In These Waters, Part VII
Life’s too short to even care at all
The sound of the waves on the shore had always been Dean’s favorite sound. The smell of the ocean was his favorite smell.
As a child, his mother had not allowed him to visit the beach. Not after the last camping trip, anyway. He was ten years old then. Eighteen years was a long time to exist without the waters beneath him. It felt like a part of him was missing.
He’d never been able to really explain why the ocean mattered to him so much. He had tried to psychoanalyze himself in his early 20s but he’d only been met with dead ends. He theorized once that he loved it because his mother forbade him from going near it. That train of thought hadn’t gotten far because his passion has been there long before the accident. His mother’s actions may have fueled the fire, but Dean Winchester knew he had always been certain of one thing: He belonged at sea.
A dark world aches for a splash of the sun
“I don’t understand why you have to do this,” Mary Winchester said in a voice of concern.
She pulled her shawl more tightly around her body. Dean stepped down onto the dock and smiled at her reassuringly. He placed his hands on her shoulders as he said gently, “Mom, it’s going to be fine. Aren’t I always fine?”
“You keep pushing your luck and one day you won’t be fine!”
“I promise you that I will be home before you know it.” He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her temple.
“You call me every chance you get! Please!”
“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled, nodding his head and turning back toward his boat.
The boat was, as he had lovingly called her, his “baby of the sea.” His first baby - a 67 Chevrolet Impala his dad had driven decades before - was going to sit in his mom’s driveway until he returned. He had to admit that as much room as the Impala took up in his heart, this boat wasn’t bad. She was a piece of art.
With a mahogany colored hull and black sails littered with streaks of azure, it was enough to make any other man’s heart swell with jealousy. Dean had known the minute he laid eyes on her that she was meant for him. He had taken his phone out of his pocket and snapped a dozen pictures from different angles. As a matter of fact, he had broken the news of his trip to his mother by showing her a picture of his sea baby.
“See that right there?” he had said, touching the phone’s screen with his finger and grinning despite the cold look she had been giving him. “Named her Jo. She’s gonna take me around the oceans of the world. She’s a real ketch.”
That, of course, was when several variations of “you’re going to get yourself killed!” had been shouted in his direction. Dean’s incredulous response had been “I won’t get myself killed, mom! ....Seriously, was that pun completely wasted just now?!”
He was only planning on being at sea for a year. He’d been prepping himself for the last three years; getting papers in order and brushing up on his knowledge of boating. He had even waited until his work contract was completed so he would have nothing tying him to the land.
Well…almost nothing. There was always his mother.
Dean was the only thing she had left. He had done everything in his power to make her proud. He had attended Stanford University, where his mother said he would excel. He had worked hard to become an Oceanographer. He had accepted a job with a prestigious lab. While he certainly had been able to study the waters and draw up reports, he was never free to do as he pleased. It was, after all, a job.
He knew she wouldn’t enjoy him being gone. He also knew she wouldn’t accept “I know what I’m doing because I can feel it in my bones” as sufficient preparation for such an arduous journey. Hence the years of prepping.
All things considered, her reaction hadn’t been that bad. She was even here to see him off. It was much more than he had hoped for.
After stepping onto the boat, Dean gave his mother - his worrying, loving, kind-hearted mother - the best smile he’d ever given anyone. As the boat started to drift away he called out, “Hey! I didn’t give you that champagne bottle so you could admire its beauty! You were supposed to christen my baby!”
Mary glanced down at her feet and, after she spied the forgotten bottle, she started to laugh.
“I’m sorry!” was her choked response. “Will you ever forgive me?”
“Yeah yeah…Maybe when I’m old and grey! I love you to the moon and back, mom!”
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The first night on open water was glorious. Dean could hardly believe any of it was real. He stood on the bow of his boat and cried out in ecstasy. When the boat was faced with a particularly harsh wave, he laughed.
This is what I was missing, he thought. Miles and miles of ocean before me, and the freedom to explore it leisurely.
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On the 67th day of his journey, Dean stopped to enjoy his longest stay on land yet. He made port near a pleasant town called Tela, off the coast of Honduras. The people there were more than happy to direct him to the nearest bar that housed a phone he could use to make international calls.
