Fic: Spirited Away (1/2)
Title: Spirited Away
Author: discreetmath
Rating: R
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, mild Sam/Lucifer
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 13900
Summary: When Dean stumbles after Sam into another world, he discovers that there's something very wrong with his brother. He has to rely on the help of a mysterious man named Castiel to find a way to put things right, and somewhere in all of the weirdness, he ends up finding something that he never expected. A Spirited Away AU.
A/N: Written for dc-everafter. Many thanks to my artist, rednarcissism!
Disclaimer: These people do not belong to me, and this is all fiction.
Dean's going to kill Sam. He really is.
He hadn't minded stopping when Sam had pointed out this old abandoned fairground, set back a few hundred feet from the road. It was creepy as hell, but Sam had thought it looked like an interesting place to stretch his legs and look around, and, well. This road trip is all about Sam, and Dean has never been able to tell him no when it came to stuff like this.
They'd allotted a full week for the drive from Lawrence to Palo Alto, and Dean would be damned if they didn't make the most of it. So if that meant letting Sam unfold his freaky long limbs from the passenger seat every few hours, that's what he was going to do. They were about two hours past Fort Collins, Colorado, working their way west by way of various back roads when Sam had started squirming. When they had seen this place looming along the road, it had seemed like as good a place as any for a pit stop.
Now Sam is gone. Disappeared into thin fucking air, and Dean's been shouting himself hoarse for thirty minutes to no avail.
"Sammy!" he calls, a frantic edge creeping into his voice. "If you don't get your ass back to the car in the next thirty seconds, I swear to God, I'm going to Stanford without you."
Minutes pass, and the silence settles over him like a heavy weight he can't shake. It's the middle of the day in late summer, but there are no birds, no buzzing insects, nothing. It's eerie and unsettling, and Dean has no idea why he agreed to stop here to begin with. Wandering around searching seems pointless; all the structures out here are little more than frames, and they hide nothing. A few gutted buildings and the skeletal remains of a Ferris wheel are all that's left, and the surrounding field doesn't hide much of anything, unless Sam's lying flat to the ground. Which, hopefully, hopefully, isn't the case.
He's just about to start sweeping the field, unsure of what else he can do, when he sees a flash of movement in his peripheral vision. He whirls around, but there's nothing. Just the same empty, desolate landscape he's been staring at for what feels like an eternity, and... a stone archway, one that somehow escaped his notice until just now. It looks old, older than anything else around, and it's wide enough that Sam might be hiding behind it. Hell, maybe he decided to catch a quick nap in the shade. Shoving down the thought -- the absolute knowledge -- that it's purely wishful thinking, Dean stalks toward it with a renewed sense of hope.
Sam's everything; he's all Dean has left since their dad died last year. He doesn't know what he'd do if anything happened to the kid, and he's kind of terrified of the creeping, panicky dread that's getting closer and closer to taking control. Dean stops abruptly in front of the archway, peering through it. It's large enough for him to walk through without ducking, but he hesitates. He can see through to the other side -- there's a carousel horse lying on its side, watching him through cracked, matte eyes -- but he gets the impression that he's not really seeing through. That there's something he's missing.
Nothing's ever been able to keep him from Sam, though. Not the fire that took their mom, not Child Services, and certainly not some freaky backwoods carnival. He takes a fortifying breath and steps through.
---
Dean's not at the fairground anymore. He's a rational person, and he has what he considers to be a solid working understanding of the laws of physics, but he knows this much. He's in what looks like a small town, some remnant of the past, but the place is still deserted. It's late afternoon, the sun is just starting to dip behind the houses on his left, and there isn't a single person around. The row of nondescript, indistinguishable houses gives him a seriously bad feeling. Not that general sense of creepiness you get when you drive through a new subdivision, but something way more off-putting. A long, confused moment passes where he looks around behind him, trying to figure out where he came from, before he remembers why he's here in the first place. He can figure out the way back later.
"Sam!" he shouts, determined to focus on finding his brother rather than on whatever weird shit is happening here. "Are you here?"
He doesn't expect a response, but he hears a shuffling noise from an open door just down the street. Shrugging off the persistent sense of unease, he hurries up the sidewalk as quietly as he can toward the house. The door is only slightly ajar, and he peers through the narrow gap before easing it open. The staggering sense of relief punches the air out of Dean's lungs when he sees Sam standing by the window, turned away from Dean.
"Jesus Christ, Sammy, you scared the shit out of me." He knows there's a hysterical edge to his voice, but this whole thing is just too weird for him to properly deal with right now. All he wants to do is get Sam and get the hell out of here. Dean huffs his annoyance when Sam doesn't respond. "Sam, come on. We need to leave, and we need to do it right--" He cuts off abruptly when Sam turns to look at him. He can't pinpoint exactly how he knows, but every instinct he's got is screaming at him, telling him that something is very, very wrong here, and that -- that is not his brother.
"Hey, Dean. Sorry, I was lost in thought." He smiles, a weird bastardized version of Sam's usual bright grin, and Dean shudders. "You ready to get going?"
"Who the fuck are you?" Dean asks, trying very hard to stay calm. Sam -- no, this thing -- laughs, shaking its head in confusion.
"What do you mean, Dean? It's me. Who else would it be?" It takes a step toward Dean, and he moves backward, desperate to stay out of its reach.
"Look, I don't know what you are or what you've done to my brother, but you better start talking right now, or I'll…"
"You'll what? Hurt me? Kill me?" Its smile turns predatory. "I don't think you have it in you, big brother."
Dean looks around wildly, futilely hoping to find some answer in the model home perfection of the living room where they're standing. He shuts his eyes briefly, snapping them back open when he hears the thing that's wearing Sam's face move closer.
"I'm sorry, Sammy," he mutters under his breath before whirling around and driving his fist into the side of its face.
The person, thing, whatever it is, drops to the ground in a heap of limbs. Dean drags an unsteady hand through his hair and lets out a shuddering breath.
"Well, what the fuck do I do now?"
After a few frantic minutes of thinking, alternately searching the first floor of the house and watching the Sam-thing for signs of waking up, Dean has a half-formed plan. He hooks his hands under Sam's arms and drags him into the hallway. He lets him drop long enough to prop open the cellar door, one of those trapdoor-type things that opens up out of the floor. As he tugs Sam's limp body down the stairs, he mentally apologizes to Sam each time his body thunks against a step.
He already gave the basement a cursory inspection, finding no doors or windows, so it will have to do for now. He leaves the thing lying on the floor and heads back upstairs, shutting and latching the trapdoor. After a brief moment of hesitation, he heads around the corner to the kitchen and pulls the fridge open. Empty and unplugged, perfect. The thought enters his mind again, what in the hell is this place, but he shrugs it off and focuses on the task at hand. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but he manages to walk, drag, and push the empty refrigerator over to the basement door before tipping it over to lie flat over the opening.
Dean really, really, doesn't want that thing getting out before he can figure out what's going on. He scrubs a hand across his face, feeling suddenly exhausted, but he makes himself walk back outside. He can see a massive building peeking over the houses off to his right, and for lack of a better option, he heads that way.
