Desert Oasis

SPN Reverse Big Bang Art post: Brought Back to the Surface

silly_blue — Mon, 20 Nov 2017 16:10:51 GMT

Welcome back to another Reverse Big Bang Masterpost!

For those who aren't fans of LJ there's also a Tumblr masterpost for your viewing pleasure!

And now! It's time to give Sam back his long lost shoe!

Brought Back to the Surface written by Superhoney

Summary:
Two years after Sam lost a shoe in Black Rock, he and Dean are back in town on what's meant to be a routine vampire hunt. They've just finished cleaning up when a voice interrupts them and offers Sam back the shoe in question, and that's how they meet Castiel: eccentric loner, collector of lost objects, and oh, shapeshifter. He's polite, charming, and he makes Dean reconsider everything he's ever thought about monsters and what to do with them.

Artwork! ♥

This is the main picture that I submitted to the Reverse Bang for claims. I know I absolutey wanted to do something with Sam's shoe. I don't even know what! I first thought about some silly Cinderella AU, but then I let my mind wander a bit more. Until it finally reached the conclusion that Sam's shoe landed in the gutter and that SPN monsters often live in the sewer systems. And behold! This picture was born! ;D

Here are some detailed views:

(Dean is NOT impressed)

And here's some additional art as well, to add a bit of fluff! ♥

The cover was also super fun to make because it's just over the top pseudo dramatic for an old, dirty shoe! ;D

And now that you've seen the art, head over to AO3 and read the story! ♥

SPN Reverse Big Bang Art post: See How We Are

silly_blue — Wed, 01 Mar 2017 18:13:26 GMT

I'm happy to be able to share my second Reverse Big Bang this year!

Terrible Life verse, as well as Omegaverse are weak spots of mine, so I was happy to combine both in the picture prompt! I was able to work with karaadora for this project! ♥

See How We Are

GotTheSilver

Read the Fic on AO3!
Alpha Dean Smith and Omega Castiel Novak, what a great couple! ;D

Castiel likes to keep his eye on everything (and also maybe get the chance to see Dean).

The two take any chance they get to spend time together~ Doesn't that office scream "alpha colour scheme, kinda retro" to you?

This was the original picture prompt! ♥♥

Here are some alternative versions:

Another cover version with Dean's scribbles~

And the cover without text

I hope you enjoyed the art! ♥♥ And now on to the fic! ;D

SPN Reverse Big Bang Art post: Coeur D'Ange

silly_blue — Tue, 07 Feb 2017 20:00:53 GMT

Let's kick off this year with my first Big Bang of 2017!

I'm continuing my tradition of having too much pink in my art. I've been dying to draw more of this idea for a while now and the SPN RBB finally gave me an opportunity to make my "dream of Misha in pink" come true! ;D

I've been lucky to work with kaeos_tennyo on this fic! Since real life got in the way of creativity, this post will later be updated with more art. So for now, there are only light spoilers for the story if you scroll through the art post first!

So now! Welcome to Coeur D'Ange!

A fix-it retelling of 9x06 "Heaven Can't Wait", but if Castiel found a different town, and met different people when he arrived. Featuring Castiel as a blond barista, a very supportive Trans boss, and Dean deciding to hang around a while.

Read the story here!

This was the original prompt. Does your barista seem familiar to you, Dean?

Does he seem familiar to you, dear viewer? I bet he does.

You might remember the video of Misha reminding you to watch the new episode of SPN some years ago! I sure never forgot. ;D

This was the header pic, but as always I forget that LJ banner are in landscape format.

Dean taking care of Castiel. Providing some much needed comfort after the hurt! ♥

More to come! Please watch this space over the next couple days to see the art I wasn't able to complete on time or visit me on tumblr! ♥

Thanks for checking out this art masterpost. Don't forget to read and review the fic! :D

DCBB2016 Art Masterpost

silly_blue — Mon, 17 Oct 2016 20:32:38 GMT

Another year another DCBB art masterpost! This year I also continued tradition to draw art for bellacatbee which is always a joy! I think my art and her writing style and choice of stories go well together :D

Read "Who is the Lamb and who is the Knife" on AO3

Summary: "In an attempt to ensure the peace between their Kingdoms holds, the respective kings of the Demon and Angel Kingdoms wed one of each other's royal household.
Prince Castiel, youngest brother of the Angel's King, is chosen for the Demon's groom. Terrified but proud, he accepts the marriage to save his people from further suffering.
Then he meets his future husband."

As always I encourage you to read the fic before checking out the art, but this time I don't really have spoilers for the story in the art! But enough talking, on with the pics!

Cover

For the cover I knew I wanted something eye-catching so I set about drawing something that looked pretty. And I'm always in the mood for pretty Cas. So here's the version without any text!

Scene Illustrations

Cas and Dean meet in ot completely ideal circumstances. Drawing Dean's clothes was probably the most challenging and most entertaining bit of this pic! Actually the original picture showed their full bodies but the cropped version looks better!

Expectations or reality? You'll know if you read the fic! ;D

Sketches

Adam wearing pretty much nothing, quick, someone cover him! (But he doesn't look unhappy.)

I'll be adding some more sketches if I find the time to draw more! Unfortunately my DCBB fic had to be uploaded less than a week ago and I spent the weekend away, so I didn't have as much time to draw for this DCBB as I had hoped. ;w;

But I hope you enjoyed the art and that you'll enjoy the fic too! ♥

SPN Reverse Big Bang Art post: Sweet Tooth

silly_blue — Wed, 17 Feb 2016 16:13:29 GMT

Here we are again, with another project!! This was my main entry to the Reverse Bang this year! It's very pink, I know and as you can guess the story written by darcydelaney is absolutely adorable from start to finish! You're in for a treat!

Sweet Tooth

Summary: Dean had just expected to tag along to Sam and Jess’ cake tasting for their wedding and get free food. That’s it. The last thing that he’d been prepared for was to meet a ridiculously attractive blue-eyed baker with messy hair and rusty people skills who he’d almost immediately start falling for, but sometimes those things just happen.
Rating: Teen and Up
Wordcount: 14k

Now, art!

The Main picture.

The working title was "Cake Affair". I was inspired by the cupcake place in my city called "Cupcake Affair".

The Bumblebee Bakery

Home of Castiel, the gorgeous baker and his amazing bee-scotti. The starting point of Dean and Cas romance~

The Wedding Vows

Two Winchester weddings in one story! We're so spoiled! :D

Thank you for being late.

Bee-scotti and lots of thanks!

Extras

SPN Reverse Bang Art Post: THE ROSARY

silly_blue — Thu, 21 Jan 2016 21:10:42 GMT

It's time for the first project of the year!

This was my first submission to the SPN reverse bang! I'm not exactly sure what kind of story I had in mind for the art I drew, but lucky for me I didn't have to write the story, vainelricdid it for me ;D

So without further ado, I present to you:

The cover pic. Many thanks to my sister Elysiee for adding the text!

Dean and Cas travelling through the forest. Why? You will find out if you read the fic! ;D

A little bit of hurt/comfort never went amiss, especially not if there's gentle wing grooming and bathing involved! ♥

And this was the original picture I submitted for the challenge. It's interesting to see how it deviated from the very vague idea I had in my head while drawing! It was very exciting to discover the story.

The cover without text

This was too amusing to withhold, even if it's not finished yet :D

DCBB 2015 Art Masterpost

silly_blue — Wed, 28 Oct 2015 11:42:33 GMT

Continuing the tradition, I also drew art for this year's DeanCastiel Big Bang.

I've had the chance to pick a wonderful In The Flesh crossover story by of_dreamdust, which was a joy to read and fun to illustrate!

Read "The Emptiness of his Chest" on AO3!

The art will be embedded in the story, so it might be a good idea to read it first and come back here later! ♥ There will be some spoilers (but nothing world shattering) if you browse the pics first. If you're familiar with In The Flesh you might already know what's waiting for you!

A warning in advance! There is no blood or gore, but we're working with "zombies". Castiel used to be dead, so some artwork contains material which might be seen as body horror (wounds stitched back up) and there are references to past suicide.

Cover

For this picture, I first wanted to do photo manipulation, but soon noticed that I lacked the skills, so I decided to draw what I wanted instead. Trying to find a good skin tone for Castiel was a lovely challenge and I had a lot of fun experimenting.

I had a lot less fun trying to put words on the file and I doubt you can see that it took me about two hours of trial but mostly error because I simply have no feel for things like this. I also used a programme I wasn't familiar with and it slightly changed the colour quality of the picture.

Scene Illustrations

The prologue scene! I didn't have the time to make the background as nice as it deserves to be (also Naomi reads from a blank file) so I'll have to come back to this later.

Scenes where people hug Castiel are always my favourite scenes! I tried to do it justice even though my background drawing skills are lacking.

Warning: Below are two pics showing Castiel's scars!

I loved doing this comic! First time we get to see Castiel's scars properly!

Dean being sweet and gentle with Cas ;w; (And a messy hospital corridor.)

Additional Illustrations and Sketches

Dean back when he was still in the Human Volunteer Force~

Because I'm known for chibis, I had to draw some chibis! ;D

I made these to figure out what I wanted Cas to wear.