When his call finally went through, he wasn’t surprised to find that his mother didn’t answer. He opted to leave her a message.
You know, you could at least attempt to pick up the phone when I call. As if you need any more beauty sleep. I keep tellin’ ya, you’re beautiful enough. I’m in Honduras at the moment. I just wanted to touch base. I got here kinda late so I haven’t been able to see much of this place yet. I haven’t gotten the creeps though so it can’t be bad. Pick up next time! I need to know if Missouri’s told you any good stories lately. I miss you. I’ll talk to you soon. To the moon and back, mom.
He placed the receiver back in its cradle and headed over to the bar. He took a moment to glance around at the other patrons. Each one smiled at him; he was surprised by how friendly they seemed. One girl in particular caught his eye. Paola, she said her name was. She shared some drinks with him and towards the end of the night even offered him a place to stay.
“It is probably much better for you than sleeping in that cramped boat,” she crooned softly into his ear.
Dean mulled it over. I could score tonight, he thought - and if he was reading the girl’s body language correctly, her hand caressing his thigh definitely confirmed his thought - but I can’t leave my first lady unattended.
And man, was this chick hot. Her eyes were an intense shade of blue. Her skin was a beautiful shade of light brown, and her hair wound down her back in raven colored magic-marker curls.
With great effort, Dean peeled the girl off him.
“Sorry sweetheart,” he sighed. “Can’t leave my baby hangin’. Maybe tomorrow.” The girl put on her best pout before heading in the opposite direction.
When Dean returned to his boat, he was immediately glad he made the decision to sleep there. The sound of the water splashing against the hull was reassuring. He slept soundly that night.
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On the 68th day of his journey, Dean Winchester awoke to the sound of birds calling out to one another and the sun shining brightly. When he walked onto the deck of his baby, he started to smile. The smell of the water alone was enough to ease him.
He stretched his back languidly, sighing contentedly before he hopped off the boat. Being here was even better than he had dreamed.
For a moment, as he gazed out at the water, everything grew quiet. The waters rushed up the beach in gentle swells, touching him softly before dashing back to the rest of the sea. If he listened closely, he could swear the water was talking to him. Hands in his pockets and quiet in his heart, Dean Winchester was suddenly satisfied.
After gathering his thoughts, he made the decision to borrow a dingy and go snorkeling. The water was clear, the sky was the bluest it had ever been, and Dean smiled so much that his face began to hurt.
He spent hours watching the fish swim around him. He had panicked momentarily when the fin of a shark became visible in the distance. Sharks were not Dean’s cup of tea. Not since the camping trip. Seeing the shark was when he knew it was time to quit.
When he returned to shore, it was almost sundown. He decided it might be fun to try hitting up the bar again. If things didn’t pan out, he could always resume his sailing.
His decision was not a bad one. Paola was at the bar, sipping a drink and waiting for him. At least, he assumed she had been waiting for him. She certainly did wave at him as soon as he walked in. Dean was not about to turn down the same hot girl twice.
“Was your night in the boat splendid like you believed it would be?” she asked once he had taken a seat beside her. She was smiling and leaning close to him.
Yeah, thought Dean, she’s giving me all the signs.
“Being with you would have been more glamorous,” he responded.
“You think so?” Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Oh, absolutely.”
They talked a while longer, her hand occasionally snaking its way up to his neck, her fingers raking through his hair now and then. Dean’s own fingers gave her back a squeeze. She kept smiling and giggling at his jokes and his pick-up lines.
When she pressed against him and whispered in his ear, “Tonight will you join me at my home?” - he agreed easily.
Paola slipped away to the bathroom before they left. Dean sat at the bar, eyes scanning the room. They settled on a tall, muscular man in the corner with long red hair and bright eyes. His cheeks were marked with tattoos; Dean had never seen anyone with such tattoos before. The man locked eyes with him and shook his head in a firm ‘no’.
No?
No.
Paola had rejoined him suddenly. Dean took in the scent of her perfume as she pressed against him again. Once more the man shook his head, eyes never leaving Dean’s face. Dean stood slowly from his seat and, perplexed, turned to face Paola.
He grabbed her hand, a smile on his face, and his heart began to beat a little faster.
