Unexpected Destinies Chapter 42
Title: Unexpected Destinies
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: up to and including Exile on Main St., AU from the end of season 5
Warnings: AU, slash
Word Count: 2,480
Summary: What dreams may come... and reveal to us.
PAST
"I never loved you, you were my burden. I was shackled to you. Look what it got me."
Despite knowing that he was dreaming and that it wasn't really his mother standing before him, her eyes yellow, Dean flinched, the words cutting deep. He closed his own eyes, but couldn't block out the look of hate and disgust he'd seen on her face directed at him.
"And then, finally, I was dead. The one silver lining, is that at least I was away from you."
This time, Dean whimpered. He couldn't help it, knowing from past experience that covering his ears did nothing to stop the venomous diatribe from reaching him. In fact, nothing he did ever made any difference whatsoever, so it was useless to even try, something which went against every instinct he had. The thing was, he just didn't know if he could do anything, knowing how pointless it was when all he'd get for his efforts was more distain and scorn. His mind was more then ready and willing to add and expand upon what Zachariah had made the illusion of his mother say to him in Heaven.
If it had merely been an illusion, which he dearly hoped it was. The thing was, Dean just didn't know, not for sure. Yeah, Zachariah had claimed that it wasn't, but he knew the bastard would lie just to hurt him more. There was, however, the possibility that he hadn't been lying and that option ate away at him. The thought of that filthy bastard putting his paws on her... it was worse then anything an illusion of his mother could say to him. Alastair had taught him well how the power of truth could be used to hurt someone far more deeply then any lie ever could and he wouldn't put it past Zachariah to know about this as well. It was like the fact that demons lied, except when they didn't as they knew the truth would cut more deeply then anything they could invent.
"Everybody leaves you, Dean, you noticed? Mommy, Daddy, even Sam. Ever ask yourself why? Maybe it's not them, maybe, it's you."
The words were like bullets and Dean felt as if he were bleeding out here. He wished that he could curl himself up into a small ball and shut out the outside world and all of the pain and torment that came with it.
"Dean."
The new female voice made Dean turn to find Michael standing just a few feet away from him. The archangel looked angry, but for once he didn't think it was directed at him as the glare seemed to be focused on the dream version of his mother.
"Michael," Dean replied, grateful for the distraction.
"You should leave this."
"Yeah, see, it's called a nightmare and humans don't exactly have control over their dreams like that."
In the blink of an eye, the world had changed around them and Dean found himself standing in a small but cozy living room in what appeared to be a log cabin of some kind. The decor was definitely feminine, but he could detect more masculine touches worked in as well.
"Where are we?" Dean asked, not recognizing the place in the slightest.
"I am not entirely sure," Michael admitted. "It is a residual memory I got from Deirdre's mind. I thought this might be more comforting for you then something from my own experience."
"Oh."
The new knowledge made Dean take a second look around the place and he stepped closer to the fireplace to inspect the pictures frames atop it. Most of them were of Deirdre and a man that he could only assume was her husband. He felt a brief pang of regret for what the man must be going through right now, to have his wife's body simply disappear from the hospital right after whatever had happened to her. The fact that she'd still been on life support or had been kept alive despite being brain dead clearly said that he'd not yet given up hope, so her disappearance must have been a devastating blow. He was half tempted to tell Michael to put her back, to let the poor guy get some peace and closure, but then what? He wasn't willing to let the archangel take him as a vessel and he didn't think he had any other family that Michael could use. Not that he'd subject anyone to that, but some people clearly thought it an honor, like Jimmy originally had.
Difficult as it was to accept, Dean knew that this was one of the many sacrifices that would have to be made if they were going to win or at least avert this Apocalypse. Deirdre was technically dead, they really couldn't find a better vessel then that. To distract himself, he turned to the last photo on the mantel. It was one that had been taken decades ago, as evidenced by how young both his father and aunt looked. If he had to guess, he'd say that they were both in their late teens, the clothing and hairstyles backing up his assessment. They looked happy and carefree, standing at the edge of some lake next to a canoe.