Sketches

First sketch I did! I tried to figure out how I wanted to draw. But as always, I didn't quite stick to it in the end because there's very little consistency to my art style. I also like his later clothes design better :D

SPN Reverse Big Bang Art post: Divine Justice (Sucks)

silly_blue — Thu, 29 Jan 2015 15:12:35 GMT

The second challenge of the year! Another Reverse Big Bang, actually the prompt I drew first!

Header

Main Art // Prompt Picture

I toyed around with a dozen ideas before I settled on Cupid!Cas. Since I'm a fan of both cupid!Cas and reaper!Dean I felt that it could easily be combined, now that we know that reapers are some sort of angel too. I spent a lot of time drawing this and most of the work went into their faces. One day I'll get around to fixing all the other things too :D

I really liked the idea of Michael being very in touch with his human form, calling himself Dean and walking around Heaven in a human shape. Other than his fellow Archangels. Also this is the first time I really tried to draw a lion.

If Dean's the only one using a vessel up in Heaven, then how does Castiel look? Not nearly as monstruous as other angels. Maybe almost a bit too tame?? But I'm sure that him having a sort of human true form doesn't really help endear himself to Heaven, though it does link him to Dean.

Being a reaper buts a big burden on the shoulders of an angel that cares a lot about humans.

Castiel is required to do something he can't. I wanted to make this far more elaborate but my time management skills have never been good. ;w;

General Notes:

This was wonderful to do and I tried to push and challenge myself to create some good results! ♥

SPN Reverse Big Bang Art post: Convergence

silly_blue — Wed, 14 Jan 2015 22:53:30 GMT

First challenge of the year 2015!!

Reverse Big Bang Art for "Convergence"!

I have to apologize in advance it his is slightly messed up; the power in my and surrounding villages went out and I'm trying to do this with my laptop attached to my mobile phone so that I have internet access. Let's hope for the best! ♥

Main picture // Art Prompt

I actually didn't plan on drawing this prompt because I was working on something else. But then inspiration hit and I wanted something with a particular look. I had "witch king" in my mind and wanted to draw something that looked nice and would be relaxing (i.e. my typical, manga-esque style, letting myself draw Cas feminine etc.)

The pic above is what I ended up with and I must say I'm quite pleased with it :D

Headers

This was actually quite new for me. I set out to draw Dean's staff "baby" and Cas' halo, knowing full well that these kind of things aren't my forte. It took quite a long time but I'm immensely pleased anyway!
The only bad thing is that I didn't know that RBB banners shouldn't be more then 500px in height and 350px in width so it's not really a good banner. So I cropped another pic I did and made it into the header you saw above. Here again below! :D

Additional Art and Sketches

I loved the part with Dean baking bread and I knew that I had to illustrate it. So I did! ♥ This was the first proper pic I drew after quite a long art block, so I'm extra happy with it even though I could have added a background. A challenge for a later date.

Castiel with his halo, or without his halo actually. I wasn't quite sure about the design of his clothes beneath the cape thingy you saw on the art prompt pic. I'm making it up as I go it seems *lol*

I needed to draw an actual Dean and Cas touching each other pic. I think I was running out of steam while drawing it and since my power died on me and I'm writing this with my laptop connected to my mobile phone I will probably not get to work on it until the power's back. But they're touching and that's good, right?

I doodled a sketch of this into my notebook and liked it well enough to try to see how it looked as a proper pic. It's very simple but I think that's what makes it nice :D

I also did some sketches of the setting and this is another one I liked well enough to re-do it in SAI.

Notes

I really enjoyed this project and I hope I will draw some more! So I might add things to this post! Thanks to my wonderful author behindblue_eyes for bringing the picture to life and making me want to sit down in Dean's kitchen ♥

DCBB 2014 Art Masterpost

silly_blue — Mon, 20 Oct 2014 18:15:05 GMT

I've had the joy of illustrating Bella's DCBB "The Killing Jar" this year! ♥ She wrote a wonderful story which I urge you to read! ♥

Read The Killing Jar on AO3!

The art will also be embedded in the story, so you wouldn't be spoiled if you read it there and then come back here to look at the art again! :D

So onwards to the art!

I wanted to make a movie poster kind of cover. I'm not sure if it worked, but it was fun to do!

I simply had to illustrate their first meeting~ I experimented a bit while drawing this.

Morning after. I really enjoyed making this! It's a bit of a different style but again: I had fun experimenting!

Bella said she wanted naked Cas, just with the fur coat! So I did just that! First time drawing a car interior I think.

I have some sketches lying around so if I get the chance to clean them up they'll be posted here as well!

This was one that I didn't finish properly:

This was for Castiel's introduction, but I couldn't get it to look like I wanted it to look.

All in all, I had lots of fun and did a lot of experimenting. So every pic kind of looks different, but that's typical for my Big Bang art. ;D

DCBB 2014 - For So Bare Is My Heart - Masterpost

silly_blue — Wed, 15 Oct 2014 17:16:02 GMT

Title: For So Bare Is My Heart
Author: silly_blue
Artist: burdenedbones
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural Fantasy AU
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 85k
Warnings: war-time violence, political marriage, mild non-consensual intimacy (touching, kissing), fictional racism (humans vs supernatural creatures), feminization (occasional use of female connoted terms such as “queen” or “wife”), non-penetrative sex, fingering, sex toys, strongly implied bottom!Cas, strongly implied top!Dean, references to the possibility of Mpreg.

Summary: In his attempt to wage a war of revenge against the demons, the young human king Dean attacks the angels, seizing their lands to build a settlement closer to the sulfurous lands. He doesn’t care about the angelic culture that his actions threaten, but when he is given a gift in the form of the vanquished king’s protégé, his understanding of angels has to be challenged.
After the short but devastating war, Castiel finds himself in the captivity of the man that is responsible for his suffering. Faced with the contradictory nature of his young husband, Castiel has to learn the way of humans in order to not only become someone that does – for the first time in his life – hold power and agency, but also find a way to return to the home from which he has been exiled as a sacrifice for peace.

Fic link:Fic Masterlist
Art link: Art Masterlist

DCBB 2013 - UNINVITED - Masterpost

silly_blue — Mon, 28 Oct 2013 21:24:00 GMT

Title: Uninvited But Deeply Craved
Author: silly_blue
Artist:purplesummer91
Fandom/Genre: Romance, AU
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 74k
Warnings: Mpreg, cross-dressing, feminization, slight body alteration, some instances of academic discussion of gender/ sex, top!Dean, bottom!Cas, rated M/ NC-17 for sexual content. AU with Supernatural elements (monsters and demons exist, angels don’t)

Summary: At 35, Castiel Novak is a successful professor, firmly established both in the academic world and a sought after voice in many recent gender debates. After a failed marriage had left him distraught, he spent almost 15 years striving to get somewhere in life and there simply had never been time or an interest for romance. Not having a partner wasn’t something that ever bothered Castiel, but he can no longer shake the feeling of something lacking in his life.
Since his wish for a child was what had ultimately caused his marriage to crumble, he had spent years telling himself (and everyone that had ears to listen) that just because you have a body that allows you to have children you don’t need to make use of it.
Despite this, he decides he wants to experience pregnancy and give birth to a child. What he doesn’t want though is the hassle of a relationship. Egged on by his mischievous cousin he publishes a personal ad in a newspaper, looking for a young man to help him out.
Dean, almost 30, stumbles over the announcement right after he ran away from his last relationship and everything attached to it. He is in dire need of money to set up his own business in a new town and he decides to go with it. A couple of thousand dollars for knocking up some quirky professor seems easy enough. Of course it isn’t. Dealing with his supernatural, trouble-making clients and the ridiculous coffee shop his vampire room-mate turned the unused shop in Dean’s house into seems far easier than deciding just what he and Castiel are supposed to be.

Fic link: Read it on AO3!
Art link: Art Masterlist

Thanks so much to my wonderful artist, who created incredibly sweet art for me!!

And also thanks to my beta, Esmerod, who agreed to work with me even though the topic is not really her cup of tea! Thanks for all the comments about cheesy rom-com elements, superfluous carpets and rhododendron bushes of doom.

(Once I'm back on my own computer I'll make an extended author's notes post)

J2 SPN Big Bang 2013 Art Masterpost

silly_blue — Wed, 03 Jul 2013 16:02:55 GMT

Another joint project with bellacatbee which really excited me! ♥

The Birds and The Bees is the continuation of Sowing the Seeds, which was the first Big Bang I illustrated (here's the Art Masterpost). The Birds and the Bees can easily be read as a stand-alone project, but Sowing the Seed's great, I therefore recommend reading it too! ♥♥

Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, hinted at Michael/Adam and Gabriel/Sam

Characters: Dean, Castiel, Adam, Sam, kid OCs (Jimmy and Eve)

Warnings: slightly nsfw, grumpy babies, sad!Dean

Preview image

Following are the pics I drew for this wonderful story! ♥ There's some nakedness and a very tame sexual scene! There are of course minor spoilers, so I'd suggest reading the story first!

Cover picture: I tried to make it similar to the cover picture I did for this story's first part.

Jimmy doesn't care that his parents would like to have sleepy morning sex.

Adam and his wonderfully grumpy baby, Eve.

Dean has a wish (and I have and excuse to draw hand holding).

There are set backs... I think I need to redraw Dean's hands, but that's for later.

