[Fic] DCBB - Hidden Away - Part Two
Title: Hidden Away
Author: Stolen Childe
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Part Two: Dream a Little Dream
Castiel made it to Bobby’s far later than he had expected. The old hunter had left the porch light on and the door unlocked for the angel, not that Castiel really needed either. Though, for the sake of propriety he did use the door. By the feel of the house it seemed that Bobby had turned in and Sam must have come and taken Mary and John home hours ago. Curiously though, Dean remained with Jasper.
Castiel walked silently into the living room where he found Dean slumped on the couch, sound asleep, with Jasper equally at rest on his chest. Castiel felt his throat tighten a little at the sight. It was so familiar, yet even just looking at him, Castiel could now tell that his Dean was not here. Anyone else would have been fooled at the sight, Castiel was sure.
“I hope you’re all right, Sweetheart,” Cas whispered to the universe at large.
Castiel sighed heavily.
The meeting in Heaven had not at all been what he was expecting. He had assumed Gabriel was calling him in to take care of some sort of crisis of Faith in one of the more devout areas of the world. They tended to show signs of their presence in places like Rome, Spain and the Philippines where Faith was still strong and present in daily life. Typically, it had been through small miracles but occasionally they made personal appearances in dreams. Just last week Castiel visited a 98-year-old nun in her sleep and blessed her good work. She had been born on a Thursday and would die on a Thursday. She had cried.
However, that was not the case this time. This time it had been what Castiel could only call an intervention. The charge was led by Hester with Rachel as back-up. Castiel shouldn’t have been surprised. Inias had been there too, but his eyes had been sad and he said little.
xx
“He’s an abomination, Castiel! Surely you see that. He is disrupting our timeline. Think of the world, think of your children. Would you really risk their lives?” Hester asked, aura furious in the cool light of Heaven.
“He was sent here for a reason and that is beyond my control. Not even Gabriel can interfere,” Castiel retorted, glaring through the mist at his sister. They always had a bit of a volatile relationship. Hester tended to get along better with Uriel and Anna back in the days when they were stationed together.
“And you know this how?” Rachel asked. She was calmer than Hester, but still bristling. Rachel hated when the order was disrupted, she was a more anxious angel then some. Loyal to a fault though. Castiel was sure this encounter was making her uncomfortable.
Castiel sighed, sometimes he hated to admit this, but it wasn’t a secret. “I spoke with, Father.”
“Father!” Inias spoke finally, coming closer, reaching out and grasping Castiel’s arm. “You saw him? Is he coming back, Castiel?”
Castiel smiled gently, “I am sorry, Inias. You know the answer to that. I speak to him so rarely myself, this was… an extenuating circumstance. This other Dean’s presence here was disconcerting, to say the least. I needed answers. I took my concerns to Father. He said this was God’s will but not His will. It was another version of Himself.”
Inias turned then to the two woman. “See then? We cannot dispute Father’s Word, sisters. Please, let us go in peace now. There has been far too much fighting in the last several years.”
“Perhaps-” Rachel began hesitantly.
“No! If that is truly the case, I wish to hear so from Gabriel. Father will not speak to us, but surely He will speak to our Glorious Brother.”
Castiel internally grimaced. Glorious Brother, my ass. Gabriel was the only remaining true Archangel and the other angels, much more reverent than Castiel, treated him with the respect they had been ingrained with since inception.
“Can you not trust my word? Would I risk my sons?” Castiel tried.
“I am sorry Castiel. Hester is right. We should hear this from Gabriel. He is Our Father’s voice now. I do propose that we hold off any action until we know for sure,” Rachel spoke.
“Sisters, please, this is Castiel,” Inias, sweet, loyal Inias. Castiel squeezed his shoulder in gratitude. The slightly smaller angel offered a slight smile.
“No, Inias. You have always had a strong affection for our brother and I fear that you may be blinded slightly in that regard. I respect your word, but do not follow it. We will speak to Gabriel, but we will wait on ridding our timeline of the doppelganger until we hear. Pass this to our Brother, Castiel.”
“I…” Castiel hesitated, then sighed. “Very well. I am returning now. If you have cause for my assistance…”
“Yes, Brother, of course,” Inias said eagerly. “May you have safe and favourable winds.”
“Thank you,” Castiel nodded. He looked at his two sisters one last time before he disappeared.
xx
Castiel walked silently up to Dean and bent down to gently pull Jasper free from the green-eyed hunter’s hold. Dean’s arms tightened, not enough to hurt the child, but enough to notice and he mumbled quietly in sleep.
“Shh, Dean. It’s just me,” Castiel whispered.
“Gotta… protect… Cas…” Dean muttered, twisting away and curling around the baby.
“Dean, Dean. It’s all right. It’s me, it’s Cas.”
Dean blinked opened his eyes. They were still blurred and he wasn’t fully awake but he was aware enough to see who stood over him. “Cas? Y’not crazy?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Castiel remarked.
“S’the point. Not aware. Think nothing wrong,” Dean murmured.
“It’s all right, Dean. Let me have the baby and we’ll go home.”
“E’good baby.”
Castiel smiled. “Very good. I’m going to get him settled in the car and then I’ll come back and get you. Just rest.”
“Night,” Dean finally relinquished his hold on the boy and turned over on the couch, burrowing against the well-worn back of it.
Castiel watched his back fondly for a second before he cooed down at his son, who looked up at him with wide blue eyes.
“Can you tell he’s different?”
Jasper gurgled, reaching up. He was too tired to say anything but he smiled, showing the first few of his tiny white teeth. Jasper shifted and settled so he was resting more firmly against Castiel’s chest, his eyes closing slowly. Castiel kissed his head and carried him outside.
He was just about at the car and reaching around his seat when the light from the stars shifted slightly. The moon was a sliver in the sky and most of the yard was bathed in dark. Castiel looked up, uneasy at the shift and shuddered faintly.
His brothers and sisters were anxious for answers, and it was palatable in Earth’s aura. Castiel knew he still had to earn their trust somewhat. He was still fairly new to his position of archangel and they were hesitant to trust him. He had always been favoured among the elder angels, but going from foot-soldier to commander in a few short leaps was bound to make anyone nervous. Especially considering he was one of the youngest angels in creation. Only Castiel’s two boys and Inias were younger. Balthazar had been as well but he was no longer with them. Castiel still missed his brother. They had been very close before Castiel fell, before the war.
Castiel came back into the house and gently guided Dean over. “Come on, wake up. We need to go home.”
Dean mumbled sleepily.
Castiel smiled, amused. “Are you going to make me carry you again?”
“No, sleeping.”
“Dean.”
Dean murmured again.
Castiel shrugged and moved to scoop the hunter into his arms. Dean jolted at that, fighting against the hold. Castiel released him, chuckling lightly.
Dean finally woke enough to push himself to his feet, but even then Castiel guided him out of the house. The body Dean may be inhabiting was well rested, but the soul clearly had been under great stress the last several weeks or months or however long it had been that Dean had been trapped in that horrible place. Castiel had another flash of panic at the thought of his own Dean being there. His Father may have assured him that the Deans hadn’t switched places but there was a still a small nagging doubt. Suffice to say, Castiel still had a few trust issues when it came to his Father.
The drive home was faster than usual. Castiel chose to ignore the speed regulations. It was late at night and no one was around. Police rarely patrolled this stretch of road anyway and even if they had, Castiel wouldn’t be getting a ticket. It might be a slight abuse of his power, but he figured after this long, he was entitled. If Gabriel could get away with some of the things he had done, Castiel could talk himself out of a few speeding tickets without guilt. Or at least, that was Dean’s justification.
Dean woke up again about five minutes from the house, looked over at Castiel, and startled at seeing the angel in the driver’s seat, before he relaxed.
“Speed demon,” Dean teased, tiredly. “At first I thought Sammy was driving but then remembered he drove like an old lady. Guess I still don’t expect to see you there.”
Castiel shrugged, glancing away from the road. “It’s only been a few days. I don’t expect you to be acclimatized overnight. Did you get along with the boys all right?”
