[Fic] DCBB - Round Came the Magpie - Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Dean couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t even realize he was shaking until he felt Castiel drape his coat over Dean’s shoulders and ease the green-eyed man gently to the ground. It was dark soon after as Castiel pulled Dean towards himself and pressed his tormented face gently against his chest. He felt Castiel speaking, sensed Jessica sobbing but could do nothing but stare at the darkness that was Castiel’s chest as he tried to process exactly what had just happened and why it was he felt so bereft.
“Look Hotwings, as much as I love this one-on-one time, I really gotta speak to Dean-o for a sec, kay?” Finally sound was filtering through Dean’s ears again, even if it sounded like it was travelling through glass.
“I will kill you. Slowly, painfully and inventively,” Castiel growled out.
“Oh I love it when you take charge like that,” Meg purred. “But why not let your boy-toy hear me out before you get smite happy, huh? Though, then again, I’m so, so scared with you trapped in your cage,” she spoke the last words, sounding almost bored.
Dean had regained enough presence of mind to push away from Castiel’s chest and turn - still shaking - in order to look at the demon. “What?” he rasped. “What could you possibly have to say?”
Dean did everything he could not to look at the body of his baby brother, absentmindedly amazed at how much red had formed around him. Dean felt like he was going to be sick but swallowed it down. He wanted desperately to gather the torturously sobbing Jessica into his arms but he still was stuck behind the fucking fire.
Meg sat down on a few stacked crates behind her, crossing her legs carelessly at the knee, bobbing her foot up and down as she leaned back and smiled. “I’ll bring him back.”
Dean scrambled to his feet, dropping Castiel’s coat. Castiel reached out just in time to stop Dean from crossing the flaming barrier.
Dean shook Castiel’s hand off and gritted, “How?”
“Easy-peasy,” Meg shrugged. “You make a deal with me and I call in a favour. Sammy’s back and breathing in seconds.”
“What kind of deal?”
“Dean, stop it,” Castiel said quickly. “We’ll figure out another way.”
“What kind of deal?” Dean repeated.
“Same one I gave Sam for Jess. You trade your life for his,” Meg explained.
“Give me the knife,” Dean said without hesitating, holding out a hand.
“Dean!” Castiel shouted, his grief palpable.
Meg’s smirk widened. “Well, not exactly like Sam. Resurrection is a little trickier, after all.”
“Fine. Let’s do it,” Dean said quickly, teeth clenched tight.
Meg quirked a finger and Dean sailed out of the fire ring, stopping a foot in front of where she was sitting. She rose sinuously to her feet. “See, what Sam and I agreed on was… I guess you could say more like a promissory note. You and I, Dean, will have a contract. Are you familiar with a crossroads deal?”
Dean sucked in a sharp breath.
“I take that as a yes,” Meg breezed.
“Dean, don’t,” Castiel begged, impotent and trapped the blazing holy oil.
“I don’t quite have the juice to bring Sam back into the world of the waking, so I have to call a friend of mine for a bit of a back-up and she don’t work for free, let me tell you. The price is a little steep, but I’m sure you won’t have a problem with it.”
Dean swallowed. “My soul, right?”
“Maybe you are smarter than you look. Never would have guessed.”
“Call it in. Bring him back,” Dean’s tone was pleading and he didn’t even care.
“Seal it with a kiss, Pretty-Eyes… Though if I’m being honest, I’d much rather be taking your angel for a spin. Think the universe would implode if Heaven kissed He-”
Dean interrupted her by grabbing her small face in his hands and slamming their lips together brutally.
Meg stood was frozen, startled for a minute, before completing her end of the bargain and kissing back. When Dean pulled back, Meg looked over his shoulder at Castiel, who had turned his face away, unable to bear the image of Dean kissing a demon. He did look up when he felt her gaze on him however and her eyes were pitch black. She licked her lips slowly, tossed Castiel a wink, then turned back to Dean.
“One last thing,” the demon said; she pulled Dean’s head down so she could whisper into the hunter’s ear while her eyes locked back on Castiel.
Castiel couldn’t hear but he did see Dean tense and his fist clench tight.
Meg stepped back and vanished just as Sam gasped back to life. Jessica sobbed and scrambled over to him, hugging him tight.
Dean walked on shaky legs over to his brother, who was clinging wide-eyed to Jessica while she cried into his hair. Castiel wanted to go to him, to reach out but the fire still burned stubbornly on.
“H…hey, Sammy,” Dean said with a watery smile. Jess pulled away to allow for Dean to reach out for Sam and pull him close.
“Thought I lost you, Little Brother. Don’t do something so fucking stupid again, you hear?”
“Dean? What…? Why is Cas in fire?”
Dean looked over quickly, Sam still held tight while his gaze flicked around the room looking for something to put out the flames. Castiel just watched the entire thing sadly, not saying a word.
Dean gave Sam one parting squeeze and a rough kiss on his hair before he handed the young man back off to Jess and pushed to his feet.
“Hang on, Babe,” Dean said, not meeting Castiel’s eyes. The public use of the endearment and Dean’s avoidance gave Castiel the first clue that something was off.
“Dean,” Castiel tried quietly.
“Just a sec. They keep these old alarms wired in case some stupid kids get in here and burn the damn thing to the ground,” Dean hurried across the room and broke the glass before yanking at the alarm and sending water pouring down on all their heads. “There,” Dean grinned as the flame sizzled, sputtered and died.
“Dean,” Castiel attempted once again, not moving.
“Sammy, can you walk?” Dean asked, coming back over and leaning down to his brother.
“Yeah,” Sam said shakily, allowing Jess to help him to his feet, then leaned heavily on the Amazonian blonde. Dean nodded and patted Sam on the shoulder then walked over to Cas and grabbed his hand, weaving their fingers together. He moved to leave the building but Castiel was steadfast.
“Come on, Cas. We gotta go before the fire department gets here, we probably have like four minutes.”
“Dean,” Castiel said firmly, his voice rough. “How long?”
“Huh?” Dean smiled disarmingly.
“Don’t fuck with me!” Castiel shouted. “How long? How long did that dammed bitch give you?! Tell me!”
“Come on, Cas, we really need to-”
Castiel was in Dean’s face in a second, gripping him tight on the shoulders, glaring into his eyes. “Tell me, how long? Ten years? Five? One?”
“Dean, what’s he-?” Sam started groggily.
“Don’t worry about it, Sammy,” Dean said gently.
Castiel shook Dean then and demanded, “How long?”
“Fuck, Cas! Six months, okay? She gave me six fucking months! Now let’s go!” Dean finally snapped, wrenching himself out of Castiel’s suddenly lax grip and storming across to the exit door and working at the lock.
Castiel and Sam felt their stomachs lodge in their throats as they followed stiffly behind.
xx
When Castiel entered their motel room, he nearly took John Winchester’s head off. As it was, he stopped just in time. He vanished the sword and punched the Winchester patriarch hard in the jaw, pushing him back against the wall.
