Black Dove // Part 5
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Part 5
If Frank felt sad to see Dean go then he artfully hid it behind a mocking sneer.
“Just go back to where you came from, sugar,” he told him, “while you still can. 2014 will come soon enough.” Dean raised his eyebrow at him, shouldering his bag while scanning the dark yard for Castiel’s shape. He saw him hunching in the shadows of a building, head still raised as if enjoying a gentle breeze or warm sunrays despite the chill of the pre-dawn.
“What happened to all the bullshit about manipulating Cas?” Dean rolled the name off his tongue, allowing himself some small measure of vengeful amusement at the scowl appearing on Frank’s face. Frank seemed to war with himself whether to keep to his self-imposed rules of silence or give Dean some parting words. The need to answer eventually won.
“Seeing as you are too lovey-dovey with the Dove to actually pull it off, princess, there’s not much sense in driving the point home,” he said and Dean glared at him which didn’t deter Frank in the least, “but I’ll do it anyway. You have power over her and you’d be a fool not to use it.” Frank seemed to contemplate this for a moment. “Or a coward.” This swiped the not quite smirk off Dean’s face and he lowered his eyebrows in contempt.
“I’m not a coward for not being an asshole!” Dean argued hotly, clenching his fist until his nails dug into his palms, the pain too small to take notice of.
“Well tick-tock, tick-tock, Dean.” Dean was too confused at the nonsense retort to react. “Even if you run, where do you think you’ll end up?” Frank snorted, turned around, losing no more words, and slammed the door.
The yard was silent until a flock of sea gulls called into the dark, spurring Dean into motion towards Castiel. He got up when Dean approached, shouldering his backpack and not giving any indication whether he had been listening to their short conversation.
“This way,” was all he said, his voice rough, but no longer stretched thin by fatigue and pain, and he started guiding Dean through the empty houses and alleys. Dean doubted that the problems that came with forcing his form into what would keep things between them charged but probably safe were just gone after a night’s short rest. But Dean’s mind was filled with his own dark thoughts and he just couldn’t afford to worry about the state of Castiel’s body unless his composure started showing cracks again.
They moved swiftly, but Dean recognized that Castiel was being careful while maneuvering the labyrinth of narrow back alleys and skeleton remains of houses stripped bare of doors and windows. In and out of buildings Dean could see the sky overhead; it was starless and oily, with small patches of a more natural blue-tinted grey. Dean’s watch continued being useless, but he estimated that dawn should still be a few hours away. But there was no telling what laws of nature still counted in a world falling apart under the onslaught of corroding beasts. Night on the day before had fallen far too swiftly after hours of darkness still illuminated by Dean didn’t know what. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the sun or the moon here. On a more logical level Dean was aware that this was still earth and that an entire planet wouldn’t be thrown off its course just because of a couple of prehistoric monsters, but it did get hard to be reasonable from time to time.
While Dean mulled this over and Castiel didn’t provide a distraction with his too silent steps, he became aware of a new set of noises. He didn’t dare to stop for fear of losing sight of Castiel, but he did look into the shadows of the streets they avoided, seeing the glow of cat eyes among the garbage. Human noises, Dean was sure of it now, hearing the clangs of bottles and wordless shouting. Knowing that there was a reason Castiel avoided running across someone, Dean didn’t really think about checking out what he assumed to be some kind of fight. The high pitched wail of a child made him pause though and he glared into the darkness.
“Dean,” Castiel called from further down the street, but Dean listened for the sounds of crying and shouting.
“What’s going on back there?” he asked when the noises were drowned out by a dog barking furiously.
“An outpost is not a well-developed unit…” Castiel told him, waiting for Dean to catch up with him, “People come here to flee, mostly bringing almost nothing with them. The little food they have is not rationed and distributed equally, people try to bargain and fight for a place on the ship.”
“I thought Frank organized those?” Dean asked in surprise, but Castiel started moving again and Dean followed reluctantly. Come to think of it, Frank had warned him that a ship would be coming.
“Yes, but the places are limited as is the capacity of the fugitive camps. I assume that they too have certain standards and people they are more willing to take than others. I don’t think anybody gets refused, but waiting for months in a place as unstructured as this one must be difficult,” Castiel explained. They both stepped out into a broad street, Dean guessed that it once was a high-way leading out of the city but it was too dark to read the peeling and rusting signs. Castiel didn’t seem inclined to continue this conversation and they fell into a new silence, only the scuffle of Dean’s boots on the cracked pavement resounding between them.
Dean wasn’t sure how long they were walking before Castiel changed direction, leaving the highway for a path between ruins. Not much remained of the houses here, just cracked concrete walls rising upwards. The sky was unchanged still, but there was something different about these parts.
Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on it, trying to listen for sounds past the blowing of the wind, but there was nothing but their feet on the ground. The path Castiel had chosen was uneven, leading slowly towards an elevated spot in the distance, a low hill maybe.
Castiel walked slower now and Dean’s breath came out of his mouth in transparent puffs of white, soon blown away by the chilly wind. Dean frowned. It hadn’t been that cold before, he mused, but then his hunter senses kicked in. He felt that Castiel wasn’t the only supernatural being in the vicinity and as soon as he realized this, he saw a flicker out of the corner of his eyes. He turned his head, but the shadow cast on the wall slipped off it almost too quickly for Dean to see. Next to a low hum in his ears - not only wordless whispers, but also things he couldn’t place, like laughter and the low din of bells and hollow scratching noises - more and more shadows started appearing on the walls.
“Uhm…” Castiel seemed to take no notice of it, but Dean was nervous. “Cas!” he hissed and Castiel turned to look at him. His face was cast into shadows but he looked… altered, like a strange reflection was cast onto his face. He was paler than usual, his skin slightly glossy, as if it was covered by a layer of sweat and whenever Dean shifted is eyes slightly, his hair flickered like smoky tendrils. And of course, he also threw a shadow on the wall. A very tall shadow, with wings that were too big even for the three story building this wall must once have belonged to. Its shape was human, so much was clear, but its hair and clothes were flowing around the darker part of the body like it was floating in water.
A spike of panic made Dean turn around to his own shadow, but it was perfectly normal if not slightly distorted by the undefinable light source causing this freaky shadow play.
“They won’t harm you,” Castiel said and Dean looked back at him, seeing him tilt his head, which made the strange second, transparent image thrown over his face shift, and Dean had to squeeze his eyes shut. “They won’t pass into our sphere, you will only see their shadows and hear their whispers,” Castiel assured him. “Why are you keeping your eyes shut?” Castiel sounded both confused and amused, so Dean cracked one eye open, still getting the head-tilt and the white smudges all over Castiel.
“Dude, it’s like I’m watching a 3D movie without my glasses on!” he hissed and Castiel lifted an eyebrow, his eyes flashing turquois for a second. “Am I seeing your real form flashing through or something?” He walked over to Castiel and up closer it was less confusing.
“I don’t know,” Castiel told him with a frown, but then he lifted his eyes upwards, listening or watching, Dean didn’t know. But the sky overhead had turned colors, almost looking like those north lights Sam had loved to show him pictures of. The shadows walked with them, following with a playful gait, some skipping next to Dean, some flying, some shapes human, some monstrous. But while Dean still felt wary, he wasn’t expecting an attack any time now. “What does it look like to you?”
“Uhm… Not sure… white… ish?” Dean tried, but up close he couldn’t quite see the shifts that well. Castiel huffed at that, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And the shadows on the wall are freakishly tall.”