“Ah… yeah, yeah. John didn’t hang around much. Sammy got the kids shortly after they came back from getting ice cream with Jody. John was gonna stay and wait for you but Sam saw I was tired and convinced him to go home. Sam would have taken Jass too if he could get the car seat in his truck.”
Castiel smiled.
“What?” Dean asked.
“You called him Jass.”
“Ah… yeah. Is that weird?”
“No, just the opposite,” Castiel replied, looking over at Dean again, eyes bright, smile slight but so earnest it almost hurt to see.
Dean felt his mouth grow dry at the sight and had to swallow. Seeing Cas like that, so at peace, it was… Well it was beautiful. I hope I can get you like this, for real.
Castiel and Dean had their moments, back before the apocalypse that wasn’t. Did they ever have their moments. Then Dean lost himself and they pulled apart and the sweetness turned angry but the desire hadn’t faded at all. It still felt right to be them and not just Dean and Cas anymore. It was bitter though, tainted slightly, until Dean turned his world view around. Then it was okay for a while but difficult. Castiel was human suddenly and that was a whole new ballgame for the angel. Then he got juiced up, and they drifted apart again, this time leagues apart and things just hadn’t been right since.
Dean was working on it though, getting things back to how they had been before Dean broke. Before Cas shattered. It was difficult and probably wouldn’t be a quick fix, but Dean needed his friend back, his more-than-friend. Being together in Purgatory has shown Dean how much he’d almost lost, how much he could still lose if he wasn’t careful.
They arrived back at the house in good time. Dean got out and waited while Castiel got Jasper out of the car and locked it up. Dean watched how natural Castiel was with the child. The gentle smiles he flashed the boy and the quiet whispers in English, Enochian, or one of the other many languages Castiel knew.
“Do they speak it, too?” Dean asked suddenly.
“What?” Castiel asked.
“Everything, I guess… Enochian.”
Castiel looked like he was thinking about it for a second before he answered, “I’ve never heard them speak any language other than English but they do understand. I’m not sure if they even realize it. When John was young, maybe six or seven, there was a woman in the park. She was older and she was on the ground. At first, we were worried because we thought she fell, but she had bent down to look for her bracelet. Her daughter had given it to the old woman before the girl went overseas to teach. The woman was frantic, mumbling away in Spanish, but John instinctively knew what she was saying. He was so little but he helped her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman so grateful.” Castiel smiled very slightly, then almost smirked without any derisiveness to it. He seemed amused.
“What?” Dean wanted to know.
“It’s just, once he found it and returned it, she called him mi angelito.”
Dean puzzled that out for a moment, “My little angel?”
“Yes.”
Dean chuckled then yawned, wide and jaw-cracking.
“Shall we sleep?” Castiel asked unnecessarily. He handed the keys to Dean, who had to flick through them twice until he figured out which one was for the front door.
“I’ll put him down, you go ahead,” Castiel offered.
Dean nodded.
xx
Dean looked across their small camp fire burning an odd blue-green with the alien vegetation. It glowed softly in the milky grey light of Purgatory that Dean had long-assumed meant it was day in this place.
Castiel sat, eyes wide and blank, open and staring at nothing.
“Cas?”
Castiel didn’t respond and Dean only expected him to a little if he were being honest. Castiel got this way sometimes down here. Just quiet. Dean waited for Castiel to move, blink, or flinch but the angel remained little more than a statue, with only his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
“I know a part of you thinks you deserve this, Cas. I suppose in a way maybe it is a kind of penance. You did some pretty shitty things, I ain’t gonna deny that. But I think maybe what happened to you is a little bit my fault, too.
“If I wasn’t wrapped up in my own angst after the whole Lisa deal, maybe I would have seen how desperate you were. I guess I pushed you into it, in a way. Demanding more than you could give. A person - angel - whatever, can only take so much. You were fighting a fucking huge war in Heaven and I didn’t take one second to see that. Jesus, I feel like such a girl right now,” Dean sighed and tossed another stick on the fire, watching blue sparks fly into the still air before they burnt themselves out.
“I…” Dean began haltingly; he swallowed and continued, “I told Sam once - God, years ago now - I told Sam once that me making that deal and going to Hell? That I was okay with that. You remember that I’m sure, wrapped up in all the Looney Toons in your head, anyway. I told him I was okay with it because I was tired and there seemed to be a light waiting for me. Smartass that Sam is, shot back with,” Dean mimicked Sam, “‘It’s Hellfire, Dean’ dumb kid, but I think - and I never told anyone this and if you tell anyone I uttered even something similar to what I’m about to say I’ll kill you; I can too, you know, I got a stash of angel-blades in Baby’s trunk.
“Anyway, I think… maybe… that the light I could see, could sense, was… you. You changed me in a lot of ways, Cas. More good ways than bad. You’re the only one… Even when you aren’t you, that I’m able to really talk to, you know, Man? Bobby said once that you were the best friend I ever had and he’s right… Was right.” Dean went quiet for a moment.
“What I’m saying, Cas, what this big rambling speech comes down to, is that it’s okay. You fixed the mistake and you… you can stop now, all right? You don’t gotta… You don’t have to be crazy anymore. It’s okay, Cas. So just… Just…” Dean waited with his breath held but Castiel didn’t move.
Dean closed his eyes. “I did some shit too, Cas, okay? I know you maybe don’t know how to handle the guilt and that’s new to you. I get that, but this way? This ain’t the way. You don’t have to worry anymore. I got this one.”
Still nothing.
Dean sucked in a deep breath before saying, “Okay, this is my last play, Man. You cannot tell a single soul about this. There’s this poem - sonnet actually - it’s probably one of the only things I remember about Grade Eleven English. I always liked it and it’s by, get this Cas, Shakespeare.
“Look, I memorized it, but if you tell Sam that I know Shakespeare - let alone what a sonnet is - the kid will laugh his ass off. So we’ll just keep this to ourselves. Just… ah… listen. It may help:
“No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:/Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud, /Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, /And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. /All men make faults, and even I in this, /Authorizing thy trespass with compare, /Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss, /Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are; /For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense -- /Thy adverse party is thy advocate -- /And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence./Such civil war is in my love and hate/That I an accessary needs must be /To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me .”
Dean took a deep breath when he finished and waited. Song lyrics, lines of dialogue from movies, things his dad would say. All these Dean memorized, but he had never memorized a poem before. He poured over the damn thing until his eyes hurt, squinting against the dim light of the flashlight in the muggy in-between of his bed sheets. There was something about it, even then, that he managed to relate to. He hated poetry on principal, but Shakespeare knew his shit. Dude was even funny. Dean found himself laughing along with everyone else when he went to see Romeo and Juliet with his class that one time.
That didn’t matter, though. The language was archaic and Dean still had problems wrapping his head around it sometimes, but he got the gist. He understood and that had been new. So yeah, he memorized it. Never admitted that to anyone before, though. Maybe Cas didn’t count.
“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was low and steady, solid like it used to be, and Dean’s heart leapt to his throat, choking off his air in a solid squeeze.
“Yeah, Cas?” Dean croaked. He should have known better.
“What are akin to insects here sing in the most peculiar timbre. Did you notice? I noticed. I’ve been listening. I wish we had a Twister mat. It’s too bad that didn’t fit in my trench coat. I wonder if I could have fit it in my trench coat if I tried. Oh!” Castiel got up suddenly and shuffled away. He came back a few minutes later with a handful of stones and a stick of black wood. The bark looked slimy and strange in the half-light.
Castiel crouched and began scratching in the dirt. Dean watched for a moment before he came over and helped Cas to shade in every other square on the grid. Looked like Castiel was over Tic-Tac-Toe and that they’d be trying their hand at Checkers tonight.
Castiel paused in his work and said very quietly, looking Dean right in the eye, “It might not work, but we can try.”