“If you had been there, this wouldn’t have happened,” Castiel shoved him once more then disappeared.
John cracked then rubbed his jaw, shaking his head slowly. “What’s his problem?”
“Don’t worry about it, Dad,” Dean said, subdued.
“He ever hit you?” John asked suddenly, face furious.
Dean snorted. “No, don’t be ridiculous. See you got Sam’s message.”
“Guess you don’t need this, huh?” John tossed a cloth bundle at Dean, who caught it and opened it up, peering down at the Colt.
“Nope,” Dean said blankly, dropping the weapon on the bed then walking to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
John turned to Sam, about to say an awkward hello when he caught sight of the blood. “What the hell happened to you, Boy?” John rushed to his son’s side and began patting him down. Sam shook his father’s hands off.
“I’m fine,” Sam said, Jessica huddled at his side. “Dean isn’t.” The two men turned to the bathroom door, the sounds of frantic scrubbing with a toothbrush edging through the wood.
“What’d that angel do?” John demanded.
“Nothing!” Sam snapped. “Why do you always gotta blame, Cas? Jesus, he was the only who held this family together when it really mattered. You know that? It wasn’t Cas, it was me. I did this.”
“Sam,” Jessica interrupted softly.
“No, Jess. I did this. Dean made that deal because of me, because I rushed in there and didn’t think. If I had just waited, we could have got you out of there.”
“Tell me everything,” John ordered.
xx
Castiel came back that night, torn and bloody, his expression bone tired. He slumped into the motel room and shut the door softly, startling when he saw John staring at him in the dark from the table. Dean, Sam and Jess were asleep on the beds.
John picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured a glass out for Castiel, setting it down and sliding it to the seat across from him.
“Did you get what you needed?” John asked calmly once Castiel had sat and downed his glass. The angel didn’t even feel the burn.
“No.”
“All that and nothing?” John gestured to Castiel’s dishevelled state.
“No,” Castiel repeated in a low growl. “None of the filthy abominations are talking.”
“Can you break the deal?”
Castiel shook his head.
John paused for a second, looking away when he asked, “Can Michael?”
Castiel sucked in a sharp, useless breath but didn’t answer.
John nodded once and took another drink.
“I’m not letting him do it,” Castiel vowed. “I’m astounded you’d even suggest it.”
“It’s better than Hell isn’t it?” John retorted, voice angry and dangerous as he glared across the table at his son-in-law.
“That’s debateable.”
John snorted, downed another glass, and got up, heading for the door.
“Where are you going?” Castiel asked. “You can’t just disappear again. You can’t do that to your children.”
“Relax, Flyboy, I’m just heading next door to sleep. You’re back now; they don’t need me.”
Castiel chose not to respond, not because he agreed but because he was taking too much vindictive satisfaction from the hurt swimming in John Winchester’s eyes. It was unkind, but Castiel was going to lose the love of his very, very long life in a mere six months’ time. He had no room for kindness.
John left with his shoulders slumped, shutting the door softly behind him.
Castiel traded the glass for the bottle and settled back in his chair, watching the slow rise and fall of Dean’s chest and counting each breath as he tried to sear the sound into his memory.
xx
Dean woke to the grey light of dawn and glanced over at the silhouette slumped with a bottle between his fingers at the table that was littered with nearly two dozen more. Dean sighed and climbed out of bed, ignoring the chill of the morning as he padded across the thin carpet and kneeled at Castiel’s feet.
“You’re back,” Dean observed calmly.
Castiel didn’t move.
“You need a shower and a change, Man,” Dean wrinkled his nose. “What’d you do? Hold a massacre?”
“Yes,” Castiel finally answered, his tone low and bitter. “It didn’t help. They didn’t tell me anything.”
Dean grimaced and reached out. Castiel flinched away.
“We gonna kiss and make up, or what?” Dean asked. Again, Castiel chose not to answer.
Dean sighed, “Did my dad take off again?”
“Unless it was shortly before you awoke, then no. He was next door sleeping. Went there shortly after I returned.”
“Cas, look at me, Babe,” Dean pleaded softly.
Castiel, as if drawn by gravity, couldn’t keep his gaze away any longer, especially not at that tone. But when he did look up Dean saw how utterly wrecked he was.
“You sold your soul, Dean,” Castiel whispered. “You’re going to Hell.”
Dean flinched. “It was for Sammy, Cas. If it were me, what would you have given up?”
“That’s not…”
“The point? Look, I’m not worried, Cas.”
“You should be, Dean. You should be very, very worried. This may not be a problem I can fix.”
“No one asked you to,” Dean said calmly.
Castiel met Dean square in the eye, aghast. “I’m not going to sit here and let you die and burn! I don’t care if you asked me to or not. I’ll move Hell itself to get to you. I just wish it hadn’t come to this.”
“Cas-” Dean tried.
Castiel stood then, angry all over again. “Don’t you understand? That soul wasn’t yours to sell. You promised it to me all those years ago.” Castiel touched a fingertip to Dean’s left shoulder then and Dean hissed at the sharp, quick burn that flared out at the point of contact. He yanked up his shirt sleeve to see a hand print bright red across his shoulder as if brand new.
Castiel disappeared with a furious flutter of wings.
“Fuck you,” Dean wheezed out, falling back on his ass on the floor.
xx
Dean didn’t tell anyone about the freaky burn when he saw it in the shower the next morning after his fucked-up birthday. It was strange how he hadn’t noticed it before because it hurt like a fresh burn when he brushed against it. He had to hide his flinches from Sam if he managed to accidently hit it throughout that day and the following weeks.
Eventually and gradually it began to fade and fall back into the familiar white of all his other old scars and he forgot about it for the most part. He would notice it occasionally, that odd-shaped patch of slightly lighter skin and then forget about it just as quick.
That was until years later, on his back in the Impala’s back seat with Castiel hovering over him. The angel reached out and laid a hand across the patch and Dean hissed as warmth jolted through his body like arousal. Castiel blinked slowly and peered closer, then smiled faintly bemused.
“I’m so sorry,” the angel whispered. “I didn’t realise…”
“Huh?” Dean asked, slightly dazed. “That old thing? Had it for years.”
“Yes, I gave it to you. I just was so desperate to save you. I knew I would have to use some of my grace to knit your legs back together, I just hadn’t realised I left more than a bit behind.” Castiel danced his fingers over the scar before laying his palm flat against it. It flared bright for a second, fitting Castiel’s hand exactly despite age and growth. Dean gasped, his eyes fluttering as he reached out and grabbed Castiel’s wrist, meeting the older man’s gaze.
“I’m ready,” Dean whispered, pupils blown wide.
Castiel’s eyes widened and then they both forgot about the scar for a little while.
xx
“So what’s it mean?” Dean asked later, sleepy, sore and content.
