FIC: ripples in the river of time [1/4]
Title: ripples in the river of time
Author: Miss ‘Drea/placeofinsanity
Rating: Hard R (for sexual content)
Word Count: ~17,300
Summary: Set just after the end of Season 3, pre-Season 4. And just after “Serenity”. Castiel pulls Dean out of Hell, expecting the elder Winchester to become the pawn he’s supposed to. Instead, Dean wakes up on Serenity with no memories. Sam moves heaven and earth to find him.
Disclaimer: Firefly/Serenity and Supernatural don’t belong to me.
Notes: Title from “Time-Travel” by Indira Babbellapati
| Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |
*
at that fateful moment
when my first breath set
ripples in the river of time
i made an invisible pact
with the unseen time
the gentleman's agreement
also included:
floods
whirlpools
by-passes
locks
the keys of which
are never to be found
- “Time-Travel”, Indira Babbellapati
*
| 1 |
*
There’s a voice echoing around him, speaking a language he doesn’t understand. He can’t open his eyes and he knows that something is very, very wrong. Where is Sammy? Where is Sammy?! He can dimly hear a voice saying, “What, again?” but it’s unfamiliar and not his brother. His eyes won’t open, and he strains against the hands holding him to try to rub his face. There are other voices now, some shouting, but it just adds to the din.
When he finally gets his hands free and rubs at his eyes, they feel sticky, like they’re covered in blood. He has no idea what’s going on; none of the voices sounds like Sam. Who is he? Where is he? Of course, that’s when all the memories come back and Dean starts screaming.
There’s a sharp pain in his neck a second later, and his voice cuts out as he passes out into blessed darkness. But with darkness, there is dreaming, and where there’s dreaming, there is Hell.
He floats in suspension, screams echoing in the cavern made of flesh that surrounds him. When he opens his eyes, there are faces caught in the walls, stretched and twisted into screams of pain that are frozen with death. Black eye sockets peer out from them, eyes alight with malicious glee as they survey the wasteland they encompass. “Sammy!” Dean screams. “Sammy, help me!”
A high-pitched laugh answers him and Dean cranes his bloody head to look up at the largest face. “No one is coming for you, Deano,” the voice says, still laughing its skin-crawling laugh. “You are here all alone, your own private Hell!” It cackles again and Dean shudders. “Welcome to the Seventh Circle of Hell, Dean Michael Winchester, reserved for betrayers, murderers, and brother-fuckers.”
Dean closes his eyes as his bonds begin to move. They slide up his body to cover his nose and mouth and when he gasps, lungs straining to breathe, something fills his mouth, sliding down his throat. It takes him a moment to realize it’s boneless human flesh and he struggles to choke it out, biting down, blunt teeth sliding uselessly over it. The voice laughs again. “Don’t struggle, Deano. Just give in,” the voice whispers. “Just give in and it will all be over.”
The flesh in his mouth recedes and he spits, choking and coughing. His eyes water salty tears that dry the minute they land on his bloody cheeks. “Never,” he says hoarsely. “I will never give in.”
He hears movement, and braces for the invasive bond again. When it doesn’t happen, he opens his eyes to see that the stretched-out face in the ceiling has slid down the ribbons of skin holding the prison together and is now hovering inches above Dean’s own.
The face is Sam’s, but the voice is Alastair’s. “Oh, Dean,” he says tenderly, “that’s what they all say.”
Dean wakes up with the cold dead eyes of his brother at the forefront of his mind.
*
He’s in a hospital, he can tell by the smell. But there’s no beeping to signify a heart monitor, and he has no idea what the hell is going on. “You might as well open your eyes,” a dry, uninflected voice says. “I can tell you’re awake.”
Dean opens his eyes and sees the most pretty-boy doctor he’s ever seen. “Wh-?” he tries to say, but his throat is so dry he starts coughing. The doctor is there instantly with a glass of water. Once Dean’s swallowed some he tries again. “Where am I?”
“You’re on a ship,” the doctor says quietly. “Serenity. We’re currently headed for Alexandria,” he adds. “Any ideas why you were in that box?”
Dean licks his lips, feeling dried-out and lost. “I... I was dead.”
The doctor looks faintly surprised. “No no, the cryogenic box is only supposed to simulate death, it actually keeps you alive. You must be very important for someone to keep you alive like that.”
Dean blinks at him. “You know,” he says with a touch of humor, “I think you said words but I have no idea what you just said.”
“I feel like that all the time,” another unfamiliar voice says. Dean’s eyes fly to the doorway to see another man standing there. He wears suspenders and a red shirt and... cowboy boots. That explains the twang in his speech. “I’m Captain Mal Reynolds, and that there is our doctor, Simon Tam. Who might you be?”
Sitting up, Dean looks around the small room. “I’m Dean Winchester.”
“Like the gun?” Captain Mal Reynolds asks, with a small smile.
Dean nods. “Like the gun.”
“Well, we can drop you off when we get to Alexandria,” the Captain says slowly. “Unless you’re the cargo we’re supposed to give to Georgia.”
“I... have no idea what you’re talking about.” Dean frowns. “Who’s Georgia? And where is Alexandria?”
“It’s a small moon off the Persephone quadrant, good for rural work, like farming.”
“I’m sorry, a moon?” Dean repeats, “A moon?”
In the end, there are only two things that Dean Winchester knows about the world. His own name, and his brother Sammy’s face.
He’s also pretty sure that there’s no space travel where he’s from.