Dean’s chest felt tight. “Yeah, Cas, yeah. Let’s try.”
xx
Dean woke up, Castiel’s name on his lips. He looked around and took in the sunlit bedroom that was gradually becoming familiar to him. Castiel was sleeping on his stomach on the bed next to Dean, but it wasn’t Dean’s Castiel.
Castiel stirred, rolled over, and looked at Dean, sleepy eyes full of concern. “Are you all right?”
“Y…yeah,” Dean answered shakily, running a hand through his hair. The Dean of this timeline kept it longer than Dean was used to; it flopped around messed from sleep, gel gone with the night.
“Dean, you know you can-”
“I know, Cas. I’m okay. Hungry though,” Dean pushed down the blankets and climbed out of bed.
“Do you want me to-”
“Nah,” Dean interrupted again. “You don’t get a chance to sleep much and from the looks of you, it seems you enjoy it. Stay there, it’s cool.”
Castiel nodded hesitantly and lay back down. Dean felt the blue eyes on his back as he went down the hallway.
Getting around the kitchen would take some effort but Dean would manage it. People tended to keep things in the most logical spot. The problems was, what might be a ‘logical’ spot for one person was not necessarily a logical spot for another. But this was Dean’s house, in a way.
He began by opening cupboards at random and found one that was full of baking supplies. He thought that was little strange, but maybe Castiel enjoyed baking, or Sam. That seemed like a Sam thing to do.
It didn’t take long after that for Dean to find what he needed and he started breakfast. He hoped everyone would be happy with eggs and bacon because that was pretty much the extent of his kitchen prowess.
“Dean.”
Dean jumped and spun, slumping against the counter when he saw Castiel standing a little awkwardly in the doorway. The angel shifted from foot to foot, looked at Dean, and then looked away.
“Dean, you know you can talk to me. You can tell me anything you need to. I know every facet of you and that isn’t an exaggeration,” Castiel said gently.
Dean watched Castiel watch him for a long moment. He wanted to tell the angel everything swimming around in his head but he just couldn’t take the risk. This Cas had changed a lot in thirteen years and though he seemed stronger, more stable, Dean didn’t know how the angel would take being told not only did he smash Sam’s wall and almost destroy the world, he was also currently absolutely bonkers and flailing around in Purgatory. Cas knew the last part but Dean had carefully side-stepped the other issues. He hoped.
“Nothing to talk about, Man,” Dean grinned. “Hey everyone in this house eat eggs and bacon still?”
“Ah… yes. Though Sam is still much keener on fruit and whole wheat toast,” Castiel said.
Once again, Dean got the feeling the angel didn’t believe him for a second but was willing to accept his word for now. Dean watched as Castiel moved to the fridge and pulled out some fruit that he began to cut up.
“Well, we’ll let him keep telling us that,” Dean winked. “Bet hard money that Sam still has a weakness for bacon.”
“Quite,” Castiel flashed a quick smile, his eyes twinkling. He paused in his slicing and looked over his shoulder. “The baby.”
“I don’t- Right, angel.”
Castiel smiled and tossed Dean a little wink. Absurdly, Dean found himself flushing at the gesture and turned back to the eggs and popping bacon with more concentration than was strictly necessary. Castiel chuckled lowly and made his way out of the kitchen. John stumbled in a few minutes after him looking rumbled and sleepy-eyed still.
“Morning, Monkey,” Dean greeted. Sounded natural enough to his own ears.
“Hi Dad. I thought it was Pop’s day to cook.”
Dean winced. “Oh ah… decided to give him the day off.”
“I like bacon more than porridge anyway,” John remarked. He shuffle-walked over to the fridge and pulled out the large carton of orange juice, balancing it precariously. Dean almost leapt to the rescue of the poor unsuspecting cardboard but John eased it onto the counter before it could crash to the floor. “Pop kinda sucks at breakfast but he’s pretty awesome on the grill. Think he’s gonna do that tonight?”
“Ah… Not sure,” Dean confessed. He had been off on a job apparently so that was probably safe enough to say. Dean began to wonder who it was who did the baking then. A part of him kind of assumed Cas would be the domestic one of the two, but John’s little revelation about breakfast had him second guessing. Not to mention Castiel’s teasing remark a few days ago about Dean being the ‘homemaker’ in their relationship. That was just all kinds of piles of weird.
“Oh well, I’ll ask when he comes back, maybe he’ll do it if I ask. Rather that than spaghetti. Again. Still don’t see why you guys gotta switch anyway,” Dean heard a pout in John’s voice.
Dean found himself chuckling. “Cas isn’t much of a cook, huh?”
John snickered. “I thought we weren’t allowed to say that anymore. Last time we did he didn’t cook for a month and you got grumpy.”
“Right, I think he’ll forgive me-”
“Just this once,” Castiel said archly with a tiny, haughty glare. “Human cooking contraptions confound me. At least the grill makes logical sense. Humans have been using fire to char meat essentially since the dawn of your species.”
“I ain’t eating it if it’s charred,” Dean wrinkled his nose. “I like it still-”
“Red and mooing,” John and Castiel finished in unison.
“We’re aware,” Castiel added.
Dean stared at them, a little bemused, but didn’t comment and turned back to the frying pan. Castiel buckled Jasper into his highchair and pulled a jar of apple sauce out of the cupboard. Dean stole a casual glance at the jar.
“Huh, strawberry-apple, that would make a good pie,” Dean said idly.
“You gonna make it Dad? It’s been like forever since you made a pie! Strawberry-apple would be awesome!” John said eagerly.
Dean turned wide surprised eyes at Castiel and mouthed, “Me?” Well that answered that question. Damnit.
Castiel only smirked and carried the little plastic bowl over to Jasper as well as a handful of plain Cheerios. Castiel scooted back over to the frying pan and stopped Dean’s hand before he put on the pepper and salt, scooping out a small portion of scrambled eggs onto a little plastic plate before putting that on Jasper’s tray as well.
“It’s hot, Jasper. You must wait,” Castiel instructed as the baby moved to reach for them. Castiel placed a hand on the edge of the plate. Nothing seemed to happen but if Dean looked closely he could see the steam was gone.
“Okay?” Jasper asked.
“Okay,” Castiel nodded.
Dean watched how smoothly the angel moved around the kitchen, his kitchen. How easily it came to him to work around Dean and feed the baby. Castiel was loose and comfortable, perfectly at ease. There was still an element of otherness to him but it wasn’t nearly as noticeable as Dean was used to. In public, Castiel probably just seemed like a slightly quirky human who happened to talk to his infant in full sentences.
“Dean, if you stand there gaping much longer you’re going to burn your beloved bacon,” Castiel said without looking away from where he was once again slicing the fruit.
“Oh Jesus fu-” Dean winced. “Ah… Darn.”
“Dad! Don’t blaspheme! Pop gets super angry when you do that!” John chastised, aghast.
“Sorry, guys,” Dean muttered.
Castiel took his raised eyebrows and turned back to his meticulously sliced fruit, which he was now scooping carefully into a bowl that he carried over to the table. He gave John a generous helping, causing the boy to scowl but he set to work on it anyway.
“Daddy! Unca Dean’s making bacon,” a chipper young voice echoed in from the hallway.
“Yes, Princess. I see. I thought Uncle Cas was going to cook today,” Sam came into the room, Mary balanced on his hip easily. He moved around both Dean and Cas, popping slices of toast into their large toaster oven on the shelf over the dishwasher.
“Uncle Cas still cut up your fruit for you,” Castiel pointed out.
“Thanks, Dude,” Sam grinned. “We get our fruit, Sweet Girl.”
“No oatmeal?” Mary wanted to know.
“Tomorrow, chef duty is all his,” Dean replied, setting down his plates of bacon and eggs. Sam placed Mary in her booster seat, casually dropping a kiss on her blonde curls, then he went over to check on the toast.
“You’re turning your girl there into a little health-nut clone, Sammy. I’m ashamed,” Dean teased.
“My kid,” Sam stuck his tongue at his brother. “So there. She still likes her Lucky Charms though, huh, Butterfly?”
“Lucky Charms!” Mary crowed.
“Oh man, I want that for lunch,” John added.