“You’re bound to me,” Castiel explained softly. “I will forever be able to find your soul, no matter where it is. I’m surprised it took me so long to realise. I’ve always felt you there, hovering, but before we became friends I suppose I just let it be.”
“So what? You like own me?” Dean asked with an amused scoff.
Castiel looked embarrassed and looked away.
“Oh, Man, seriously?” Dean’s amusement drained. Then he said lightly, “Guess we can never break-up then, huh?”
That had been the only time they ever discussed it. Castiel never brought it up and Dean never asked again.
xx
“Fuck you,” Dean whispered again, his voice breaking and his throat thick.
Sam stirred in the bed he was sharing with Jess and Dean closed his eyes tight before slapping on a mask and smiling warmly at his sleepy-eyed brother.
“Breakfast?” Dean asked.
xx
Their father left shortly after they finished their meal. He said a gruff goodbye, hugged them quickly and gave Sam an awkward apology that made them all uncomfortable. Nobody asked where Castiel was. John was too pissed at the angel to care, Jess was too afraid to say anything because she hardly knew her boyfriend’s family and Sam was wise enough to see that Dean did not want to talk about it. Even if he probably should.
Eventually, after a few days of continuing on in this vein, as they were driving back from dropping Jess off at her parents’ house Sam couldn’t take it anymore.
“So what the hell man?” Sam asked from the passenger seat.
“Sam…”
“Look, I’ve shut up about this for the last three days. I’m not about to keep quiet any longer. Where’s Cas? What happened?”
“He’s pissed off at me, Sam. It’s that simple,” Dean finally said. “Okay? Nothing more sinister than that. He’s pissed that I killed myself to save you, he’s pissed that I gave my soul up without a thought. He’s convinced there could have been another way. He didn’t say it in so many words, but it’s clear that he’s not on board with this whole thing.”
“Well, I don’t blame him. What you did was stupid. You know they have something waiting for us, don’t you? Why kill me only to bring me back right away? There’s more to it than that and we walked right into their fucking plan.”
Dean couldn’t tell who was angrier at themselves. Him or Sam. Not that Dean wouldn’t sell his soul again in a heartbeat to save Sam if he had to, but if he had just waited, maybe they could have got Meg out of there and Castiel could have brought Sam back. Screw the other angels. Instead they were in this situation. But seeing Sam there, pale and still, had been too much for Dean’s shocked mind and body to witness any longer so when he’d heard Meg’s offer he’d agreed in a heartbeat.
“Why would they want you in Hell?” Sam asked quietly, his voice very young.
“Wish I knew Sammy,” Dean sighed.
April, 2006
“So, did he finally tell you the truth?”
Dean opened his eyes with a gasp and saw that he was in the same white nothing space from before. Instead of his car though, he was sitting on his bed from his little blue house where he and Sam decided to hold up for a while until they figured out what was going on.
“Michael,” Dean observed grimly. “Funny, I actually wanted to talk to you.”
Michael smiled slowly. “So he did tell you then. I don’t sense him around you anymore. He hasn’t been there for awhile has he? I’d say I was sorry, but it’s for the best Dean.”
“I still have no fucking clue what you’re talking about,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Look, I got myself in a bit of a-”
“You still don’t know?” Michael’s eyes went wide and then he shook his head slowly. “I really didn’t want it to come to this. But I think I no longer have a choice. I just can’t bear it any longer. You need to know.” Michael was all sympathy as he came close to Dean and sat down next to him on the bed. Dean edged away, his heart suddenly beating a mile a minute in his chest. His body, even in this dream world, was instinctively uncomfortable with being this close to the archangel.
“What are you doing?” Dean asked edgily as Michael reached out a hand.
“Showing you the truth,” Michael said gently.
Dean cried out as Michael’s icy cold hand touched his skin and thirty-four years of alternate memories flooded into his mind all at once. Years he hadn’t yet lived coming back to him as if they had only happened yesterday. A life that was similar but so, so, so different that Dean’s heart ached to see it.
Jess dead, Dad dead, Sam and Castiel both betraying him. Castiel the strange otherworldly being that pulled him from the pit and manipulated him from day one. The unforgiving angel, the faithless and the fool, all wrapped up into one firm figure with the naïve eyes. Always so blue.
Blue. Blue was supposed to indicate honesty. He heard that somewhere a long time ago, or maybe it hadn’t happened yet. All he felt right then was sick.
Your soul wasn’t yours to sell. He heard it different now, a cruel dark growl, Castiel’s eyes flashing as he stormed away.
“Fucking bastard,” Dean murmured, his eyes swimming. Did he know all along?
“Why else do you think he came to take you away, Dean?” Michael said, warm and kind, wearing his dad’s young, understanding face.
“No,” Dean whispered.
xx
When Dean woke up he felt disgusted with himself. He threw his used body out of the bed he had shared with bastard who manipulated him since he was only a kid. Tricked him into falling in love. He climbed into the shower and stayed there for a very, very long time. That’s how Sam found him the next morning, shivering in the water that had long gone cold. Sam bundled his brother in a towel and hurried him out of the spray.
“I need to get outta here, Sammy,” Dean said, his voice thick.
Sam nodded mutely, not taking a second to ask because the look on Dean’s face sent a spark of pain right through Sam’s heart. He gathered a small collection of clothes and shoved them in Dean’s duffle along with his gun and knife and packed up his own bag. They left the house as it was and Sam drove them away from the tiny blue bungalow that once held so much joy for his brother.
They drove until Sam could hardly keep his eyes open any longer and then they crashed at the first motel they came across. Sam watched blearily as Dean meticulously sketched symbols on the wall in chalk and painted on the windows in red paint. Sam didn’t recognize them, but they looked like they could be Enochian. Sam didn’t have to think very hard to guess what they were for - to keep angels out. All angels.
Once Dean was through, he slumped down on the far bed and curled into a tight ball. When Sam saw his brother’s shoulders shaking, he turned out the light and shut his eyes. Dean wouldn’t want Sam to see this moment of weakness.
xx
Dean woke immediately when Castiel landed and Castiel was stunned to find himself face to tip with a very deadly looking angel blade. Castiel took one step back and stared at Dean with unconcealed hurt. This was more than just some harsh words spat out in the heat of the moment. Something had happened while Castiel was away collecting his thoughts. He had come back to apologize for his overreaction, but judging by Dean’s furious expression that wouldn’t do him any good.
“How did you get in?” Dean gritted out.
Castiel looked around the room and his shoulders slumped. He picked up Dean’s discarded chalk and adjusted the tail of one symbol. The entire room flared for one brief second. Dean looked over to see if the light had disturbed Sam but saw his rumbled bed empty. He opened his mouth to demand Sam’s location just in time to see Castiel slump and stumble, just barely managing to catch himself on a chair.
Dean fought the urge to run to his side.
“Sam’s fine. He woke up hungry and went to find some food,” Castiel explained weakly.
Dean looked at the tiny little tail that was the entire make or break of his wall art and back to Castiel, who had effectively neutered himself.