“Well, your world is very small,” he told him, “it’s all a manner of perspective I assume.” Dean shrugged at that, trying to figure out if he could hear his brother in all of the murmuring around them, but even as the noise level rose he still couldn’t make out actual words or Sam.
“Did you also have six wings and four heads?” Dean asked and Castiel looked at him, his skin now flickering like mother of pearl.
“No, I was of a lower order,” he explained, not even asking where Dean had that from, “even when I was graced with greater power, nothing about my initial form changed.”
“So…”
“Just one pair of wings and one head. I was a soldier, no need for fancy equipment.” Dean had to laugh at that. “My order is, with the exception of cupids, the one most resembling the image of our Father among the Host… And you should know that, Dean.” Dean lifted an eyebrow in confusion, shaking his head. He couldn’t quite remember anything Cas had said or done that implied this. “You had my handprint on your shoulder… Well, it’s an approximation of my hold on your soul, fit to the limited perspective of the mortal plane, but still…” Castiel trailed off, walking around a boulder lying on their path.
“Well… I’ll probably never get to see your true form,” Dean said, unsure whether to feel regret about that. Castiel’s expression changed from amused to dismayed in the blink of an eye.
“I doubt it… I’m probably changed anyway…,” he said and Dean remained silent at that, unsure what to say. He turned his face to Dean and smiled slightly. “But as far as a human visage goes, I am not exactly displeased by what I have.” After his fist moment of confusion Dean had to grin.
“No, I think Jimmy’s probably quite hot from a chick’s perspective. And you already know my opinion on the version with boobs.” Castiel laughed, shaking his head, but then he tilted his head again. “You hearing anything?”
“I hear many things,” he answered, “but not what I’m wishing to hear. Not yet.” They arrived at the foot of a small slope, the shadows slipping off the wall to skitter over the dusty ground. “Let’s go up there.” Dean followed him, looking backwards from time to time. The walls looked like a labyrinth swarmed with dark, fluid shapes circling around the corridors. Dean didn’t quite feel like he belonged here, but the shadow forms didn’t seem disturbed by his presence. At the flat top of the hill they came to a stop, the air up here slightly warmer, but the murmurs were still present. There was a fallen over stone, or remains of a wall, but Castiel pulled out a blanket from his backpack and spread it on the smooth surface. Dean didn’t feel like commenting the colorful patchwork, especially as he now had the distinct feeling that all those pretty things had been gifts of Dick.
“We’re having a picnic?” Dean wondered as Castiel sat down cross-legged, pulling out a thermos flask and two small cups.
“Raunacht lasts for hours, Dean. We might as well get comfortable and enjoy an early breakfast,” Castiel explained, opening the top of the flask and pouring Dean a cup of what seemed to be peppermint tea.
“No coffee?” Castiel lowered his eyebrows at Dean, the strange after-image of white smoke flashing around his head like a halo made Dean back off. “Fine, I’ll take your healthy stuff.” He took a sip and frowned. “Okay, not so healthy! How much sugar do you have in there?”
“I like sweet tea,” Castiel said defensively, drinking his own tea and keeping the flask between his legs. He put the cup down and breathed out before turning his eyes to the clouds overhead.
“And now we wait?” Castiel closed his eyes and tilted his head upwards.
“Now we wait.”
--
Dean was through two dry sandwiches, various cups of tea, some holy water and Castiel was still unmoving beside him. The whispers around them had not changed in quality, even though sometimes he felt a strange presence pressing in on him, whispering noises into his mind, but nothing made sense and nothing was Sam. Dean wondered if Castiel had any luck with getting on the right frequency. For all Dean knew, he could have been chatting to his brothers upstairs for the last four or how many hours he had been sitting here and freezing his ass off. Dean heaved a sigh bordering on a groan and rolled forwards on his knees to grab for Castiel’s backpack. Surely there must be more blankets in there, or maybe a pack of M&Ms or at least some carrot sticks. When he got closer to the angel though he tensed and turned his head towards him. Castiel was still pale, maybe even more than before, and his lips were moving soundlessly and his face had lost its calm expression. His task of getting a blanket abandoned, Dean sat back up straight and shuffled a bit closer to. He could hear the rough sounds of Enochian now that he was closer, but Castiel seemed pained. Angelic conversation or not, Dean shook his shoulder.
“Cas, are you alright?” Castiel’s eyes shut even tighter. “Cas!” Castiel exhaled out a shuddering breath, letting his head drop, gasping.
“It’s silent,” he managed to say and Dean squeezed his shoulder when the next bit came out forced and too close to a sob: “They refuse me!” Dean didn’t know what to say to that, he wasn’t exactly sure what it meant. Was Cas cut off from Heaven again? He couldn’t ask because Castiel was hunching over, shaking. “Please. Please…!” Dean was shocked at the raw desperation of Castiel’s voice and moved his hand to the angel’s back, stroking and when the stream of pleasepleaseplease didn’t break off, he grabbed his waist and pulled him close. Castiel choked back a sob and Dean could feel his open mouth at his collar bone. He wrapped both arms around him, hugging as hard as he dared.
“It’s gonna be okay, Cas… Everything’s gonna be okay…” Castiel gently hit his forehead against Dean’s neck, his skin sweaty and his hands grabbing for Dean’s shirt with the force of a starved animal finally sinking its claws into prey. Once Dean thought Castiel’s breathing had calmed down enough, he loosened his embrace. “Okay?” Instead of answering, Castiel pushed himself off, forcing Dean to open his arms. Castiel drew his hand through his hair, then he pressed his palms together and leaned his forehead against his fingertips. Maybe it was one last try, one last prayer to a silent heaven, but after a moment Castiel dropped his hands. He straightened, but still sat close enough to Dean for their hips and shoulders to brush.
“Have you heard Sam yet?” Castiel asked, his voice calm as if his panic attack of before had not happened at all.
“Dude, maybe-“
“There’s nothing we can do about Heaven’s silence. It’s the punishment I have to accept,” Castiel told him, “I will be fine.” Dean shook his head, reaching out his hand to give Castiel’s shoulder a squeeze.
“Yeah, you will be, don’t worry,” he assured him and while Castiel couldn’t quite manage a smile, he still looked less freaked out than before. The sadness and grief were still lurking there in his eyes though, Dean saw it even if Castiel chose to avoid looking at him.
“So?” Castiel asked and Dean took away his hand, shrugging.
“Sam’s not so communicative,” Dean told him, trying to listen for the familiar voice of his brother, but nothing got through.
“Have you tried invoking him?” Dean lifted an eyebrow, prompting Castiel to explain. “Just like when you try to get my attention.” Dean was not quite convinced that it would work, Sam wasn’t an angel after all and he was two years and who knew how many miles away from him. But it wasn’t as if they had many other options. Castiel saw Dean making up his mind and resumed his cross-legged position, closing his eyes again. Dean hoped he didn’t try to listen for a whisper of the Host, but he was glad at the semblance of privacy. Even though he was pretty sure Castiel could hear every word he spoke, maybe even read his mind.
“Uh, so this is stupid,” Dean mumbled, not even loud enough to hear over the murmur of the spirits around them, “Sam? Sammy, can you hear me?” With his eyebrows raised expectantly Dean waited for the whispers transforming into words, but nothing happened. “Sam, come on! Answer the damn phone!”
“Dean?” Dean could just bite back an undignified gasp at being able to hear Sam’s voice loud and clear, as if he was sitting just beside him. He had to look to his side to make sure that Sam wasn’t actually there. “Dean? Hello?” Sam sounded tired, his voice strained and Dean worried about what his younger brother was probably going through back in his own time.