*
His first look out the porthole of Serenity ends with Dean flat on his ass on the floor, hyperventilating and sweating. He’s babbling about cars, and about his baby, and he knows that he should absolutely not be looking out the window at space. The Captain takes one look at him and hands him over to Simon, the doctor. “I wash my hands of the crazy folk,” he declares as he walks away. “Because that boy is bootai jung-tzahng duh.” [1]
Simon and someone else kneel by his side, but Dean’s eyes are on the stars. “Hey,” a quiet female voice says. “Dean, right?” A girl with red hair sits in front of him, blocking his view of the endless stars. “Hi,” she says, with a kind smile. “I’m Kaylee.”
He blinks. She’s close enough that he can smell her, and it’s so familiar he actually focuses on her. She smells like machine oil, like the Impala. “You’re a mechanic,” he says woodenly. Her smile widens, taking her from merely pretty to beautiful.
“I am! I’m Serenity’s mechanic. Do you like machines? I could show you her engines.”
The doctor interrupts her, with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea yet, Kaylee. He’s just recovered from a severe shock.”
“I’m okay,” Dean says automatically. “I’ll be fine. I just... it’s just... it’s all new.”
He’s miserable with it, and looks to the left for the brother that isn’t there. Kaylee and Simon help him to his feet, and then the lady mechanic takes him to the belly of the ship, where the low hum of the engines lulls him into peace, then finally into sleep.
The peace doesn’t last long however, and he opens his eyes to darkness and blood. He’s not suspended in bloody human flesh anymore; instead he’s chained by his wrists to a stone ceiling, feet barely touching the ground. There’s a man in front of him with a long, wickedly curved blade.
“Ah, you’re awake,” the insidious voice says. “Humans are so fragile, they die so easily.” He strokes Dean’s cheek with his blade. “We’re starting to take bets, Deano. How long you can handle it until you die again.” Everything flashes with more pain as the dagger draws designs down his chest and side. “I think I’ve hit my artist phrase,” Alastair says gleefully. “I’m getting pretty good at this one.”
Against his better judgment, Dean glances down his chest to see a likeness of Sammy’s face dripping blood down his pale skin. “Sammy,” he breathes.
“Yes, Sammy,” Alastair whispers in his ear. “The reason you’re here.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. Dean looks up at his tormentor and snarls, “You’re wrong.”
Alastair grins. “You’re young yet, Dean. It’s only been one Eternity. You have one hundred and fifty left to go.”
The blade flashes again and Dean is gone, swept away on a wave of blood and screaming.
He cracks heads with Kaylee when he sits up. She thumps back onto the grating of the floor with a grunt. “Oh shit,” he says, and scrambles to help her up. “I am so sorry.”
Ruefully, she rubs her forehead with the back of one hand. “You sure pack a wallop,” she says, but she’s smiling. “Are you all right? Seemed like one hell of a dream.”
Dean frowns. “Yeah, I... don’t remember.” Just that there was blood and his brother. If his dreams contain that... then he thinks maybe it’s a good thing he can’t remember where he comes from.
All he knows is that the dreams hurt like hell.
*
It takes a week for him to get acclimated to the ship and her strange collection of crew members. Simon is the one he’s spent the most time with, followed by Kaylee. He’d realized right off that they were an item and it was hands-off the lady mechanic. Simon’s bright eyes write the words in the air whenever Dean gets too close.
He can add that to the list of things he knows about himself. His name is Dean Winchester, his brother is Sammy (presumably Sammy Winchester), he has a thing for engines and cars, and he’s a bit of a flirt.
The Captain is more of an enigma to him. Wherever he goes, the Captain seems to follow. Dean figures it’s a trust thing, but it’s freaking him out. He adds that to the list too.
He’s a bit of a flirt, and also, paranoid.
Then there’s the first mate, or the second in command. Her name is Zoe and she doesn’t talk much. She’s tall, as tall as Dean, and black, with long curly hair that seems at odds with her forceful personality. There’s a story there, in the way she looks sad when she’s in the cockpit of the ship, and in the toy dinosaurs at the console. No one moves them and Dean doesn’t want to ask. Another thing for the list.
Paranoid and also, cautionary. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.
The ship has a Merc on it, too. His name is Jayne - that’s with a y - and Dean makes the mistake of asking why he’s named after a girl. Jayne is also very strong and Dean’s nose regrets his lack of brain-to-mouth filter. At least Simon laughs when Dean tells him why his face is so broken.
Then there’s Simon’s sister, River. She’s a gorgeous little thing who rarely wears shoes and fights like a demon. She knows things she shouldn’t and reminds him of Sammy, if Sammy were a girl. She stares at him a lot, just like the Captain does, and the first thing she ever says to him is, “You’re in his gut.”
Dean doesn’t ask who or what she’s talking about. She pats him on the cheek, avoiding his black eye - still slow to heal from Jayne’s punch - and drifts off.
After all that, it’s easy enough. Dean has nowhere to go, and they’re short a crew member. Three, actually, but Dean can only do so much.
He likes learning the stories, anyway.
*
“Quiet down,” the Captain said as everyone assembles in the kitchen area. “This here is Dean, which you already know as he’s been here a week or more. He ain’t got nowhere else to go, and we’re shy a member or three so he’s stayin’ til he remembers what he’s supposed to be doin’.”
“You sure that’s a good idea, Cap’n?” It’s Jayne who speaks up and Dean isn’t surprised. He bares his teeth at the Merc. “We don’t know who or what he is.”
“Hey!” Dean barks. “I’m human, same as you!”