And there are confessions of doubts on park benches. (But Sam's fashion sense is distracting)

Castiel tires to convince Dean that the dishes can wait. Dean thinks so too.

*cheekily covers Dean naked ass*

Slightly surprising. I drew a (hotel) bath room and Cas wearing something else than a suit or nothing.

What will the answer be? I'm pretty sure you can guess ♥

Extras

I doodled a couple of things which don't really fit into the story! Some of them are still sketches, so I'll upload them once I think they're somewhat presentable *lol*

I had a lot of fun with grumpy baby Eve! Of course I also loved to draw Jimmy, but a grumpy baby face was a bit of a challenge! :D

Like father like daughter. ;D

Dean and Jimmy building something odd.

Reading bad Cosmo sex tips and trying them out on Sam is Gabriel's hobby. I don't know what that thing getting a bath is, but it pretends to be Sam and Gabriel's dog.

Supernatural Slash Bang 2013 Art Masterpost

silly_blue — Sun, 19 May 2013 14:57:13 GMT

I had the great pleasure of working with bellacatbee again for another Big Bang! This is the art post for her story "Changing our ways"

Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, non-consensual Leviathan!Dean/Cas

Characters: Dean, Castiel, Dick Roman, Leviathan!Dean, Sam

Warnings: sad!Cas, captivity, attempted rape, explicit sexual content (including masturbation)

Preview Image

The rest is under the cut! ♥ (Nsfw and spoilery, so please read the story first!)

This was planned to be a series of pics centering around the bench, but I had to drop it in favour of drawing pics that add to the story. (If I finish them, they'll be added to this
post!)

Two versions of Dick Roman with a halo of teeth. I like odd halos. >w< The pic was desaturated to better match the sterile, colourless atmosphere of Dick Roman's office where Castiel is held captive.

I think the scene where Castiel is "cleaned" by the Leviathan as a form of humiliation was powerful and I loved it a lot! ;w; (There was also a desaturated pic, but I prefer the blue one!)

Castiel recalls sitting in the back of the Impala with Sam and Dean. I wanted this to stand out from all the colourlessness :3

>///////////<

For some reason I really like this pic in all of its simplicity.

Leviathan!Dean! I enjoyed this far too much.

But the real Dean is better! ;w; I tried to draw this kiss twice, but I wasn't that successful.

For both Dean and Cas, the real thing is definitely better!

And this is it! Even though I had enough time, I drew most things very close to the deadline, which is why I didn't get to do all I wanted to do! But this was very, very pleasing work. I drew smut, sort of, and kisses and Dick Roman. Yeah. Very pleasing. ;D

Mpreg Big Bang 2013 Art Masterpost

silly_blue — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 14:56:06 GMT

This is the Masterpost to all the artwork I did for bellacatbee's wonderful story Sowing the Seeds!

Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, minor Anna/Jo (implied Sam/Gabriel and Michael/Adam in sketches)
Warnings: Mpreg, nudity and sexual activities

Since some pictures are spoilerish you might want to read the story first and then come back for the illustrations and sketches!

Preview Images

Header:

Mock Promo Poster:

Notes: I made the sketch for this just after reading the summary.

The rest is under cuts so that I won't clutter any friend's pages :3

Story Illustrations

Notes: I had fun doing comic pages, it was easier than trying to pack the entire weight of Dean and Castiel's conversation into a single picture.

Attention; NSFW pics following!!

Notes: There's a break in style around this point, seeing as I've done them later than the previous few. I had also already gotten more comfortable with using a less realistic style for my SPN fanart.

Notes: I enjoy Cas enjoying himself.

Notes: I'm slightly uncomfortable about this, because in all my years of drawing yaoi/ slash I had never drawn a single penis. *lol* So I'm sorry for inaccuracies, since there's a lot of room for improvement. I also didn't know which version I preferred, so have both!

Notes: This was originally one picture, but I took it apart because they're two different scenes.

Notes: I think that's my favourite picture ~~even though the background is meh.~~

Notes: And the Happy End ♥

Sketches, Mini comics, additional sillyness

Next to the story illustrations I did a number of pictures inspired by Bella's story and sketches perparing for the illustrations.

Notes: Sketches for Anna's wedding dress // A sleepy Cas woken up by Dean.

Notes: This was the first time in a looooong time I drew Mpreg and I had no idea about the shape of a pregnant belly. So I did some research // Sam and Gabriel are secondary characters, but Bella gave me nice ideas about Sam might react when he gets to see Cas' sonogram

Notes: It's not a scene we see like this in the story, but I wanted to Cas cuddling his baby ♥

Notes: Michael's a bit of an assbutt, but that's okay, Adam can deal with it! I wanted to draw something for this pairing too :D

That's it! I hope you enjoyed this! I certainly did! ♥♥ Illustrating Bella's story was one of the most pleasant things I ever did!

Final artist's notes: I worked on this on and off since I signed up to be Bella's artist. I don't exactly know how long it took me. As an artist, this was very fulfilling work; on one hand it was interesting to try to bring someone else's idea to life and on the other hand it made me more comfortable about my own art.

What's this?

silly_blue — Tue, 18 Dec 2012 14:04:52 GMT

Was there a revolution while I was away, spamming the shores of tumblr with my inconsequential rants? Everything looks different! *cries*

Because I thought that I should revive my LJ due to Christmas (including the new christmas one-shot) coming up. LJ feels more like a private diary. I always feel slightly foolish posting my personal rants there while everybody blogs cool fandom related stuff.

Anyway, this is a break in studying US American drama to say: the reader doesn't really help. There's actually nothing in there but a long chronology I'm not going to memorize and two articles, and some snippets of plays. Really...

I'm gonna have to ask wikipedia and other sources about the things I missed...

Okay, on with the show.

Edit:

Now that I've gone through everything I find myself faced with the usual problem of surveys: who wrote what and what was it about??? *lol* Has been a main issue since the very first lecture... But that's an issue I'll tackle tomorrow in the four hours I'll be too early thanks to buses. Well, no, actually I have a bus that'd get me there at 12 o'clock when the exam starts, but since there'll be a shortage of seats I'll prefer being very early instead of just on time =w=

Black Dove // Extended Author's Notes

silly_blue — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 19:44:07 GMT

Some of my rambling about the genesis of this story:

This story actually came from a very, very vague notion of wanting to write an atmospheric story of solitary travels though wastelands. Which is not exactly an innovative thought I guess. I’ve collected some experience in my previous fandom when it comes to writing a post-apocalyptic world, but I knew I wanted to do something else. Strangely enough, the sounds, smells and colors where the first things that came to me, back when I was in England for five months during 2010. This is a long time for certain images and snippets of sentences and atmosphere to prosper, but since I thought I’d use it for another story in another fandom (that never happened) many of those initial ideas were actually tossed for something that I assumed to fit SPN better.

I don’t know exactly where the final spark of inspiration came from, but Tori Amos’ “Black Dove (January Girl)” must have played a major role in it. This song has always, always resonated strongly within me and if nothing else, it gave me the title and Castiel’s “name”.

The plot isn’t that intricate and it was supposed to be one episode – which of course means that it has it’s part in the series. It’s based on 7.12 and doesn’t take later episodes into count even though we were at about 7.15 or 7.16 when I started writing. Castiel hadn’t reappeared yet and even though the show went on as I typed my story, I tried not to let that influence what I wanted to write. Also, since this is one episode, it demands a sequel. :D

About the lack of geographical markers in this story; I have never been to America and know close to nothing about it. I tried to make up my embarrassing ignorance with spending hours on google maps, not really coming to any sort of conclusion but the occasional “this is just vast empty space!”. Which is confusing for a person coming from tiny Switzerland, so please, please forgive me for being sloppy and vague about locations. But while I worked with maps and tried to trace their journey, actual locations are not important for this story. It could be anywhere.

Apart from Europe. Sure, it’s my background that makes me want to keep Europe safe, but it’s also the show’s almost complete disregard of any other places on the globe that enabled developing Europe as a) a fugitive camp and b) a source of knowledge and mythical objects. It didn’t feature strongly in the story, but part of my head-canon about Europe is based on Esmerod’s take on European hunters and their organization.

While I was deep into the planning stages of this fanfiction I attended one of the traditional carnival events which inspired the take on Raunacht. The impressions I had where of people moving through the early morning darkness while all the lights had been switched off in the city. Lanterns cast flickering shadows on the high walls of the medieval house fronts and small allies. Shadows, sounds and knowing that this was a century old tradition made quite an impression on me. Raunacht is a remnant of old celtic traditions that are still found in German speaking regions, especially the Alps. There are 12 (in some instances 13) days that figure into this cycle; it starts with Christmas and ends with Epiphany. Those days were believed to be very magical; where you could meet demons, be frightened by witches, had to place offerings for Odin and Frau Holle, could be taken by the “Wilde Jagd” (wild hunt) and have conversations with magical creatures and the dead if you went to a crossroad and listened. There are a lot of such days found all over the world, it was merely my own setting that decided on that one. :D

Overall, it was terrific to write this story! To bring myself to actually finish a project and work together with a beta, an alpha (does that make me an omega or what? Some literary critics might agree) and an artist! It's been a great experience! ♥

Black Dove // Epilog

silly_blue — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 19:37:57 GMT

Previous

Epilog

He remembered a line of gold, woven around a heavy, unadorned piece of metal. He felt the light rush around him and the presence of something else. Something with long white limbs and a cloud of hair, that tickled like a gentle sea spray when it touched Dean’s face.