“I think it’s hereditary,” Dean laughed.
“You aren’t getting Lucky Charms for lunch, John,” Castiel shot the idea down fast.
“I’m the fun one, aren’t I?” Dean grinned at the eleven-year-old.
“Not usually,” Sam chuckled, answering for his nephew, eyes sparkling.
Dean was just about to take his seat at the table when he had to stop. Sam grinning, laughing, joking. Castiel relaxed, happy, at peace. Three beautiful children. Enjoying breakfast together, like a family. A normal family. Like Dean always wanted.
He shook his head slowly, taking in the scene, feeling a roiling sickness in his gut and the air choke off midway up his throat. No, no, no. This was wrong, this couldn’t be. Dean didn’t get the things he wanted; he wasn’t that lucky. This was all just some twisted fantasy playing out in his head. Really, he was freezing to death in Purgatory while a half-cocked angel ran around fighting shadows and playing made-up board games. That was his life.
Jasper and John had stopped eating. Sam and Castiel paused. Jasper began to cry. Dean looked at the infant’s wide, wide blue eyes. Over at the curious expression on John’s face and the concern clear on Sam’s and Castiel’s. He backed away, turned on his heel, and ran - bare feet, pajama pants and not much else - out into the backyard, which was misty with evaporating dew in the early summer morning.
He stopped at the edge of the fence line, bent double, and rested his hands on his knees as he tried to breathe. No, no, no, no. This was some cruel, sick fantasy. It had to be. He wasn’t living this, this wouldn’t be his life. How could it be his life? How did he deserve such a thing after all the terrible things he’d done? He almost fucking destroyed the world, three fucking times, for Christ’s sake.
“Dean?”
Dean didn’t move and went so far as to still entirely and hold his breath.
“Dean? What happened in there, Man?”
Dean finally turned, his eyes closed for a few beats, then he opened them again. “Sammy, this isn’t actually real, is it?”
“What?”
“All of this. This life. You with a kid. Me and Cas with those boys. It can’t be real, right? I’ve been somewhere like here before, Sammy. Just tell me the truth this time, all right?”
“Dean, we are telling you the truth,” Sam said gently, coming forward cautiously.
“No!” Dean snapped. “You can’t be! I was fed the same bullshit in the djinn dream all those years ago. This is just version 2.0 or some shit. They got it better, but it can’t be this perfect, Sam. So just fess up. This is something like that, right? If not a djinn, then it’s something else. Maybe one of the Purgatory beasts whammied me. God, what if it got Cas?”
“Purgatory?! Dean, what are you talking about? When were you in Purgatory? Oh my God. Did you fall through when Crowley opened it? Is that what happened? Cas tried to pull you out and he got sucked in after you? That’s gotta be where the timeline spliced, then,” Sam’s brain was already going into problem solving mode. Dean could see it and it looked so real. Dean felt as if he were choking again. How could they get it so close?
Sam was continuing, “I bet Cas tried to mojo you out but the entrance into Purgatory’s like a vortex and he miscalculated and sent you flying here. I need to get to Bobby’s…”
Dean slowly shook his head. No. Wrong. Stop. The mention of Bobby only clinched the deal. Of course in Dean’s fantasyland, Bobby would still be alive.
“Shut up!” Dean shouted. “Just shut up! Enough bullshit. You aren’t my brother, I’m not here!” Dean turned angry eyes to the sky. “Get me out, you bastard! Whoever you are! Get me out!”
“Dean? Dean!”
Sam’s large hands were crushing Dean’s shoulders, pressing into tender flesh and overlapping Castiel’s handprint scar. Large paws far too big to fit the space. Dean cried out again and smacked Sam’s hands away, cradling his own shoulder protectively as if blocking the scar from the imposter before him. His only connection left to the angel in this fucked-up place. He pressed his hand over it, feeling hard muscle and pressed harder, bruising his own flesh with the force of it. He didn’t care.
Cas. Please Cas. Bring me back.
“Dean.”
“Cas.”
“Hush now.”
The blue, vaguely man-shaped light pressed a warm palm to his forehead and Dean slumped boneless to the hard ground, the smell of earth thick in his nostrils.
xx
“I don’t think we should eat those again.”
“What?” Dean blinked, it was too dark, too cold. Damp wet and almost chemical-smelling below all the thick, dark dirt.
“Those berries. We shouldn’t eat them again.”
“Cas.”
“Hello, Dean. You had an exceptionally unfavourable reaction. I told you not to eat them. You didn’t listen. Is that a new trend of yours? Or an old one? Never, ever listening.” Castiel scratched away at the dirt. Dean crawled over.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a spell, maybe a poem. Maybe something I’ve been saying all along but that you continue to refuse to hear. Though you are a Winchester. It should certainly be expected by now. No more berries, Dean.”
“Fruit. You were cutting fruit.”
“No. You’re mistaken.”
“Cas? Cas, is this real?” Dean asked urgently, grasping the angel’s arm tight.
“I wouldn’t know, Dean,” Castiel said idly. “Do you feel as if it’s real?”
“It was a dream. I knew it,” Dean muttered to himself. “You should have seen it, Cas. It was all kinds of fucked-up. Kids, you and I were practically gay-married, Man. And, well, the whole sanity thing and Sam slept with a stripper and he had a little girl.”
Castiel laughed.
“What?” Dean wanted to know.
“Sam had intercourse with an exotic dancer,” Castiel answered.
“Yeah, I know. Guess my subconscious is all kinds of messed up.”
Castiel continued making his scratches in the dirt.
Dean continued to watch. Then he cocked his head slightly and squinted through the low-light.
You’re dreaming. You’re dreaming. I’m so sorry. You’re dreaming.
Dean frowned. “Hey Cas, that’s not a-Hey! Do you hear that?”
Castiel was humming. It didn’t sound familiar but it sounded meaningful.
“Where did you hear that song, Cas?”
“Around.”
Scritch. Scratch. Scritch. Went the stick in the dirt. The same words over and over again.
“Dammit,” Dean cursed, jumping to his feet and spinning around. “There it is again.”
“Dean.”
“Yeah, Cas,” Dean said absently, still peering into the dark. He was jostled suddenly. “Dude, whoa man, what did you shove me, for?” Dean turned back but the angel was still scratching into the dirt. You’re dreaming. I’m sorry. You’re dreaming.
“Dean. Dean. Dean!”
“Dude, what?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Castiel looked up. Though his face wasn’t his face. Softer, with warmer eyes, not clouded by insanity. His hair was a loose and wild corona on his head. A mouth accustomed to smiling.
“You have to wake up now.”
xx
“Dean! Wake up!”
Dean sprung up. He was in the white room again, with the honey floors and the gossamer curtains. The fan was clicking above his head, a breeze was coming in through the open window, and gentle-eyed Castiel was peering down at him.
“I’m so sorry, Dean. I don’t know what happened. Your consciousness seemed to get stuck for a moment. You were nearly hysterical and Sam couldn’t calm you down. I… I just acted.”
Dean stared up at Castiel mutely, feeling as if he was becoming just as unhinged as the angel of his timeline. It had felt so real, being back there. So which was it? Was here real or was there real? Were they both?
“I need to get him out,” Dean whispered.
“Shh, Dean. I know. And we will get you back. I promise.”
“He’s trapped and scared. You don’t understand. At this point he’d toss himself on the nearest pyre right now if he were allowed to. After everything he did. I’m scared.”
“Dean, what happened? What is so awful that you can’t tell me? Please Dean, I just want to help,” Castiel said gently.
“No, I can’t. I just can’t, Cas. I’m not going to put you through that. You don’t have to live through something that you didn’t do, all right? I just… I just need to know what’s real,” Dean put his head in his hands as he slumped over himself on the bed. He was still clad in nothing but the pajama pants from the night before and the white sheet pooled in his lap. He shivered as a light breeze ghosted over the bare skin of his chest. Castiel hovered beside him, not touching but reaching out.
“How can I help?” Castiel asked, his tone almost desperate.