“Hey, yes, it’s me!” Dean said, only half aware of Castiel inching a bit closer, though he found that he didn’t really care, he didn’t want to keep Cas out of this discussion.
“Oh my God!” Sam shouted and Dean flinched, “Dude, I thought I wouldn’t get through to you anymore! Where have you been?!”
“Sorry, Sammy, but it’s really tough getting a good connection here,” Dean snorted, picking up on his little brother’s anxious tone. “I actually had to go to some spot where communication with other spheres or something is easiest.”
“Communication…? You mean something like All Soul’s Day?” Sam wondered and Dean could imagine the interested face he must be pulling now.
“Cas called it… What did you call it, Cas?” Dean wondered and looked over at him. Castiel frowned and opened his eyes.
“Raunacht.” So he was listening. At least to Dean’s part of the conversation.
“Yes, Raunacht,” Dean repeated and Sam made an appreciating humming noise. Dean wondered if Sam knew exactly what that was, he wouldn’t be surprised at all.
“So… Cas…,” Sam started and Dean straightened in anticipation of finally understanding what was going on here. “He’s not too stoned out of his mind then?” Okay, so not what Dean had expected. He darted a quick look over to Castiel, but he didn’t seem to have heard, or he just kept his expression neutral.
“What?”
“Judged by your tone of voice he isn’t…,” Sam said pensively, “I did hear bits and pieces over the last three days, but I wasn’t exactly sure what’s going on.”
“Me neither, care to enlighten me? I’m stranded in the future and you don’t seem to worry that much!” Dean wasn’t sure if he should be freaked or actually proud that Sam managed to keep a level head through this strange situation. They had managed to get through the Chronos case with relatively little injuries sustained after all, so maybe he shouldn’t be surprised.
“I was going to pull you back! Dean, you know that!” Sam argued. And that explained some of Sam’s lack of frantic talking, but not a whole lot of it.
“I don’t know shit, Sam! I woke up here with no idea where I am or how I got here! If Cas hadn’t found me I’d probably be dead by now!” Dean told him, trying to reign in his irritation, but he found it harder and harder to do.
“My my, so he really lost a chunk of his memory,” another voice said and Dean tensed, even though he knew that the owner of said voice was nowhere in their vicinity. “This is really going smashingly, isn’t it.”
“What the hell?!” Dean hissed and felt fingers closing around his wrist. He turned his head to the side, seeing Castiel’s concerned expression. He still had the halo of flickering smoke circling around his head and his skin continued glistening, but the warmth and firmness of his fingers calmed Dean.
“We’ve discussed this all, Dean. Remember?” Sam’s calm, but patronizingly patient voice called Dean back to the actual conversation.
“No I don’t! That’s the problem!” Dean hissed, “I’d appreciate if you tell me what’s going on!” There was a moment of silence before the whispers around Dean were drowned out by his brother’s voice again.
“We were looking for ways to kill leviathans, but there seems to be absolutely nothing of help. So we thought that maybe the Colt would work if it were enhanced. Seeing as we lost it and had no time to go look for it, we assumed that doing a bit of time traveling was the best choice,” Sam explained, still keeping his calm while Dean was seething with nervous energy.
“That’s a shit plan! The Colt didn’t work on Lucifer, it didn’t even come up against Eve, who was a Purgatory monster. And the leviathans are THE Purgatory monster! What the hell, Sam!”
“Yeah, so we called Crowley for help,” Sam answered, but Dean got momentarily distracted by Castiel’s fingers squeezing Dean’s wrist almost painfully, “and he came up with the option of enhancing it with something that they might be vulnerable against. Not much lore to back it up, at least not in the places he could get to he claimed, but it’s not that implausible.” Dean didn’t say anything, but looked down at Castiel’s pale fingers around his wrist.
“The Leviathan are creatures of tradition, myth if you want. Even though they seem like complete anarchy when let loose, they are somewhat predictable,” Crowley said in that superior tone of his and it made Dean sneer, even though his attention was straying. “They wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without the treacherous little angel. Castiel is their Host, their Portal and whatever other more disturbing terms they use.”
“So you just decided to use his blood for enhanced bullets? You know that’s ridiculous?” Dean looked over to Castiel, who was pale and wide eyed and tight lipped. His entire frame was shaking and flickering. “That wouldn’t work, right?” Castiel lifted his head in a jerky move, staring at Dean with a look even more disconcerting than the one he wore after not receiving any word from his brothers.
“Ah, so Cas’s with you? Say hi to him from me. Try not to get any STDs from him, Dean, who knows where the pretty little whore’s been to. Remember, you’ve still got to uphold your end of the bargain.” Castiel made a very small, but broken noise, his eyes slowly narrowing. Dean knew very well that this was not boding well. Sam was saying something, but Dean couldn’t listen to him. Couldn’t afford to listen to him with the dangerous energy that started to tense up Castiel’s body. His fingers loosened around Dean’s wrist and then he let go of him as if his skin burned him.
“You’re…,” Castiel started, his voice a shaky growl and his eyes flashed liquid turquoise, shining just like his skin, a fractured white that caught the light of dawn in a display of muted colors. “Unbelievable!” He jumped up and before Dean could shout something Castiel was already stalking off, swiftly descending the slope. Dean got to his feet after the first moment of surprise.
“Cas! Cas, hey!” Castiel didn’t stop or slow down, so Dean wanted to run after him, but it was Sam’s voice that held him back.
“What’s happening?” He sounded worried, with that edge of tiredness again and Dean stared after Castiel, disappearing among the shadows, his wings’ shadows huge forms against the walls.
“It’s… Cas. He just walked off,” Dean said, sitting back down, feeling every bit as tired as Sam sounded. Even though Dean had felt confusion at first, he had a pretty good idea what had got him so worked up.
“Is he alright?” The worry on Sam’s voice was genuine and warm and even though Dean didn’t want to admit it, it actually came as a surprise. It shouldn’t Dean realized, but it did.
“No.” Dean couldn’t quite bring himself to lie, “but we haven’t got the time to deal with that right now. I don’t know how long this connection holds and I’d rather get some answers.” Sam was silent for a moment, but then he sighed and Dean knew he had won this.
“In the very broadest of terms Crowley and us figured out that we had to get our hands on Cas’ blood, no matter what. There’s a pretty good chance that the Colt with specific bullets actually could work on Dick. Comparing to the little we have to fight them it’s at least something.” Dean couldn’t quite argue with that bit of logic. They had done stupider stuff on a less likely chance of success.
“And the time-travelling?”
“That was your idea, Dean…,” Sam said with a slightly amused snort. “Just after the thing with Chronos you’ve started thinking about using it in some way.” Right, he had thought about a lot of what if scenarios, but he knew well enough that going through time wouldn’t help them change anything. And they were fresh out of time commanding gods and Winchester friendly angels, so his thoughts had just been that - mere musings on what could have been.
“You actually surprised me with your suggestion,” Crowley spoke up again and Dean felt uncomfortable even hearing him, “it was kind of smart, coming from you.” Dean didn’t even try to grace that with an answer. “Because you figured out a way to get to someplace where both Castiel and the Colt were waiting for you to grab. That and a talk-active archangel who might actually know his lore.” Dean frowned, but then he groaned when he understood what Crowley was saying, placing his palm over his face, shaking his head. The pieces were fitting themselves together, but Dean still didn’t like what he was coming to know.