He was dreaming still, disoriented when the light above him swayed, a bare bulb that flickered from time to time. He could feel salt on his lips, mixed with a peculiar sweetness, before water was poured down his throat.

Sam was mumbling something, his breath reeking of coffee and Dean kept on holding on to his bag with the flasks and the gold thread wound tightly around that unassuming key. Sam’s voice faded in and out and Dean let himself be pulled under the waves again, when he felt a pair of cool, but unfamiliar fingers touching his shoulder.

When Dean woke it was to darkness and someone breathing evenly not too far from where he lay. He sat up, taking in the not unfamiliar surroundings of Rufus’ cabin. He took a moment to place himself, leaning over to switch on the lamp on the night-table next to the sofa he was lying on. He looked around and almost shot up in alarm when there was an unfamiliar shape studying him. He wanted to call out to Sam, but the woman rolled her eyes.

“Disorientation, how very expected of you. It is quite puzzling how you even manage to get anything done. Let alone mess so much up on your way,” she sneered and despite himself, Dean let out a breath of relief. Atropos didn’t take kindly to being brushed off though and she jammed a finger into Dean’s chest when he had stood up on wobbly legs. “You are lucky to even still be here!” He looked down at the offending finger, then further down where his feet were clad in comfortable moccasins. Dean wanted to frown at Sam’s prank, but then his breath hitched and his eyes snapped back up to seek out Atropos’ gaze. She just shook her head with another irritated sigh. Poking him once more for good measure, before she took a step back.

“I… That wasn’t some freaky dream, right? I’ve been to 2014,” Dean managed to force past his lips and felt like sitting down again, but Atropos just looked at him with a hawkish expression. He wiped his hand over his face. It still smelled of Castiel, everything smelled of him, but the scent was fading fast, just an echo in his memory.

“Yes, but you’ve been more than lucky that the Apostate kept a fraction of its power,” Fate told him, holding her book to her chest and tapping it with one finger. The noise made Dean want to tear the book out of her hands and toss it into a fire.

“Don’t call him that, I told you before,” Dean hissed, annoyed that it was only now – back in his own time – that his memories were coming back to him.

“What has Castiel been able to do for you?” Atropos asked instead, turning her attention to the leather bag sitting at the foot of the couch. “I hope my efforts were at least not wasted on you. You did bring a number of things with you, unwrapped.”

“Do you really think a pair of shoes is going to influence the course of time?” Dean said with an annoyed eye-roll, “or a bag?” Atropos didn’t bother to send him a scathing glare, she just kneeled down and pulled something out of his bag. Dean didn’t like seeing her touch anything that Cas had given him, but he was quite surprised when she wiggled the box of condoms under his nose.

“No, but maybe this,” she said and Dean snatched it out of her hands, unable to fight the heating of his cheeks, even though he knew he’d done nothing wrong. He hadn’t even used any, well, maybe his future self had, but what did Dean know.

“A pack of condoms, really? I’ve bought them in a store here, not many days ago!” Dean argued, but Atropos clicked her tongue.

“Well, I have other things to do,” she said when Dean shook the packet a bit, the weight seeming slightly off. Was it empty? Not even he, after long months of abstinence, would use an entire packet of condoms. The thought made Dean reel with petty jealousy again and also a little grain of wonder. “Next time,” Atropos said and handed Dean a card, “refrain from using a summoning ritual. I will find you and I have had a long time to think about creative ways of ending your life.” Dean took the card, finding a mobile number written on the back. Dean couldn’t help grinning up at Fate, but she wrinkled her nose before he could make a comment. “If your brother wasn’t sleeping, I would have given it to him. You’re not my type,” she said and Dean’s eyebrows rose, “too short and already claimed.” With that she turned around and left the cabin, slamming the door just loud enough to startle a grunt out of Sam. But the younger Winchester was too exhausted to even wake up properly, so he just turned and continued sleeping while Dean was left to stare at the closed door. Dean walked over to the window, looking out into the forest around the cabin, slowly getting lighter with the dawn not far off. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, before he took his bag and brought it over to the table. Everything was still there; his toothbrush, the box, Raphael’s sword, the three flasks and the key dangling on its golden chain. Dean sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to let his mind wander.

Cas was out there somewhere, trapped and waiting for someone to save him. Without a body, chained to the monster that had torn out of him, waiting to be put back together as Heaven just watched and Dean and Sam had never even started searching.

“Cas… I’ll get you… You just hold on,” he promised into the silence of the cabin. He hadn’t expected an answer, but he was still disappointed when he couldn’t hear Cas’ reassuring voice telling him that he believed him. Dean sighed and absent-mindedly pulled open the condom box. He frowned and peered inside. The condoms hadn’t been touched, a fact Dean wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned about, but there was something tugged inside next to it. Dean pulled at what turned out to be a ripped out piece of paper, one side covered in print and pencil notes, the other was taken up by a written note.

It was, as Dean soon found out, the very last page of the Beast’s Lament and Dean moved over to the couch to be able to read it better.

“And 150 days after the Reign began it will end again with the rise of the White Goddess above the waves,” Dean read, squinting at the small print with a frown, “The King will follow the call of his Queen and she will speak. Her voice will be thunder that shakes the firmament. She will say:

I have given birth to the black water. But I am no white queen, no white goddess. I am the one that wields a sword over your heads, I am the one that smashes your false crown. I will be the one to toss you back down.

And she will draw them back within her body and cast herself into the cage yet again. That will conclude the Reign and the Flood on earth and sun will shine upon the lands of those made of dust and clay.

Thus ends the Beast’s Lament.”

Dean looked at the piece of paper for a long moment after he had read it so many times that the words were burned into his mind. Sam was already stirring in his bed by the time Dean turned around the page to read the note.

“Dean,

Don’t do what I did. You can only change things if you are strong enough to face this fight, you can’t do it like you are now. Don’t chase weapons that won’t work. Don’t ignore the issues.

Talk to Sam.

Get Cas out.

You’ll need your family to end this.

Just so you know. Lucifer was wrong, it doesn’t have to end in 2014.”

Underneath Dean could read the name of a couple of hunters he didn’t know and an address where he could get the Gospel and the Lament.

“Dean…?” Sam’s voice, still thick from sleep or lack of it, called from the other end of the room and the tall form of his brother stumbled to the sofa, squinting against the light of the lamp. Sam blinked a few times, then he widened his eyes, all tiredness forgotten. He almost leapt over the sofa in order to get his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “Dean? Are you alright?” Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Dude, you’re crying!” Sam let go of Dean and sat down on next to him. “Was it so bad over there?” Sam asked, voice full of concern and Dean didn’t want to believe that he couldn’t do anything against his brother’s descent into madness. His future self must be right, he could stop it before it was too late.

“It’s fine, we just need to prevent it,” Dean reassured his brother, wiping his eyes. Sam nodded and Dean grinned up at him.

“And what will we do now? We still don’t have the Colt,” Sam reminded him, but Dean shook his head.

“There’s a time for every battle. First of all we need to make sure we’re complete,” Dean answered and when Sam raised an eyebrow in confusion Dean added: “I need your head clear of Satan-vision.” Sam seemed both slightly uneasy and offended at that, but didn’t say anything apart from frowning. Dean pulled the gold thread out of the bag, looking at the key. “And we’re gonna get Cas.” Sam’s face changed from annoyance to poorly concealed pity in a heart-beat.

“Dean… I know Cas’ death got to you and-“

“Yeah. It got to me. And no, I’m not being in denial. I know that Cas is alive, we just need to get him out before the leviathans build him an altered meat suit,” Dean insisted. Sam didn’t seem convinced but Dean hit the rounded end of the Petrus Key against Sam’s forehead. “Are you with me in this or not?” he demanded, but then his irritated expression softened, “I can’t do this without you, Sammy.” Sam sighed, but he smiled at him, nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I want him back too,” he confessed and wiped his hair out of his face. “So you have a plan.”

“Not quite yet,” Dean replied, lying back against the backrest and turning the key around in his fingers, “but I know where I don’t want to end up in.”

“Well, that’s… that’s good, right? I don’t think I have to worry about you drinking yourself into a stupor again,” Sam said and Dean was slightly sad that it was only half a joke.

“Right, by the way, Atropos left you her number. I think she likes you,” Dean said, letting the key disappear in his pocket, propping his moccasin clad feet up on the low table in front of the couch. Sam wrinkled his brow in surprise, opening his mouth to say something but didn’t actually manage more than a few sounds of confusion. Dean chuckled. “Well, Fate’s a bitch, but it’s probably nice to have her on your side. Go for it, Sammy.”

“You’re such a jerk, you know that? At least I’m not running around in hippie shoes,” Sam countered weakly and Dean had to laugh.

“Better get used to it,” he replied, “man, once this is over I’m gonna go civilian for a while. Did you know that Cas can cook? His house was awesome too. Well, apart from the dresses in his wardrobe.” Sam actually chocked on his own spit at that, Dean grinning mischievously.

“Yeah? Pie too?” Sam asked once he’d recovered from the shock but didn’t raise to the bait of asking about the dresses. He got up instead to fetch them both a soda and switching on the TV just in time for Dr. Sexy re-runs. Dean nodded, swallowing the sweet beverage. “Good.”