Jayne ignores him and Kaylee pats Dean on the arm. “We’re due to land on Alexandria tomorrow morning, planet time, and we can get him fitted out and not looking so gorram strange,” the Captain continues as though no one had interrupted him. “River, take the cockpit. This here meeting is adjourned.”
Kaylee turns to Dean as soon as the others filter out of the room. “You need a few lessons before you’re fit to go out into the ‘Verse,” she says, smiling. “How’s your Chinese?”
Dean blinks. “Uh. Nonexistent.”
A worried look briefly crosses over her face. “Fahng-sheen,” she says. “I can teach you.” [2]
*
“Okay, we’ll go with the basics,” Kaylee says, pulling out a book out from under a chair. “You don’t need to know the other stuff yet.”
Frowning, Dean settles next to her. “Other stuff?” he repeats. “Other stuff like what?”
“Like bad language,” she says, grinning. “Stuff like, shun sheng duh gao wahn. Or... guh jun hwoon dahn.”
Dean shakes his head. “And all that gibberish meant...?” he prompts.
“The first one meant ‘holy testicle Tuesday!’ which is a favorite saying of Jayne’s. The other is Zoe’s... it means, ‘a real bastard’. But you really need to know stuff that’s basic first.” She laughs at his crestfallen expression. “You can learn that stuff later.”
“So then, what’s first?”
Kaylee starts writing characters on the paper in front of her. “This says ‘dong ma’. It means ‘All right?’ or ‘Understood.’ It usually comes up at the end of a sentence. Like... ‘Go fix that engine before we fall out of the sky, dong ma?’ Here, I’ll write it down like you’d say it.” She keeps writing phrases as he watches her. [3]
“How long have you and Simon been together, dong ma?” he asks her with a boyish grin.
She’s laughing even as she flushes prettily. “Not quite right, but good try. And your pronunciation was good too. Good job!”
“You gonna answer the question, lady?” Dean teases gently, nudging her with his shoulder
“Almost six months now.” She smiles to herself, and tucks a strand of red hair behind one ear. “I’d almost given up, you know?”
Dean laughs a little hollowly. “Yeah, I got you.” He thinks of a woman with long black hair and a man with miles of golden skin. “I definitely understand that.” He can’t remember who they are, but he knows he loved them with everything he had.
Kaylee shakes herself. “Sorry, here’s the list. On it is dong ma and yes, no, thank you, you’re welcome, and so on.”
He stands up, reading the list carefully. “Thanks, Kaylee.”
She beams at him. “Fahng-sheen,” she answers.
“What’s that mean?”
She thinks for a second. “It means no worries.”
Dean frowns for a second, repeating it to himself before nodding and walking back to his bunk. ‘No worries.’ That particular phrase sounds familiar, but he can’t quite figure out where he’s heard it before.
*
He’s given his own bunk, his own area. It’s a little dusty, like no one has used it before. It’s River who follows him down, moving more quietly than he thought could be possible. She flicks on the light switch and smiles when he jumps. “This used to be Shepherd Book’s room,” she says quietly.
“What’s a Shepherd Book?” Dean asks, his voice just as quiet.
“He was a Preacher-Man,” she responds. “He had too much hair.”
It’s incongruous to his mental image and he laughs. “What happened to him?”
The easy smile fades from her face. “He died.”
Dean winces. “I’m sorry.”
River gazes at him with sad eyes that seem to look straight through him. “You’ve seen loss,” she says. “More loss than you remember seeing.”
“I don’t remember,” he agrees. “I want to.”
River’s eyes seem to age right before him. “No,” she whispers. “You don’t.” She pats his shoulder on her way up the ladder. “You’ll fit in here.”
Dean turns to look at the empty room. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Maybe.”
He lies down in the bed, his body heavy with exhaustion. It was hard to sleep in the infirmary. Maybe now he’ll finally get some rest.
As soon as he closes his eyes, he’s back in the room. The rack sits before him, slick with blood and other bodily fluids. He’s sitting on the floor, but he’s not sure how he got there. “Dean, Dean, Dean...” a voice says. It sounds strange, normal. Human. He looks up to see a man with dark hair and apple cheeks when he smiles. “At least you still remember your name,” the mystery man comments.
“Who...” His voice is so hoarse that he has to clear his throat a few times. “Who are you?”
The man, well-dressed and with strain around his black-on-black eyes, crouches down in front of him. “My name is Crowley.”
As far gone as he is, Dean has to laugh. “Crowley?”
The demon smiles. “I get around.”
“Why are you here?”
Crowley smiles brightly. “I had to come visit. I had to see.” He leans forward and pats Dean’s cheek. “What kind of man are you, Dean Winchester? Are you going to give in? Are you going to take up your master’s knife, Dean?”
Lips curling back in a snarl, Dean lunges at the demon, who still looks like a human. “He will never be my master.”
“Ah...” Crowley murmurs, holding Dean back easily. “Now I know what kind of man you are. Hold on, Dean Winchester. Remember this conversation.”
Crowley is gone then, and Dean wakes up.
*
It’s late, even by space standards, when Dean finally gives up on falling back to sleep. He pulls down the sink in his bunk to splash his face with icy cold water that smells very strongly of chlorine. It reminds him of the pool in high school, and he has a brief moment where he can see Sammy in swim trunks sitting on a tile edge. He wipes his face and the memory fades, leaving him more unsettled than ever.
He climbs up the ladder to the hall, making his way to the kitchen for something to drink. Jayne’s already laid claim to the table, his numerous guns lying about in something that resembles contained chaos. “Sorry,” Dean grunts.