“Let’s get outta here,” he said. Something felt wrong. He could feel it building in the base of his spine.
They were heading out the front door when there was a loud explosion from the back of the bar. The force of it blew Dean and Paola forward. With ringing ears ( and a bitch of a headache), Dean tried sitting up and opening his eyes. It didn’t do much good. The first thing he noticed was that the place was full of smoke and debris.
The second thing Dean noticed was the ring of bright blue light emanating from the center of the bar. At the epicenter of the ring itself was the red-headed guy. He approached Dean slowly, wearing an irritated expression on his face.
“Did you not understand the shaking of my head?” he fumed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You’re still as dense as ever.”
“T-This isn’t real,” Dean stuttered. “I’ve been knocked out and I’m dreaming…right?”
“You are free to console yourself with whatever you must. Be a good sport, though. Humor me and pretend this is not a dream.” The man approached Dean and held out his hand in a gesture of solidarity. Dean grasped his hand and the man pulled him up.
“I am Somerled,” he stated. “I am…apologetic for what has transpired here. I did not foresee this happening this way.”
Dean looked around at the crumbling building. “You’re apologetic? You just BLEW UP A FUCKING BUILDING!” He gestured wildly at the crumbling remains of the bar.
Somerled grimaced. “This was…unfortunate, I will concede. You forced my hand! I clearly indicated that you were not to leave with the harlot.”
“Who’s a harlot? Paola?” Dean’s eyes searched the area for her, but he saw no signs of her. But he was pretty sure she had landed next to him after the explosion…
“She has left this land by now,” Somerled said, cutting into Dean’s thoughts. “Undoubtedly to warn Iblis that I have intervened. He won’t be happy. He nearly had you.” The man gave a great sigh as he shut his eyes for a moment.
“You’re making zero sense, dude.” Dean stated, face deadpanning as he crossed his arms.
“I would prefer not to discuss it on land. I can take you somewhere safer, if you’re up for it.”
Dean’s facial expression abruptly changed to one of incredulity. “Are you shitting me? Just to reiterate: you blew up the bar! And you want me to go with you, so some guy named Iblis doesn’t find me? Sorry Russell, no dice.”
“Is ‘Russell’ some sort of 21st century curse word?”
“…He’s a hedgehog.”
Somerled furrowed his brow. “Are you equating me to a hedgehog?”
“As a matter of fact, dude, I am. You’ve got the hedgehog look going on.” Dean motioned with his hands around his head. When Somerled continued to look nonplussed, Dean sighed, “Your hair. It’s really pointy. I was trying to insult you.”
“Why would insulting my hair help your position?”
Dean’s frustration grew. He was ready to retort with another half-assed insult when he realized that it wouldn’t matter. This guy had just blown up a business. In a little Honduran town. Just to scare off a girl who wanted to fool around with him. He obviously wanted Dean for something that was, in his mind, important.
Out of things to say, Dean replied simply, “Just…forget it…what do you want? Why did you do this?”
Somerled stopped leaning on the nearby tree and straightened up to his full height. “We have waited so long for you to return. Castiel was growing restless.”
The name stirred something in Dean’s gut. “Castiel?” he repeated with uncertainty. The name felt strange on his tongue.
“Castiel,” Somerled nodded. “He has never gone so many centuries without seeing you around. He feared the worst.”
Dean wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he then said, “Okay. Let’s go.”
“A wise choice. You have made a noble decision.” Somerled put a hand over his heart and bowed. “I will see to it that you reach the castle safely.”
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Dean’s boat was left behind. Somerled drove a chariot led by four large white horses, and he insisted that it would get them there faster than a boat.
At several points during their journey, Dean began to feel disoriented and unsure if any of it was real. Three months prior, he had been an Oceanographer at one of the most respected facilities in North America. He had lived in an apartment with stacks of Led Zeppelin records for company. He had dinner with his mother every Thursday and he looked forward to the outrageous televangelists that came on Sunday morning TV.
Those were factual things. Those were ordinary things.
I didn’t ask for whatever is going on here, he thought bitterly. Mom did warn me not to go on this trip. Good going, Dean.
Abruptly, Somerled clasped Dean by the shoulder. “Everything will come to light once Castiel is able to explain. He has always been better at it than I.”