“We planned it all, Dean. We got Crowley to dig up a spell that used the residue energy that stuck to you thanks to traveling with Chronos as well as the little bit of Chrono’s blood we had on the weapon that killed him. We prepared all the necessary items for the time and place you were traveling to and we ran it through with Atropos and she gave it her okay.”
“Atropos?” Dean asked, not sure if the name was supposed to ring a bell or if she was some of the people the trip had knocked out of his mind. Sam however guessed his silence right.
“Fate, the one that tried to kill us during the unsinking of the Titanic.” If Sam would be here, Dean’d show him an incredulous expression, but as he wasn’t he had to do with staring at the shadows dancing around him.
“How the hell did you get that scary bitch to help us?!” Dean demanded, his voice shushing the whispers for a split second.
“I didn’t… You did… You said we were trying to clean up Cas’ mess and she seemed to be in favor of that. Apparently she didn’t like how the tapestry had turned out.”
“No surprise there, but what did she say? Is that why I have that stupid gold thread?” Dean asked and pulled his bag towards his feet, seeing the box that held the thread. Well, if she gave it willingly, at least Dean didn’t have to fear for his life once he got back.
“Yeah… She said that going into a potential future that had become obsolete should be safe enough, but she gave you the thread to take items back with you to not disrupt the flow of time more than we already have, should things not quite work out like we wanted it to.” Dean snorted at that. He unrepentantly didn’t care one bit if he messed up the pretty little tapestry, not even if it had been eons in the making. “Dean, do you really not remember any of this?” Sam seemed careful and slightly weary when he asked this, but try as he might, Dean couldn’t recall anything Sam or Crowley had told him.
“No! I mean Cas and I kind of figured out what I was supposed to do here, but that was pretty much all guesswork,” he confessed and Sam heaved a deep sigh. Dean wondered if him forgetting was really bad for some reason or another. Maybe a nasty side effect of the ritual that had long lasting and probably lethal consequences. But Sam didn’t seem antsy and worried, merely exhausted.
“Okay, but you can still get Cas’ blood and the Colt, right?”
“Fuck, no!” Dean shot back, brows creased in a displeased frown. “Maybe this wasn’t clear to you, but I’m in the actual future. Our future!”
“What… No… Dean, Cas is dead…” That soft, pitying tone really pinched something inside of Dean, painfully, forcefully, but he knew how to ignore these pangs of despair and loss. Especially now that he actually knew Castiel would return to them if he just made it back somehow. Dean wanted to shout at Sam that Cas was there somewhere, in their time, lying on the bottom of a lake or suffocating in the black masses. He was there and they weren’t doing anything. The immense feeling of panic and guilt almost punched the air out of Dean’s lungs. “Dean?” But he couldn’t say anything, not when Crowley was listening. Who knew what he’d do to him in the unlikely case he’d find him, so Dean kept silent.
“Okay, so an altered 2014 then. I guess we did aim for the Croatoan Apocalypse Zachariah had showed me, right? Cas is here, I’m sure he’ll donate some blood for the good cause, but I doubt I can get my hands on the Colt…” Sam made a pensive noise, while Crowley growled something that Dean couldn’t make. Not that Dean cared much about it, but Crowley was still bad news, especially if he wasn’t there to protect Sam.
“Then… maybe Cas knows something. He’s an angel, he will probably know something about Leviathan…” Sam suggested after a while and Dean fought the urge to tell him just how much he knew, but how little they could still do. Crowley cut his efforts short:
“I doubt that’s useful, you best bleed him dry and return. Sam can’t hold the connection for much longer.” Even though Dean wanted to hit him with a litany of curses and a few well aimed utterances of Christo just to spite him, what he had last said made him pause.
“What? What does that mean, Crowley?” he demanded to know, but was met with silence “Sam?”
“Look,” Sam started with a sigh, “we’ve been over this before. Time traveling without an angel is almost impossible… I’m serving as an anchor to our time and as long as I keep the connection between us I can pull you back.” Dean knew exactly that there was more to it, otherwise he and Sam wouldn’t have felt the need to argue about it. It was Crowley to supply more information and by the tone of his voice he rather enjoyed it:
“Sam hasn’t slept for more than 3 days. I wonder how much longer he can go on like that. He’s already starting to fidget. I wonder what kind of daydreams your dear little brother is having.” Dean froze, catching on to what Crowley was implying.
“Sam… Don’t do that!”
“I can’t! I’ll lose you!” Sam shouted right back and Dean gnawed his lips. “Dean, we only managed to send you because we’re having a strong connection! If it’s shut down you’ll be stranded there!”
“You won’t lose me! Cas can send me back!” He tried to argue because he could trust Castiel about this, there really was no merit in keeping Sam awake past his limits.
“No, I can hold out. Like we planned. Just be ready at noon,” Sam insisted and Dean felt that usual spark of annoyance at his little brother’s defiance.
“Sam, I’m being serious. Cas will send me back!”
“And I said no! I’m not going to trust in your assumption that Cas still has the power to do that!” Dean suppressed a wince because this was more in the vein of distrust he expected Sam to feel towards Castiel.
“Jesus, Sam! I’m not being delusional, Cas has got the mojo!” he assured him, shaking his head and kicking at the ground in frustration. With only sound to go with, he couldn’t even glare at Sam to convey how serious he was about this. Every now and then a look alone from Dean would shut Sam up, but not like this.
“Whatever loverboy, just get the blood, grab anything of value and get back. I’m not the one being crazy over here, but I can almost see Lucifer reflected in Sam’s eyes,” Crowley spoke up in a bored tone and Dean clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt.
“Crowley, shut up. It’s not that bad, Dean. Seriously. But I’m honestly getting tired of coffee, the one they have here is disgusting.” And that was it, Sam easing the tension out of his voice to convince Dean that everything was going to be alright, that his decisions on this were for the best. But Dean wasn’t convinced and he was pretty sure that he had left his own time with a similar cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. But he couldn’t do much against it other than being ready by noon.
“Well… Okay, Sammy… I’ll hurry up,” he said with a sigh, rubbing his throbbing forehead. The headache had crept up on him, like so often when he had to deal with disconcerting matters.
“Good… And…” The faltering almost stutter of Sam’s voice made Dean raise an eyebrow. “I guess say hi to Cas for me… And… it probably won’t matter to him in your timeline, but I’m… I’m sorry and I miss him.” Dean widened both eyes, stunned into silence, but then he started gnawing his lips when the cold feeling in his stomach slowly melted.
“O… Okay. I’ll tell him.”
“Just get back in one piece, Dean. Remember, noon. Just get to wherever you landed…,” Sam told him, Dean slowly nodding, more to himself.
“Yeah… And if it gets bad… Just go to sleep. Please trust me on this.” Sam agreed reluctantly, but didn’t say his good-byes before coaxing a promise out of Dean to tell him everything about his trip once he got back.
And just like that Sam’s voice faded out, leaving Dean in the dim light of dawn breaking, smudges of color appearing in the east. Everything was tinted in a subdued reddish hue, as if everything from the ground, to the remains of the city and the ocean was made out of clay and rust. The voices of Raunacht were still whispering to him and the insubstantial figures plunged in and out of the cool shadows. It seemed to be coming to a close, but Dean didn’t care. He didn’t want to sit here and wait as the echoes of lives long spent faded around him and the shadows where drowned out by insubstantial light. As quickly as possible Dean collected all their equipment and made the way down the hill. He dumped everything in a small space between fallen stones, where Dean assumed it to be protected well enough both from seagulls and the unlikely fugitive. Then he started moving again.