Jayne looks at him for a long moment, and hands him a gun. “This is Mary-Anne,” he says, voice quiet. “She was my first girl. Know how to handle a firearm?”
Dean’s mind has no idea but his hands certainly seem to. He takes apart the common pistol and picks up an oily cloth to start cleaning it. “I reckon so,” Dean says, just as quietly. He rubs the cloth over the pins and pieces strewn about him. “I remember doing this. The guns I remember look different though.”
Jayne shrugs one shoulder. “Each sector has a different style. Mal favors older-style guns. Zoe favors shotguns, and River... well, River favors her fists. And sometimes knives.”
Dean shoots him a look. “What do you favor?”
He smiles. “Grenades.”
Dean laughs, long and loud in the silent and still kitchen. “Where are we headed now?” he asks after a short silence as he puts Mary-Anne back together.
“Persephone,” Jayne answers, handing him another gun. “This one is Colette. She’s fancy.”
‘Colette’ takes Dean longer to figure out how to take apart; there seem to be lasers involved in this one, and that’s just outside his realm of knowledge. “What’s on Persephone?”
Grimacing, Jayne answers. “Badger. He has a job for us. I told Mal not to take it, because Badger always chur ni us over.”
“Wait, what does that mean?” Dean interrupts before Jayne can continue.
“Screw. He always screws us over.” Jayne puts down the gun in his hands and picks up a new one. “But a job is a job, right?”
Dean doesn’t remember much, but he figures Jayne isn’t far off the mark.
*
The job on Alexandria doesn’t exactly go as planned, which Dean figures is something that happens pretty often. The four crew members who go are the Captain, Zoe, Jayne, and surprisingly enough, Simon. The cargo is medicine, and as Simon is a doctor, they’ll trust the cargo from him more than anyone else.
Thankfully, once they’re on the planet, no one asks about the cryogenic box. “That’s about the only thing that went right,” Zoe explains as they rush Simon into the infirmary. “The Cap’n,” she says, shooting him a dark look, “pissed off Georgia.”
Simon groans. “Remind me why I got in the way again?” he mumbles, head lolling.
Dean can hear River shouting somewhere in the background, her brother’s name and other gibberish. Kaylee keeps her back, and Zoe says, “Doctor, I ain’t sewing you up again. Why do you always gotta be the one who gets shot?”
But Simon’s passed out and Dean gently moves Zoe, the Captain, and Jayne out of the way and picks up the emergency kit that is always laid out before a job. He strips Simon’s shirt off and splashes disinfectant on the wound, cleaning it off efficiently with a clean cloth.
“Dean?” Kaylee whispers, but he ignores her in favor of threading the needle.
“I used to do this for Sammy,” he says quietly, taking the forceps that Zoe hands him. With quick, concise movements, he pulls out the bullet. “Not so much with bullets, but with knife wounds. Claw marks.” He starts sewing the wound with small stitches, mindful of the crew watching him.
With each stitch, he feels more connected to the crew than ever. He’s not just part of the cargo. He’s one of them now.
“Where’d you serve?” Jayne asks, when Dean finally lays the needle to rest.
“Hell,” Dean answers. “I served in Hell.”
*
After Simon gets shot, Dean spends a week begging the Captain to let him off Serenity and go with the landing party to Persephone. Jayne is going, and the Captain himself, of course, and Zoe. It isn’t that Dean doesn’t like the ship, or the people staying behind, but he’s going stir crazy and he wants to move.
The Captain says no right up until he’s about to walk off the ship and leave Dean behind. “You should take him with you,” River says, from somewhere above them. “He can help.”
“I should? He will?” Reynolds says skeptically. “You’re certain?” She gives him a look and the Captain sighs. “Get your gear, Winchester.”
Dean practically runs to his bunk to get the gun that Jayne let him have - Mary-Anne, he called her - and his hat and jacket. He meets them back in the hold in record time and River winks at him as he follows the others out onto the planet.
This place is much bigger and busier than Alexandria, even though they’re in the same general area. From reading some of the old ship’s logs, Dean has gathered that Persephone is kind of a home base for them, where they get most of their guns, parts, and jobs from. It’s familiar, like Sioux Falls.
Sioux Falls?
Dean blinks and has to hurry to catch up. They walk into a small enclosed area with lots of light and men with much larger guns than they have. “Anyone else have a bad feeling?” he asks, voice pitched low.
Zoe looks back at him and nods once. Something is definitely going to go down and Dean can’t wait to start shooting.
That is, until a very familiar voice starts talking. Dean’s head jerks up and turns to look at -
“Badger!” the Captain says with false joviality. “Long time no see.”
“Mal,” he replies. “I heard you was in town.”
Dean steps around Jayne to look into an equally familiar face. “Crowley,” he says clearly, the name ripped from his vocal chords and from his memories, though the Crowley in those is well-dressed and coifed. This Crowley looks like the King of the Underworld. It’s probably a step up.
Badger draws back in shock, nearly toppling over the chair. “Dean Winchester!”
That of course gets everyone’s attention. “You know him?” Jayne and the Captain say together.
“This is where you ended up?” Crowley/Badger says incredulously. “Do you know how long we looked for you? Your brother nearly went insane trying to find you.”
“Sammy?” Dean repeats, because he knows this man and he knows he’s a demon but he’s not... it’s not like he remembers. “He contacted you?”
Crowley/Badger grins and waves a hand. “Don’t worry, Dean, I didn’t take his soul. We had a vested interest in finding yours, though.”
The Captain slams a hand on the nearest table, the loud bang getting everyone’s attention. “What the gorram hell is going on here?” he says, dangerously quiet.