“Why’d you do that?” Dean asked warily.
“What?” Castiel asked, sitting down carefully.
Dean gestured to his now fixed error. “You fixed it and sapped your own power.”
“You’re afraid. Worse, you’re afraid of me. If this is the only way I can get you to explain why to me, then so be it,” Castiel answered. “I love you Dean, with all my heart. I need to know what happened because I won’t be able to survive it if this distance between us opens into a chasm.”
Dean snorted, having a difficult time believing that. Especially after what Michael had showed him.
“You know damn well,” Dean gritted out, though he did lower the angel blade.
“Is this about your soul? I’m so sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have said that. You are your own person, of course. I jus-”
“It’s not about the fucking soul, Castiel!”
Castiel flinched, his full name on Dean’s lips sounding like a curse.
“It’s about how you’ve lied and manipulated me at every turn. Since day one. I was a kid. A kid. When we met. A thirteen fucking year old kid at that. The perfect age for me to fall right into your lap, just like you always wanted, right? God, it’s sick. That’s what it is.”
“Dean,” Castiel shook his head, face pale. “I don’t under-”
“Cut the bullshit you fuck. Michael told me everything. He told me all about how he turned back time and how you took full advantage of the situation.”
“He what?” Castiel asked, voice flat.
“Oh, never thought he’d fess up, huh? Thought I’d go on living blissfully ignorant about the wh-”
“He turned back time?” Castiel asked, aghast. “But that’s not… It can’t be… Even he doesn’t have that much power.”
“All this and you’re stuck on that?” Dean gaped.
“Because it’s nonsense!” Castiel snapped. “Even if Michael had turned back time, which I find highly, highly improbable, I would never have remembered. I’m cavalry, I’m not a general. What happened between us, Dean, happened of its own accord. I did absolutely nothing other than meet you in the middle. I swear to my Father, that’s what happened. Michael is lying to you.”
“Convenient,” Dean said bitterly.
“It’s the truth! You’re honestly going to believe Michael’s word over mine?” Castiel found that difficult to process. After all their history, that Dean could even be convinced of such a thing…
Castiel was calm suddenly, knowing fighting wouldn’t change anything. “Dean, believe me when I say I may not have been one-hundred percent forthcoming the entire time we’ve been together, but I have never outright lied to you and I would never, ever, do anything to manipulate you into this relationship. I’d die before I’d do that.”
“I might have been more inclined to believe you if he had just told me, but he showed me, Cas. He gave me back the memories.”
Castiel frowned. “I don’t understand. There wouldn’t be any memories.”
“Well, I saw something and it sure felt like a memory,” Dean retorted.
Castiel stood, moved to approach Dean, then felt another wave of weakness wash over him. He looked around the liberally symbol-coated room.
“Can you show me?” Castiel asked carefully.
“Why? Michael said you already know,” Dean replied suspiciously.
“But I don’t, Dean. That’s what I’ve been saying. What Michael implied he did is impossible, unless he had the full might of the archangels behind him and half a dozen Seraphim. There is no way he could have completely rewritten history like that. He’s strong, but he isn’t God. It’s something else. It has to be. Please, Dean.”
Goddammit. Castiel’s gaze was so earnest that it physically hurt to see the pain so blatant on his face. When Dean took a moment to breathe, Castiel’s truth made far more sense. If Castiel was as callous as Michael had implied, then Dean would have seen indications of it before now, but despite their arguments and squabbles, Castiel had never, ever been outright cruel. The being he saw beating him bloody in an alley and then again in a crypt was not the same Castiel that stood here. Even then though, there had to be more to that ‘memory’ than Dean saw. He was thrust in the middle of it.
Dean stood cautiously, hating the tiny frisson of fear that shot through him as he approached one of the chalk symbols on the wall. He hesitated for only a second before wiping his palm through it and smearing it into uselessness.
Castiel let out a breath of relief and smiled nervously at Dean. “May I?”
Dean sat and nodded stiffly.
“Thank you,” Castiel said quietly as he approached carefully. He held out a hand and placed it gently on the side of Dean’s face, trying to ignore the flinch and recoil the human gave. Castiel breathed, just for something to focus on as he sifted carefully through Dean’s mind, edging away from more private thoughts that at this time he was not privy to. Once upon a time, Dean told him everything but right now, Castiel had to build the trust up again. To think it could all be torn down so quickly… But maybe not, because there, just on the edge where he was trying not to look, was warmth and light and love and Cas.
Finally, Castiel saw the oily mess that seemed out of place in Dean’s mind. It was almost like a part of someone else stitched onto Dean. Familiar enough. Still Dean, but not the Dean Castiel knew. That’s when Cas understood, as he forced himself to look through the memories even though he found them repellent. Michael had stolen a glance into an alternate world, one where Castiel and Dean didn’t meet until much, much later. One where they were never married and their intimacy was stolen moments drenched in guilt. There was still love there, but there was also too much between them. Castiel and Dean, both the good little soldiers. It was so bizarre how even across universes they still found some way to reflect one another. The good son, fighting for what you were told was right, absent fathers, only ever trying to do the right thing and failing miserably. Castiel pulled away and his heart went out to that Dean and Castiel. Hopefully, they would find their way back to one another once and for all. They seemed maybe to be on their way.
“Whether intentional or accidental, Michael screwed up,” Castiel explained as he pulled away. “You saw the future of an alternate world. There are millions of them, each springing off through a different decision. The choices we and those around us make influence the path we take. What Michael showed you was another life. How it would have been if he had not moved ahead with his plan when you were still a child and waited until you were an adult. I can only imagine Michael looked into several dimensions and what futures were available to him in order to uncover what path he should take, because in each and every one of those worlds, I can guarantee one thing.”
“What’s that?” Dean asked softly.
“That you and Sam win,” Castiel said firmly. “So in this life, he started early, hoping that would change the outcome of things. But it won’t.”
Dean searched Castiel’s face for several heartbeats and then nodded carefully. “All the same, I think I need some time.”
Castiel’s heart plummeted. “Of course.”
“I just keep coming back to what you said, all those months ago. Remember?”
“I said a lot of things.”
“When I asked what my life would have been like if we hadn’t met when we did, and you answered so accurately. All the women, never a solid relationship. If Michael’s lying, why would you answer like that?”
Castiel shook his head. “I don’t know Dean. It was just a thought. I am an angel, maybe once in while the universes bleed through in small ways. I promise you, I knew nothing of this.”
“All right,” Dean nodded. “I’ll call you, okay?”
“Whatever you need, Dean.”
“See you.”
Castiel ignored the lump in his throat and the rocks in his gut and flew away.
Dean got off the bed, got a towel from the bathroom - which he wetted with the tap in the tub - and began wiping down the walls.
“Good omen?” Sam asked when he came in about forty minutes later and Dean was just scrubbing at the last painted symbol.
“We’re taking some time, but I don’t need these anymore,” Dean answered without turning.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“A lot.”