Next
Part 5
If Frank felt sad to see Dean go then he artfully hid it behind a mocking sneer.
“Just go back to where you came from, sugar,” he told him, “while you still can. 2014 will come soon enough.” Dean raised his eyebrow at him, shouldering his bag while scanning the dark yard for Castiel’s shape. He saw him hunching in the shadows of a building, head still raised as if enjoying a gentle breeze or warm sunrays despite the chill of the pre-dawn.
“What happened to all the bullshit about manipulating Cas?” Dean rolled the name off his tongue, allowing himself some small measure of vengeful amusement at the scowl appearing on Frank’s face. Frank seemed to war with himself whether to keep to his self-imposed rules of silence or give Dean some parting words. The need to answer eventually won.
“Seeing as you are too lovey-dovey with the Dove to actually pull it off, princess, there’s not much sense in driving the point home,” he said and Dean glared at him which didn’t deter Frank in the least, “but I’ll do it anyway. You have power over her and you’d be a fool not to use it.” Frank seemed to contemplate this for a moment. “Or a coward.” This swiped the not quite smirk off Dean’s face and he lowered his eyebrows in contempt.
“I’m not a coward for not being an asshole!” Dean argued hotly, clenching his fist until his nails dug into his palms, the pain too small to take notice of.
“Well tick-tock, tick-tock, Dean.” Dean was too confused at the nonsense retort to react. “Even if you run, where do you think you’ll end up?” Frank snorted, turned around, losing no more words, and slammed the door.
The yard was silent until a flock of sea gulls called into the dark, spurring Dean into motion towards Castiel. He got up when Dean approached, shouldering his backpack and not giving any indication whether he had been listening to their short conversation.
“This way,” was all he said, his voice rough, but no longer stretched thin by fatigue and pain, and he started guiding Dean through the empty houses and alleys. Dean doubted that the problems that came with forcing his form into what would keep things between them charged but probably safe were just gone after a night’s short rest. But Dean’s mind was filled with his own dark thoughts and he just couldn’t afford to worry about the state of Castiel’s body unless his composure started showing cracks again.
They moved swiftly, but Dean recognized that Castiel was being careful while maneuvering the labyrinth of narrow back alleys and skeleton remains of houses stripped bare of doors and windows. In and out of buildings Dean could see the sky overhead; it was starless and oily, with small patches of a more natural blue-tinted grey. Dean’s watch continued being useless, but he estimated that dawn should still be a few hours away. But there was no telling what laws of nature still counted in a world falling apart under the onslaught of corroding beasts. Night on the day before had fallen far too swiftly after hours of darkness still illuminated by Dean didn’t know what. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the sun or the moon here. On a more logical level Dean was aware that this was still earth and that an entire planet wouldn’t be thrown off its course just because of a couple of prehistoric monsters, but it did get hard to be reasonable from time to time.
While Dean mulled this over and Castiel didn’t provide a distraction with his too silent steps, he became aware of a new set of noises. He didn’t dare to stop for fear of losing sight of Castiel, but he did look into the shadows of the streets they avoided, seeing the glow of cat eyes among the garbage. Human noises, Dean was sure of it now, hearing the clangs of bottles and wordless shouting. Knowing that there was a reason Castiel avoided running across someone, Dean didn’t really think about checking out what he assumed to be some kind of fight. The high pitched wail of a child made him pause though and he glared into the darkness.
“Dean,” Castiel called from further down the street, but Dean listened for the sounds of crying and shouting.
“What’s going on back there?” he asked when the noises were drowned out by a dog barking furiously.
“An outpost is not a well-developed unit…” Castiel told him, waiting for Dean to catch up with him, “People come here to flee, mostly bringing almost nothing with them. The little food they have is not rationed and distributed equally, people try to bargain and fight for a place on the ship.”
“I thought Frank organized those?” Dean asked in surprise, but Castiel started moving again and Dean followed reluctantly. Come to think of it, Frank had warned him that a ship would be coming.
“Yes, but the places are limited as is the capacity of the fugitive camps. I assume that they too have certain standards and people they are more willing to take than others. I don’t think anybody gets refused, but waiting for months in a place as unstructured as this one must be difficult,” Castiel explained. They both stepped out into a broad street, Dean guessed that it once was a high-way leading out of the city but it was too dark to read the peeling and rusting signs. Castiel didn’t seem inclined to continue this conversation and they fell into a new silence, only the scuffle of Dean’s boots on the cracked pavement resounding between them.
Dean wasn’t sure how long they were walking before Castiel changed direction, leaving the highway for a path between ruins. Not much remained of the houses here, just cracked concrete walls rising upwards. The sky was unchanged still, but there was something different about these parts.
Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on it, trying to listen for sounds past the blowing of the wind, but there was nothing but their feet on the ground. The path Castiel had chosen was uneven, leading slowly towards an elevated spot in the distance, a low hill maybe.
Castiel walked slower now and Dean’s breath came out of his mouth in transparent puffs of white, soon blown away by the chilly wind. Dean frowned. It hadn’t been that cold before, he mused, but then his hunter senses kicked in. He felt that Castiel wasn’t the only supernatural being in the vicinity and as soon as he realized this, he saw a flicker out of the corner of his eyes. He turned his head, but the shadow cast on the wall slipped off it almost too quickly for Dean to see. Next to a low hum in his ears - not only wordless whispers, but also things he couldn’t place, like laughter and the low din of bells and hollow scratching noises - more and more shadows started appearing on the walls.
“Uhm…” Castiel seemed to take no notice of it, but Dean was nervous. “Cas!” he hissed and Castiel turned to look at him. His face was cast into shadows but he looked… altered, like a strange reflection was cast onto his face. He was paler than usual, his skin slightly glossy, as if it was covered by a layer of sweat and whenever Dean shifted is eyes slightly, his hair flickered like smoky tendrils. And of course, he also threw a shadow on the wall. A very tall shadow, with wings that were too big even for the three story building this wall must once have belonged to. Its shape was human, so much was clear, but its hair and clothes were flowing around the darker part of the body like it was floating in water.
A spike of panic made Dean turn around to his own shadow, but it was perfectly normal if not slightly distorted by the undefinable light source causing this freaky shadow play.
“They won’t harm you,” Castiel said and Dean looked back at him, seeing him tilt his head, which made the strange second, transparent image thrown over his face shift, and Dean had to squeeze his eyes shut. “They won’t pass into our sphere, you will only see their shadows and hear their whispers,” Castiel assured him. “Why are you keeping your eyes shut?” Castiel sounded both confused and amused, so Dean cracked one eye open, still getting the head-tilt and the white smudges all over Castiel.
“Dude, it’s like I’m watching a 3D movie without my glasses on!” he hissed and Castiel lifted an eyebrow, his eyes flashing turquois for a second. “Am I seeing your real form flashing through or something?” He walked over to Castiel and up closer it was less confusing.
“I don’t know,” Castiel told him with a frown, but then he lifted his eyes upwards, listening or watching, Dean didn’t know. But the sky overhead had turned colors, almost looking like those north lights Sam had loved to show him pictures of. The shadows walked with them, following with a playful gait, some skipping next to Dean, some flying, some shapes human, some monstrous. But while Dean still felt wary, he wasn’t expecting an attack any time now. “What does it look like to you?”
“Uhm… Not sure… white… ish?” Dean tried, but up close he couldn’t quite see the shifts that well. Castiel huffed at that, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And the shadows on the wall are freakishly tall.”
