission, with maybe one or two survivors at the end, if even. Dean knew that, so his future self had to know it too... and yet he was still willing to go ahead with it.
"Twenty-one hundred hours, huh? Sure, I'll be there with freakin' bells on," Dean snarked.
He was ready to turn tail and leave until he made that comment about Cas. That was it. He had already turned to walk to the door, but after that crack about putting stupid ideas in his head, Dean was livid. More than livid, he was fucking insanely angry.
"Alright, that's it you sonofabitch!" he snarled, turning on his heels and lunging at his past self, hitting him full force in the face with his fist, and hard enough that pain blossomed white hot across his knuckles. "I think you fucked with his head plenty enough already..." Dean said with a sneer, and stormed out of the cabin in fine fettle.
~*~
TBC
AN: Ok so future!dean is a complete asshole in this I know, but it was needed for the storyline. And honestly, we all saw in the ep that future!Dean was all broke inside, I just fed off that and put it on steroids somewhat :D
There will be more happiness coming soon I promise, so just bare with me folks :D
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