“Yeah.” Dean grinned and even though he felt shaken by what he’d seen of a future that could very well turn out to be his, he was relaxed for the first time in weeks. Months even. Sam still had his problems and Dean had to make sure that they dealt with them. Dean needed to have the energy to focus on Sam, instead of conveniently ignoring the way his fingers continued pressing into his scar just because he was too tired from dealing with his own shit.

And Cas… Cas was still out there somewhere, more now than a painful memory and a stained trenchcoat hidden away in the trunk of a car. Dean knew he had to get him back, no matter what it took, not just because he promised, but also because he wanted him back. He wanted him as a presence that might just pop up unbidden, he wanted him as a guest in his better dreams, no longer in his nightmares, he wanted him in the backseat of the Impala. A friend, close by. He wanted to know him safe, he wanted him in the embrace of his arms, he wanted him there when Dean felt like breaking, he wanted him in places they hadn’t yet explored together.

Dean wanted to have his family back. He wanted to be able to do this, sit here and start thinking about a time where they had their problems solved, no matter if there was a new crisis lurking somewhere on the horizon (because there always was, the universe was too big and restless to give the Winchesters a break).

So, they’d march on. But in a different direction.

End

Black Dove // Part 6 continued

silly_blue — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 19:32:05 GMT

Previous

By the time Castiel returned to his side, Dean had almost read the entire small book. There wasn’t much in terms of content, but it was difficult enough to make sense of it. In the grossest of terms, the Gospel seemed to be about their creation and consequent abandonment by God. The long wait for the mother that would open the gates back into this realm was what made up most of the story, but while Dean thought it was mostly rubbish, they were oddly accurate about their prediction of who, or more specifically what, it would be. It just made him hope they were wrong about being able to stabilize their empire and about him and his failure to rise against them.

“Have you read the book?” Castiel asked and Dean was a bit surprised to actually be met with the rough voice of Castiel’s male form. He blinked up at him in surprise and Castiel tilted his head.

“Uh…” It wasn’t the most intelligent thing to say, but he watched the other Dean walk into their secured camp as well and how Castiel followed his movements with his eyes, never once averting them, even when future Dean glared at them both. “Not the ending though. And not the Lament.” Castiel sat down next to him, arms folded on top of his knees. “Are you alright?” he asked, quite concerned. Castiel looked away, but he smiled, shrugging.

“You don’t need to know the ending, you just need the hard facts,” the other Dean said and the other two watched him walk over to Lucifer, shaking his shoulder to wake him. Dean was a bit surprised how gentle he was, speaking in a low voice to him until Lucifer had blinked the disorientation out of his eyes. “They’re just a bunch of oversized and overpowered goo with a massive oedipal fixation on their Mom,” he continued when Lucifer was up and Dean couldn’t help snorting at that.

“Yeah, I got that,” he said, muttering a sorry when Castiel sighed deeply.

“Their Virgin Mother…,” future Dean continued, walking back up to where Dean and Castiel were sitting, “well, think Eve, just bigger. With the leviathans it’s all about the Mother. But lucky for us, she’s not quite more than an object to them. If Dick possesses her, he thinks he’ll be invincible.”

“Won’t he be? I thought it was all about stabilizing their reign?” Dean wondered, going through the last few pages of the book.

“Yeah, but the thing is, that once the Virgin Mother’s body is strong enough, she’s actually far superior to the leviathans. And lucky for us, they don’t know that. She can’t kill their own, but she can transfer them into another cage,” the other Dean explained. Dean sighed and looked to the side, where Castiel was now looking at him, chin propped up on his knuckles.

“You’re both very calm about this now…,” he observed and Castiel smiled gently. It made Dean wince and shake his head. “You’re such an idiot, Cas. You really don’t have to do this.”

“I have not decided yet, Dean. But it’s best to know all options,” he said and looked over Dean’s head to where the other one was looking down at them both. Dean groaned, feeling pretty much defeated, but then he closed the book and handed it to his future self.

“So you’re leaving?” he asked him and got up on his feet. His other self nodded and Dean took a step closer. He looked past the other man, seeing Lucifer collecting some bags and carrying them to where the Impala was parked. “Why?”

“Why what?” the other Dean asked, an eyebrow raised in confusion and Dean cocked his head towards where Lucifer had disappeared.

“What happened? How did Lucifer get into him again?” Dean watched the expression on his counterpart’s face change from confusion to realization and then resignation. “How could that happen?”

“Dean,” the other man started, “that’s not…,” he faltered, searching for the right words. After a moment he looked back up at Dean. “That’s still Sam.” Dean took a second for the words to sink in and then he almost stumbled a step backwards.

“What?”

“It’s Sam, not Lucifer… He just…” The other Dean shrugged, looking down at the ground. “It started with hallucinations… For a while Sam had them under control… But then… I don’t know… he started getting these episodes, like waking nightmares and it was harder and harder to pull him back. And one day… He just started referring to himself as Lucifer. Sometimes for just moments before he snapped out of it again. But it got worse and worse… I can’t get Sam back anymore…”

“He’s imagining… Shit,” Dean hissed and dragged his hand through his hair. “Shit!” Dean now understood the tiredness in Dean’s eyes, the reason why he had stopped trying to fight. The reason he was done. The other Dean just nodded, but didn’t think it necessary to elaborate. Dean just stared at him helplessly, but then his breath caught in this throat and he widened his eyes. “So… Michigan…?”

“That’s where we went to kill the Devil in Zach’s future… Lucifer was probably right. That’ll always be the end for us.” Dean shook his head in disbelief but he couldn’t get any words out. His future self snorted, his lips pulled up into a mirthless smirk. He pulled something out of the pocket of his trousers and handed it to Dean. He saw that it was the box of condoms. “Keep away from supernatural women. If you absolutely must,” he said and sighed, “use a condom. Alright?” Dean just stared at him in disbelief and his future self patted him on the chest, before he walked around him to where Castiel was standing. Dean slowly turned around and saw the two of them look at each other. It was almost awkward to watch them staring in silence, but after a while Castiel actually swallowed and held out his hand. The other Dean grinned and shook it. “I’ll see you sooner or later, Cas.”

“Better later,” he said and the smile on his face broke, but the other Dean pulled at his hand until he had him in an embrace. Dean turned away from them and saw Sam sitting on the hood of the Impala again, rubbing his hands absent-mindedly.

“Sam?” Sam did look up, even if his mind wasn’t quite right anymore. “Don’t do anything stupid. Try to get off the grid, go back to Europe, enjoy life. If you can, just take the wheel away from your brother and drive straight back to Norfolk, get the next ship.” Sam looked puzzled at first, but then he smiled. “Take care of yourself and your brother, okay Sammy?”

“Yes,” Sam said and Dean was unsure whether the smile he received was genuine or just one of Lucifer’s indulging ones. But it didn’t matter. “Good-bye, Dean.” Dean had to turn away and watched as his future self got into the car. He shot him one last look, encouraging, pitying, warning, Dean wasn’t sure.

Castiel and Dean watched the Winchesters starting the car and, without another look back, drive off.

“Your time is horrible,” Dean finally said, when the Impala was nothing more than a cloud of dust getting lost in the distance. Castiel looked up at him, his eyes moist, but he was smiling.

“I know,” was all he said and Dean pulled him into a one-armed hug. He didn’t say anything when he felt the shivers of the body pressed against his side.

Dean didn’t press Castiel to get moving right away, allowing him a couple of minutes to compose himself. The storm clouds had moved closer in the last thirty minutes and they still had time left. Enough time to leave Castiel in a less devastated state. Admittedly, Sam’s madness had planted a new sense of urgency within him and he wanted to be gone, to shake his brother, to make sure that he knew what was real and who he was. This would mean to leave Castiel behind though and while Dean knew that technically he had kept his promise and that technically he didn’t own Castiel anything at this point in time… He couldn’t just ignore the deep seated pain within him, he couldn’t ignore the shivers or the moisture in his eyes or the way his lip quivered when his eyes focused on Dean, as if making sure that he was still here.

So he waited.

Castiel was standing just at the outskirts of a circle when Dean went to find him, looking out to the brewing storm. He was still in his male form, apparently well rested enough. And if he was shaking slightly it probably was for a different reason than exhaustion.

“Cas?” Castiel turned towards him and tilted his head. “You okay?”

“Yes, thank you. I am merely thinking,” he replied, his voice calmer than Dean had expected, “the conversation with Dean has left me both with a clearer mind but also with more uncertainty.” Dean lifted an eyebrow, taking a step closer to Castiel.

“What? So you two were just talking?” he asked with a teasing grin, trying to coax a smile out of him as well. Castiel lowered his eyebrows at Dean in disapproval, but then he snorted. While it wasn’t a smile, it wasn’t as bitter anymore. “I’m sorry,” Dean said, “so what did you talk about?”

“Responsibility,” Castiel replied and Dean bit back a groan. He noticed that Castiel was still turning the key around in his fingers. “Leaving…”

“Cas… What’s that key for?” Dean asked, reaching out to cover Castiel’s palm with his. The metal of the key had warmed and he felt a faint, almost pleasant vibration within it. Some supernatural object then. Castiel didn’t pull away and let Dean take the key to study it. It was really nothing special at all; no etchings, no stains where it had been doused in blood. Just a plain, old key. He handed it back to Castiel, who studied it once more before he put it into his jeans’ pocket.