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Dean couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t even realize he was shaking until he felt Castiel drape his coat over Dean’s shoulders and ease the green-eyed man gently to the ground. It was dark soon after as Castiel pulled Dean towards himself and pressed his tormented face gently against his chest. He felt Castiel speaking, sensed Jessica sobbing but could do nothing but stare at the darkness that was Castiel’s chest as he tried to process exactly what had just happened and why it was he felt so bereft.
“Look Hotwings, as much as I love this one-on-one time, I really gotta speak to Dean-o for a sec, kay?” Finally sound was filtering through Dean’s ears again, even if it sounded like it was travelling through glass.
“I will kill you. Slowly, painfully and inventively,” Castiel growled out.
“Oh I love it when you take charge like that,” Meg purred. “But why not let your boy-toy hear me out before you get smite happy, huh? Though, then again, I’m so, so scared with you trapped in your cage,” she spoke the last words, sounding almost bored.
Dean had regained enough presence of mind to push away from Castiel’s chest and turn - still shaking - in order to look at the demon. “What?” he rasped. “What could you possibly have to say?”
Dean did everything he could not to look at the body of his baby brother, absentmindedly amazed at how much red had formed around him. Dean felt like he was going to be sick but swallowed it down. He wanted desperately to gather the torturously sobbing Jessica into his arms but he still was stuck behind the fucking fire.
Meg sat down on a few stacked crates behind her, crossing her legs carelessly at the knee, bobbing her foot up and down as she leaned back and smiled. “I’ll bring him back.”
Dean scrambled to his feet, dropping Castiel’s coat. Castiel reached out just in time to stop Dean from crossing the flaming barrier.
Dean shook Castiel’s hand off and gritted, “How?”
“Easy-peasy,” Meg shrugged. “You make a deal with me and I call in a favour. Sammy’s back and breathing in seconds.”
“What kind of deal?”
“Dean, stop it,” Castiel said quickly. “We’ll figure out another way.”
“What kind of deal?” Dean repeated.
“Same one I gave Sam for Jess. You trade your life for his,” Meg explained.
“Give me the knife,” Dean said without hesitating, holding out a hand.
“Dean!” Castiel shouted, his grief palpable.
Meg’s smirk widened. “Well, not exactly like Sam. Resurrection is a little trickier, after all.”
“Fine. Let’s do it,” Dean said quickly, teeth clenched tight.
Meg quirked a finger and Dean sailed out of the fire ring, stopping a foot in front of where she was sitting. She rose sinuously to her feet. “See, what Sam and I agreed on was… I guess you could say more like a promissory note. You and I, Dean, will have a contract. Are you familiar with a crossroads deal?”
Dean sucked in a sharp breath.
“I take that as a yes,” Meg breezed.
“Dean, don’t,” Castiel begged, impotent and trapped the blazing holy oil.
“I don’t quite have the juice to bring Sam back into the world of the waking, so I have to call a friend of mine for a bit of a back-up and she don’t work for free, let me tell you. The price is a little steep, but I’m sure you won’t have a problem with it.”
Dean swallowed. “My soul, right?”
“Maybe you are smarter than you look. Never would have guessed.”
“Call it in. Bring him back,” Dean’s tone was pleading and he didn’t even care.
“Seal it with a kiss, Pretty-Eyes… Though if I’m being honest, I’d much rather be taking your angel for a spin. Think the universe would implode if Heaven kissed He-”
Dean interrupted her by grabbing her small face in his hands and slamming their lips together brutally.
Meg stood was frozen, startled for a minute, before completing her end of the bargain and kissing back. When Dean pulled back, Meg looked over his shoulder at Castiel, who had turned his face away, unable to bear the image of Dean kissing a demon. He did look up when he felt her gaze on him however and her eyes were pitch black. She licked her lips slowly, tossed Castiel a wink, then turned back to Dean.
“One last thing,” the demon said; she pulled Dean’s head down so she could whisper into the hunter’s ear while her eyes locked back on Castiel.
Castiel couldn’t hear but he did see Dean tense and his fist clench tight.
Meg stepped back and vanished just as Sam gasped back to life. Jessica sobbed and scrambled over to him, hugging him tight.
Dean walked on shaky legs over to his brother, who was clinging wide-eyed to Jessica while she cried into his hair. Castiel wanted to go to him, to reach out but the fire still burned stubbornly on.
“H…hey, Sammy,” Dean said with a watery smile. Jess pulled away to allow for Dean to reach out for Sam and pull him close.
“Thought I lost you, Little Brother. Don’t do something so fucking stupid again, you hear?”
“Dean? What…? Why is Cas in fire?”
Dean looked over quickly, Sam still held tight while his gaze flicked around the room looking for something to put out the flames. Castiel just watched the entire thing sadly, not saying a word.
Dean gave Sam one parting squeeze and a rough kiss on his hair before he handed the young man back off to Jess and pushed to his feet.
“Hang on, Babe,” Dean said, not meeting Castiel’s eyes. The public use of the endearment and Dean’s avoidance gave Castiel the first clue that something was off.
“Dean,” Castiel tried quietly.
“Just a sec. They keep these old alarms wired in case some stupid kids get in here and burn the damn thing to the ground,” Dean hurried across the room and broke the glass before yanking at the alarm and sending water pouring down on all their heads. “There,” Dean grinned as the flame sizzled, sputtered and died.
“Dean,” Castiel attempted once again, not moving.
“Sammy, can you walk?” Dean asked, coming back over and leaning down to his brother.
“Yeah,” Sam said shakily, allowing Jess to help him to his feet, then leaned heavily on the Amazonian blonde. Dean nodded and patted Sam on the shoulder then walked over to Cas and grabbed his hand, weaving their fingers together. He moved to leave the building but Castiel was steadfast.
“Come on, Cas. We gotta go before the fire department gets here, we probably have like four minutes.”
“Dean,” Castiel said firmly, his voice rough. “How long?”
“Huh?” Dean smiled disarmingly.
“Don’t fuck with me!” Castiel shouted. “How long? How long did that dammed bitch give you?! Tell me!”
“Come on, Cas, we really need to-”
Castiel was in Dean’s face in a second, gripping him tight on the shoulders, glaring into his eyes. “Tell me, how long? Ten years? Five? One?”
“Dean, what’s he-?” Sam started groggily.
“Don’t worry about it, Sammy,” Dean said gently.
Castiel shook Dean then and demanded, “How long?”
“Fuck, Cas! Six months, okay? She gave me six fucking months! Now let’s go!” Dean finally snapped, wrenching himself out of Castiel’s suddenly lax grip and storming across to the exit door and working at the lock.
Castiel and Sam felt their stomachs lodge in their throats as they followed stiffly behind.
xx
When Castiel entered their motel room, he nearly took John Winchester’s head off. As it was, he stopped just in time. He vanished the sword and punched the Winchester patriarch hard in the jaw, pushing him back against the wall.