“Well, your world is very small,” he told him, “it’s all a manner of perspective I assume.” Dean shrugged at that, trying to figure out if he could hear his brother in all of the murmuring around them, but even as the noise level rose he still couldn’t make out actual words or Sam.
“Did you also have six wings and four heads?” Dean asked and Castiel looked at him, his skin now flickering like mother of pearl.
“No, I was of a lower order,” he explained, not even asking where Dean had that from, “even when I was graced with greater power, nothing about my initial form changed.”
“So…”
“Just one pair of wings and one head. I was a soldier, no need for fancy equipment.” Dean had to laugh at that. “My order is, with the exception of cupids, the one most resembling the image of our Father among the Host… And you should know that, Dean.” Dean lifted an eyebrow in confusion, shaking his head. He couldn’t quite remember anything Cas had said or done that implied this. “You had my handprint on your shoulder… Well, it’s an approximation of my hold on your soul, fit to the limited perspective of the mortal plane, but still…” Castiel trailed off, walking around a boulder lying on their path.
“Well… I’ll probably never get to see your true form,” Dean said, unsure whether to feel regret about that. Castiel’s expression changed from amused to dismayed in the blink of an eye.
“I doubt it… I’m probably changed anyway…,” he said and Dean remained silent at that, unsure what to say. He turned his face to Dean and smiled slightly. “But as far as a human visage goes, I am not exactly displeased by what I have.” After his fist moment of confusion Dean had to grin.
“No, I think Jimmy’s probably quite hot from a chick’s perspective. And you already know my opinion on the version with boobs.” Castiel laughed, shaking his head, but then he tilted his head again. “You hearing anything?”
“I hear many things,” he answered, “but not what I’m wishing to hear. Not yet.” They arrived at the foot of a small slope, the shadows slipping off the wall to skitter over the dusty ground. “Let’s go up there.” Dean followed him, looking backwards from time to time. The walls looked like a labyrinth swarmed with dark, fluid shapes circling around the corridors. Dean didn’t quite feel like he belonged here, but the shadow forms didn’t seem disturbed by his presence. At the flat top of the hill they came to a stop, the air up here slightly warmer, but the murmurs were still present. There was a fallen over stone, or remains of a wall, but Castiel pulled out a blanket from his backpack and spread it on the smooth surface. Dean didn’t feel like commenting the colorful patchwork, especially as he now had the distinct feeling that all those pretty things had been gifts of Dick.
“We’re having a picnic?” Dean wondered as Castiel sat down cross-legged, pulling out a thermos flask and two small cups.
“Raunacht lasts for hours, Dean. We might as well get comfortable and enjoy an early breakfast,” Castiel explained, opening the top of the flask and pouring Dean a cup of what seemed to be peppermint tea.
“No coffee?” Castiel lowered his eyebrows at Dean, the strange after-image of white smoke flashing around his head like a halo made Dean back off. “Fine, I’ll take your healthy stuff.” He took a sip and frowned. “Okay, not so healthy! How much sugar do you have in there?”
“I like sweet tea,” Castiel said defensively, drinking his own tea and keeping the flask between his legs. He put the cup down and breathed out before turning his eyes to the clouds overhead.
“And now we wait?” Castiel closed his eyes and tilted his head upwards.
“Now we wait.”
--
Dean was through two dry sandwiches, various cups of tea, some holy water and Castiel was still unmoving beside him. The whispers around them had not changed in quality, even though sometimes he felt a strange presence pressing in on him, whispering noises into his mind, but nothing made sense and nothing was Sam. Dean wondered if Castiel had any luck with getting on the right frequency. For all Dean knew, he could have been chatting to his brothers upstairs for the last four or how many hours he had been sitting here and freezing his ass off. Dean heaved a sigh bordering on a groan and rolled forwards on his knees to grab for Castiel’s backpack. Surely there must be more blankets in there, or maybe a pack of M&Ms or at least some carrot sticks. When he got closer to the angel though he tensed and turned his head towards him. Castiel was still pale, maybe even more than before, and his lips were moving soundlessly and his face had lost its calm expression. His task of getting a blanket abandoned, Dean sat back up straight and shuffled a bit closer to. He could hear the rough sounds of Enochian now that he was closer, but Castiel seemed pained. Angelic conversation or not, Dean shook his shoulder.
“Cas, are you alright?” Castiel’s eyes shut even tighter. “Cas!” Castiel exhaled out a shuddering breath, letting his head drop, gasping.
“It’s silent,” he managed to say and Dean squeezed his shoulder when the next bit came out forced and too close to a sob: “They refuse me!” Dean didn’t know what to say to that, he wasn’t exactly sure what it meant. Was Cas cut off from Heaven again? He couldn’t ask because Castiel was hunching over, shaking. “Please. Please…!” Dean was shocked at the raw desperation of Castiel’s voice and moved his hand to the angel’s back, stroking and when the stream of pleasepleaseplease didn’t break off, he grabbed his waist and pulled him close. Castiel choked back a sob and Dean could feel his open mouth at his collar bone. He wrapped both arms around him, hugging as hard as he dared.
“It’s gonna be okay, Cas… Everything’s gonna be okay…” Castiel gently hit his forehead against Dean’s neck, his skin sweaty and his hands grabbing for Dean’s shirt with the force of a starved animal finally sinking its claws into prey. Once Dean thought Castiel’s breathing had calmed down enough, he loosened his embrace. “Okay?” Instead of answering, Castiel pushed himself off, forcing Dean to open his arms. Castiel drew his hand through his hair, then he pressed his palms together and leaned his forehead against his fingertips. Maybe it was one last try, one last prayer to a silent heaven, but after a moment Castiel dropped his hands. He straightened, but still sat close enough to Dean for their hips and shoulders to brush.
“Have you heard Sam yet?” Castiel asked, his voice calm as if his panic attack of before had not happened at all.
“Dude, maybe-“
“There’s nothing we can do about Heaven’s silence. It’s the punishment I have to accept,” Castiel told him, “I will be fine.” Dean shook his head, reaching out his hand to give Castiel’s shoulder a squeeze.
“Yeah, you will be, don’t worry,” he assured him and while Castiel couldn’t quite manage a smile, he still looked less freaked out than before. The sadness and grief were still lurking there in his eyes though, Dean saw it even if Castiel chose to avoid looking at him.
“So?” Castiel asked and Dean took away his hand, shrugging.
“Sam’s not so communicative,” Dean told him, trying to listen for the familiar voice of his brother, but nothing got through.
“Have you tried invoking him?” Dean lifted an eyebrow, prompting Castiel to explain. “Just like when you try to get my attention.” Dean was not quite convinced that it would work, Sam wasn’t an angel after all and he was two years and who knew how many miles away from him. But it wasn’t as if they had many other options. Castiel saw Dean making up his mind and resumed his cross-legged position, closing his eyes again. Dean hoped he didn’t try to listen for a whisper of the Host, but he was glad at the semblance of privacy. Even though he was pretty sure Castiel could hear every word he spoke, maybe even read his mind.
“Uh, so this is stupid,” Dean mumbled, not even loud enough to hear over the murmur of the spirits around them, “Sam? Sammy, can you hear me?” With his eyebrows raised expectantly Dean waited for the whispers transforming into words, but nothing happened. “Sam, come on! Answer the damn phone!”
“Dean?” Dean could just bite back an undignified gasp at being able to hear Sam’s voice loud and clear, as if he was sitting just beside him. He had to look to his side to make sure that Sam wasn’t actually there. “Dean? Hello?” Sam sounded tired, his voice strained and Dean worried about what his younger brother was probably going through back in his own time.