Author: Miss ‘Drea/placeofinsanity
Rating: Hard R (for sexual content)
Word Count: ~17,300
Summary: Set just after the end of Season 3, pre-Season 4. And just after “Serenity”. Castiel pulls Dean out of Hell, expecting the elder Winchester to become the pawn he’s supposed to. Instead, Dean wakes up on Serenity with no memories. Sam moves heaven and earth to find him.
Disclaimer: Firefly/Serenity and Supernatural don’t belong to me.
Notes: Title from “Time-Travel” by Indira Babbellapati
| Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |
*
at that fateful moment
when my first breath set
ripples in the river of time
i made an invisible pact
with the unseen time
the gentleman's agreement
also included:
floods
whirlpools
by-passes
locks
the keys of which
are never to be found
- “Time-Travel”, Indira Babbellapati
*
| 1 |
*
There’s a voice echoing around him, speaking a language he doesn’t understand. He can’t open his eyes and he knows that something is very, very wrong. Where is Sammy? Where is Sammy?! He can dimly hear a voice saying, “What, again?” but it’s unfamiliar and not his brother. His eyes won’t open, and he strains against the hands holding him to try to rub his face. There are other voices now, some shouting, but it just adds to the din.
When he finally gets his hands free and rubs at his eyes, they feel sticky, like they’re covered in blood. He has no idea what’s going on; none of the voices sounds like Sam. Who is he? Where is he? Of course, that’s when all the memories come back and Dean starts screaming.
There’s a sharp pain in his neck a second later, and his voice cuts out as he passes out into blessed darkness. But with darkness, there is dreaming, and where there’s dreaming, there is Hell.
He floats in suspension, screams echoing in the cavern made of flesh that surrounds him. When he opens his eyes, there are faces caught in the walls, stretched and twisted into screams of pain that are frozen with death. Black eye sockets peer out from them, eyes alight with malicious glee as they survey the wasteland they encompass. “Sammy!” Dean screams. “Sammy, help me!”
A high-pitched laugh answers him and Dean cranes his bloody head to look up at the largest face. “No one is coming for you, Deano,” the voice says, still laughing its skin-crawling laugh. “You are here all alone, your own private Hell!” It cackles again and Dean shudders. “Welcome to the Seventh Circle of Hell, Dean Michael Winchester, reserved for betrayers, murderers, and brother-fuckers.”
Dean closes his eyes as his bonds begin to move. They slide up his body to cover his nose and mouth and when he gasps, lungs straining to breathe, something fills his mouth, sliding down his throat. It takes him a moment to realize it’s boneless human flesh and he struggles to choke it out, biting down, blunt teeth sliding uselessly over it. The voice laughs again. “Don’t struggle, Deano. Just give in,” the voice whispers. “Just give in and it will all be over.”
The flesh in his mouth recedes and he spits, choking and coughing. His eyes water salty tears that dry the minute they land on his bloody cheeks. “Never,” he says hoarsely. “I will never give in.”
He hears movement, and braces for the invasive bond again. When it doesn’t happen, he opens his eyes to see that the stretched-out face in the ceiling has slid down the ribbons of skin holding the prison together and is now hovering inches above Dean’s own.
The face is Sam’s, but the voice is Alastair’s. “Oh, Dean,” he says tenderly, “that’s what they all say.”
Dean wakes up with the cold dead eyes of his brother at the forefront of his mind.
*
He’s in a hospital, he can tell by the smell. But there’s no beeping to signify a heart monitor, and he has no idea what the hell is going on. “You might as well open your eyes,” a dry, uninflected voice says. “I can tell you’re awake.”
Dean opens his eyes and sees the most pretty-boy doctor he’s ever seen. “Wh-?” he tries to say, but his throat is so dry he starts coughing. The doctor is there instantly with a glass of water. Once Dean’s swallowed some he tries again. “Where am I?”
“You’re on a ship,” the doctor says quietly. “Serenity. We’re currently headed for Alexandria,” he adds. “Any ideas why you were in that box?”
Dean licks his lips, feeling dried-out and lost. “I... I was dead.”
The doctor looks faintly surprised. “No no, the cryogenic box is only supposed to simulate death, it actually keeps you alive. You must be very important for someone to keep you alive like that.”
Dean blinks at him. “You know,” he says with a touch of humor, “I think you said words but I have no idea what you just said.”
“I feel like that all the time,” another unfamiliar voice says. Dean’s eyes fly to the doorway to see another man standing there. He wears suspenders and a red shirt and... cowboy boots. That explains the twang in his speech. “I’m Captain Mal Reynolds, and that there is our doctor, Simon Tam. Who might you be?”
Sitting up, Dean looks around the small room. “I’m Dean Winchester.”
“Like the gun?” Captain Mal Reynolds asks, with a small smile.
Dean nods. “Like the gun.”
“Well, we can drop you off when we get to Alexandria,” the Captain says slowly. “Unless you’re the cargo we’re supposed to give to Georgia.”
“I... have no idea what you’re talking about.” Dean frowns. “Who’s Georgia? And where is Alexandria?”
“It’s a small moon off the Persephone quadrant, good for rural work, like farming.”
“I’m sorry, a moon?” Dean repeats, “A moon?”
In the end, there are only two things that Dean Winchester knows about the world. His own name, and his brother Sammy’s face.
He’s also pretty sure that there’s no space travel where he’s from.