Dean looked up. “Get me back.”
Previous | Master Post | Next
Author: Stolen Childe
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Part Two: Dream a Little Dream
Castiel made it to Bobby’s far later than he had expected. The old hunter had left the porch light on and the door unlocked for the angel, not that Castiel really needed either. Though, for the sake of propriety he did use the door. By the feel of the house it seemed that Bobby had turned in and Sam must have come and taken Mary and John home hours ago. Curiously though, Dean remained with Jasper.
Castiel walked silently into the living room where he found Dean slumped on the couch, sound asleep, with Jasper equally at rest on his chest. Castiel felt his throat tighten a little at the sight. It was so familiar, yet even just looking at him, Castiel could now tell that his Dean was not here. Anyone else would have been fooled at the sight, Castiel was sure.
“I hope you’re all right, Sweetheart,” Cas whispered to the universe at large.
Castiel sighed heavily.
The meeting in Heaven had not at all been what he was expecting. He had assumed Gabriel was calling him in to take care of some sort of crisis of Faith in one of the more devout areas of the world. They tended to show signs of their presence in places like Rome, Spain and the Philippines where Faith was still strong and present in daily life. Typically, it had been through small miracles but occasionally they made personal appearances in dreams. Just last week Castiel visited a 98-year-old nun in her sleep and blessed her good work. She had been born on a Thursday and would die on a Thursday. She had cried.
However, that was not the case this time. This time it had been what Castiel could only call an intervention. The charge was led by Hester with Rachel as back-up. Castiel shouldn’t have been surprised. Inias had been there too, but his eyes had been sad and he said little.
xx
“He’s an abomination, Castiel! Surely you see that. He is disrupting our timeline. Think of the world, think of your children. Would you really risk their lives?” Hester asked, aura furious in the cool light of Heaven.
“He was sent here for a reason and that is beyond my control. Not even Gabriel can interfere,” Castiel retorted, glaring through the mist at his sister. They always had a bit of a volatile relationship. Hester tended to get along better with Uriel and Anna back in the days when they were stationed together.
“And you know this how?” Rachel asked. She was calmer than Hester, but still bristling. Rachel hated when the order was disrupted, she was a more anxious angel then some. Loyal to a fault though. Castiel was sure this encounter was making her uncomfortable.
Castiel sighed, sometimes he hated to admit this, but it wasn’t a secret. “I spoke with, Father.”
“Father!” Inias spoke finally, coming closer, reaching out and grasping Castiel’s arm. “You saw him? Is he coming back, Castiel?”
Castiel smiled gently, “I am sorry, Inias. You know the answer to that. I speak to him so rarely myself, this was… an extenuating circumstance. This other Dean’s presence here was disconcerting, to say the least. I needed answers. I took my concerns to Father. He said this was God’s will but not His will. It was another version of Himself.”
Inias turned then to the two woman. “See then? We cannot dispute Father’s Word, sisters. Please, let us go in peace now. There has been far too much fighting in the last several years.”
“Perhaps-” Rachel began hesitantly.
“No! If that is truly the case, I wish to hear so from Gabriel. Father will not speak to us, but surely He will speak to our Glorious Brother.”
Castiel internally grimaced. Glorious Brother, my ass. Gabriel was the only remaining true Archangel and the other angels, much more reverent than Castiel, treated him with the respect they had been ingrained with since inception.
“Can you not trust my word? Would I risk my sons?” Castiel tried.
“I am sorry Castiel. Hester is right. We should hear this from Gabriel. He is Our Father’s voice now. I do propose that we hold off any action until we know for sure,” Rachel spoke.
“Sisters, please, this is Castiel,” Inias, sweet, loyal Inias. Castiel squeezed his shoulder in gratitude. The slightly smaller angel offered a slight smile.
“No, Inias. You have always had a strong affection for our brother and I fear that you may be blinded slightly in that regard. I respect your word, but do not follow it. We will speak to Gabriel, but we will wait on ridding our timeline of the doppelganger until we hear. Pass this to our Brother, Castiel.”
“I…” Castiel hesitated, then sighed. “Very well. I am returning now. If you have cause for my assistance…”
“Yes, Brother, of course,” Inias said eagerly. “May you have safe and favourable winds.”
“Thank you,” Castiel nodded. He looked at his two sisters one last time before he disappeared.
xx
Castiel walked silently up to Dean and bent down to gently pull Jasper free from the green-eyed hunter’s hold. Dean’s arms tightened, not enough to hurt the child, but enough to notice and he mumbled quietly in sleep.
“Shh, Dean. It’s just me,” Castiel whispered.
“Gotta… protect… Cas…” Dean muttered, twisting away and curling around the baby.
“Dean, Dean. It’s all right. It’s me, it’s Cas.”
Dean blinked opened his eyes. They were still blurred and he wasn’t fully awake but he was aware enough to see who stood over him. “Cas? Y’not crazy?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Castiel remarked.
“S’the point. Not aware. Think nothing wrong,” Dean murmured.
“It’s all right, Dean. Let me have the baby and we’ll go home.”
“E’good baby.”
Castiel smiled. “Very good. I’m going to get him settled in the car and then I’ll come back and get you. Just rest.”
“Night,” Dean finally relinquished his hold on the boy and turned over on the couch, burrowing against the well-worn back of it.
Castiel watched his back fondly for a second before he cooed down at his son, who looked up at him with wide blue eyes.
“Can you tell he’s different?”
Jasper gurgled, reaching up. He was too tired to say anything but he smiled, showing the first few of his tiny white teeth. Jasper shifted and settled so he was resting more firmly against Castiel’s chest, his eyes closing slowly. Castiel kissed his head and carried him outside.
He was just about at the car and reaching around his seat when the light from the stars shifted slightly. The moon was a sliver in the sky and most of the yard was bathed in dark. Castiel looked up, uneasy at the shift and shuddered faintly.
His brothers and sisters were anxious for answers, and it was palatable in Earth’s aura. Castiel knew he still had to earn their trust somewhat. He was still fairly new to his position of archangel and they were hesitant to trust him. He had always been favoured among the elder angels, but going from foot-soldier to commander in a few short leaps was bound to make anyone nervous. Especially considering he was one of the youngest angels in creation. Only Castiel’s two boys and Inias were younger. Balthazar had been as well but he was no longer with them. Castiel still missed his brother. They had been very close before Castiel fell, before the war.
Castiel came back into the house and gently guided Dean over. “Come on, wake up. We need to go home.”
Dean mumbled sleepily.
Castiel smiled, amused. “Are you going to make me carry you again?”
“No, sleeping.”
“Dean.”
Dean murmured again.
Castiel shrugged and moved to scoop the hunter into his arms. Dean jolted at that, fighting against the hold. Castiel released him, chuckling lightly.
Dean finally woke enough to push himself to his feet, but even then Castiel guided him out of the house. The body Dean may be inhabiting was well rested, but the soul clearly had been under great stress the last several weeks or months or however long it had been that Dean had been trapped in that horrible place. Castiel had another flash of panic at the thought of his own Dean being there. His Father may have assured him that the Deans hadn’t switched places but there was a still a small nagging doubt. Suffice to say, Castiel still had a few trust issues when it came to his Father.
The drive home was faster than usual. Castiel chose to ignore the speed regulations. It was late at night and no one was around. Police rarely patrolled this stretch of road anyway and even if they had, Castiel wouldn’t be getting a ticket. It might be a slight abuse of his power, but he figured after this long, he was entitled. If Gabriel could get away with some of the things he had done, Castiel could talk himself out of a few speeding tickets without guilt. Or at least, that was Dean’s justification.
Dean woke up again about five minutes from the house, looked over at Castiel, and startled at seeing the angel in the driver’s seat, before he relaxed.
“Speed demon,” Dean teased, tiredly. “At first I thought Sammy was driving but then remembered he drove like an old lady. Guess I still don’t expect to see you there.”
Castiel shrugged, glancing away from the road. “It’s only been a few days. I don’t expect you to be acclimatized overnight. Did you get along with the boys all right?”