“It’s the Petrus Key - St. Peter’s Key,” he said and Dean lifted an eyebrow, clearly not remembering anything of that name. “Do you remember when I said that it wasn’t possible for me anymore to reach another plane of existence the conventional way?” Dean had to think a bit about it but he did remember.

“Yes, so it unlocks a door? Like, Heaven’s Gates or something?” he wondered and Castiel first tilted his head, before he decided to nod.

“In a manner, yes. The Petrus Key will allow its wielder to create a pathway to another realm without requiring a physical gate. In the first few months of my resurrection I’ve been looking for it to get into contact with Heaven… But as the silence wore on and I busied myself with my new task… I put it off.”

“And why would Dean give it to you…? Do you need it for that Leucothea business?” Dean wondered, with an edge of anger in his voice. Surprisingly, Castiel shook his head and looked at Dean with a small smile.

“No…,” he said and looked down at their feet, “no.” Dean studied the top of Castiel’s head and he slowly understood.

“He gave you a way out.” It wasn’t a question; the moment the thought had appeared in his mind, he was sure that it was the right answer. Castiel’s nod only confirmed his assumption. For a moment relief flooded him, because no matter what happened, he wasn’t a completely lost case. Hard and world-weary as he was, he still cared. Dean had underestimated himself.

“Maybe you can understand yourself better,” Castiel said quietly and Dean took a step closer to him, so Castiel could reach out and curl his fingers around the fabric of Dean’s jacket. “But maybe this said… I’m sorry. Maybe it said,” he looked up and his expression was open and vulnerable in a way Dean hadn’t often seen him. “I forgive you.” Dean took a sharp breath, then he wet his lips as his throat suddenly felt dry and his eyes started burning. There was no reason for him to get all emotional, but Castiel’s feelings were completely open before him. And he knew the answer to Castiel’s questions.

“Yeah… I guess,” he said and Castiel breathed in deeply before he leant forwards until his forehead touched Dean’s throat. Dean knew that his future self had given him a completely blank slate. He wasn’t forgiven, but Dean didn’t want to carry that grudge any longer, so he had released Castiel. Leaving him with two things; the responsibility to get rid of the Leviathan and the choice to turn his back upon the world.

It wasn’t a real freedom of choice though, Dean knew that. Dean expected Castiel to do the right thing, now that he had been given the option of fleeing and lacked the pressure of doing it for redemption. It was, as Frank had wished, the necessary move to set the board to checkmate. Castiel wouldn’t go against Dean’s wishes now. So future Dean cared, but he was still manipulative till the end.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” he couldn’t help saying, breathing in the fresh scent of Castiel’s hair. Castiel moved and stepped back enough to be able to look at Dean.

“Why?” Dean shrugged.

“Because I can’t be here much longer… I had that utopian idea that maybe you’d be able to join the other two. Like… I don’t know Team Free Will two or something.” It wasn’t what he had meant to say, but he couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing Castiel.

“I’ll get you to Illinois,” Castiel promised and went to retrieve his backpack, “you still should have enough time to collect my blood and prepare yourself for the journey back.” Dean nodded and joined Castiel when his wings materialized. The black arches against the backdrop of an oncoming storm were breath-taking.

“You’re still an angel, Cas…” he said and Castiel unexpectedly drew back at that, his wings folding up almost shyly. “Hey, wait… I didn’t… I mean…” He actually didn’t know what he meant, he didn’t even know why Castiel had reacted that way. “I’m sorry. I have no clue what was wrong about what I said. But I’m sorry.” That got Castiel to unfold his wings again, lifting his head slowly with a small, embarrassed smile on his lips.

“No… I just didn’t expect you to say that, not after everything you’ve heard.” Dean brushed that off.

“Come on, Cas. After all that I’ve seen you do?” Castiel’s smile widened a bit and he stepped closer, the wings throwing shadows over Dean’s face. “You could be the King of Purgatory if you’d like… I just don’t want you to change, not like you did after the souls… It wasn’t… you. You have to remember who you are, Cas. No matter where you go or what you do,” Dean said, his cheerful mood gone quickly and Castiel’s smile slipped too.

“I can try to promise… But I am not sure if a promise like this can be kept for as long as I exist,” he confessed. He made Dean hold on to the backpack, the procedure of flying now quite familiar to Dean.

“Just try,” Dean replied. Castiel didn’t give him an answer and shortly afterwards Dean was already soaring through the air, tasting an oncoming storm on his tongue.

Dean could still recall the abandoned bar, with its stripes of yellow light and muted scent of rotting things. He assumed that Castiel would guide him there, back into that jungle of overripe fruit and brackish water. But he didn’t. When Dean touched ground again he found himself on a patch of flattened grass. It smelled musty and moist, the scent tickling Dean’s nose and making him turn towards Castiel. He at least smelled fresh and clean, sweet and just a little bit salty. The strange but soothing fragrance that had long since become familiar to Dean calmed him somewhat and he was able to squint through the haze that lay over the mid-afternoon landscape. Longish patches of grass were growing a bit further off, their ends frayed and yellowish. It looked like the vegetation was wet and while the ground Dean stood on seemed to be perfectly fine, he wouldn’t be surprised to sink into bottomless depths if he took a step forwards. They probably were on the fringes of some sort of swamp and Dean was really glad that no stronger odors assaulted him. Maybe he was just lucky and finally getting used to this world, not that there was any point in it, now that he was leaving.

“That’s where I turned up? I expected that bar where I first regained consciousness,” he confessed and looked at Castiel, who was in the process of pulling on his backpack.

“You were lying on the wet grass close to where you stand now. You might have missed your aim. Time-travelling with angels is usually precise, but you had other means.” He started moving and Dean turned to follow him up a small hill. Dean didn’t know what they ~~both~~ were looking for, but he sure hoped that they soon found it. The moisture in the air was really uncomfortable and it still stank enough to make Dean screw up his nose and feel like pulling up the collar of his t-shirt in a childish display of disgust.

Fortunately, there were the remnants of a stone building a few meters off, the concrete floor was still there and the general outline of the small one room thing was recognizable by the walls of varying height. The roof had gone, but Castiel stepped into the former house without any concerns. Dean wondered how exactly Castiel managed to find those hide-outs in the middle of uncivilized, hostile nowhere. Castiel tossed the few stones and wooden bits out of the way and spread blankets and rugs on the floor. He even fixed some kind of sheet to the walls, creating a sad looking excuse for a roof. But at least it did give the semblance of a shelter and Dean was happy to sit under it while Castiel walked around the ground in a circle, warding the place and enabling Dean to breathe properly.

“May I have your knife?” Castiel asked once he had sat down next to Dean. “And the flask,” he added, when Dean pulled it out with a look of puzzlement. “You still want my blood, don’t you?” Dean sighed, because to be honest, he didn’t have much faith in the plan with the Cas-enhanced bullets. His future self had made his opinion on using the Colt pretty clear too. Dean nodded wordlessly though and set both knife and flask down on the floor. The angel watched with a slightly confused expression as Dean rolled up the sleeve to expose the pale underside of Castiel’s arm. “Don’t worry… I won’t die from blood-loss,” Castiel assured him when Dean’s hesitation dragged on. The hunter made a disgruntled sound, but took Ruby’s knife and made a clean cut in the soft flesh. Blood slipped down the arm almost immediately and Castiel moved his arm so that the blood ran down in a messy rivulet that Dean tried to catch most of. The sound of the blood dripping into the empty flask made Dean’s stomach queasy, the still vivid image of Cas bleeding out replaying in his mind. But Castiel was fine, watching the blood flow with no concern at all until the entire flask was full and Dean sealed it.

“Okay…” Dean started, but Castiel pulled out two of his rather big water flasks and put one of them into Dean’s hand. “Cas, one should be fine.”

“You don’t know that… I doubt you can come back and gather more should it not be enough. I’m not going to miss it, my body is already refilling what’s been lost,” he assured Dean, but it was with reluctance that Dean held the flask under Castiel’s arm. Only when that was full too did Castiel allow the wound to knit itself back together. Castiel wiggled his fingers, then he tilted his head and looked at the third flask. Dean followed the trail of his eyes and frowned at it. Other than Bobby’s flask, the ones Castiel had were rather big, it would not surprise Dean if he had two liters of it to bring back home, surely that must be enough. “Give me Raphael’s blade,” Castiel demanded and Dean’s head shot up. He stared at him, trying to figure out if he had indeed heard right. When Castiel raised his eyebrows in apparent impatience, Dean frowned.

“What?! No!” he argued, “I’m not going to give you something that hurts you!”

“It doesn’t kill me,” Castiel insisted – as if that changed much – and held out his hand stubbornly, “I want to try something.”

“I don’t like it,” Dean hissed when he no longer managed to ignore the hand held out to him. With a groan he gave Castiel the blade and watched him handle it with great care, before he licked his lips and pressed the tip to the hollow of his neck. “Woah! Stop that!” Dean shouted when red blood welled up around the cold metal, but Castiel seemed displeased with it, so he readjusted the blade and pushed again. Dean already had both hands on Castiel’s arms, trying to get him to stop whatever he was doing to himself, but then Castiel drew blood and he let go of him in surprise. He watched the thick black fluid run down Castiel’s chest and soak into his shirt.