"Here, look at this one."
Michael was suddenly standing quite close beside him, holding out a picture frame. Dean accepted it despite his surprise and found himself looking at an old photograph of himself together with his mother and aunt. His father wasn't in the shot, probably because he'd been the one to take it. He couldn't quite remember this scene and from how small he himself was and how skinny his mom looked, he'd guess that he was about two years old. He was holding a toy and beaming with joy up at his aunt while his mother looked on fondly with love in her eyes. He felt his own eyes tear up and he rubbed his face with his free hand to get rid of the evidence. He would not cry in front of this archangel, damnit!
"She loved you," Michael said softly, but with complete conviction.
"Yeah," Dean replied.
He might not have many memories of his mother left after all of those years and he had been very young when she'd died, but that had never been in doubt. In point of fact, that feeling of love, comfort and security that he could remember experiencing in her arms had been something he'd strived to reclaim all his life but had failed to find until Castiel. He'd tried his best to pretend otherwise, but he knew when he was honest with himself that his lover could make him feel all those things he'd missed since Azazel had come into their home and changed things forever. It wasn't that he didn't want to feel it all again, but simply that it had been so very long and so much had happened since that he just didn't know how to deal with experiencing all of it again. Not when he'd been so sure that he never would.
"If you know this, then why do you dream of her saying otherwise?"
The words caused a surge of anger within him and Michael was clearly aware of his mood enough to take a step back warily. Briefly, Dean wondered if he actually had the power to hurt the archangel here, in his dream, to cause that reaction but then discarded the thought as unimportant for now.
"Why do I dream of her like that? Zachariah, that's why!" Dean spat, unconsciously clutching the photo frame tightly to his chest like a shield.
Michael's face instantly darkened at the words. "He used the memory of her against you?"
"Yeah. I can't even remember what memory it was now, but it must have been a good one as it started like any other on your little loop in Heaven before it changed and morphed into what you saw. Or part of it anyway, the original went on for a bit longer before Joshua got us out of there."
If he'd thought the archangel's expression was bad before, it was nothing compared to what it was now. Michael looked positively thunderous and Dean was secretly glad that it wasn't directed at him, even if he was currently the center of the archangel's attention.
"Zachariah turned your Heaven into that?"
"You didn't know," Dean realized with surprise.
"No, of course not!" Michael replied, indignant. "Angels are not supposed to interfere with souls in their resting place."
"Are you saying you would have left Sam and me there?"
"No, you were both needed on Earth, but that does not justify this monstrosity!"
The realization that Michael was well and truly pissed at Zachariah for what he'd done, stunned Dean. He'd always assumed that everything Castiel's old boss had done had been condoned by the archangel, so to discover otherwise now was a real eye opener. It was always possible that Michael was putting on an act, but his outrage seemed genuine enough.
"Dean, I give you my word that if Castiel hadn't killed Zachariah, I would see him severely punished for this unjustifiable transgression."
He was already opening his mouth to say that he'd probably been the one to push Zachariah that far when Dean realized what Michael had said. "Hey, wait a minute, Cas didn't kill Zachariah."
"What? But he was dead when I arrived."
"Yeah, 'cause I ganked him."
"You what?"
"I stabbed him through the throat with one of your swords, killing him."
Even as he said it, Dean could read the disbelief in the archangel's eyes and it caused a swell of indignation within him. What the hell was Michael's problem? He seemed determined to think the absolute worst of humans and that they were nothing more than weak little creatures to be used or dismissed at will. Raphael and Zachariah'd had much the same attitude and look where that had gotten them. Even Uriel had shared in their opinion. Was Castiel really one of the only angels that looked at them in any kind of good light?
"No, that's impossible."
"Dude, get over yourself! Look, I know you have a really low opinion of us mud monkeys, but-"
"That's not what I meant," Michael interrupted. "Only an angel can kill another angel."
Dean blinked, vaguely recalling that Castiel had said something similar to him once. "But what about demons, surely they can gank you as well?"