“Ah… yeah, yeah. John didn’t hang around much. Sammy got the kids shortly after they came back from getting ice cream with Jody. John was gonna stay and wait for you but Sam saw I was tired and convinced him to go home. Sam would have taken Jass too if he could get the car seat in his truck.”
Castiel smiled.
“What?” Dean asked.
“You called him Jass.”
“Ah… yeah. Is that weird?”
“No, just the opposite,” Castiel replied, looking over at Dean again, eyes bright, smile slight but so earnest it almost hurt to see.
Dean felt his mouth grow dry at the sight and had to swallow. Seeing Cas like that, so at peace, it was… Well it was beautiful. I hope I can get you like this, for real.
Castiel and Dean had their moments, back before the apocalypse that wasn’t. Did they ever have their moments. Then Dean lost himself and they pulled apart and the sweetness turned angry but the desire hadn’t faded at all. It still felt right to be them and not just Dean and Cas anymore. It was bitter though, tainted slightly, until Dean turned his world view around. Then it was okay for a while but difficult. Castiel was human suddenly and that was a whole new ballgame for the angel. Then he got juiced up, and they drifted apart again, this time leagues apart and things just hadn’t been right since.
Dean was working on it though, getting things back to how they had been before Dean broke. Before Cas shattered. It was difficult and probably wouldn’t be a quick fix, but Dean needed his friend back, his more-than-friend. Being together in Purgatory has shown Dean how much he’d almost lost, how much he could still lose if he wasn’t careful.
They arrived back at the house in good time. Dean got out and waited while Castiel got Jasper out of the car and locked it up. Dean watched how natural Castiel was with the child. The gentle smiles he flashed the boy and the quiet whispers in English, Enochian, or one of the other many languages Castiel knew.
“Do they speak it, too?” Dean asked suddenly.
“What?” Castiel asked.
“Everything, I guess… Enochian.”
Castiel looked like he was thinking about it for a second before he answered, “I’ve never heard them speak any language other than English but they do understand. I’m not sure if they even realize it. When John was young, maybe six or seven, there was a woman in the park. She was older and she was on the ground. At first, we were worried because we thought she fell, but she had bent down to look for her bracelet. Her daughter had given it to the old woman before the girl went overseas to teach. The woman was frantic, mumbling away in Spanish, but John instinctively knew what she was saying. He was so little but he helped her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman so grateful.” Castiel smiled very slightly, then almost smirked without any derisiveness to it. He seemed amused.
“What?” Dean wanted to know.
“It’s just, once he found it and returned it, she called him mi angelito.”
Dean puzzled that out for a moment, “My little angel?”
“Yes.”
Dean chuckled then yawned, wide and jaw-cracking.
“Shall we sleep?” Castiel asked unnecessarily. He handed the keys to Dean, who had to flick through them twice until he figured out which one was for the front door.
“I’ll put him down, you go ahead,” Castiel offered.
Dean nodded.
xx
Dean looked across their small camp fire burning an odd blue-green with the alien vegetation. It glowed softly in the milky grey light of Purgatory that Dean had long-assumed meant it was day in this place.
Castiel sat, eyes wide and blank, open and staring at nothing.
“Cas?”
Castiel didn’t respond and Dean only expected him to a little if he were being honest. Castiel got this way sometimes down here. Just quiet. Dean waited for Castiel to move, blink, or flinch but the angel remained little more than a statue, with only his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
“I know a part of you thinks you deserve this, Cas. I suppose in a way maybe it is a kind of penance. You did some pretty shitty things, I ain’t gonna deny that. But I think maybe what happened to you is a little bit my fault, too.
“If I wasn’t wrapped up in my own angst after the whole Lisa deal, maybe I would have seen how desperate you were. I guess I pushed you into it, in a way. Demanding more than you could give. A person - angel - whatever, can only take so much. You were fighting a fucking huge war in Heaven and I didn’t take one second to see that. Jesus, I feel like such a girl right now,” Dean sighed and tossed another stick on the fire, watching blue sparks fly into the still air before they burnt themselves out.
“I…” Dean began haltingly; he swallowed and continued, “I told Sam once - God, years ago now - I told Sam once that me making that deal and going to Hell? That I was okay with that. You remember that I’m sure, wrapped up in all the Looney Toons in your head, anyway. I told him I was okay with it because I was tired and there seemed to be a light waiting for me. Smartass that Sam is, shot back with,” Dean mimicked Sam, “‘It’s Hellfire, Dean’ dumb kid, but I think - and I never told anyone this and if you tell anyone I uttered even something similar to what I’m about to say I’ll kill you; I can too, you know, I got a stash of angel-blades in Baby’s trunk.
“Anyway, I think… maybe… that the light I could see, could sense, was… you. You changed me in a lot of ways, Cas. More good ways than bad. You’re the only one… Even when you aren’t you, that I’m able to really talk to, you know, Man? Bobby said once that you were the best friend I ever had and he’s right… Was right.” Dean went quiet for a moment.
“What I’m saying, Cas, what this big rambling speech comes down to, is that it’s okay. You fixed the mistake and you… you can stop now, all right? You don’t gotta… You don’t have to be crazy anymore. It’s okay, Cas. So just… Just…” Dean waited with his breath held but Castiel didn’t move.
Dean closed his eyes. “I did some shit too, Cas, okay? I know you maybe don’t know how to handle the guilt and that’s new to you. I get that, but this way? This ain’t the way. You don’t have to worry anymore. I got this one.”
Still nothing.
Dean sucked in a deep breath before saying, “Okay, this is my last play, Man. You cannot tell a single soul about this. There’s this poem - sonnet actually - it’s probably one of the only things I remember about Grade Eleven English. I always liked it and it’s by, get this Cas, Shakespeare.
“Look, I memorized it, but if you tell Sam that I know Shakespeare - let alone what a sonnet is - the kid will laugh his ass off. So we’ll just keep this to ourselves. Just… ah… listen. It may help:
“No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:/Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud, /Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, /And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. /All men make faults, and even I in this, /Authorizing thy trespass with compare, /Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss, /Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are; /For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense -- /Thy adverse party is thy advocate -- /And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence./Such civil war is in my love and hate/That I an accessary needs must be /To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me .”
Dean took a deep breath when he finished and waited. Song lyrics, lines of dialogue from movies, things his dad would say. All these Dean memorized, but he had never memorized a poem before. He poured over the damn thing until his eyes hurt, squinting against the dim light of the flashlight in the muggy in-between of his bed sheets. There was something about it, even then, that he managed to relate to. He hated poetry on principal, but Shakespeare knew his shit. Dude was even funny. Dean found himself laughing along with everyone else when he went to see Romeo and Juliet with his class that one time.
That didn’t matter, though. The language was archaic and Dean still had problems wrapping his head around it sometimes, but he got the gist. He understood and that had been new. So yeah, he memorized it. Never admitted that to anyone before, though. Maybe Cas didn’t count.
“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was low and steady, solid like it used to be, and Dean’s heart leapt to his throat, choking off his air in a solid squeeze.
“Yeah, Cas?” Dean croaked. He should have known better.
“What are akin to insects here sing in the most peculiar timbre. Did you notice? I noticed. I’ve been listening. I wish we had a Twister mat. It’s too bad that didn’t fit in my trench coat. I wonder if I could have fit it in my trench coat if I tried. Oh!” Castiel got up suddenly and shuffled away. He came back a few minutes later with a handful of stones and a stick of black wood. The bark looked slimy and strange in the half-light.
Castiel crouched and began scratching in the dirt. Dean watched for a moment before he came over and helped Cas to shade in every other square on the grid. Looked like Castiel was over Tic-Tac-Toe and that they’d be trying their hand at Checkers tonight.
Castiel paused in his work and said very quietly, looking Dean right in the eye, “It might not work, but we can try.”
Dean’s chest felt tight. “Yeah, Cas, yeah. Let’s try.”
xx
Dean woke up, Castiel’s name on his lips. He looked around and took in the sunlit bedroom that was gradually becoming familiar to him. Castiel was sleeping on his stomach on the bed next to Dean, but it wasn’t Dean’s Castiel.