“Good, I wasn’t sure it would work,” Castiel said and bent his upper body, so that the blood dropped on his knees. Dean was both fascinated and disgusted, but Castiel raising an eyebrow at him spurred him into motion. He took the third flask and unscrewed the cap before he pressed its opening to the wound just under the blade, while steadying Castiel with one hand at his shoulder. Other than with the human looking blood he drew, this wound seemed to cause Castiel discomfort. His eyebrows were knitted and Raphael’s blade slipped once, clanging against the bottle before he resettled it to push out more blood.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Dean said, pulling away the flask and closing it. Despite the unease Dean felt, he still pulled the blade out of Castiel’s fingers and pushed his palm against the wound. The Leviathan blood was warm and sticky, just like human blood felt, but the smell it emitted was different. Dean pushed Castiel back up into an upright position and took his hand away when no more blood seeped through his fingers. The wound had closed over, but when Castiel wiped the blood away, there was still a faint scar. Dean decided not to think too much on that and focused on the flask. He moved it a bit, hearing the liquid inside. “What should I do with it, Cas? Drink it?” Castiel frowned at him, rubbing his fingers against the former wound, before he tried to wipe the blood off his clothes.

“The blood of a Leviathan is poison to most humans… So don’t try drinking it until you’re absolutely sure that you can stand it,” Castiel told him and Dean almost let the flask slip through his fingers.

“You actually want me to drink it? You want me to drink your blood?!” Dean hissed in bafflement, but Castiel just shrugged. “Why?” Castiel seemed uncomfortable with the question and he took a moment to reply:

“I’m not sure…,” he confessed, “so don’t use it. Not yet.” Dean was utterly puzzled, but he nodded. They both fell into a silence Dean was sure should be better filled with words. These were their last few moments together, before Dean would return to a place where Cas was still gone, his brother still battled his madness and he still had nothing to fight Leviathan with. He almost wished for Zach or someone to stand next to him and tell him what he was supposed to learn from all of this, just so he could turn it upside down and do his own thing. But he had no idea what decisions had led to this world and he was almost sure that if he tried to frantically change anything he’d probably end up doing just what it took to get here. Where Castiel was going to say yes to Dick Roman’s courtship, where Sam was so far fallen into madness that he couldn’t remember who he was and where he himself was edging closer to self-destruction with every mile the Impala traveled towards the place where the Devil had snapped his neck.

It was Castiel calling his name that made him look up, finding his blue eyes trailed on him with a questioning look. Dean wiped his face with his hand, trying to clear his head and swallow down his panic to look at what Castiel showed him. It was a folded up paper, the white page he saw slightly crinkled.

“Yes, Cas?” he asked and watched Castiel chew his lips for a moment, another of these small human habits that still seemed kind of out of place on the supernatural being. It was very strange to think of him as a goddess wrapped into the familiar shape of Cas. So he mostly tried not to, even though he was sure it wouldn’t do him a whole lot of good.

“I have… thought about this for a very long time,” Castiel started, looking at his hands, “after I returned, restored but without a body and when I finally was released from the Leviathan’s clutches… I have wondered if it was my task now to bring back structure into a world that had fallen apart because of me. I thought…” Castiel reached up and scratched his head, a small, but not quite humorous smile gracing his lips as he looked at Dean. “It was a bit like Heaven after we’d stopped the Apocalypse. I knew I could do something when I was able to see the currents of life going through the spoilt earth. I decided helping humans when I noticed that they were actually willing to put up a resistance to Leviathan control…”

“Yes?” Dean said, trying to sound encouraging even though he had absolutely no idea what Castiel wanted to get to. It was enough to keep Castiel talking, his hands fiddling with the edges of the picture.

“I knew from the start that the Leviathan had plans for me… I knew that my place would be Purgatory - or Hell. But I thought… that it wasn’t time yet… That I still could do something on Earth, maybe do something that would make you forgive me.” Castiel shook his head and unfolded the piece of paper. Dean saw that it was a drawing, probably made by a child. He could see triangles and wobbly blobs of color creating a picture of a mass of brightly colored stick figures and over them all a figure with big black wings, shielding them and raining down yellow beams of light.

“Is that the picture you received from that girl a couple of days ago?” Dean wondered and Castiel nodded slowly, studying it with the same intensity and seriousness as if it were an intricate spell. “Cute, I guess… But why are you looking at it like this…?” Castiel sighed and raised his head to look Dean in the eyes.

“Because I’m…” he stopped and wrinkled his brow, “still an angel. Not only in your eyes, but also in those of the people I decided to watch over.” Dean nodded at that.

“Yes, but I don’t think I can quite follow you,” he told Castiel and the look in the blue eyes was intense. A glimpse of the fierce person Dean still remembered Castiel to be.

“Because angels are not guardians. They’re warriors,” he told him and Dean blinked at him in surprise. “I’ve hidden behind my fear that without me and without the Leviathan’s structure, humanity would just fall apart. What form of society could possibly rise to fill those gaps? What will humans do that lived in the Compounds, cut off from the rest of the world?” Dean, surprised as he was by Castiel’s train of thought, pondered it for a moment.

“Well, Europe seems to be pretty tough. I guess America’ll just become a colony again,” he joked and Castiel’s intense glare actually lightened and he had to shake his head. Dean reached out to put his hand on Castiel’s arm. “Cas… I don’t want to encourage you to do something harmful, but don’t worry about humans… You know we can pull ourselves together and create something new, right?” Castiel didn’t answer, but he did smile. He folded the picture and put it back into his bag.

“I assume then that now is the time to pick back up the sword and the crown,” Castiel said and got up. For a moment Dean was confused, but then Castiel held out his hand and pulled him to his feet. Castiel looked at Dean with a fond smile and it almost made Dean back off slightly in shyness. “Thank you.”

“For what? Dude, I haven’t done anything,” he said, looking at the floor. The feeling that this was good-bye made Dean want to turn and run fast, trying to stay for far longer. They still had time!

“You’ve kept me company… It’s been…” Castiel shook his head and smiled at Dean, “really lonely. I missed you, Dean… I was glad to be able to see you again and talk to your future self…”

“Are you sending me back?” Dean asked, hoping that his voice didn’t sound panicky, even though he felt nervous at the prospect. Castiel huffed a laugh, lowering his eyes, but he didn’t deny anything. Dean reached out his hand and wrapped it around Castiel’s wrist. “Cas…” He didn’t know what to say, but then he reached down into his bag and pulled out the gold thread. It was stupid, he knew it, but the least he could do was try. Castiel widened his eyes when Dean wrapped an end of the thread around Castiel’s pinky. “You should come. Turn away from all of this and… I don’t know. Just be safe, be with Sam and me!” The angel looked from the gold thread up to Dean and it took him a long moment to compose himself, to change the look of longing and sadness into a slightly watery smile.

“Peculiar,” was what Castiel finally said, running the fingers of his free hand over the gold thread. “That you too would give me a way out… When I still remember you saying that people are worth fighting for.”

“They are, but… But you’re family, Cas. And I don’t want to see you sacrifice yourself,” Dean confessed and Castiel’s smile slipped for a moment. He looked down at their joined hands again. After a while he sighed deeply, sadly.

“I wish I could be selfish…,” he said and pulled his hands away, the thread slipping from his finger, “but I’m waiting for you in your time…” Dean clenched his jaw at the stinging pain of this rejection. He knew Castiel was right and that he couldn’t just take the easy way out. Neither of them could. But it hadn’t stopped him from hoping just for a little bit that Castiel would come with him. “And there are people dying to see the bright sunlight again, to drink fresh water without fear of corruption, to enjoy my Father’s creation without inhibition...” Castiel reached into his jeans’ pocket and pulled out the Petrus Key. He held it out to Dean and started wrapping the gold thread around it instead. Dean watched the movement of his fingers in disbelief. “Use this… You can open the vaults of the Earth with it, but you can only use it once. It will need to be forged anew afterwards. A sacrifice will be needed too… But…” Castiel sighed and looked at Dean with an encouraging smile. “If you can prevent the Flood from happening, Dean, this future doesn’t need to come true for you. But it won’t be easy.” Dean took the offered key, looking at it in disbelief that Castiel would give him something this valuable, before putting it into his bag.

“When is it ever easy?” he asked with a snort instead of addressing what Castiel was giving up for his sake and received a shrug. Dean looked at him, at the way his hair was completely a mess, how his eyes were warm even though he could read the sadness well now on Castiel’s face. “Thank you…”

“Thank you,” Castiel replied and Dean had to look away from those eyes, shuffling his feet in a bout of nervousness. He could already hear some kind of buzzing noise inside of his ears if he was really quiet. He wasn’t sure if that was Sam calling him back – it was still a few hours too early, but Sam had probably tried to find a way to pull him back before his time was up. It made Dean almost frantic, because he was afraid of going back home before he could have said his good-bye properly this time.

“What are you going to do now, Cas?” he forced himself to ask and the question sounded familiar to his ears.

“There are a few things I still need to do, but then it is time for me to go,” Castiel replied, raising his eyes to the skies, “I can only hope that it’s the right choice.”