---
Dean's gaping; he knows he is. His feet are planted on a stone bridge so alarmingly high above the ground that it doesn't bear considering. The town behind him and the enormous mansion in front of him are, apparently, perched precariously on top of sheer outcroppings of rock. A wave of nausea passes over him, and he clutches the wide, solid railing, willing his feet to move.
"You shouldn't be here." Dean whirls around at the unexpected sound, making a noise that is most definitely not a yelp. He has no idea how someone could sneak up on him like that, but there's a man standing stiffly not two feet away from him, his narrow shoulders slightly hunched. He looks incongruous in a rumpled suit and a tan overcoat that whips around his legs as the wind gusts across the bridge. Dean can't quite make out his features, the setting sun making him squint as it burns on the horizon.
"Yeah, that's all well and good, dude, but I don't even know where here is," Dean snaps. He shifts around to the side until the other man's face is visible, and… oh. Despite the scowl he's wearing, his stubbled jaw and the downward tilt of his mouth are unexpectedly appealing, and his eyes, well. The unearthly shade of blue should clue Dean in that something's off about this guy, but he's far too busy gawking. He shakes himself, annoyed. This is so not the time, Dean.
"The location of this place is not of import," the man tells him gruffly. "It's nearly night, and you can't be found here once the sun sets. You need to leave now."
"The fuck I do, man. No offense, but I'm not leaving until my brother's back to normal." Dean wants to be annoyed at the nerve of this guy, but then he looks more closely, and he can see the man's eyes darting around anxiously. He looks… not afraid, but definitely worried.
"Listen to me." The man takes a step into Dean's space, and it's all Dean can do to hold his ground. "If you stay here, you'll surely be killed. If you won't leave, then you need to hide."
Dean wants to argue, but the urgency in the man's voice stops him short. Even when the man takes his arm, his grip unexpectedly strong, Dean just allows himself to be dragged back the way he came. The streetlights are starting to come on, and the man gives him a shove.
"Get out of here," he hisses, and then he's gone.
Dean stares at the empty air where the man had been standing, but he's jumpy enough at this point that he only dwells on it for a moment before he takes off running back toward the house where he'd left Sam. For several minutes, all he can hear are his shoes slapping against the pavement and his blood rushing in his ears. He pulls up short, trying desperately to remember the way he'd come. After a moment of frantically looking around, he realizes he's completely fucking lost. He can't tell one house from the next. Dean drops his hands to his knees, panting, as he tries to assess the situation rationally.
It's that moment when a plume of thick black smoke shoots past him, brushing his arm and making him shudder at the oily feeling that creeps down his spine. Dean resigns himself to the fact that rational thinking isn't something he's going to be able to manage at the moment and takes off running again. At the sight of more of the oily black smoke in the distance, he cuts away from the street he's on and heads down along another row of houses. Lightning streaks from the sky, and thunder booms impossibly close, vibrating in Dean's bones, in his teeth. He spots a low brick wall lining the front yard of one of the empty houses and flings himself over it, hitting the ground with an undignified thud and pressing his back up tight against the cold stone.
"God damn it," Dean hisses through his teeth as the chill from the brick seeps through his shirt, the long sleeves doing little against the cold. He stares at the house in front of him, shifts his eyes to the ones on either side, both desperate for and terrified of the possibility of any signs of life. Scrubbing his hands through his hair in frustration, he lets out a strained chuckle. "What the hell did we get ourselves into, Sammy?"
"You've certainly gotten in over your heads," and shit, Dean knows that rough voice right away despite only hearing it once before. He only jumps a little this time, which he counts as a win.
"Could you, I don't know, not sneak up on me, dude?" Dean scowls up at the man from earlier, who's standing over him with a frustrated expression. "Unless you're trying to give me a heart attack, in which case, carry on."
"I didn't sneak up on you," the man says flatly. "You just weren't paying attention."
"Uh… yeah, okay. So did you need something? Or are you just trying to fill your creepy staring quota for the day, and there's nobody else around?" Some distant warning bell is going off in his head, telling Dean that maybe he shouldn't antagonize this guy, but he powers on past it. "Seriously, man, who the fuck are you?"
The man tilts his head to the side, his expression briefly shifting into something unreadable, but then he's frowning again.
"My name is Castiel," he tells Dean unhelpfully, "and you are Dean Winchester, brother of Sam Winchester. As I told you before, you really shouldn't be here. If you're found, there will be trouble."
"Okay, Cas-whatever, if you know so much about me, then you should know that there's no freaking way I'm leaving without my brother. Not that thing wearing his face, whatever it is, but the real Sam." He pauses, waiting for a reaction. The man raises his eyebrows slightly, and he figures that's his cue to go on. "You can either help me get him back or leave me the hell alone, because I'm not going without him. I won't."
The man stares at him, blue eyes boring into him for so long Dean's own eyes start to water in sympathy, and then he nods. He pulls his long coat around himself before easing himself onto the ground next to Dean, his posture stiff and uncomfortable.
"Very well," he begins, "I will do what I can to help you avoid detection by Michael, at least. If he finds you now, knowing I've spoken to you and let you go once, it will not end well for me either."
"Then why'd you do it?" Dean's got a million other things he wants to ask, but that's what climbs up out of his throat, and he wants to kick himself for questioning the only friendly face he's seen. Well, semi-friendly. Civil. The only face he's seen besides that Sam-looking monster, all right? He can't afford to be picky.
Castiel slumps a bit, looking at the ground before turning back to Dean.
"You care for your brother very much," he murmurs. "It's refreshing."
"What kind of non-answer is that?" Dean asks incredulously. It's clear there are things -- like, a million things -- that he's not saying. Castiel just hums noncommittally and leans back against the brick, staring at some point in the distance. After a few minutes, he speaks again.
"The way should be clear for you now; I think everyone has arrived already." He stands abruptly, offering his hand to help Dean up. Dean pointedly ignores it and hauls himself to his feet.
"So, what now?" Dean raises an eyebrow when Castiel doesn't move right away.
"You follow me. You stay close by my side, and you do exactly as I say. I'll keep you hidden from sight. Do you understand, Dean?"
Dean grunts in agreement, trying to ignore the pleasant shiver he feels at the sound of his name in that grave voice. This is so, so not the time, he reminds himself, but then he's blinking in surprise as Castiel disappears, only to reappear on the other side of the wall and look back at him expectantly. Dean clambers over, not half as graceful as he'd like to be, and goes to his side. They head off together back the way Dean had come, and he might be taller than Castiel, but he has to hustle to keep up with the other man's brisk strides.
They're going back toward the bridge where Dean had initially met Cas, and even from some distance away he's starting to hear a low din, presumably from the guests that have arrived at the mansion. The idea of going in there, facing whatever it is that he apparently needs Cas to protect him from… it doesn't exactly appeal, is all. He's careful to stick close anyway; Cas is clearly the closest thing he's got to a friend here, at least more so than his own brother, and he'll cling to that until he gets a better offer.
Despite the vague desire to drag his feet, to stay away, they're crossing the bridge in a few short minutes. The mansion looks different in the dark; light pours out of the windows, and the building's silhouette looms intimidatingly against the night sky. Cas slows as they approach, and Dean spots a man standing in the shadows out front, leaning against one of the ostentatious pillars with an air of practiced boredom. He's got a handful of what look like Twizzlers, another one dangling from his teeth, and he cocks an eyebrow at Cas as they walk up.