"Only those that are fallen angels. All of the others can hurt or torture us, but they cannot actually kill us and neither can humans."
"Yeah, well, that's obviously not right because I'm the one that killed Zachariah. Cas wasn't anywhere near there anymore, he'd banished himself and the other angels Zach had with him so that Sam and I could rescue Adam."
"Impossible," Michael muttered, more to himself then anything before he turned his full attention back to Dean. "Where are you at the moment?"
"Huh?"
"Your body, where is it?"
Dean had gotten so caught up in what was going on that he'd totally forgotten that he was still technically asleep, dreaming, and that the archangel was dream walking with him. "Wait a minute, how are you even here anyway?"
"You were in severe distress."
"No, I wasn't!"
"Emotional distress is still distress, so I used the bond to find your mind."
"Great."
"Dean, where are you?"
"Can't you tell?"
"Not while dream walking, I would need to leave this realm to do so. Where are you?"
"Why?"
"You are the most stubborn human I have ever dealt with," Michael pronounced, placing his hand on Dean's forehead.
/
With a gasp, Dean woke, jerking into an upright position in bed. He'd hardly had the time to reorient himself before his lover was suddenly there, followed closely by Michael.
"Cas?"
"Are you alright?" Castiel demanded, stepping close to check him over. "Michael said something was wrong."
"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean waved off the concern and squirmed away from his angel's hands to glare at Michael. "Dude, what the hell?"
"He killed an angel," Michael stated, his attention on his brother.
"What?" Castiel demanded.
"Zachariah."
"Was that not you?"
"No, I thought it was you."
Castiel's attention was suddenly back on him and Dean didn't like the disbelief he saw there. His lover should know him better then that by now.
"You really killed Zachariah?" Castiel asked.
"Oh for!" Dean shoved back the blankets, having actually gotten changed and under the covers for once.
He walked over to the weapons bag he'd brought inside with him and fished out the angel sword he'd used. Turning around, he threw it at Castiel who, of course, managed to catch it effortlessly.
"There, that's the sword I used."
"No, Dean, it is not that I do not believe you," Castiel began, handing the weapon over to Michael without even glancing at it. "It is just that it should not even be possible. No one other than an angel or a former angel should be able to kill one of us. Trust me, demons have been trying for millennia to achieve this without success."
"Oh, great. So this is not just a superiority complex thing?"
Now it was Castiel's turn to look at him in displeasure and Dean felt bad for doubting his lover like that. It was just with Michael and Raphael's constant condescension, it was the first thing to come to mind when an archangel told him something couldn't be done. Still, he shouldn't have let that color his opinion of what Cas told him.
"Sorry."
Castiel's face instantly softened and he stepped closer to squeeze his shoulder. It was the first time his angel had done that and Dean couldn't help but smile at him for it before his thoughts turned back to the matter at hand.
"So, basically, I can do something else humans shouldn't be able to."
"Yes," Michael confirmed, looking up from the sword, perturbed.
"Say, you or one your brothers didn't happen to stand over my crib and bleed into my mouth when I was a baby, did you?"
"Excuse me?"
"It is how his brother was first exposed to demon blood," Castiel explained before looking back at him. "No, Dean, nothing like that happened."
"Then how do you explain all of these freaky abilities?"
"They are not freaky, but rather a blessing."
"Potato, potahto, tomato, tomahto." Both angels looked at him in confusion and Dean sighed. "Never mind."
"I have said it before, but you are not what you seem, Dean Winchester," Michael stated, handing him back the sword without a moment's hesitation and Dean took it as yet another small step forwards. "Exactly what Father had in mind when he created you I do not yet know, but I am looking forward to discovering it."
A.N.: Hey guys, I just wanted to point out to you that tomorrow the author/artist revealing happens over at deancas_xmas for which I wrote a fic this year (and the point at which I get my gift as it seems my original gifter dropped out :( ). I believe it is at this point that we are allowed to post the fics on our journals so that means that there will be a new Dean/Cas story here for you to read if you're interested.