*
His first look out the porthole of Serenity ends with Dean flat on his ass on the floor, hyperventilating and sweating. He’s babbling about cars, and about his baby, and he knows that he should absolutely not be looking out the window at space. The Captain takes one look at him and hands him over to Simon, the doctor. “I wash my hands of the crazy folk,” he declares as he walks away. “Because that boy is bootai jung-tzahng duh.” [1]
Simon and someone else kneel by his side, but Dean’s eyes are on the stars. “Hey,” a quiet female voice says. “Dean, right?” A girl with red hair sits in front of him, blocking his view of the endless stars. “Hi,” she says, with a kind smile. “I’m Kaylee.”
He blinks. She’s close enough that he can smell her, and it’s so familiar he actually focuses on her. She smells like machine oil, like the Impala. “You’re a mechanic,” he says woodenly. Her smile widens, taking her from merely pretty to beautiful.
“I am! I’m Serenity’s mechanic. Do you like machines? I could show you her engines.”
The doctor interrupts her, with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea yet, Kaylee. He’s just recovered from a severe shock.”
“I’m okay,” Dean says automatically. “I’ll be fine. I just... it’s just... it’s all new.”
He’s miserable with it, and looks to the left for the brother that isn’t there. Kaylee and Simon help him to his feet, and then the lady mechanic takes him to the belly of the ship, where the low hum of the engines lulls him into peace, then finally into sleep.
The peace doesn’t last long however, and he opens his eyes to darkness and blood. He’s not suspended in bloody human flesh anymore; instead he’s chained by his wrists to a stone ceiling, feet barely touching the ground. There’s a man in front of him with a long, wickedly curved blade.
“Ah, you’re awake,” the insidious voice says. “Humans are so fragile, they die so easily.” He strokes Dean’s cheek with his blade. “We’re starting to take bets, Deano. How long you can handle it until you die again.” Everything flashes with more pain as the dagger draws designs down his chest and side. “I think I’ve hit my artist phrase,” Alastair says gleefully. “I’m getting pretty good at this one.”
Against his better judgment, Dean glances down his chest to see a likeness of Sammy’s face dripping blood down his pale skin. “Sammy,” he breathes.
“Yes, Sammy,” Alastair whispers in his ear. “The reason you’re here.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. Dean looks up at his tormentor and snarls, “You’re wrong.”
Alastair grins. “You’re young yet, Dean. It’s only been one Eternity. You have one hundred and fifty left to go.”
The blade flashes again and Dean is gone, swept away on a wave of blood and screaming.
He cracks heads with Kaylee when he sits up. She thumps back onto the grating of the floor with a grunt. “Oh shit,” he says, and scrambles to help her up. “I am so sorry.”
Ruefully, she rubs her forehead with the back of one hand. “You sure pack a wallop,” she says, but she’s smiling. “Are you all right? Seemed like one hell of a dream.”
Dean frowns. “Yeah, I... don’t remember.” Just that there was blood and his brother. If his dreams contain that... then he thinks maybe it’s a good thing he can’t remember where he comes from.
All he knows is that the dreams hurt like hell.
*
It takes a week for him to get acclimated to the ship and her strange collection of crew members. Simon is the one he’s spent the most time with, followed by Kaylee. He’d realized right off that they were an item and it was hands-off the lady mechanic. Simon’s bright eyes write the words in the air whenever Dean gets too close.
He can add that to the list of things he knows about himself. His name is Dean Winchester, his brother is Sammy (presumably Sammy Winchester), he has a thing for engines and cars, and he’s a bit of a flirt.
The Captain is more of an enigma to him. Wherever he goes, the Captain seems to follow. Dean figures it’s a trust thing, but it’s freaking him out. He adds that to the list too.
He’s a bit of a flirt, and also, paranoid.
Then there’s the first mate, or the second in command. Her name is Zoe and she doesn’t talk much. She’s tall, as tall as Dean, and black, with long curly hair that seems at odds with her forceful personality. There’s a story there, in the way she looks sad when she’s in the cockpit of the ship, and in the toy dinosaurs at the console. No one moves them and Dean doesn’t want to ask. Another thing for the list.
Paranoid and also, cautionary. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.
The ship has a Merc on it, too. His name is Jayne - that’s with a y - and Dean makes the mistake of asking why he’s named after a girl. Jayne is also very strong and Dean’s nose regrets his lack of brain-to-mouth filter. At least Simon laughs when Dean tells him why his face is so broken.
Then there’s Simon’s sister, River. She’s a gorgeous little thing who rarely wears shoes and fights like a demon. She knows things she shouldn’t and reminds him of Sammy, if Sammy were a girl. She stares at him a lot, just like the Captain does, and the first thing she ever says to him is, “You’re in his gut.”
Dean doesn’t ask who or what she’s talking about. She pats him on the cheek, avoiding his black eye - still slow to heal from Jayne’s punch - and drifts off.
After all that, it’s easy enough. Dean has nowhere to go, and they’re short a crew member. Three, actually, but Dean can only do so much.
He likes learning the stories, anyway.
*
“Quiet down,” the Captain said as everyone assembles in the kitchen area. “This here is Dean, which you already know as he’s been here a week or more. He ain’t got nowhere else to go, and we’re shy a member or three so he’s stayin’ til he remembers what he’s supposed to be doin’.”
“You sure that’s a good idea, Cap’n?” It’s Jayne who speaks up and Dean isn’t surprised. He bares his teeth at the Merc. “We don’t know who or what he is.”
“Hey!” Dean barks. “I’m human, same as you!”