"Late to the party, little bro?" The words are a bit garbled with his mouth full of candy, but Dean is about ninety percent sure he heard the 'little bro' part correctly, which is unexpected.
"I had to attend to some matters, Gabriel. It's none of your concern." Cas' voice doesn't give anything away to Dean, but the man -- Gabriel -- grins widely, biting off another piece of licorice. He hasn't spared a glance for Dean, so he has to hope that whatever mojo Cas is using to keep him hidden is working.
"Cassie," Gabriel gasps dramatically, "you know I have an inquiring mind! Something is up with you, and you should know you can't keep any secrets from me." He leans in conspiratorially. "If I didn't know better, I'd think maybe you decided to adopt a stray."
Dean tenses, but Gabriel's still not looking at him, so he fights to keep calm. Maybe it's like Jurassic Park, and if he just stays very, very still then the T. Rex won't see him. That had always sounded like a heap of bullshit to Dean, and he doesn't think this guy's a dinosaur, but desperate times, right? Of course, that's the moment when Dean feels something press into his back, warm and familiar and ten kinds of alarming. He was on edge to begin with, so before he realizes what he's doing he yelps and jerks away. He whirls around, but there's nobody there except for Cas. Well, and Gabriel, who's giving him a smug look like he's just had his suspicions confirmed.
"Shit," he says eloquently, and then Cas is grabbing his hand and dragging him back to his side, where he feels the pressure again. It's not so unexpected this time, and he settles back into it. Cas squeezes his hand gently, nodding his approval. His eyes are on Gabriel, blazing with challenge, and Dean is so lost he's just going to stop even trying to understand what's going on.
"Huh," Gabriel says, breaking the charged silence. "I must've had a bit too much of the mead, or ambrosia, or whatever swill they're serving at this party. Because for a second there it looked like you were hiding a human in your wings. Can you imagine?"
"How absurd," Castiel says tersely, and the pressure tightens on Dean's shoulders. "It's best to exercise moderation, brother."
"Ah, yeah, but where's the fun in that?" Gabriel holds up a handful of peanut M&Ms, apparently conjured from thin air, and shoves them into his mouth all at once. "Anyway," he continues through his mouthful of candy, "I meant to tell you that Ruby and Anna are working in the kitchen tonight, and if I'm not mistaken…" He snaps his fingers once. "The service entrance is unlocked. Have a good night, Cassie-baby. Stay out of trouble, and, you know. Don't forget to have your pets spayed and neutered," he adds with a wink, and then he snaps his fingers again and disappears.
Well. Okay, then.
"I don't believe Gabriel will give us away," Cas says, snapping him out of his daze, "but we must be more careful. He is a bit less conventional than my other brothers and sisters, but I doubt everyone would be so willing to overlook your presence." Dean nods, trying to process everything that's just happened.
"So… wings? Is that how you're keeping people from seeing me?" Castiel nods, staring carefully at the ground. "What are you, exactly? Some kind of bird-monster?" Miracle upon miracles, that drags the tiniest hint of a smile out of Cas. Dean mirrors it, feeling strangely triumphant.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not." He hesitates, fidgeting, then tilts his head up to look Dean in the eye. "I'm an angel."
"An angel? Seriously? Like, heaven and harps and stuff?" Dean's expression is nothing short of incredulous. "No way, dude." Cas rolls his eyes.
"Not quite, Dean. Angels exist, as do demons, but not in the way you think. Our existence has been… co-opted by human religion. If there's such a place as heaven, I've never been there."
Dean blinks at that, waiting a minute for his worldview to get done shifting for the hundredth time that day.
"So you don't perch on people's shoulders or grant wishes or anything?"
"I don't think that's even a part of the Judeo-Christian angel lore," Cas says, squinting at Dean skeptically, "but no. As a rule, angels aren't nearly as benevolent as humans would like to believe."
"Aw, I don't know, Cas," Dean says with a smirk. "You've been pretty friendly so far."
Cas opens his mouth to form a response, but seems to think better of it. He tugs at Dean's hand -- and Dean's not sure how he forgot that he'd been standing there holding hands with an angel for five minutes, but whatever -- and gestures around the right side of the mansion.
"Let's go. We need to get inside before someone sees us." He doesn't give Dean a chance to respond before he's dragging him around the building and through an unassuming side door.
The first thing Dean sees when he looks over Cas' shoulder is food. Mountainous piles of food stacked across the expansive island in a kitchen that's easily bigger than his last apartment. His stomach growls, and he flushes in embarrassment when Cas turns to raise an eyebrow at him. Dean's busy trying to think of a question to ask that's not what the hell is going on because nobody likes a broken record, but then the door is slamming shut behind him and a woman's face is popping up from behind an enormous tower of pastries. His breath catches when she smiles widely at them, coming around the counter and dusting off her hands on a short apron. She's got red hair pulled up in a messy bun and wide blue eyes that almost rival Cas'. Almost.
"Castiel, I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!" Dean feels a little petty when he catches himself frowning at her warm greeting. The guy's weirdly intense and he dresses like a tax accountant, but Dean finds himself feeling kind of territorial anyway. He blinks when he realizes that she's turned to him and is watching him with a bemused expression. "Who's this?" she asks lightly.
"This," Dean cuts in before Cas can respond, "is Dean Winchester."
She frowns slightly, and then her eyes widen and she turns back to Cas.
"Oh, Cas," she says, dismay evident in her tone. "You didn't."
"Anna, I'm not asking you to get involved. I only ask that you let us through; Dean wishes to see Michael, and taking him through the main entrance is certain to cause a stir." The way he says 'stir' makes Dean think it's probably a euphemism for something bloody.
"Well," she begins hesitantly, "I suppose I could--"
"Cas, you old stick in the mud!" Dean jumps at the new voice, turning to see a petite brunette coming into the kitchen. "Is that a human? Maybe I underestimated you, angel. I thought you were too fussy to bother with pets." She grins sharply, her voice full of barely restrained glee.
"Okay, all right," Dean grumbles, tired of being called a pet and desperate to take some measure of control over the situation. "Yes, I'm a human, and if we can get past that novelty for a second, maybe somebody here can tell me what the fuck is going on?" He directs this last bit at Cas, though his eyes flicker around to the two women, who are watching him curiously.
"Dean," Cas murmurs, chastising. "I understand your frustration, but we need their help, and you would do well not to anger them. I've seen Ruby do some particularly distasteful things with a knife."
Dean glances back over at the brunette, Ruby, prepared to scoff at the idea that Cas might view her as a threat. Her eyes shift to inky blank, her smile turning predatory, and he gulps before leaning in toward Cas.
"So, when you said about demons earlier…" he asks in a hushed whisper, cursing softly when Cas nods his confirmation. Dean clears his throat. "Uh, sorry? For the rudeness? This is all kind of new to me," he mumbles. He catches Cas rolling his eyes almost imperceptibly before he continues. "I need to talk to Michael to figure out how to get my brother back. I know you don't know me, but Cas says I need your help, so. Could you guys help me?"
Anna's eyes soften at that, and Ruby's… well, Ruby's at least go back to normal, although she's still giving off vibes that are more than a little terrifying.