“If you had been there, this wouldn’t have happened,” Castiel shoved him once more then disappeared.
John cracked then rubbed his jaw, shaking his head slowly. “What’s his problem?”
“Don’t worry about it, Dad,” Dean said, subdued.
“He ever hit you?” John asked suddenly, face furious.
Dean snorted. “No, don’t be ridiculous. See you got Sam’s message.”
“Guess you don’t need this, huh?” John tossed a cloth bundle at Dean, who caught it and opened it up, peering down at the Colt.
“Nope,” Dean said blankly, dropping the weapon on the bed then walking to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
John turned to Sam, about to say an awkward hello when he caught sight of the blood. “What the hell happened to you, Boy?” John rushed to his son’s side and began patting him down. Sam shook his father’s hands off.
“I’m fine,” Sam said, Jessica huddled at his side. “Dean isn’t.” The two men turned to the bathroom door, the sounds of frantic scrubbing with a toothbrush edging through the wood.
“What’d that angel do?” John demanded.
“Nothing!” Sam snapped. “Why do you always gotta blame, Cas? Jesus, he was the only who held this family together when it really mattered. You know that? It wasn’t Cas, it was me. I did this.”
“Sam,” Jessica interrupted softly.
“No, Jess. I did this. Dean made that deal because of me, because I rushed in there and didn’t think. If I had just waited, we could have got you out of there.”
“Tell me everything,” John ordered.
xx
Castiel came back that night, torn and bloody, his expression bone tired. He slumped into the motel room and shut the door softly, startling when he saw John staring at him in the dark from the table. Dean, Sam and Jess were asleep on the beds.
John picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured a glass out for Castiel, setting it down and sliding it to the seat across from him.
“Did you get what you needed?” John asked calmly once Castiel had sat and downed his glass. The angel didn’t even feel the burn.
“No.”
“All that and nothing?” John gestured to Castiel’s dishevelled state.
“No,” Castiel repeated in a low growl. “None of the filthy abominations are talking.”
“Can you break the deal?”
Castiel shook his head.
John paused for a second, looking away when he asked, “Can Michael?”
Castiel sucked in a sharp, useless breath but didn’t answer.
John nodded once and took another drink.
“I’m not letting him do it,” Castiel vowed. “I’m astounded you’d even suggest it.”
“It’s better than Hell isn’t it?” John retorted, voice angry and dangerous as he glared across the table at his son-in-law.
“That’s debateable.”
John snorted, downed another glass, and got up, heading for the door.
“Where are you going?” Castiel asked. “You can’t just disappear again. You can’t do that to your children.”
“Relax, Flyboy, I’m just heading next door to sleep. You’re back now; they don’t need me.”
Castiel chose not to respond, not because he agreed but because he was taking too much vindictive satisfaction from the hurt swimming in John Winchester’s eyes. It was unkind, but Castiel was going to lose the love of his very, very long life in a mere six months’ time. He had no room for kindness.
John left with his shoulders slumped, shutting the door softly behind him.
Castiel traded the glass for the bottle and settled back in his chair, watching the slow rise and fall of Dean’s chest and counting each breath as he tried to sear the sound into his memory.
xx
Dean woke to the grey light of dawn and glanced over at the silhouette slumped with a bottle between his fingers at the table that was littered with nearly two dozen more. Dean sighed and climbed out of bed, ignoring the chill of the morning as he padded across the thin carpet and kneeled at Castiel’s feet.
“You’re back,” Dean observed calmly.
Castiel didn’t move.
“You need a shower and a change, Man,” Dean wrinkled his nose. “What’d you do? Hold a massacre?”
“Yes,” Castiel finally answered, his tone low and bitter. “It didn’t help. They didn’t tell me anything.”
Dean grimaced and reached out. Castiel flinched away.
“We gonna kiss and make up, or what?” Dean asked. Again, Castiel chose not to answer.
Dean sighed, “Did my dad take off again?”
“Unless it was shortly before you awoke, then no. He was next door sleeping. Went there shortly after I returned.”
“Cas, look at me, Babe,” Dean pleaded softly.
Castiel, as if drawn by gravity, couldn’t keep his gaze away any longer, especially not at that tone. But when he did look up Dean saw how utterly wrecked he was.
“You sold your soul, Dean,” Castiel whispered. “You’re going to Hell.”
Dean flinched. “It was for Sammy, Cas. If it were me, what would you have given up?”
“That’s not…”
“The point? Look, I’m not worried, Cas.”
“You should be, Dean. You should be very, very worried. This may not be a problem I can fix.”
“No one asked you to,” Dean said calmly.
Castiel met Dean square in the eye, aghast. “I’m not going to sit here and let you die and burn! I don’t care if you asked me to or not. I’ll move Hell itself to get to you. I just wish it hadn’t come to this.”
“Cas-” Dean tried.
Castiel stood then, angry all over again. “Don’t you understand? That soul wasn’t yours to sell. You promised it to me all those years ago.” Castiel touched a fingertip to Dean’s left shoulder then and Dean hissed at the sharp, quick burn that flared out at the point of contact. He yanked up his shirt sleeve to see a hand print bright red across his shoulder as if brand new.
Castiel disappeared with a furious flutter of wings.
“Fuck you,” Dean wheezed out, falling back on his ass on the floor.
xx
Dean didn’t tell anyone about the freaky burn when he saw it in the shower the next morning after his fucked-up birthday. It was strange how he hadn’t noticed it before because it hurt like a fresh burn when he brushed against it. He had to hide his flinches from Sam if he managed to accidently hit it throughout that day and the following weeks.
Eventually and gradually it began to fade and fall back into the familiar white of all his other old scars and he forgot about it for the most part. He would notice it occasionally, that odd-shaped patch of slightly lighter skin and then forget about it just as quick.
That was until years later, on his back in the Impala’s back seat with Castiel hovering over him. The angel reached out and laid a hand across the patch and Dean hissed as warmth jolted through his body like arousal. Castiel blinked slowly and peered closer, then smiled faintly bemused.
“I’m so sorry,” the angel whispered. “I didn’t realise…”
“Huh?” Dean asked, slightly dazed. “That old thing? Had it for years.”
“Yes, I gave it to you. I just was so desperate to save you. I knew I would have to use some of my grace to knit your legs back together, I just hadn’t realised I left more than a bit behind.” Castiel danced his fingers over the scar before laying his palm flat against it. It flared bright for a second, fitting Castiel’s hand exactly despite age and growth. Dean gasped, his eyes fluttering as he reached out and grabbed Castiel’s wrist, meeting the older man’s gaze.
“I’m ready,” Dean whispered, pupils blown wide.
Castiel’s eyes widened and then they both forgot about the scar for a little while.
xx
“So what’s it mean?” Dean asked later, sleepy, sore and content.
“You’re bound to me,” Castiel explained softly. “I will forever be able to find your soul, no matter where it is. I’m surprised it took me so long to realise. I’ve always felt you there, hovering, but before we became friends I suppose I just let it be.”