Chapter 43
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: up to and including Exile on Main St., AU from the end of season 5
Warnings: AU, slash
Word Count: 2,480
Summary: What dreams may come... and reveal to us.
PAST
"I never loved you, you were my burden. I was shackled to you. Look what it got me."
Despite knowing that he was dreaming and that it wasn't really his mother standing before him, her eyes yellow, Dean flinched, the words cutting deep. He closed his own eyes, but couldn't block out the look of hate and disgust he'd seen on her face directed at him.
"And then, finally, I was dead. The one silver lining, is that at least I was away from you."
This time, Dean whimpered. He couldn't help it, knowing from past experience that covering his ears did nothing to stop the venomous diatribe from reaching him. In fact, nothing he did ever made any difference whatsoever, so it was useless to even try, something which went against every instinct he had. The thing was, he just didn't know if he could do anything, knowing how pointless it was when all he'd get for his efforts was more distain and scorn. His mind was more then ready and willing to add and expand upon what Zachariah had made the illusion of his mother say to him in Heaven.
If it had merely been an illusion, which he dearly hoped it was. The thing was, Dean just didn't know, not for sure. Yeah, Zachariah had claimed that it wasn't, but he knew the bastard would lie just to hurt him more. There was, however, the possibility that he hadn't been lying and that option ate away at him. The thought of that filthy bastard putting his paws on her... it was worse then anything an illusion of his mother could say to him. Alastair had taught him well how the power of truth could be used to hurt someone far more deeply then any lie ever could and he wouldn't put it past Zachariah to know about this as well. It was like the fact that demons lied, except when they didn't as they knew the truth would cut more deeply then anything they could invent.
"Everybody leaves you, Dean, you noticed? Mommy, Daddy, even Sam. Ever ask yourself why? Maybe it's not them, maybe, it's you."
The words were like bullets and Dean felt as if he were bleeding out here. He wished that he could curl himself up into a small ball and shut out the outside world and all of the pain and torment that came with it.
"Dean."
The new female voice made Dean turn to find Michael standing just a few feet away from him. The archangel looked angry, but for once he didn't think it was directed at him as the glare seemed to be focused on the dream version of his mother.
"Michael," Dean replied, grateful for the distraction.
"You should leave this."
"Yeah, see, it's called a nightmare and humans don't exactly have control over their dreams like that."
In the blink of an eye, the world had changed around them and Dean found himself standing in a small but cozy living room in what appeared to be a log cabin of some kind. The decor was definitely feminine, but he could detect more masculine touches worked in as well.
"Where are we?" Dean asked, not recognizing the place in the slightest.
"I am not entirely sure," Michael admitted. "It is a residual memory I got from Deirdre's mind. I thought this might be more comforting for you then something from my own experience."
"Oh."
The new knowledge made Dean take a second look around the place and he stepped closer to the fireplace to inspect the pictures frames atop it. Most of them were of Deirdre and a man that he could only assume was her husband. He felt a brief pang of regret for what the man must be going through right now, to have his wife's body simply disappear from the hospital right after whatever had happened to her. The fact that she'd still been on life support or had been kept alive despite being brain dead clearly said that he'd not yet given up hope, so her disappearance must have been a devastating blow. He was half tempted to tell Michael to put her back, to let the poor guy get some peace and closure, but then what? He wasn't willing to let the archangel take him as a vessel and he didn't think he had any other family that Michael could use. Not that he'd subject anyone to that, but some people clearly thought it an honor, like Jimmy originally had.
Difficult as it was to accept, Dean knew that this was one of the many sacrifices that would have to be made if they were going to win or at least avert this Apocalypse. Deirdre was technically dead, they really couldn't find a better vessel then that. To distract himself, he turned to the last photo on the mantel. It was one that had been taken decades ago, as evidenced by how young both his father and aunt looked. If he had to guess, he'd say that they were both in their late teens, the clothing and hairstyles backing up his assessment. They looked happy and carefree, standing at the edge of some lake next to a canoe.