Jayne ignores him and Kaylee pats Dean on the arm. “We’re due to land on Alexandria tomorrow morning, planet time, and we can get him fitted out and not looking so gorram strange,” the Captain continues as though no one had interrupted him. “River, take the cockpit. This here meeting is adjourned.”
Kaylee turns to Dean as soon as the others filter out of the room. “You need a few lessons before you’re fit to go out into the ‘Verse,” she says, smiling. “How’s your Chinese?”
Dean blinks. “Uh. Nonexistent.”
A worried look briefly crosses over her face. “Fahng-sheen,” she says. “I can teach you.” [2]
*
“Okay, we’ll go with the basics,” Kaylee says, pulling out a book out from under a chair. “You don’t need to know the other stuff yet.”
Frowning, Dean settles next to her. “Other stuff?” he repeats. “Other stuff like what?”
“Like bad language,” she says, grinning. “Stuff like, shun sheng duh gao wahn. Or... guh jun hwoon dahn.”
Dean shakes his head. “And all that gibberish meant...?” he prompts.
“The first one meant ‘holy testicle Tuesday!’ which is a favorite saying of Jayne’s. The other is Zoe’s... it means, ‘a real bastard’. But you really need to know stuff that’s basic first.” She laughs at his crestfallen expression. “You can learn that stuff later.”
“So then, what’s first?”
Kaylee starts writing characters on the paper in front of her. “This says ‘dong ma’. It means ‘All right?’ or ‘Understood.’ It usually comes up at the end of a sentence. Like... ‘Go fix that engine before we fall out of the sky, dong ma?’ Here, I’ll write it down like you’d say it.” She keeps writing phrases as he watches her. [3]
“How long have you and Simon been together, dong ma?” he asks her with a boyish grin.
She’s laughing even as she flushes prettily. “Not quite right, but good try. And your pronunciation was good too. Good job!”
“You gonna answer the question, lady?” Dean teases gently, nudging her with his shoulder
“Almost six months now.” She smiles to herself, and tucks a strand of red hair behind one ear. “I’d almost given up, you know?”
Dean laughs a little hollowly. “Yeah, I got you.” He thinks of a woman with long black hair and a man with miles of golden skin. “I definitely understand that.” He can’t remember who they are, but he knows he loved them with everything he had.
Kaylee shakes herself. “Sorry, here’s the list. On it is dong ma and yes, no, thank you, you’re welcome, and so on.”
He stands up, reading the list carefully. “Thanks, Kaylee.”
She beams at him. “Fahng-sheen,” she answers.
“What’s that mean?”
She thinks for a second. “It means no worries.”
Dean frowns for a second, repeating it to himself before nodding and walking back to his bunk. ‘No worries.’ That particular phrase sounds familiar, but he can’t quite figure out where he’s heard it before.
*
He’s given his own bunk, his own area. It’s a little dusty, like no one has used it before. It’s River who follows him down, moving more quietly than he thought could be possible. She flicks on the light switch and smiles when he jumps. “This used to be Shepherd Book’s room,” she says quietly.
“What’s a Shepherd Book?” Dean asks, his voice just as quiet.
“He was a Preacher-Man,” she responds. “He had too much hair.”
It’s incongruous to his mental image and he laughs. “What happened to him?”
The easy smile fades from her face. “He died.”
Dean winces. “I’m sorry.”
River gazes at him with sad eyes that seem to look straight through him. “You’ve seen loss,” she says. “More loss than you remember seeing.”
“I don’t remember,” he agrees. “I want to.”
River’s eyes seem to age right before him. “No,” she whispers. “You don’t.” She pats his shoulder on her way up the ladder. “You’ll fit in here.”
Dean turns to look at the empty room. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Maybe.”
He lies down in the bed, his body heavy with exhaustion. It was hard to sleep in the infirmary. Maybe now he’ll finally get some rest.
As soon as he closes his eyes, he’s back in the room. The rack sits before him, slick with blood and other bodily fluids. He’s sitting on the floor, but he’s not sure how he got there. “Dean, Dean, Dean...” a voice says. It sounds strange, normal. Human. He looks up to see a man with dark hair and apple cheeks when he smiles. “At least you still remember your name,” the mystery man comments.
“Who...” His voice is so hoarse that he has to clear his throat a few times. “Who are you?”
The man, well-dressed and with strain around his black-on-black eyes, crouches down in front of him. “My name is Crowley.”
As far gone as he is, Dean has to laugh. “Crowley?”
The demon smiles. “I get around.”
“Why are you here?”
Crowley smiles brightly. “I had to come visit. I had to see.” He leans forward and pats Dean’s cheek. “What kind of man are you, Dean Winchester? Are you going to give in? Are you going to take up your master’s knife, Dean?”
Lips curling back in a snarl, Dean lunges at the demon, who still looks like a human. “He will never be my master.”
“Ah...” Crowley murmurs, holding Dean back easily. “Now I know what kind of man you are. Hold on, Dean Winchester. Remember this conversation.”
Crowley is gone then, and Dean wakes up.
*
It’s late, even by space standards, when Dean finally gives up on falling back to sleep. He pulls down the sink in his bunk to splash his face with icy cold water that smells very strongly of chlorine. It reminds him of the pool in high school, and he has a brief moment where he can see Sammy in swim trunks sitting on a tile edge. He wipes his face and the memory fades, leaving him more unsettled than ever.
He climbs up the ladder to the hall, making his way to the kitchen for something to drink. Jayne’s already laid claim to the table, his numerous guns lying about in something that resembles contained chaos. “Sorry,” Dean grunts.
Jayne looks at him for a long moment, and hands him a gun. “This is Mary-Anne,” he says, voice quiet. “She was my first girl. Know how to handle a firearm?”