“So what? You like own me?” Dean asked with an amused scoff.
Castiel looked embarrassed and looked away.
“Oh, Man, seriously?” Dean’s amusement drained. Then he said lightly, “Guess we can never break-up then, huh?”
That had been the only time they ever discussed it. Castiel never brought it up and Dean never asked again.
xx
“Fuck you,” Dean whispered again, his voice breaking and his throat thick.
Sam stirred in the bed he was sharing with Jess and Dean closed his eyes tight before slapping on a mask and smiling warmly at his sleepy-eyed brother.
“Breakfast?” Dean asked.
xx
Their father left shortly after they finished their meal. He said a gruff goodbye, hugged them quickly and gave Sam an awkward apology that made them all uncomfortable. Nobody asked where Castiel was. John was too pissed at the angel to care, Jess was too afraid to say anything because she hardly knew her boyfriend’s family and Sam was wise enough to see that Dean did not want to talk about it. Even if he probably should.
Eventually, after a few days of continuing on in this vein, as they were driving back from dropping Jess off at her parents’ house Sam couldn’t take it anymore.
“So what the hell man?” Sam asked from the passenger seat.
“Sam…”
“Look, I’ve shut up about this for the last three days. I’m not about to keep quiet any longer. Where’s Cas? What happened?”
“He’s pissed off at me, Sam. It’s that simple,” Dean finally said. “Okay? Nothing more sinister than that. He’s pissed that I killed myself to save you, he’s pissed that I gave my soul up without a thought. He’s convinced there could have been another way. He didn’t say it in so many words, but it’s clear that he’s not on board with this whole thing.”
“Well, I don’t blame him. What you did was stupid. You know they have something waiting for us, don’t you? Why kill me only to bring me back right away? There’s more to it than that and we walked right into their fucking plan.”
Dean couldn’t tell who was angrier at themselves. Him or Sam. Not that Dean wouldn’t sell his soul again in a heartbeat to save Sam if he had to, but if he had just waited, maybe they could have got Meg out of there and Castiel could have brought Sam back. Screw the other angels. Instead they were in this situation. But seeing Sam there, pale and still, had been too much for Dean’s shocked mind and body to witness any longer so when he’d heard Meg’s offer he’d agreed in a heartbeat.
“Why would they want you in Hell?” Sam asked quietly, his voice very young.
“Wish I knew Sammy,” Dean sighed.
April, 2006
“So, did he finally tell you the truth?”
Dean opened his eyes with a gasp and saw that he was in the same white nothing space from before. Instead of his car though, he was sitting on his bed from his little blue house where he and Sam decided to hold up for a while until they figured out what was going on.
“Michael,” Dean observed grimly. “Funny, I actually wanted to talk to you.”
Michael smiled slowly. “So he did tell you then. I don’t sense him around you anymore. He hasn’t been there for awhile has he? I’d say I was sorry, but it’s for the best Dean.”
“I still have no fucking clue what you’re talking about,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Look, I got myself in a bit of a-”
“You still don’t know?” Michael’s eyes went wide and then he shook his head slowly. “I really didn’t want it to come to this. But I think I no longer have a choice. I just can’t bear it any longer. You need to know.” Michael was all sympathy as he came close to Dean and sat down next to him on the bed. Dean edged away, his heart suddenly beating a mile a minute in his chest. His body, even in this dream world, was instinctively uncomfortable with being this close to the archangel.
“What are you doing?” Dean asked edgily as Michael reached out a hand.
“Showing you the truth,” Michael said gently.
Dean cried out as Michael’s icy cold hand touched his skin and thirty-four years of alternate memories flooded into his mind all at once. Years he hadn’t yet lived coming back to him as if they had only happened yesterday. A life that was similar but so, so, so different that Dean’s heart ached to see it.
Jess dead, Dad dead, Sam and Castiel both betraying him. Castiel the strange otherworldly being that pulled him from the pit and manipulated him from day one. The unforgiving angel, the faithless and the fool, all wrapped up into one firm figure with the naïve eyes. Always so blue.
Blue. Blue was supposed to indicate honesty. He heard that somewhere a long time ago, or maybe it hadn’t happened yet. All he felt right then was sick.
Your soul wasn’t yours to sell. He heard it different now, a cruel dark growl, Castiel’s eyes flashing as he stormed away.
“Fucking bastard,” Dean murmured, his eyes swimming. Did he know all along?
“Why else do you think he came to take you away, Dean?” Michael said, warm and kind, wearing his dad’s young, understanding face.
“No,” Dean whispered.
xx
When Dean woke up he felt disgusted with himself. He threw his used body out of the bed he had shared with bastard who manipulated him since he was only a kid. Tricked him into falling in love. He climbed into the shower and stayed there for a very, very long time. That’s how Sam found him the next morning, shivering in the water that had long gone cold. Sam bundled his brother in a towel and hurried him out of the spray.
“I need to get outta here, Sammy,” Dean said, his voice thick.
Sam nodded mutely, not taking a second to ask because the look on Dean’s face sent a spark of pain right through Sam’s heart. He gathered a small collection of clothes and shoved them in Dean’s duffle along with his gun and knife and packed up his own bag. They left the house as it was and Sam drove them away from the tiny blue bungalow that once held so much joy for his brother.
They drove until Sam could hardly keep his eyes open any longer and then they crashed at the first motel they came across. Sam watched blearily as Dean meticulously sketched symbols on the wall in chalk and painted on the windows in red paint. Sam didn’t recognize them, but they looked like they could be Enochian. Sam didn’t have to think very hard to guess what they were for - to keep angels out. All angels.
Once Dean was through, he slumped down on the far bed and curled into a tight ball. When Sam saw his brother’s shoulders shaking, he turned out the light and shut his eyes. Dean wouldn’t want Sam to see this moment of weakness.
xx
Dean woke immediately when Castiel landed and Castiel was stunned to find himself face to tip with a very deadly looking angel blade. Castiel took one step back and stared at Dean with unconcealed hurt. This was more than just some harsh words spat out in the heat of the moment. Something had happened while Castiel was away collecting his thoughts. He had come back to apologize for his overreaction, but judging by Dean’s furious expression that wouldn’t do him any good.
“How did you get in?” Dean gritted out.
Castiel looked around the room and his shoulders slumped. He picked up Dean’s discarded chalk and adjusted the tail of one symbol. The entire room flared for one brief second. Dean looked over to see if the light had disturbed Sam but saw his rumbled bed empty. He opened his mouth to demand Sam’s location just in time to see Castiel slump and stumble, just barely managing to catch himself on a chair.
Dean fought the urge to run to his side.
“Sam’s fine. He woke up hungry and went to find some food,” Castiel explained weakly.
Dean looked at the tiny little tail that was the entire make or break of his wall art and back to Castiel, who had effectively neutered himself.