"Okay, pouty," Ruby says airily. "I suppose I could let you tag along with me. But you're going to have to change," she adds, gesturing at his jeans, white t-shirt, and open green over shirt. He's just about to ask why when Cas twitches, his head tilted back and eyes unfocused as he stares at a spot on the ceiling. His tie is loose, his top button unbuttoned, and Dean can't help watching where it gapes at his throat. Cas swallows once, and Dean has to make himself tear his gaze away. The way Ruby's leering at him tells him he wasn't quick enough.
"What's up, Cas?" he asks, clearing his throat deliberately. "Phone call from God?" Cas jerks in surprise before turning back to Dean, expression unreadable.
"I must go. Ruby, Anna, thank you for your help."
"Wait, what do you mean?" Dean asks, voice just high and panicked enough to be embarrassing. He reaches out to grab Cas' arm, but the angel just vanishes with a fluttering sound, and he finds himself grasping at nothing. He turns to Ruby and Anna, who look amused and sympathetic, respectively. Ruby rolls her eyes at his worried expression and claps her hands together briskly.
"Okay, let's do this! Hang on, I'm pretty sure I've got something in your size," she tells him, opening a cabinet door and burrowing around in it. "Aha!" She pops her head out, smiling triumphantly, and tosses a small pile of clothes in his direction. "These belonged to the last guy. He was shorter than you, so the pants won't fit, but your jeans are probably dark enough not to draw attention. Just put on the shirt and tie."
He blinks at her once before making a calculated decision not to ask any more questions, especially when he probably won't like the answer. He strips off his over shirt and pulls on the white button-down, tucking it into his jeans and hoping he doesn't look like an absolute tool.
"Here, let me help," Anna offers, tugging the tie out of his hands. He lets her do it; he's useless at tying them, and on the rare occasion he needs one, Sam always does it for him. "I know you're probably pretty freaked out, but Ruby won't steer you wrong. She knows Cas would smite her," she adds with a tiny quirk at the corner of her mouth. He has to laugh at that, because Ruby might be scary, but he thinks maybe Cas is way scarier. He stands still long enough for her to pull the end of the tie through the loop before turning to address both her and Ruby.
"I really do appreciate your help, you guys. I don't know why you're doing it -- hell, I don't know why Cas is doing it, but it means a lot. I won't forget it."
Ruby rolls her eyes, but her smile is warm.
"Yeah, okay, okay. Let's get this show on the road before you try to hug me or something." She tosses a wink to Anna before reaching around and patting her on the butt. "I shouldn't be long, babe. Don't burn the mini-quiches."
It's Anna's turn to roll her eyes as she swats at Ruby's hand.
"Good luck, Dean," she says, laughing. "Keep an eye on Cas for me."
"Hey," he says, pausing. "What happened to the guy who had these clothes?" Ruby glances furtively around and beckons him to lean in close with one finger.
"I ate him," she whispers into his ear, and then she cackles when he jerks away in surprise. He honestly can't tell if she's joking, but he chooses to believe that she is. Yes, that was definitely a joke, and he's not paying any special attention to how her grin is suddenly looking extra toothy.
He has just enough time for one last "thank you" to Anna before Ruby is dragging him to the far door, shoving a tray of hors d'oeuvres into his hands, and disappearing into the next room. He hurries to follow, and then stops dead.
The room is packed, full of people that Dean thinks it's safe to assume aren't actually people at all. He takes a few seconds to gather his composure and then, satisfied that nobody is staring at him or forming an angry mob, he trails along behind Ruby into the crowd.
He keeps his eyes down, mostly, trying for a mix of deferential and invisible that, in any other circumstances, would have him gritting his teeth. He's just scared enough now that it doesn't actually bother him all that much, so long as nobody sees past his half-assed waiter costume.
Dean's doing his best to keep up with Ruby, pausing here and there when people stop him to snag one of the little puffs off his tray. Nobody's looking at him, the help as invisible here as they are anywhere, and he's just starting to think he's home free. In retrospect, that was a seriously stupid thought to entertain, because about three seconds later he finds his way blocked by a smug-looking douche in an obviously expensive black suit.
"You're new," the man observes, taking a sip from his glass and raking his eyes slowly over Dean in a way that makes him flush with embarrassment.
"Yes, sir. It's my first day," he says quietly, his eyes darting around the room as he searches desperately for Ruby.
"'Sir,' is it?" The man raises an eyebrow. "I think I could work with that. Subservience isn't usually my thing, but with a face like yours I'm certain I could make all sorts of exceptions."
Dean can definitely feel the blush heating his cheeks now, and he curses his stupid fair complexion because he could not possibly be less interested in what this guy is offering. He's got some sort of vague European accent that screams "affectation," and he's smirking at Dean like he's got a sure thing in front of him. He figures this is some sort of karmic retribution for perving on Cas earlier.
He's scrambling for an appropriate brush-off when the man's slowly expression shifts from expectation to confusion. Dean can practically see him putting the pieces together through his alcohol-fueled fuzziness, figuring out that something's off about Dean, and Dean's alarmingly close to panicking. Throw the tray and make a run for it is probably a terrible idea, he tells himself firmly.
Suddenly, like a gift from above -- and no, the irony isn't lost on Dean -- Gabriel appears, insinuating himself into the space between them and plastering his body to the other man's front.
"Balthazar, come on," he whines, running his hands over the guy's chest. "I'm bored. Stop harassing the help and show me a good time." He punctuates that last word with a slow roll of his hips, and Balthazar's eyes flutter shut for a moment. He's playing it up, acting way more tipsy than he could possibly be, and Dean could kiss the guy for saving him.
Except, Balthazar already seems to have that covered, and Dean sidles away while he's distracted with his tongue down Gabriel's throat. Gabriel pulls back, pushing Balthazar's lips toward his neck, and catches Dean's eye. He throws him a lascivious wink, followed by a thumbs up, and Dean mouths a heartfelt thank you before turning and all but dashing after Ruby.
She's waiting by the far door when he gets there, clearly trying to suppress her laughter and not doing a very good job of it.
"I see you met Balthazar," she says as she tugs the door open and leads him through it. "You better not tell Cas, though. He's not exactly Balthy's biggest fan, and I'm pretty sure he's not the type to share." Dean opens his mouth, closes it, and then decides to change the subject as he follows her up an extravagant curving staircase.
"What's the occasion, anyway?" he asks as they climb the stairs.
"No real occasion," Ruby says, shrugging. "This is kind of a neutral ground, where angels and demons can be in the same room without getting all pissy and stabbing each other. Michael just likes everyone to come around once in a while to keep an eye on things."
"So Michael's in charge of everything that goes on around here?"
"He is. If anyone knows what's going on with your brother, it's Michael," she tells him in a low voice, glancing back over her shoulder. "But you can't just go demanding favors. Offer him something in return, or you're going to piss him off. He's pretty traditional that way."
Dean's not really up on his angel traditions, so he just nods.
They get to the top of the stairs before he realizes it, and he finds himself standing in front of a pair of heavy-looking wooden doors. He takes a deep breath, and Ruby reaches up to ruffle his hair.
"You'll be fine. Cas'll take care of you." She goes to her tiptoes and kisses him on the cheek. "Don't fuck him over," she adds sternly, and then she turns and raps on the door three times. "Good luck, Winchester," she whispers, and then she hurries away and disappears around the corner.