“Hey, yes, it’s me!” Dean said, only half aware of Castiel inching a bit closer, though he found that he didn’t really care, he didn’t want to keep Cas out of this discussion.
“Oh my God!” Sam shouted and Dean flinched, “Dude, I thought I wouldn’t get through to you anymore! Where have you been?!”
“Sorry, Sammy, but it’s really tough getting a good connection here,” Dean snorted, picking up on his little brother’s anxious tone. “I actually had to go to some spot where communication with other spheres or something is easiest.”
“Communication…? You mean something like All Soul’s Day?” Sam wondered and Dean could imagine the interested face he must be pulling now.
“Cas called it… What did you call it, Cas?” Dean wondered and looked over at him. Castiel frowned and opened his eyes.
“Raunacht.” So he was listening. At least to Dean’s part of the conversation.
“Yes, Raunacht,” Dean repeated and Sam made an appreciating humming noise. Dean wondered if Sam knew exactly what that was, he wouldn’t be surprised at all.
“So… Cas…,” Sam started and Dean straightened in anticipation of finally understanding what was going on here. “He’s not too stoned out of his mind then?” Okay, so not what Dean had expected. He darted a quick look over to Castiel, but he didn’t seem to have heard, or he just kept his expression neutral.
“What?”
“Judged by your tone of voice he isn’t…,” Sam said pensively, “I did hear bits and pieces over the last three days, but I wasn’t exactly sure what’s going on.”
“Me neither, care to enlighten me? I’m stranded in the future and you don’t seem to worry that much!” Dean wasn’t sure if he should be freaked or actually proud that Sam managed to keep a level head through this strange situation. They had managed to get through the Chronos case with relatively little injuries sustained after all, so maybe he shouldn’t be surprised.
“I was going to pull you back! Dean, you know that!” Sam argued. And that explained some of Sam’s lack of frantic talking, but not a whole lot of it.
“I don’t know shit, Sam! I woke up here with no idea where I am or how I got here! If Cas hadn’t found me I’d probably be dead by now!” Dean told him, trying to reign in his irritation, but he found it harder and harder to do.
“My my, so he really lost a chunk of his memory,” another voice said and Dean tensed, even though he knew that the owner of said voice was nowhere in their vicinity. “This is really going smashingly, isn’t it.”
“What the hell?!” Dean hissed and felt fingers closing around his wrist. He turned his head to the side, seeing Castiel’s concerned expression. He still had the halo of flickering smoke circling around his head and his skin continued glistening, but the warmth and firmness of his fingers calmed Dean.
“We’ve discussed this all, Dean. Remember?” Sam’s calm, but patronizingly patient voice called Dean back to the actual conversation.
“No I don’t! That’s the problem!” Dean hissed, “I’d appreciate if you tell me what’s going on!” There was a moment of silence before the whispers around Dean were drowned out by his brother’s voice again.
“We were looking for ways to kill leviathans, but there seems to be absolutely nothing of help. So we thought that maybe the Colt would work if it were enhanced. Seeing as we lost it and had no time to go look for it, we assumed that doing a bit of time traveling was the best choice,” Sam explained, still keeping his calm while Dean was seething with nervous energy.
“That’s a shit plan! The Colt didn’t work on Lucifer, it didn’t even come up against Eve, who was a Purgatory monster. And the leviathans are THE Purgatory monster! What the hell, Sam!”
“Yeah, so we called Crowley for help,” Sam answered, but Dean got momentarily distracted by Castiel’s fingers squeezing Dean’s wrist almost painfully, “and he came up with the option of enhancing it with something that they might be vulnerable against. Not much lore to back it up, at least not in the places he could get to he claimed, but it’s not that implausible.” Dean didn’t say anything, but looked down at Castiel’s pale fingers around his wrist.
“The Leviathan are creatures of tradition, myth if you want. Even though they seem like complete anarchy when let loose, they are somewhat predictable,” Crowley said in that superior tone of his and it made Dean sneer, even though his attention was straying. “They wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without the treacherous little angel. Castiel is their Host, their Portal and whatever other more disturbing terms they use.”
“So you just decided to use his blood for enhanced bullets? You know that’s ridiculous?” Dean looked over to Castiel, who was pale and wide eyed and tight lipped. His entire frame was shaking and flickering. “That wouldn’t work, right?” Castiel lifted his head in a jerky move, staring at Dean with a look even more disconcerting than the one he wore after not receiving any word from his brothers.
“Ah, so Cas’s with you? Say hi to him from me. Try not to get any STDs from him, Dean, who knows where the pretty little whore’s been to. Remember, you’ve still got to uphold your end of the bargain.” Castiel made a very small, but broken noise, his eyes slowly narrowing. Dean knew very well that this was not boding well. Sam was saying something, but Dean couldn’t listen to him. Couldn’t afford to listen to him with the dangerous energy that started to tense up Castiel’s body. His fingers loosened around Dean’s wrist and then he let go of him as if his skin burned him.
“You’re…,” Castiel started, his voice a shaky growl and his eyes flashed liquid turquoise, shining just like his skin, a fractured white that caught the light of dawn in a display of muted colors. “Unbelievable!” He jumped up and before Dean could shout something Castiel was already stalking off, swiftly descending the slope. Dean got to his feet after the first moment of surprise.
“Cas! Cas, hey!” Castiel didn’t stop or slow down, so Dean wanted to run after him, but it was Sam’s voice that held him back.
“What’s happening?” He sounded worried, with that edge of tiredness again and Dean stared after Castiel, disappearing among the shadows, his wings’ shadows huge forms against the walls.
“It’s… Cas. He just walked off,” Dean said, sitting back down, feeling every bit as tired as Sam sounded. Even though Dean had felt confusion at first, he had a pretty good idea what had got him so worked up.
“Is he alright?” The worry on Sam’s voice was genuine and warm and even though Dean didn’t want to admit it, it actually came as a surprise. It shouldn’t Dean realized, but it did.
“No.” Dean couldn’t quite bring himself to lie, “but we haven’t got the time to deal with that right now. I don’t know how long this connection holds and I’d rather get some answers.” Sam was silent for a moment, but then he sighed and Dean knew he had won this.
“In the very broadest of terms Crowley and us figured out that we had to get our hands on Cas’ blood, no matter what. There’s a pretty good chance that the Colt with specific bullets actually could work on Dick. Comparing to the little we have to fight them it’s at least something.” Dean couldn’t quite argue with that bit of logic. They had done stupider stuff on a less likely chance of success.
“And the time-travelling?”
“That was your idea, Dean…,” Sam said with a slightly amused snort. “Just after the thing with Chronos you’ve started thinking about using it in some way.” Right, he had thought about a lot of what if scenarios, but he knew well enough that going through time wouldn’t help them change anything. And they were fresh out of time commanding gods and Winchester friendly angels, so his thoughts had just been that - mere musings on what could have been.
“You actually surprised me with your suggestion,” Crowley spoke up again and Dean felt uncomfortable even hearing him, “it was kind of smart, coming from you.” Dean didn’t even try to grace that with an answer. “Because you figured out a way to get to someplace where both Castiel and the Colt were waiting for you to grab. That and a talk-active archangel who might actually know his lore.” Dean frowned, but then he groaned when he understood what Crowley was saying, placing his palm over his face, shaking his head. The pieces were fitting themselves together, but Dean still didn’t like what he was coming to know.