Castiel stirred, rolled over, and looked at Dean, sleepy eyes full of concern. “Are you all right?”
“Y…yeah,” Dean answered shakily, running a hand through his hair. The Dean of this timeline kept it longer than Dean was used to; it flopped around messed from sleep, gel gone with the night.
“Dean, you know you can-”
“I know, Cas. I’m okay. Hungry though,” Dean pushed down the blankets and climbed out of bed.
“Do you want me to-”
“Nah,” Dean interrupted again. “You don’t get a chance to sleep much and from the looks of you, it seems you enjoy it. Stay there, it’s cool.”
Castiel nodded hesitantly and lay back down. Dean felt the blue eyes on his back as he went down the hallway.
Getting around the kitchen would take some effort but Dean would manage it. People tended to keep things in the most logical spot. The problems was, what might be a ‘logical’ spot for one person was not necessarily a logical spot for another. But this was Dean’s house, in a way.
He began by opening cupboards at random and found one that was full of baking supplies. He thought that was little strange, but maybe Castiel enjoyed baking, or Sam. That seemed like a Sam thing to do.
It didn’t take long after that for Dean to find what he needed and he started breakfast. He hoped everyone would be happy with eggs and bacon because that was pretty much the extent of his kitchen prowess.
“Dean.”
Dean jumped and spun, slumping against the counter when he saw Castiel standing a little awkwardly in the doorway. The angel shifted from foot to foot, looked at Dean, and then looked away.
“Dean, you know you can talk to me. You can tell me anything you need to. I know every facet of you and that isn’t an exaggeration,” Castiel said gently.
Dean watched Castiel watch him for a long moment. He wanted to tell the angel everything swimming around in his head but he just couldn’t take the risk. This Cas had changed a lot in thirteen years and though he seemed stronger, more stable, Dean didn’t know how the angel would take being told not only did he smash Sam’s wall and almost destroy the world, he was also currently absolutely bonkers and flailing around in Purgatory. Cas knew the last part but Dean had carefully side-stepped the other issues. He hoped.
“Nothing to talk about, Man,” Dean grinned. “Hey everyone in this house eat eggs and bacon still?”
“Ah… yes. Though Sam is still much keener on fruit and whole wheat toast,” Castiel said.
Once again, Dean got the feeling the angel didn’t believe him for a second but was willing to accept his word for now. Dean watched as Castiel moved to the fridge and pulled out some fruit that he began to cut up.
“Well, we’ll let him keep telling us that,” Dean winked. “Bet hard money that Sam still has a weakness for bacon.”
“Quite,” Castiel flashed a quick smile, his eyes twinkling. He paused in his slicing and looked over his shoulder. “The baby.”
“I don’t- Right, angel.”
Castiel smiled and tossed Dean a little wink. Absurdly, Dean found himself flushing at the gesture and turned back to the eggs and popping bacon with more concentration than was strictly necessary. Castiel chuckled lowly and made his way out of the kitchen. John stumbled in a few minutes after him looking rumbled and sleepy-eyed still.
“Morning, Monkey,” Dean greeted. Sounded natural enough to his own ears.
“Hi Dad. I thought it was Pop’s day to cook.”
Dean winced. “Oh ah… decided to give him the day off.”
“I like bacon more than porridge anyway,” John remarked. He shuffle-walked over to the fridge and pulled out the large carton of orange juice, balancing it precariously. Dean almost leapt to the rescue of the poor unsuspecting cardboard but John eased it onto the counter before it could crash to the floor. “Pop kinda sucks at breakfast but he’s pretty awesome on the grill. Think he’s gonna do that tonight?”
“Ah… Not sure,” Dean confessed. He had been off on a job apparently so that was probably safe enough to say. Dean began to wonder who it was who did the baking then. A part of him kind of assumed Cas would be the domestic one of the two, but John’s little revelation about breakfast had him second guessing. Not to mention Castiel’s teasing remark a few days ago about Dean being the ‘homemaker’ in their relationship. That was just all kinds of piles of weird.
“Oh well, I’ll ask when he comes back, maybe he’ll do it if I ask. Rather that than spaghetti. Again. Still don’t see why you guys gotta switch anyway,” Dean heard a pout in John’s voice.
Dean found himself chuckling. “Cas isn’t much of a cook, huh?”
John snickered. “I thought we weren’t allowed to say that anymore. Last time we did he didn’t cook for a month and you got grumpy.”
“Right, I think he’ll forgive me-”
“Just this once,” Castiel said archly with a tiny, haughty glare. “Human cooking contraptions confound me. At least the grill makes logical sense. Humans have been using fire to char meat essentially since the dawn of your species.”
“I ain’t eating it if it’s charred,” Dean wrinkled his nose. “I like it still-”
“Red and mooing,” John and Castiel finished in unison.
“We’re aware,” Castiel added.
Dean stared at them, a little bemused, but didn’t comment and turned back to the frying pan. Castiel buckled Jasper into his highchair and pulled a jar of apple sauce out of the cupboard. Dean stole a casual glance at the jar.
“Huh, strawberry-apple, that would make a good pie,” Dean said idly.
“You gonna make it Dad? It’s been like forever since you made a pie! Strawberry-apple would be awesome!” John said eagerly.
Dean turned wide surprised eyes at Castiel and mouthed, “Me?” Well that answered that question. Damnit.
Castiel only smirked and carried the little plastic bowl over to Jasper as well as a handful of plain Cheerios. Castiel scooted back over to the frying pan and stopped Dean’s hand before he put on the pepper and salt, scooping out a small portion of scrambled eggs onto a little plastic plate before putting that on Jasper’s tray as well.
“It’s hot, Jasper. You must wait,” Castiel instructed as the baby moved to reach for them. Castiel placed a hand on the edge of the plate. Nothing seemed to happen but if Dean looked closely he could see the steam was gone.
“Okay?” Jasper asked.
“Okay,” Castiel nodded.
Dean watched how smoothly the angel moved around the kitchen, his kitchen. How easily it came to him to work around Dean and feed the baby. Castiel was loose and comfortable, perfectly at ease. There was still an element of otherness to him but it wasn’t nearly as noticeable as Dean was used to. In public, Castiel probably just seemed like a slightly quirky human who happened to talk to his infant in full sentences.
“Dean, if you stand there gaping much longer you’re going to burn your beloved bacon,” Castiel said without looking away from where he was once again slicing the fruit.
“Oh Jesus fu-” Dean winced. “Ah… Darn.”
“Dad! Don’t blaspheme! Pop gets super angry when you do that!” John chastised, aghast.
“Sorry, guys,” Dean muttered.
Castiel took his raised eyebrows and turned back to his meticulously sliced fruit, which he was now scooping carefully into a bowl that he carried over to the table. He gave John a generous helping, causing the boy to scowl but he set to work on it anyway.
“Daddy! Unca Dean’s making bacon,” a chipper young voice echoed in from the hallway.
“Yes, Princess. I see. I thought Uncle Cas was going to cook today,” Sam came into the room, Mary balanced on his hip easily. He moved around both Dean and Cas, popping slices of toast into their large toaster oven on the shelf over the dishwasher.
“Uncle Cas still cut up your fruit for you,” Castiel pointed out.
“Thanks, Dude,” Sam grinned. “We get our fruit, Sweet Girl.”
“No oatmeal?” Mary wanted to know.
“Tomorrow, chef duty is all his,” Dean replied, setting down his plates of bacon and eggs. Sam placed Mary in her booster seat, casually dropping a kiss on her blonde curls, then he went over to check on the toast.
“You’re turning your girl there into a little health-nut clone, Sammy. I’m ashamed,” Dean teased.
“My kid,” Sam stuck his tongue at his brother. “So there. She still likes her Lucky Charms though, huh, Butterfly?”
“Lucky Charms!” Mary crowed.
“Oh man, I want that for lunch,” John added.