Part 2
Author: discreetmath
Rating: R
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, mild Sam/Lucifer
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 13900
Summary: When Dean stumbles after Sam into another world, he discovers that there's something very wrong with his brother. He has to rely on the help of a mysterious man named Castiel to find a way to put things right, and somewhere in all of the weirdness, he ends up finding something that he never expected. A Spirited Away AU.
A/N: Written for dc-everafter. Many thanks to my artist, rednarcissism!
Disclaimer: These people do not belong to me, and this is all fiction.
Dean's going to kill Sam. He really is.
He hadn't minded stopping when Sam had pointed out this old abandoned fairground, set back a few hundred feet from the road. It was creepy as hell, but Sam had thought it looked like an interesting place to stretch his legs and look around, and, well. This road trip is all about Sam, and Dean has never been able to tell him no when it came to stuff like this.
They'd allotted a full week for the drive from Lawrence to Palo Alto, and Dean would be damned if they didn't make the most of it. So if that meant letting Sam unfold his freaky long limbs from the passenger seat every few hours, that's what he was going to do. They were about two hours past Fort Collins, Colorado, working their way west by way of various back roads when Sam had started squirming. When they had seen this place looming along the road, it had seemed like as good a place as any for a pit stop.
Now Sam is gone. Disappeared into thin fucking air, and Dean's been shouting himself hoarse for thirty minutes to no avail.
"Sammy!" he calls, a frantic edge creeping into his voice. "If you don't get your ass back to the car in the next thirty seconds, I swear to God, I'm going to Stanford without you."
Minutes pass, and the silence settles over him like a heavy weight he can't shake. It's the middle of the day in late summer, but there are no birds, no buzzing insects, nothing. It's eerie and unsettling, and Dean has no idea why he agreed to stop here to begin with. Wandering around searching seems pointless; all the structures out here are little more than frames, and they hide nothing. A few gutted buildings and the skeletal remains of a Ferris wheel are all that's left, and the surrounding field doesn't hide much of anything, unless Sam's lying flat to the ground. Which, hopefully, hopefully, isn't the case.
He's just about to start sweeping the field, unsure of what else he can do, when he sees a flash of movement in his peripheral vision. He whirls around, but there's nothing. Just the same empty, desolate landscape he's been staring at for what feels like an eternity, and... a stone archway, one that somehow escaped his notice until just now. It looks old, older than anything else around, and it's wide enough that Sam might be hiding behind it. Hell, maybe he decided to catch a quick nap in the shade. Shoving down the thought -- the absolute knowledge -- that it's purely wishful thinking, Dean stalks toward it with a renewed sense of hope.
Sam's everything; he's all Dean has left since their dad died last year. He doesn't know what he'd do if anything happened to the kid, and he's kind of terrified of the creeping, panicky dread that's getting closer and closer to taking control. Dean stops abruptly in front of the archway, peering through it. It's large enough for him to walk through without ducking, but he hesitates. He can see through to the other side -- there's a carousel horse lying on its side, watching him through cracked, matte eyes -- but he gets the impression that he's not really seeing through. That there's something he's missing.
Nothing's ever been able to keep him from Sam, though. Not the fire that took their mom, not Child Services, and certainly not some freaky backwoods carnival. He takes a fortifying breath and steps through.
---
Dean's not at the fairground anymore. He's a rational person, and he has what he considers to be a solid working understanding of the laws of physics, but he knows this much. He's in what looks like a small town, some remnant of the past, but the place is still deserted. It's late afternoon, the sun is just starting to dip behind the houses on his left, and there isn't a single person around. The row of nondescript, indistinguishable houses gives him a seriously bad feeling. Not that general sense of creepiness you get when you drive through a new subdivision, but something way more off-putting. A long, confused moment passes where he looks around behind him, trying to figure out where he came from, before he remembers why he's here in the first place. He can figure out the way back later.
"Sam!" he shouts, determined to focus on finding his brother rather than on whatever weird shit is happening here. "Are you here?"
He doesn't expect a response, but he hears a shuffling noise from an open door just down the street. Shrugging off the persistent sense of unease, he hurries up the sidewalk as quietly as he can toward the house. The door is only slightly ajar, and he peers through the narrow gap before easing it open. The staggering sense of relief punches the air out of Dean's lungs when he sees Sam standing by the window, turned away from Dean.
"Jesus Christ, Sammy, you scared the shit out of me." He knows there's a hysterical edge to his voice, but this whole thing is just too weird for him to properly deal with right now. All he wants to do is get Sam and get the hell out of here. Dean huffs his annoyance when Sam doesn't respond. "Sam, come on. We need to leave, and we need to do it right--" He cuts off abruptly when Sam turns to look at him. He can't pinpoint exactly how he knows, but every instinct he's got is screaming at him, telling him that something is very, very wrong here, and that -- that is not his brother.
"Hey, Dean. Sorry, I was lost in thought." He smiles, a weird bastardized version of Sam's usual bright grin, and Dean shudders. "You ready to get going?"
"Who the fuck are you?" Dean asks, trying very hard to stay calm. Sam -- no, this thing -- laughs, shaking its head in confusion.
"What do you mean, Dean? It's me. Who else would it be?" It takes a step toward Dean, and he moves backward, desperate to stay out of its reach.
"Look, I don't know what you are or what you've done to my brother, but you better start talking right now, or I'll…"
"You'll what? Hurt me? Kill me?" Its smile turns predatory. "I don't think you have it in you, big brother."
Dean looks around wildly, futilely hoping to find some answer in the model home perfection of the living room where they're standing. He shuts his eyes briefly, snapping them back open when he hears the thing that's wearing Sam's face move closer.
"I'm sorry, Sammy," he mutters under his breath before whirling around and driving his fist into the side of its face.
The person, thing, whatever it is, drops to the ground in a heap of limbs. Dean drags an unsteady hand through his hair and lets out a shuddering breath.
"Well, what the fuck do I do now?"
After a few frantic minutes of thinking, alternately searching the first floor of the house and watching the Sam-thing for signs of waking up, Dean has a half-formed plan. He hooks his hands under Sam's arms and drags him into the hallway. He lets him drop long enough to prop open the cellar door, one of those trapdoor-type things that opens up out of the floor. As he tugs Sam's limp body down the stairs, he mentally apologizes to Sam each time his body thunks against a step.
He already gave the basement a cursory inspection, finding no doors or windows, so it will have to do for now. He leaves the thing lying on the floor and heads back upstairs, shutting and latching the trapdoor. After a brief moment of hesitation, he heads around the corner to the kitchen and pulls the fridge open. Empty and unplugged, perfect. The thought enters his mind again, what in the hell is this place, but he shrugs it off and focuses on the task at hand. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but he manages to walk, drag, and push the empty refrigerator over to the basement door before tipping it over to lie flat over the opening.
Dean really, really, doesn't want that thing getting out before he can figure out what's going on. He scrubs a hand across his face, feeling suddenly exhausted, but he makes himself walk back outside. He can see a massive building peeking over the houses off to his right, and for lack of a better option, he heads that way.
---
Dean's gaping; he knows he is. His feet are planted on a stone bridge so alarmingly high above the ground that it doesn't bear considering. The town behind him and the enormous mansion in front of him are, apparently, perched precariously on top of sheer outcroppings of rock. A wave of nausea passes over him, and he clutches the wide, solid railing, willing his feet to move.