Dean’s mind has no idea but his hands certainly seem to. He takes apart the common pistol and picks up an oily cloth to start cleaning it. “I reckon so,” Dean says, just as quietly. He rubs the cloth over the pins and pieces strewn about him. “I remember doing this. The guns I remember look different though.”
Jayne shrugs one shoulder. “Each sector has a different style. Mal favors older-style guns. Zoe favors shotguns, and River... well, River favors her fists. And sometimes knives.”
Dean shoots him a look. “What do you favor?”
He smiles. “Grenades.”
Dean laughs, long and loud in the silent and still kitchen. “Where are we headed now?” he asks after a short silence as he puts Mary-Anne back together.
“Persephone,” Jayne answers, handing him another gun. “This one is Colette. She’s fancy.”
‘Colette’ takes Dean longer to figure out how to take apart; there seem to be lasers involved in this one, and that’s just outside his realm of knowledge. “What’s on Persephone?”
Grimacing, Jayne answers. “Badger. He has a job for us. I told Mal not to take it, because Badger always chur ni us over.”
“Wait, what does that mean?” Dean interrupts before Jayne can continue.
“Screw. He always screws us over.” Jayne puts down the gun in his hands and picks up a new one. “But a job is a job, right?”
Dean doesn’t remember much, but he figures Jayne isn’t far off the mark.
*
The job on Alexandria doesn’t exactly go as planned, which Dean figures is something that happens pretty often. The four crew members who go are the Captain, Zoe, Jayne, and surprisingly enough, Simon. The cargo is medicine, and as Simon is a doctor, they’ll trust the cargo from him more than anyone else.
Thankfully, once they’re on the planet, no one asks about the cryogenic box. “That’s about the only thing that went right,” Zoe explains as they rush Simon into the infirmary. “The Cap’n,” she says, shooting him a dark look, “pissed off Georgia.”
Simon groans. “Remind me why I got in the way again?” he mumbles, head lolling.
Dean can hear River shouting somewhere in the background, her brother’s name and other gibberish. Kaylee keeps her back, and Zoe says, “Doctor, I ain’t sewing you up again. Why do you always gotta be the one who gets shot?”
But Simon’s passed out and Dean gently moves Zoe, the Captain, and Jayne out of the way and picks up the emergency kit that is always laid out before a job. He strips Simon’s shirt off and splashes disinfectant on the wound, cleaning it off efficiently with a clean cloth.
“Dean?” Kaylee whispers, but he ignores her in favor of threading the needle.
“I used to do this for Sammy,” he says quietly, taking the forceps that Zoe hands him. With quick, concise movements, he pulls out the bullet. “Not so much with bullets, but with knife wounds. Claw marks.” He starts sewing the wound with small stitches, mindful of the crew watching him.
With each stitch, he feels more connected to the crew than ever. He’s not just part of the cargo. He’s one of them now.
“Where’d you serve?” Jayne asks, when Dean finally lays the needle to rest.
“Hell,” Dean answers. “I served in Hell.”
*
After Simon gets shot, Dean spends a week begging the Captain to let him off Serenity and go with the landing party to Persephone. Jayne is going, and the Captain himself, of course, and Zoe. It isn’t that Dean doesn’t like the ship, or the people staying behind, but he’s going stir crazy and he wants to move.
The Captain says no right up until he’s about to walk off the ship and leave Dean behind. “You should take him with you,” River says, from somewhere above them. “He can help.”
“I should? He will?” Reynolds says skeptically. “You’re certain?” She gives him a look and the Captain sighs. “Get your gear, Winchester.”
Dean practically runs to his bunk to get the gun that Jayne let him have - Mary-Anne, he called her - and his hat and jacket. He meets them back in the hold in record time and River winks at him as he follows the others out onto the planet.
This place is much bigger and busier than Alexandria, even though they’re in the same general area. From reading some of the old ship’s logs, Dean has gathered that Persephone is kind of a home base for them, where they get most of their guns, parts, and jobs from. It’s familiar, like Sioux Falls.
Sioux Falls?
Dean blinks and has to hurry to catch up. They walk into a small enclosed area with lots of light and men with much larger guns than they have. “Anyone else have a bad feeling?” he asks, voice pitched low.
Zoe looks back at him and nods once. Something is definitely going to go down and Dean can’t wait to start shooting.
That is, until a very familiar voice starts talking. Dean’s head jerks up and turns to look at -
“Badger!” the Captain says with false joviality. “Long time no see.”
“Mal,” he replies. “I heard you was in town.”
Dean steps around Jayne to look into an equally familiar face. “Crowley,” he says clearly, the name ripped from his vocal chords and from his memories, though the Crowley in those is well-dressed and coifed. This Crowley looks like the King of the Underworld. It’s probably a step up.
Badger draws back in shock, nearly toppling over the chair. “Dean Winchester!”
That of course gets everyone’s attention. “You know him?” Jayne and the Captain say together.
“This is where you ended up?” Crowley/Badger says incredulously. “Do you know how long we looked for you? Your brother nearly went insane trying to find you.”
“Sammy?” Dean repeats, because he knows this man and he knows he’s a demon but he’s not... it’s not like he remembers. “He contacted you?”
Crowley/Badger grins and waves a hand. “Don’t worry, Dean, I didn’t take his soul. We had a vested interest in finding yours, though.”
The Captain slams a hand on the nearest table, the loud bang getting everyone’s attention. “What the gorram hell is going on here?” he says, dangerously quiet.