“I think it’s hereditary,” Dean laughed.
“You aren’t getting Lucky Charms for lunch, John,” Castiel shot the idea down fast.
“I’m the fun one, aren’t I?” Dean grinned at the eleven-year-old.
“Not usually,” Sam chuckled, answering for his nephew, eyes sparkling.
Dean was just about to take his seat at the table when he had to stop. Sam grinning, laughing, joking. Castiel relaxed, happy, at peace. Three beautiful children. Enjoying breakfast together, like a family. A normal family. Like Dean always wanted.
He shook his head slowly, taking in the scene, feeling a roiling sickness in his gut and the air choke off midway up his throat. No, no, no. This was wrong, this couldn’t be. Dean didn’t get the things he wanted; he wasn’t that lucky. This was all just some twisted fantasy playing out in his head. Really, he was freezing to death in Purgatory while a half-cocked angel ran around fighting shadows and playing made-up board games. That was his life.
Jasper and John had stopped eating. Sam and Castiel paused. Jasper began to cry. Dean looked at the infant’s wide, wide blue eyes. Over at the curious expression on John’s face and the concern clear on Sam’s and Castiel’s. He backed away, turned on his heel, and ran - bare feet, pajama pants and not much else - out into the backyard, which was misty with evaporating dew in the early summer morning.
He stopped at the edge of the fence line, bent double, and rested his hands on his knees as he tried to breathe. No, no, no, no. This was some cruel, sick fantasy. It had to be. He wasn’t living this, this wouldn’t be his life. How could it be his life? How did he deserve such a thing after all the terrible things he’d done? He almost fucking destroyed the world, three fucking times, for Christ’s sake.
“Dean?”
Dean didn’t move and went so far as to still entirely and hold his breath.
“Dean? What happened in there, Man?”
Dean finally turned, his eyes closed for a few beats, then he opened them again. “Sammy, this isn’t actually real, is it?”
“What?”
“All of this. This life. You with a kid. Me and Cas with those boys. It can’t be real, right? I’ve been somewhere like here before, Sammy. Just tell me the truth this time, all right?”
“Dean, we are telling you the truth,” Sam said gently, coming forward cautiously.
“No!” Dean snapped. “You can’t be! I was fed the same bullshit in the djinn dream all those years ago. This is just version 2.0 or some shit. They got it better, but it can’t be this perfect, Sam. So just fess up. This is something like that, right? If not a djinn, then it’s something else. Maybe one of the Purgatory beasts whammied me. God, what if it got Cas?”
“Purgatory?! Dean, what are you talking about? When were you in Purgatory? Oh my God. Did you fall through when Crowley opened it? Is that what happened? Cas tried to pull you out and he got sucked in after you? That’s gotta be where the timeline spliced, then,” Sam’s brain was already going into problem solving mode. Dean could see it and it looked so real. Dean felt as if he were choking again. How could they get it so close?
Sam was continuing, “I bet Cas tried to mojo you out but the entrance into Purgatory’s like a vortex and he miscalculated and sent you flying here. I need to get to Bobby’s…”
Dean slowly shook his head. No. Wrong. Stop. The mention of Bobby only clinched the deal. Of course in Dean’s fantasyland, Bobby would still be alive.
“Shut up!” Dean shouted. “Just shut up! Enough bullshit. You aren’t my brother, I’m not here!” Dean turned angry eyes to the sky. “Get me out, you bastard! Whoever you are! Get me out!”
“Dean? Dean!”
Sam’s large hands were crushing Dean’s shoulders, pressing into tender flesh and overlapping Castiel’s handprint scar. Large paws far too big to fit the space. Dean cried out again and smacked Sam’s hands away, cradling his own shoulder protectively as if blocking the scar from the imposter before him. His only connection left to the angel in this fucked-up place. He pressed his hand over it, feeling hard muscle and pressed harder, bruising his own flesh with the force of it. He didn’t care.
Cas. Please Cas. Bring me back.
“Dean.”
“Cas.”
“Hush now.”
The blue, vaguely man-shaped light pressed a warm palm to his forehead and Dean slumped boneless to the hard ground, the smell of earth thick in his nostrils.
xx
“I don’t think we should eat those again.”
“What?” Dean blinked, it was too dark, too cold. Damp wet and almost chemical-smelling below all the thick, dark dirt.
“Those berries. We shouldn’t eat them again.”
“Cas.”
“Hello, Dean. You had an exceptionally unfavourable reaction. I told you not to eat them. You didn’t listen. Is that a new trend of yours? Or an old one? Never, ever listening.” Castiel scratched away at the dirt. Dean crawled over.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a spell, maybe a poem. Maybe something I’ve been saying all along but that you continue to refuse to hear. Though you are a Winchester. It should certainly be expected by now. No more berries, Dean.”
“Fruit. You were cutting fruit.”
“No. You’re mistaken.”
“Cas? Cas, is this real?” Dean asked urgently, grasping the angel’s arm tight.
“I wouldn’t know, Dean,” Castiel said idly. “Do you feel as if it’s real?”
“It was a dream. I knew it,” Dean muttered to himself. “You should have seen it, Cas. It was all kinds of fucked-up. Kids, you and I were practically gay-married, Man. And, well, the whole sanity thing and Sam slept with a stripper and he had a little girl.”
Castiel laughed.
“What?” Dean wanted to know.
“Sam had intercourse with an exotic dancer,” Castiel answered.
“Yeah, I know. Guess my subconscious is all kinds of messed up.”
Castiel continued making his scratches in the dirt.
Dean continued to watch. Then he cocked his head slightly and squinted through the low-light.
You’re dreaming. You’re dreaming. I’m so sorry. You’re dreaming.
Dean frowned. “Hey Cas, that’s not a-Hey! Do you hear that?”
Castiel was humming. It didn’t sound familiar but it sounded meaningful.
“Where did you hear that song, Cas?”
“Around.”
Scritch. Scratch. Scritch. Went the stick in the dirt. The same words over and over again.
“Dammit,” Dean cursed, jumping to his feet and spinning around. “There it is again.”
“Dean.”
“Yeah, Cas,” Dean said absently, still peering into the dark. He was jostled suddenly. “Dude, whoa man, what did you shove me, for?” Dean turned back but the angel was still scratching into the dirt. You’re dreaming. I’m sorry. You’re dreaming.
“Dean. Dean. Dean!”
“Dude, what?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Castiel looked up. Though his face wasn’t his face. Softer, with warmer eyes, not clouded by insanity. His hair was a loose and wild corona on his head. A mouth accustomed to smiling.
“You have to wake up now.”
xx
“Dean! Wake up!”
Dean sprung up. He was in the white room again, with the honey floors and the gossamer curtains. The fan was clicking above his head, a breeze was coming in through the open window, and gentle-eyed Castiel was peering down at him.
“I’m so sorry, Dean. I don’t know what happened. Your consciousness seemed to get stuck for a moment. You were nearly hysterical and Sam couldn’t calm you down. I… I just acted.”
Dean stared up at Castiel mutely, feeling as if he was becoming just as unhinged as the angel of his timeline. It had felt so real, being back there. So which was it? Was here real or was there real? Were they both?
“I need to get him out,” Dean whispered.
“Shh, Dean. I know. And we will get you back. I promise.”
“He’s trapped and scared. You don’t understand. At this point he’d toss himself on the nearest pyre right now if he were allowed to. After everything he did. I’m scared.”
“Dean, what happened? What is so awful that you can’t tell me? Please Dean, I just want to help,” Castiel said gently.
“No, I can’t. I just can’t, Cas. I’m not going to put you through that. You don’t have to live through something that you didn’t do, all right? I just… I just need to know what’s real,” Dean put his head in his hands as he slumped over himself on the bed. He was still clad in nothing but the pajama pants from the night before and the white sheet pooled in his lap. He shivered as a light breeze ghosted over the bare skin of his chest. Castiel hovered beside him, not touching but reaching out.
“How can I help?” Castiel asked, his tone almost desperate.
Dean looked up. “Get me back.”
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