"You shouldn't be here." Dean whirls around at the unexpected sound, making a noise that is most definitely not a yelp. He has no idea how someone could sneak up on him like that, but there's a man standing stiffly not two feet away from him, his narrow shoulders slightly hunched. He looks incongruous in a rumpled suit and a tan overcoat that whips around his legs as the wind gusts across the bridge. Dean can't quite make out his features, the setting sun making him squint as it burns on the horizon.
"Yeah, that's all well and good, dude, but I don't even know where here is," Dean snaps. He shifts around to the side until the other man's face is visible, and… oh. Despite the scowl he's wearing, his stubbled jaw and the downward tilt of his mouth are unexpectedly appealing, and his eyes, well. The unearthly shade of blue should clue Dean in that something's off about this guy, but he's far too busy gawking. He shakes himself, annoyed. This is so not the time, Dean.
"The location of this place is not of import," the man tells him gruffly. "It's nearly night, and you can't be found here once the sun sets. You need to leave now."
"The fuck I do, man. No offense, but I'm not leaving until my brother's back to normal." Dean wants to be annoyed at the nerve of this guy, but then he looks more closely, and he can see the man's eyes darting around anxiously. He looks… not afraid, but definitely worried.
"Listen to me." The man takes a step into Dean's space, and it's all Dean can do to hold his ground. "If you stay here, you'll surely be killed. If you won't leave, then you need to hide."
Dean wants to argue, but the urgency in the man's voice stops him short. Even when the man takes his arm, his grip unexpectedly strong, Dean just allows himself to be dragged back the way he came. The streetlights are starting to come on, and the man gives him a shove.
"Get out of here," he hisses, and then he's gone.
Dean stares at the empty air where the man had been standing, but he's jumpy enough at this point that he only dwells on it for a moment before he takes off running back toward the house where he'd left Sam. For several minutes, all he can hear are his shoes slapping against the pavement and his blood rushing in his ears. He pulls up short, trying desperately to remember the way he'd come. After a moment of frantically looking around, he realizes he's completely fucking lost. He can't tell one house from the next. Dean drops his hands to his knees, panting, as he tries to assess the situation rationally.
It's that moment when a plume of thick black smoke shoots past him, brushing his arm and making him shudder at the oily feeling that creeps down his spine. Dean resigns himself to the fact that rational thinking isn't something he's going to be able to manage at the moment and takes off running again. At the sight of more of the oily black smoke in the distance, he cuts away from the street he's on and heads down along another row of houses. Lightning streaks from the sky, and thunder booms impossibly close, vibrating in Dean's bones, in his teeth. He spots a low brick wall lining the front yard of one of the empty houses and flings himself over it, hitting the ground with an undignified thud and pressing his back up tight against the cold stone.
"God damn it," Dean hisses through his teeth as the chill from the brick seeps through his shirt, the long sleeves doing little against the cold. He stares at the house in front of him, shifts his eyes to the ones on either side, both desperate for and terrified of the possibility of any signs of life. Scrubbing his hands through his hair in frustration, he lets out a strained chuckle. "What the hell did we get ourselves into, Sammy?"
"You've certainly gotten in over your heads," and shit, Dean knows that rough voice right away despite only hearing it once before. He only jumps a little this time, which he counts as a win.
"Could you, I don't know, not sneak up on me, dude?" Dean scowls up at the man from earlier, who's standing over him with a frustrated expression. "Unless you're trying to give me a heart attack, in which case, carry on."
"I didn't sneak up on you," the man says flatly. "You just weren't paying attention."
"Uh… yeah, okay. So did you need something? Or are you just trying to fill your creepy staring quota for the day, and there's nobody else around?" Some distant warning bell is going off in his head, telling Dean that maybe he shouldn't antagonize this guy, but he powers on past it. "Seriously, man, who the fuck are you?"
The man tilts his head to the side, his expression briefly shifting into something unreadable, but then he's frowning again.
"My name is Castiel," he tells Dean unhelpfully, "and you are Dean Winchester, brother of Sam Winchester. As I told you before, you really shouldn't be here. If you're found, there will be trouble."
"Okay, Cas-whatever, if you know so much about me, then you should know that there's no freaking way I'm leaving without my brother. Not that thing wearing his face, whatever it is, but the real Sam." He pauses, waiting for a reaction. The man raises his eyebrows slightly, and he figures that's his cue to go on. "You can either help me get him back or leave me the hell alone, because I'm not going without him. I won't."
The man stares at him, blue eyes boring into him for so long Dean's own eyes start to water in sympathy, and then he nods. He pulls his long coat around himself before easing himself onto the ground next to Dean, his posture stiff and uncomfortable.
"Very well," he begins, "I will do what I can to help you avoid detection by Michael, at least. If he finds you now, knowing I've spoken to you and let you go once, it will not end well for me either."
"Then why'd you do it?" Dean's got a million other things he wants to ask, but that's what climbs up out of his throat, and he wants to kick himself for questioning the only friendly face he's seen. Well, semi-friendly. Civil. The only face he's seen besides that Sam-looking monster, all right? He can't afford to be picky.
Castiel slumps a bit, looking at the ground before turning back to Dean.
"You care for your brother very much," he murmurs. "It's refreshing."
"What kind of non-answer is that?" Dean asks incredulously. It's clear there are things -- like, a million things -- that he's not saying. Castiel just hums noncommittally and leans back against the brick, staring at some point in the distance. After a few minutes, he speaks again.
"The way should be clear for you now; I think everyone has arrived already." He stands abruptly, offering his hand to help Dean up. Dean pointedly ignores it and hauls himself to his feet.
"So, what now?" Dean raises an eyebrow when Castiel doesn't move right away.
"You follow me. You stay close by my side, and you do exactly as I say. I'll keep you hidden from sight. Do you understand, Dean?"
Dean grunts in agreement, trying to ignore the pleasant shiver he feels at the sound of his name in that grave voice. This is so, so not the time, he reminds himself, but then he's blinking in surprise as Castiel disappears, only to reappear on the other side of the wall and look back at him expectantly. Dean clambers over, not half as graceful as he'd like to be, and goes to his side. They head off together back the way Dean had come, and he might be taller than Castiel, but he has to hustle to keep up with the other man's brisk strides.
They're going back toward the bridge where Dean had initially met Cas, and even from some distance away he's starting to hear a low din, presumably from the guests that have arrived at the mansion. The idea of going in there, facing whatever it is that he apparently needs Cas to protect him from… it doesn't exactly appeal, is all. He's careful to stick close anyway; Cas is clearly the closest thing he's got to a friend here, at least more so than his own brother, and he'll cling to that until he gets a better offer.
Despite the vague desire to drag his feet, to stay away, they're crossing the bridge in a few short minutes. The mansion looks different in the dark; light pours out of the windows, and the building's silhouette looms intimidatingly against the night sky. Cas slows as they approach, and Dean spots a man standing in the shadows out front, leaning against one of the ostentatious pillars with an air of practiced boredom. He's got a handful of what look like Twizzlers, another one dangling from his teeth, and he cocks an eyebrow at Cas as they walk up.