"Here, look at this one."
Michael was suddenly standing quite close beside him, holding out a picture frame. Dean accepted it despite his surprise and found himself looking at an old photograph of himself together with his mother and aunt. His father wasn't in the shot, probably because he'd been the one to take it. He couldn't quite remember this scene and from how small he himself was and how skinny his mom looked, he'd guess that he was about two years old. He was holding a toy and beaming with joy up at his aunt while his mother looked on fondly with love in her eyes. He felt his own eyes tear up and he rubbed his face with his free hand to get rid of the evidence. He would not cry in front of this archangel, damnit!
"She loved you," Michael said softly, but with complete conviction.
"Yeah," Dean replied.
He might not have many memories of his mother left after all of those years and he had been very young when she'd died, but that had never been in doubt. In point of fact, that feeling of love, comfort and security that he could remember experiencing in her arms had been something he'd strived to reclaim all his life but had failed to find until Castiel. He'd tried his best to pretend otherwise, but he knew when he was honest with himself that his lover could make him feel all those things he'd missed since Azazel had come into their home and changed things forever. It wasn't that he didn't want to feel it all again, but simply that it had been so very long and so much had happened since that he just didn't know how to deal with experiencing all of it again. Not when he'd been so sure that he never would.
"If you know this, then why do you dream of her saying otherwise?"
The words caused a surge of anger within him and Michael was clearly aware of his mood enough to take a step back warily. Briefly, Dean wondered if he actually had the power to hurt the archangel here, in his dream, to cause that reaction but then discarded the thought as unimportant for now.
"Why do I dream of her like that? Zachariah, that's why!" Dean spat, unconsciously clutching the photo frame tightly to his chest like a shield.
Michael's face instantly darkened at the words. "He used the memory of her against you?"
"Yeah. I can't even remember what memory it was now, but it must have been a good one as it started like any other on your little loop in Heaven before it changed and morphed into what you saw. Or part of it anyway, the original went on for a bit longer before Joshua got us out of there."
If he'd thought the archangel's expression was bad before, it was nothing compared to what it was now. Michael looked positively thunderous and Dean was secretly glad that it wasn't directed at him, even if he was currently the center of the archangel's attention.
"Zachariah turned your Heaven into that?"
"You didn't know," Dean realized with surprise.
"No, of course not!" Michael replied, indignant. "Angels are not supposed to interfere with souls in their resting place."
"Are you saying you would have left Sam and me there?"
"No, you were both needed on Earth, but that does not justify this monstrosity!"
The realization that Michael was well and truly pissed at Zachariah for what he'd done, stunned Dean. He'd always assumed that everything Castiel's old boss had done had been condoned by the archangel, so to discover otherwise now was a real eye opener. It was always possible that Michael was putting on an act, but his outrage seemed genuine enough.
"Dean, I give you my word that if Castiel hadn't killed Zachariah, I would see him severely punished for this unjustifiable transgression."
He was already opening his mouth to say that he'd probably been the one to push Zachariah that far when Dean realized what Michael had said. "Hey, wait a minute, Cas didn't kill Zachariah."
"What? But he was dead when I arrived."
"Yeah, 'cause I ganked him."
"You what?"
"I stabbed him through the throat with one of your swords, killing him."
Even as he said it, Dean could read the disbelief in the archangel's eyes and it caused a swell of indignation within him. What the hell was Michael's problem? He seemed determined to think the absolute worst of humans and that they were nothing more than weak little creatures to be used or dismissed at will. Raphael and Zachariah'd had much the same attitude and look where that had gotten them. Even Uriel had shared in their opinion. Was Castiel really one of the only angels that looked at them in any kind of good light?
"No, that's impossible."
"Dude, get over yourself! Look, I know you have a really low opinion of us mud monkeys, but-"
"That's not what I meant," Michael interrupted. "Only an angel can kill another angel."
Dean blinked, vaguely recalling that Castiel had said something similar to him once. "But what about demons, surely they can gank you as well?"