“We planned it all, Dean. We got Crowley to dig up a spell that used the residue energy that stuck to you thanks to traveling with Chronos as well as the little bit of Chrono’s blood we had on the weapon that killed him. We prepared all the necessary items for the time and place you were traveling to and we ran it through with Atropos and she gave it her okay.”
“Atropos?” Dean asked, not sure if the name was supposed to ring a bell or if she was some of the people the trip had knocked out of his mind. Sam however guessed his silence right.
“Fate, the one that tried to kill us during the unsinking of the Titanic.” If Sam would be here, Dean’d show him an incredulous expression, but as he wasn’t he had to do with staring at the shadows dancing around him.
“How the hell did you get that scary bitch to help us?!” Dean demanded, his voice shushing the whispers for a split second.
“I didn’t… You did… You said we were trying to clean up Cas’ mess and she seemed to be in favor of that. Apparently she didn’t like how the tapestry had turned out.”
“No surprise there, but what did she say? Is that why I have that stupid gold thread?” Dean asked and pulled his bag towards his feet, seeing the box that held the thread. Well, if she gave it willingly, at least Dean didn’t have to fear for his life once he got back.
“Yeah… She said that going into a potential future that had become obsolete should be safe enough, but she gave you the thread to take items back with you to not disrupt the flow of time more than we already have, should things not quite work out like we wanted it to.” Dean snorted at that. He unrepentantly didn’t care one bit if he messed up the pretty little tapestry, not even if it had been eons in the making. “Dean, do you really not remember any of this?” Sam seemed careful and slightly weary when he asked this, but try as he might, Dean couldn’t recall anything Sam or Crowley had told him.
“No! I mean Cas and I kind of figured out what I was supposed to do here, but that was pretty much all guesswork,” he confessed and Sam heaved a deep sigh. Dean wondered if him forgetting was really bad for some reason or another. Maybe a nasty side effect of the ritual that had long lasting and probably lethal consequences. But Sam didn’t seem antsy and worried, merely exhausted.
“Okay, but you can still get Cas’ blood and the Colt, right?”
“Fuck, no!” Dean shot back, brows creased in a displeased frown. “Maybe this wasn’t clear to you, but I’m in the actual future. Our future!”
“What… No… Dean, Cas is dead…” That soft, pitying tone really pinched something inside of Dean, painfully, forcefully, but he knew how to ignore these pangs of despair and loss. Especially now that he actually knew Castiel would return to them if he just made it back somehow. Dean wanted to shout at Sam that Cas was there somewhere, in their time, lying on the bottom of a lake or suffocating in the black masses. He was there and they weren’t doing anything. The immense feeling of panic and guilt almost punched the air out of Dean’s lungs. “Dean?” But he couldn’t say anything, not when Crowley was listening. Who knew what he’d do to him in the unlikely case he’d find him, so Dean kept silent.
“Okay, so an altered 2014 then. I guess we did aim for the Croatoan Apocalypse Zachariah had showed me, right? Cas is here, I’m sure he’ll donate some blood for the good cause, but I doubt I can get my hands on the Colt…” Sam made a pensive noise, while Crowley growled something that Dean couldn’t make. Not that Dean cared much about it, but Crowley was still bad news, especially if he wasn’t there to protect Sam.
“Then… maybe Cas knows something. He’s an angel, he will probably know something about Leviathan…” Sam suggested after a while and Dean fought the urge to tell him just how much he knew, but how little they could still do. Crowley cut his efforts short:
“I doubt that’s useful, you best bleed him dry and return. Sam can’t hold the connection for much longer.” Even though Dean wanted to hit him with a litany of curses and a few well aimed utterances of Christo just to spite him, what he had last said made him pause.
“What? What does that mean, Crowley?” he demanded to know, but was met with silence “Sam?”
“Look,” Sam started with a sigh, “we’ve been over this before. Time traveling without an angel is almost impossible… I’m serving as an anchor to our time and as long as I keep the connection between us I can pull you back.” Dean knew exactly that there was more to it, otherwise he and Sam wouldn’t have felt the need to argue about it. It was Crowley to supply more information and by the tone of his voice he rather enjoyed it:
“Sam hasn’t slept for more than 3 days. I wonder how much longer he can go on like that. He’s already starting to fidget. I wonder what kind of daydreams your dear little brother is having.” Dean froze, catching on to what Crowley was implying.
“Sam… Don’t do that!”
“I can’t! I’ll lose you!” Sam shouted right back and Dean gnawed his lips. “Dean, we only managed to send you because we’re having a strong connection! If it’s shut down you’ll be stranded there!”
“You won’t lose me! Cas can send me back!” He tried to argue because he could trust Castiel about this, there really was no merit in keeping Sam awake past his limits.
“No, I can hold out. Like we planned. Just be ready at noon,” Sam insisted and Dean felt that usual spark of annoyance at his little brother’s defiance.
“Sam, I’m being serious. Cas will send me back!”
“And I said no! I’m not going to trust in your assumption that Cas still has the power to do that!” Dean suppressed a wince because this was more in the vein of distrust he expected Sam to feel towards Castiel.
“Jesus, Sam! I’m not being delusional, Cas has got the mojo!” he assured him, shaking his head and kicking at the ground in frustration. With only sound to go with, he couldn’t even glare at Sam to convey how serious he was about this. Every now and then a look alone from Dean would shut Sam up, but not like this.
“Whatever loverboy, just get the blood, grab anything of value and get back. I’m not the one being crazy over here, but I can almost see Lucifer reflected in Sam’s eyes,” Crowley spoke up in a bored tone and Dean clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt.
“Crowley, shut up. It’s not that bad, Dean. Seriously. But I’m honestly getting tired of coffee, the one they have here is disgusting.” And that was it, Sam easing the tension out of his voice to convince Dean that everything was going to be alright, that his decisions on this were for the best. But Dean wasn’t convinced and he was pretty sure that he had left his own time with a similar cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. But he couldn’t do much against it other than being ready by noon.
“Well… Okay, Sammy… I’ll hurry up,” he said with a sigh, rubbing his throbbing forehead. The headache had crept up on him, like so often when he had to deal with disconcerting matters.
“Good… And…” The faltering almost stutter of Sam’s voice made Dean raise an eyebrow. “I guess say hi to Cas for me… And… it probably won’t matter to him in your timeline, but I’m… I’m sorry and I miss him.” Dean widened both eyes, stunned into silence, but then he started gnawing his lips when the cold feeling in his stomach slowly melted.
“O… Okay. I’ll tell him.”
“Just get back in one piece, Dean. Remember, noon. Just get to wherever you landed…,” Sam told him, Dean slowly nodding, more to himself.
“Yeah… And if it gets bad… Just go to sleep. Please trust me on this.” Sam agreed reluctantly, but didn’t say his good-byes before coaxing a promise out of Dean to tell him everything about his trip once he got back.
And just like that Sam’s voice faded out, leaving Dean in the dim light of dawn breaking, smudges of color appearing in the east. Everything was tinted in a subdued reddish hue, as if everything from the ground, to the remains of the city and the ocean was made out of clay and rust. The voices of Raunacht were still whispering to him and the insubstantial figures plunged in and out of the cool shadows. It seemed to be coming to a close, but Dean didn’t care. He didn’t want to sit here and wait as the echoes of lives long spent faded around him and the shadows where drowned out by insubstantial light. As quickly as possible Dean collected all their equipment and made the way down the hill. He dumped everything in a small space between fallen stones, where Dean assumed it to be protected well enough both from seagulls and the unlikely fugitive. Then he started moving again.
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