"Late to the party, little bro?" The words are a bit garbled with his mouth full of candy, but Dean is about ninety percent sure he heard the 'little bro' part correctly, which is unexpected.
"I had to attend to some matters, Gabriel. It's none of your concern." Cas' voice doesn't give anything away to Dean, but the man -- Gabriel -- grins widely, biting off another piece of licorice. He hasn't spared a glance for Dean, so he has to hope that whatever mojo Cas is using to keep him hidden is working.
"Cassie," Gabriel gasps dramatically, "you know I have an inquiring mind! Something is up with you, and you should know you can't keep any secrets from me." He leans in conspiratorially. "If I didn't know better, I'd think maybe you decided to adopt a stray."
Dean tenses, but Gabriel's still not looking at him, so he fights to keep calm. Maybe it's like Jurassic Park, and if he just stays very, very still then the T. Rex won't see him. That had always sounded like a heap of bullshit to Dean, and he doesn't think this guy's a dinosaur, but desperate times, right? Of course, that's the moment when Dean feels something press into his back, warm and familiar and ten kinds of alarming. He was on edge to begin with, so before he realizes what he's doing he yelps and jerks away. He whirls around, but there's nobody there except for Cas. Well, and Gabriel, who's giving him a smug look like he's just had his suspicions confirmed.
"Shit," he says eloquently, and then Cas is grabbing his hand and dragging him back to his side, where he feels the pressure again. It's not so unexpected this time, and he settles back into it. Cas squeezes his hand gently, nodding his approval. His eyes are on Gabriel, blazing with challenge, and Dean is so lost he's just going to stop even trying to understand what's going on.
"Huh," Gabriel says, breaking the charged silence. "I must've had a bit too much of the mead, or ambrosia, or whatever swill they're serving at this party. Because for a second there it looked like you were hiding a human in your wings. Can you imagine?"
"How absurd," Castiel says tersely, and the pressure tightens on Dean's shoulders. "It's best to exercise moderation, brother."
"Ah, yeah, but where's the fun in that?" Gabriel holds up a handful of peanut M&Ms, apparently conjured from thin air, and shoves them into his mouth all at once. "Anyway," he continues through his mouthful of candy, "I meant to tell you that Ruby and Anna are working in the kitchen tonight, and if I'm not mistaken…" He snaps his fingers once. "The service entrance is unlocked. Have a good night, Cassie-baby. Stay out of trouble, and, you know. Don't forget to have your pets spayed and neutered," he adds with a wink, and then he snaps his fingers again and disappears.
Well. Okay, then.
"I don't believe Gabriel will give us away," Cas says, snapping him out of his daze, "but we must be more careful. He is a bit less conventional than my other brothers and sisters, but I doubt everyone would be so willing to overlook your presence." Dean nods, trying to process everything that's just happened.
"So… wings? Is that how you're keeping people from seeing me?" Castiel nods, staring carefully at the ground. "What are you, exactly? Some kind of bird-monster?" Miracle upon miracles, that drags the tiniest hint of a smile out of Cas. Dean mirrors it, feeling strangely triumphant.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not." He hesitates, fidgeting, then tilts his head up to look Dean in the eye. "I'm an angel."
"An angel? Seriously? Like, heaven and harps and stuff?" Dean's expression is nothing short of incredulous. "No way, dude." Cas rolls his eyes.
"Not quite, Dean. Angels exist, as do demons, but not in the way you think. Our existence has been… co-opted by human religion. If there's such a place as heaven, I've never been there."
Dean blinks at that, waiting a minute for his worldview to get done shifting for the hundredth time that day.
"So you don't perch on people's shoulders or grant wishes or anything?"
"I don't think that's even a part of the Judeo-Christian angel lore," Cas says, squinting at Dean skeptically, "but no. As a rule, angels aren't nearly as benevolent as humans would like to believe."
"Aw, I don't know, Cas," Dean says with a smirk. "You've been pretty friendly so far."
Cas opens his mouth to form a response, but seems to think better of it. He tugs at Dean's hand -- and Dean's not sure how he forgot that he'd been standing there holding hands with an angel for five minutes, but whatever -- and gestures around the right side of the mansion.
"Let's go. We need to get inside before someone sees us." He doesn't give Dean a chance to respond before he's dragging him around the building and through an unassuming side door.
The first thing Dean sees when he looks over Cas' shoulder is food. Mountainous piles of food stacked across the expansive island in a kitchen that's easily bigger than his last apartment. His stomach growls, and he flushes in embarrassment when Cas turns to raise an eyebrow at him. Dean's busy trying to think of a question to ask that's not what the hell is going on because nobody likes a broken record, but then the door is slamming shut behind him and a woman's face is popping up from behind an enormous tower of pastries. His breath catches when she smiles widely at them, coming around the counter and dusting off her hands on a short apron. She's got red hair pulled up in a messy bun and wide blue eyes that almost rival Cas'. Almost.
"Castiel, I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!" Dean feels a little petty when he catches himself frowning at her warm greeting. The guy's weirdly intense and he dresses like a tax accountant, but Dean finds himself feeling kind of territorial anyway. He blinks when he realizes that she's turned to him and is watching him with a bemused expression. "Who's this?" she asks lightly.
"This," Dean cuts in before Cas can respond, "is Dean Winchester."
She frowns slightly, and then her eyes widen and she turns back to Cas.
"Oh, Cas," she says, dismay evident in her tone. "You didn't."
"Anna, I'm not asking you to get involved. I only ask that you let us through; Dean wishes to see Michael, and taking him through the main entrance is certain to cause a stir." The way he says 'stir' makes Dean think it's probably a euphemism for something bloody.
"Well," she begins hesitantly, "I suppose I could--"
"Cas, you old stick in the mud!" Dean jumps at the new voice, turning to see a petite brunette coming into the kitchen. "Is that a human? Maybe I underestimated you, angel. I thought you were too fussy to bother with pets." She grins sharply, her voice full of barely restrained glee.
"Okay, all right," Dean grumbles, tired of being called a pet and desperate to take some measure of control over the situation. "Yes, I'm a human, and if we can get past that novelty for a second, maybe somebody here can tell me what the fuck is going on?" He directs this last bit at Cas, though his eyes flicker around to the two women, who are watching him curiously.
"Dean," Cas murmurs, chastising. "I understand your frustration, but we need their help, and you would do well not to anger them. I've seen Ruby do some particularly distasteful things with a knife."
Dean glances back over at the brunette, Ruby, prepared to scoff at the idea that Cas might view her as a threat. Her eyes shift to inky blank, her smile turning predatory, and he gulps before leaning in toward Cas.
"So, when you said about demons earlier…" he asks in a hushed whisper, cursing softly when Cas nods his confirmation. Dean clears his throat. "Uh, sorry? For the rudeness? This is all kind of new to me," he mumbles. He catches Cas rolling his eyes almost imperceptibly before he continues. "I need to talk to Michael to figure out how to get my brother back. I know you don't know me, but Cas says I need your help, so. Could you guys help me?"
Anna's eyes soften at that, and Ruby's… well, Ruby's at least go back to normal, although she's still giving off vibes that are more than a little terrifying.