"Only those that are fallen angels. All of the others can hurt or torture us, but they cannot actually kill us and neither can humans."
"Yeah, well, that's obviously not right because I'm the one that killed Zachariah. Cas wasn't anywhere near there anymore, he'd banished himself and the other angels Zach had with him so that Sam and I could rescue Adam."
"Impossible," Michael muttered, more to himself then anything before he turned his full attention back to Dean. "Where are you at the moment?"
"Huh?"
"Your body, where is it?"
Dean had gotten so caught up in what was going on that he'd totally forgotten that he was still technically asleep, dreaming, and that the archangel was dream walking with him. "Wait a minute, how are you even here anyway?"
"You were in severe distress."
"No, I wasn't!"
"Emotional distress is still distress, so I used the bond to find your mind."
"Great."
"Dean, where are you?"
"Can't you tell?"
"Not while dream walking, I would need to leave this realm to do so. Where are you?"
"Why?"
"You are the most stubborn human I have ever dealt with," Michael pronounced, placing his hand on Dean's forehead.
/
With a gasp, Dean woke, jerking into an upright position in bed. He'd hardly had the time to reorient himself before his lover was suddenly there, followed closely by Michael.
"Cas?"
"Are you alright?" Castiel demanded, stepping close to check him over. "Michael said something was wrong."
"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean waved off the concern and squirmed away from his angel's hands to glare at Michael. "Dude, what the hell?"
"He killed an angel," Michael stated, his attention on his brother.
"What?" Castiel demanded.
"Zachariah."
"Was that not you?"
"No, I thought it was you."
Castiel's attention was suddenly back on him and Dean didn't like the disbelief he saw there. His lover should know him better then that by now.
"You really killed Zachariah?" Castiel asked.
"Oh for!" Dean shoved back the blankets, having actually gotten changed and under the covers for once.
He walked over to the weapons bag he'd brought inside with him and fished out the angel sword he'd used. Turning around, he threw it at Castiel who, of course, managed to catch it effortlessly.
"There, that's the sword I used."
"No, Dean, it is not that I do not believe you," Castiel began, handing the weapon over to Michael without even glancing at it. "It is just that it should not even be possible. No one other than an angel or a former angel should be able to kill one of us. Trust me, demons have been trying for millennia to achieve this without success."
"Oh, great. So this is not just a superiority complex thing?"
Now it was Castiel's turn to look at him in displeasure and Dean felt bad for doubting his lover like that. It was just with Michael and Raphael's constant condescension, it was the first thing to come to mind when an archangel told him something couldn't be done. Still, he shouldn't have let that color his opinion of what Cas told him.
"Sorry."
Castiel's face instantly softened and he stepped closer to squeeze his shoulder. It was the first time his angel had done that and Dean couldn't help but smile at him for it before his thoughts turned back to the matter at hand.
"So, basically, I can do something else humans shouldn't be able to."
"Yes," Michael confirmed, looking up from the sword, perturbed.
"Say, you or one your brothers didn't happen to stand over my crib and bleed into my mouth when I was a baby, did you?"
"Excuse me?"
"It is how his brother was first exposed to demon blood," Castiel explained before looking back at him. "No, Dean, nothing like that happened."
"Then how do you explain all of these freaky abilities?"
"They are not freaky, but rather a blessing."
"Potato, potahto, tomato, tomahto." Both angels looked at him in confusion and Dean sighed. "Never mind."
"I have said it before, but you are not what you seem, Dean Winchester," Michael stated, handing him back the sword without a moment's hesitation and Dean took it as yet another small step forwards. "Exactly what Father had in mind when he created you I do not yet know, but I am looking forward to discovering it."
A.N.: Hey guys, I just wanted to point out to you that tomorrow the author/artist revealing happens over at deancas_xmas for which I wrote a fic this year (and the point at which I get my gift as it seems my original gifter dropped out :( ). I believe it is at this point that we are allowed to post the fics on our journals so that means that there will be a new Dean/Cas story here for you to read if you're interested.
Chapter 43