“Why’d you do that?” Dean asked warily.
“What?” Castiel asked, sitting down carefully.
Dean gestured to his now fixed error. “You fixed it and sapped your own power.”
“You’re afraid. Worse, you’re afraid of me. If this is the only way I can get you to explain why to me, then so be it,” Castiel answered. “I love you Dean, with all my heart. I need to know what happened because I won’t be able to survive it if this distance between us opens into a chasm.”
Dean snorted, having a difficult time believing that. Especially after what Michael had showed him.
“You know damn well,” Dean gritted out, though he did lower the angel blade.
“Is this about your soul? I’m so sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have said that. You are your own person, of course. I jus-”
“It’s not about the fucking soul, Castiel!”
Castiel flinched, his full name on Dean’s lips sounding like a curse.
“It’s about how you’ve lied and manipulated me at every turn. Since day one. I was a kid. A kid. When we met. A thirteen fucking year old kid at that. The perfect age for me to fall right into your lap, just like you always wanted, right? God, it’s sick. That’s what it is.”
“Dean,” Castiel shook his head, face pale. “I don’t under-”
“Cut the bullshit you fuck. Michael told me everything. He told me all about how he turned back time and how you took full advantage of the situation.”
“He what?” Castiel asked, voice flat.
“Oh, never thought he’d fess up, huh? Thought I’d go on living blissfully ignorant about the wh-”
“He turned back time?” Castiel asked, aghast. “But that’s not… It can’t be… Even he doesn’t have that much power.”
“All this and you’re stuck on that?” Dean gaped.
“Because it’s nonsense!” Castiel snapped. “Even if Michael had turned back time, which I find highly, highly improbable, I would never have remembered. I’m cavalry, I’m not a general. What happened between us, Dean, happened of its own accord. I did absolutely nothing other than meet you in the middle. I swear to my Father, that’s what happened. Michael is lying to you.”
“Convenient,” Dean said bitterly.
“It’s the truth! You’re honestly going to believe Michael’s word over mine?” Castiel found that difficult to process. After all their history, that Dean could even be convinced of such a thing…
Castiel was calm suddenly, knowing fighting wouldn’t change anything. “Dean, believe me when I say I may not have been one-hundred percent forthcoming the entire time we’ve been together, but I have never outright lied to you and I would never, ever, do anything to manipulate you into this relationship. I’d die before I’d do that.”
“I might have been more inclined to believe you if he had just told me, but he showed me, Cas. He gave me back the memories.”
Castiel frowned. “I don’t understand. There wouldn’t be any memories.”
“Well, I saw something and it sure felt like a memory,” Dean retorted.
Castiel stood, moved to approach Dean, then felt another wave of weakness wash over him. He looked around the liberally symbol-coated room.
“Can you show me?” Castiel asked carefully.
“Why? Michael said you already know,” Dean replied suspiciously.
“But I don’t, Dean. That’s what I’ve been saying. What Michael implied he did is impossible, unless he had the full might of the archangels behind him and half a dozen Seraphim. There is no way he could have completely rewritten history like that. He’s strong, but he isn’t God. It’s something else. It has to be. Please, Dean.”
Goddammit. Castiel’s gaze was so earnest that it physically hurt to see the pain so blatant on his face. When Dean took a moment to breathe, Castiel’s truth made far more sense. If Castiel was as callous as Michael had implied, then Dean would have seen indications of it before now, but despite their arguments and squabbles, Castiel had never, ever been outright cruel. The being he saw beating him bloody in an alley and then again in a crypt was not the same Castiel that stood here. Even then though, there had to be more to that ‘memory’ than Dean saw. He was thrust in the middle of it.
Dean stood cautiously, hating the tiny frisson of fear that shot through him as he approached one of the chalk symbols on the wall. He hesitated for only a second before wiping his palm through it and smearing it into uselessness.
Castiel let out a breath of relief and smiled nervously at Dean. “May I?”
Dean sat and nodded stiffly.
“Thank you,” Castiel said quietly as he approached carefully. He held out a hand and placed it gently on the side of Dean’s face, trying to ignore the flinch and recoil the human gave. Castiel breathed, just for something to focus on as he sifted carefully through Dean’s mind, edging away from more private thoughts that at this time he was not privy to. Once upon a time, Dean told him everything but right now, Castiel had to build the trust up again. To think it could all be torn down so quickly… But maybe not, because there, just on the edge where he was trying not to look, was warmth and light and love and Cas.
Finally, Castiel saw the oily mess that seemed out of place in Dean’s mind. It was almost like a part of someone else stitched onto Dean. Familiar enough. Still Dean, but not the Dean Castiel knew. That’s when Cas understood, as he forced himself to look through the memories even though he found them repellent. Michael had stolen a glance into an alternate world, one where Castiel and Dean didn’t meet until much, much later. One where they were never married and their intimacy was stolen moments drenched in guilt. There was still love there, but there was also too much between them. Castiel and Dean, both the good little soldiers. It was so bizarre how even across universes they still found some way to reflect one another. The good son, fighting for what you were told was right, absent fathers, only ever trying to do the right thing and failing miserably. Castiel pulled away and his heart went out to that Dean and Castiel. Hopefully, they would find their way back to one another once and for all. They seemed maybe to be on their way.
“Whether intentional or accidental, Michael screwed up,” Castiel explained as he pulled away. “You saw the future of an alternate world. There are millions of them, each springing off through a different decision. The choices we and those around us make influence the path we take. What Michael showed you was another life. How it would have been if he had not moved ahead with his plan when you were still a child and waited until you were an adult. I can only imagine Michael looked into several dimensions and what futures were available to him in order to uncover what path he should take, because in each and every one of those worlds, I can guarantee one thing.”
“What’s that?” Dean asked softly.
“That you and Sam win,” Castiel said firmly. “So in this life, he started early, hoping that would change the outcome of things. But it won’t.”
Dean searched Castiel’s face for several heartbeats and then nodded carefully. “All the same, I think I need some time.”
Castiel’s heart plummeted. “Of course.”
“I just keep coming back to what you said, all those months ago. Remember?”
“I said a lot of things.”
“When I asked what my life would have been like if we hadn’t met when we did, and you answered so accurately. All the women, never a solid relationship. If Michael’s lying, why would you answer like that?”
Castiel shook his head. “I don’t know Dean. It was just a thought. I am an angel, maybe once in while the universes bleed through in small ways. I promise you, I knew nothing of this.”
“All right,” Dean nodded. “I’ll call you, okay?”
“Whatever you need, Dean.”
“See you.”
Castiel ignored the lump in his throat and the rocks in his gut and flew away.
Dean got off the bed, got a towel from the bathroom - which he wetted with the tap in the tub - and began wiping down the walls.
“Good omen?” Sam asked when he came in about forty minutes later and Dean was just scrubbing at the last painted symbol.
“We’re taking some time, but I don’t need these anymore,” Dean answered without turning.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“A lot.”
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