"Okay, pouty," Ruby says airily. "I suppose I could let you tag along with me. But you're going to have to change," she adds, gesturing at his jeans, white t-shirt, and open green over shirt. He's just about to ask why when Cas twitches, his head tilted back and eyes unfocused as he stares at a spot on the ceiling. His tie is loose, his top button unbuttoned, and Dean can't help watching where it gapes at his throat. Cas swallows once, and Dean has to make himself tear his gaze away. The way Ruby's leering at him tells him he wasn't quick enough.
"What's up, Cas?" he asks, clearing his throat deliberately. "Phone call from God?" Cas jerks in surprise before turning back to Dean, expression unreadable.
"I must go. Ruby, Anna, thank you for your help."
"Wait, what do you mean?" Dean asks, voice just high and panicked enough to be embarrassing. He reaches out to grab Cas' arm, but the angel just vanishes with a fluttering sound, and he finds himself grasping at nothing. He turns to Ruby and Anna, who look amused and sympathetic, respectively. Ruby rolls her eyes at his worried expression and claps her hands together briskly.
"Okay, let's do this! Hang on, I'm pretty sure I've got something in your size," she tells him, opening a cabinet door and burrowing around in it. "Aha!" She pops her head out, smiling triumphantly, and tosses a small pile of clothes in his direction. "These belonged to the last guy. He was shorter than you, so the pants won't fit, but your jeans are probably dark enough not to draw attention. Just put on the shirt and tie."
He blinks at her once before making a calculated decision not to ask any more questions, especially when he probably won't like the answer. He strips off his over shirt and pulls on the white button-down, tucking it into his jeans and hoping he doesn't look like an absolute tool.
"Here, let me help," Anna offers, tugging the tie out of his hands. He lets her do it; he's useless at tying them, and on the rare occasion he needs one, Sam always does it for him. "I know you're probably pretty freaked out, but Ruby won't steer you wrong. She knows Cas would smite her," she adds with a tiny quirk at the corner of her mouth. He has to laugh at that, because Ruby might be scary, but he thinks maybe Cas is way scarier. He stands still long enough for her to pull the end of the tie through the loop before turning to address both her and Ruby.
"I really do appreciate your help, you guys. I don't know why you're doing it -- hell, I don't know why Cas is doing it, but it means a lot. I won't forget it."
Ruby rolls her eyes, but her smile is warm.
"Yeah, okay, okay. Let's get this show on the road before you try to hug me or something." She tosses a wink to Anna before reaching around and patting her on the butt. "I shouldn't be long, babe. Don't burn the mini-quiches."
It's Anna's turn to roll her eyes as she swats at Ruby's hand.
"Good luck, Dean," she says, laughing. "Keep an eye on Cas for me."
"Hey," he says, pausing. "What happened to the guy who had these clothes?" Ruby glances furtively around and beckons him to lean in close with one finger.
"I ate him," she whispers into his ear, and then she cackles when he jerks away in surprise. He honestly can't tell if she's joking, but he chooses to believe that she is. Yes, that was definitely a joke, and he's not paying any special attention to how her grin is suddenly looking extra toothy.
He has just enough time for one last "thank you" to Anna before Ruby is dragging him to the far door, shoving a tray of hors d'oeuvres into his hands, and disappearing into the next room. He hurries to follow, and then stops dead.
The room is packed, full of people that Dean thinks it's safe to assume aren't actually people at all. He takes a few seconds to gather his composure and then, satisfied that nobody is staring at him or forming an angry mob, he trails along behind Ruby into the crowd.
He keeps his eyes down, mostly, trying for a mix of deferential and invisible that, in any other circumstances, would have him gritting his teeth. He's just scared enough now that it doesn't actually bother him all that much, so long as nobody sees past his half-assed waiter costume.
Dean's doing his best to keep up with Ruby, pausing here and there when people stop him to snag one of the little puffs off his tray. Nobody's looking at him, the help as invisible here as they are anywhere, and he's just starting to think he's home free. In retrospect, that was a seriously stupid thought to entertain, because about three seconds later he finds his way blocked by a smug-looking douche in an obviously expensive black suit.
"You're new," the man observes, taking a sip from his glass and raking his eyes slowly over Dean in a way that makes him flush with embarrassment.
"Yes, sir. It's my first day," he says quietly, his eyes darting around the room as he searches desperately for Ruby.
"'Sir,' is it?" The man raises an eyebrow. "I think I could work with that. Subservience isn't usually my thing, but with a face like yours I'm certain I could make all sorts of exceptions."
Dean can definitely feel the blush heating his cheeks now, and he curses his stupid fair complexion because he could not possibly be less interested in what this guy is offering. He's got some sort of vague European accent that screams "affectation," and he's smirking at Dean like he's got a sure thing in front of him. He figures this is some sort of karmic retribution for perving on Cas earlier.
He's scrambling for an appropriate brush-off when the man's slowly expression shifts from expectation to confusion. Dean can practically see him putting the pieces together through his alcohol-fueled fuzziness, figuring out that something's off about Dean, and Dean's alarmingly close to panicking. Throw the tray and make a run for it is probably a terrible idea, he tells himself firmly.
Suddenly, like a gift from above -- and no, the irony isn't lost on Dean -- Gabriel appears, insinuating himself into the space between them and plastering his body to the other man's front.
"Balthazar, come on," he whines, running his hands over the guy's chest. "I'm bored. Stop harassing the help and show me a good time." He punctuates that last word with a slow roll of his hips, and Balthazar's eyes flutter shut for a moment. He's playing it up, acting way more tipsy than he could possibly be, and Dean could kiss the guy for saving him.
Except, Balthazar already seems to have that covered, and Dean sidles away while he's distracted with his tongue down Gabriel's throat. Gabriel pulls back, pushing Balthazar's lips toward his neck, and catches Dean's eye. He throws him a lascivious wink, followed by a thumbs up, and Dean mouths a heartfelt thank you before turning and all but dashing after Ruby.
She's waiting by the far door when he gets there, clearly trying to suppress her laughter and not doing a very good job of it.
"I see you met Balthazar," she says as she tugs the door open and leads him through it. "You better not tell Cas, though. He's not exactly Balthy's biggest fan, and I'm pretty sure he's not the type to share." Dean opens his mouth, closes it, and then decides to change the subject as he follows her up an extravagant curving staircase.
"What's the occasion, anyway?" he asks as they climb the stairs.
"No real occasion," Ruby says, shrugging. "This is kind of a neutral ground, where angels and demons can be in the same room without getting all pissy and stabbing each other. Michael just likes everyone to come around once in a while to keep an eye on things."
"So Michael's in charge of everything that goes on around here?"
"He is. If anyone knows what's going on with your brother, it's Michael," she tells him in a low voice, glancing back over her shoulder. "But you can't just go demanding favors. Offer him something in return, or you're going to piss him off. He's pretty traditional that way."
Dean's not really up on his angel traditions, so he just nods.
They get to the top of the stairs before he realizes it, and he finds himself standing in front of a pair of heavy-looking wooden doors. He takes a deep breath, and Ruby reaches up to ruffle his hair.
"You'll be fine. Cas'll take care of you." She goes to her tiptoes and kisses him on the cheek. "Don't fuck him over," she adds sternly, and then she turns and raps on the door three times. "Good luck, Winchester," she whispers, and then she hurries away and disappears around the corner.
Part 2