“If it is your choice,” Dean started, but had to clear his throat when Castiel looked at him again, “then it’ll be fine… This time. I promise.” Castiel face changed from confusion, to surprise and to a bright, relieved smile. “I’m just… Wherever you’re going… I don’t want you to be all alone in this, Cas…” Dean said and put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, pulling him in for a tight hug when the buzz in his ears gave an alarming spark before dying back down into a background murmur.

“I won’t be alone, Dean.” Castiel’s whisper tickled Dean’s ear and he frowned in confusion, but then there were hands grabbing the jacket covering his back. Castiel’s smell was warm and rich, a soft cloud of familiar scents wrapping around Dean. It smelt like freshly baked pie, the scent of their kitchen after Mom had made dinner, the leather of the Impala and the aftershave of his Dad. It was Sam’s fancy girl shampoo and the almost too strong smell of coffee on his breath after a long night of research. It was a little bit of home and Dean was sure he’d go crazy when he was back to that and the painful hole where Castiel should be. It was different, not as fuzzy as it was when Dean tried to soften down the edges with beer. It was clear and sharp and painful now that he was aware of what opportunities both of them had missed. So he grabbed tighter too, crushing Castiel against his body, memorizing the feeling of him, familiarizing himself with something he wished to do many more times.

“I’m gonna get you back. I swear!” He could hear the smile on Castiel’s lips in response to Dean’s vow in the way he huffed.

“I’m glad,” he said and Dean finally let go enough for Castiel to put some distance between them. His smile was genuine, but there was no denying of the regret that lingered in his eyes. “I can feel Sam… He’s trying to force the connection open so he can pull you back.” Dean lowered his head. He could hear the buzz in his ears getting louder, even though he couldn’t make out any words yet.

“Sam is missing you too, you know?” Dean asked and Castiel blinked at him in surprise, “we both are.” Castiel took a breath and closed his eyes. He nodded, but wouldn’t look back at Dean again. “Shit, this is a terrible good-bye,” Dean hissed and Castiel pressed his lips together. There was moisture clinging to his lashes and Dean didn’t feel any better. So he reached out and put both hands on Castiel’s face, rubbing slow circles on his skin with his thumbs. Castiel opened his eyes just enough to look up at Dean, the blue of his eyes clear and bright. Dean studied him, but then he brushed his lips against Castiel’s forehead.

“Thank you,” Dean whispered against Castiel’s skin, “for everything. For your love and faith, no matter how many times I mess up.” Castiel grabbed Dean’s sides, pulling at the jacket and Dean lowered his head to rest his forehead against Castiel’s.

“You deserve it,”Castiel finally said and Dean bit his lip. Castiel released his jacket and reached up to trace his jaw. Dean closed his eyes and felt Castiel take a step back and soon there were two warm fingers on his forehead. He opened his eyes again and saw Castiel smiling at him.

“I’ll see you soon, Dean Winchester.”

“Yeah…” And they hadn’t been the ideal parting words, but as the smells and the colors of a world that had been drowning in a Flood faded, he mused that they had been enough. He knew it was impossible and pointless for him to even try fixing everything, not in a time two years removed. He could still feel the warmth of Castiel’s fingers and the divine brightness around him when he was pushed through that tiny gap back home.

Next

Black Dove // Part 6 continued

silly_blue — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 17:29:04 GMT

Previous

Dean took a seat next to Castiel under the watchful eyes of his future self. He was close nough to the camp fire to still feel its warmth, but the overall atmosphere was chilly.

“So how was Europe?” Dean wondered, trying to break apart the heavy silence. The other Dean snorted, while Sam merely smiled.

“You would be surprised at how much there is outside of America. Artifacts, knowledge, lore,” he replied, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hunters. An entire network actually keeping their eyes open. Why do you think all of this shit goes down in America?” Dean shrugged and his future self just shook his head at him with a humorless smirk. “It’s because it’s chaotic and unguarded here. The network never worked.”

“And you’re trying to tell me that good old Europe has a hidden army or something?” It was Sam who smiled at him now, amused.

“Not quite hidden. They work closely together with the Church. Unsurprisingly, a secularized society doesn’t take kindly to them taking charge again. But you’d be surprised what humans put up with when they’re expecting the world to end,” he said, pulling one corner of his mouth up a bit further, then he shrugged. “It doesn’t concern us. All Dean was interested in was finding a way to kill something that cannot be slayed or perish trying.” Dean lifted an eyebrow at this peculiar wording.

“What I- you mean what you both wanted, right? Or do you have other priorities, Sammy?” Sam smiled, closing his eyes but lifting his eyebrows.

“Yes, of course,” he said indulgingly and Dean really didn’t like that slightly patronizing tone he used. As if Sam was just humoring Dean. The other Dean wasn’t any more pleased that Dean himself was.

“You returned because you found something,” Castiel spoke up, completely ignoring the awkward silence that had ensued, “what is it?” The other Dean reached into an inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out two small books. They looked new but already well-worn, the dark leather binding of both already cracked and dog ears bending the pages.

“Surprise,” the other Dean said sarcastically when he noticed Dean’s skeptical look. “They don’t just give you the centuries old originals.” He held both books up. “We got translated copies.” He tossed the bigger one towards Dean, who caught it and turned it around. There was nothing on the black cover, so he opened it to the first page and wrinkled his brow in confusion.

“The Leviathan Gospel?” Castiel, who was sitting next to Dean tensed at that before she pulled the book out of Dean’s fingers, flipping through it with wide eyes. Dean lifted his eyebrow at “What’s that supposed to be?”

“It’s basically the story every leviathan knows and believes in. It’s their creation myth, their rule book and the foundation of their race,” future Dean explained and when Dean looked over at him, he found his eyes focused on Castiel going through the pages. “Everything written in there, the leviathans accept as truth.”

“What does it say then? Is there anything on how they’re to be killed or what?” Dean wondered, but got a head-shake in return.

“No, it’s more like a handbook of how they can expect to get out of Purgatory and what to do from then on. It’s too late for us to do anything against it. Probably too late for you too unless you come from a point before Purgatory was opened,” Dean’s future self said. He wasn’t surprised or disappointed when Dean shook his head. “But this here.” The other book was held up for Dean to see, small and also bound in black leather. He could make out simple gold lettering on it though.

“The Beast’s Lament,” Dean read, but then he shook his head in confusion, “something else out of Purgatory?”

“Yes,” the other Dean got up and walked over to where he and Castiel were sitting, lowering himself to a crouch and waving the book in front of Castiel’s face. “In leviathan society, those who are strongest fight their way up to the very top. That leaves a lot of weaker individuals to certain death. One depressed leviathan wrote down what it calls an echo of something the leviathans had long forgotten, some kind of prophecy. Fortunately, both accounts had been recorded by either a monster that got out of Purgatory or a human that was attuned to the realm. While the Gospel is all about them getting out of Purgatory and eating up the earth in some epic delayed temper tantrum directed at their Dad for sticking them into Purgatory, the Lament tells us how to get rid of them again.”

“You mean kill them?” Dean couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. The other Dean’s hard eyes put a bit of a damper on his mood though.

“I mean toss them back into Purgatory and make sure they stay there for the next couple of millennia.” And well, it wasn’t exactly ideal and not nearly as satisfying as slicing Dick into tiny pieces and setting him on fire, but it was a start. The first attempt to send them back to Purgatory had failed, but maybe this would work if it was specifically designed for leviathan.

“That’s… great,” Dean said before he looked over at his counterpart. The man regarded him with a blank expression, then turned his eyes to Castiel. The angel was silent and unmoving, looking at the open gospel without reading anymore. “Right?” She looked up at him and showed him a weak smile. He didn’t want to let himself be discouraged, even though he had the sinking feeling that this entire break-through had serious effects. Just like sending Lucifer back had demanded Sam’s sacrifice. “So… You’re ready to gank Dick then?”

“Unfortunately,” Sam spoke up, not having left his seat to come any closer, “it is not something we can do. As Dean said, it is too late for him.” Dean frowned at that and his future self closed his eyes for a moment, forehead wrinkled. For the first time Dean saw the lines on his face and the silver shining in his hair. When he opened his eyes again he settled them firmly on Dean.

“He is right. I can’t do anything about it. But someone else can,” he turned his head to the side and looked at Castiel. She frowned down at the page until the other Dean reached out and forced her chin up. “There is one mythological figure in their stories that links both the Gospel and the prophecy of the Laments.” He let her go again once Castiel no longer averted her eyes.

“What? Cas? What does he have to do with leviathan stuff?” Dean demanded to know. The other Dean pulled the gospel out of Castiel’s hands.

“Leviathans are beasts, they have a thing for virgin sacrifices,” he said as if that explained everything, but Dean just glared at him in annoyance. His future self groaned in annoyance. “Do I have to spell it out? Virgin angel strong enough to hold them without exploding and stupid enough to open the door means prophecy fulfilled. He is their Virgin Mother, their designed Queen to steady their reign on this plane.” Dean looked at Castiel, whose face was mostly calm, apart from the skin between her brows wrinkling in displeasure.

“Yeah… I know. Kinda… Though their oedipal fixation on him puts me slightly off,” he tried to joke and the other Dean snorted. “But you can just say no, right?” Dean asked, looking at Castiel, who continued resolutely avoiding everyone’s eyes, “that’s what I did. And it kinda worked out in the end.”

“Right, that went very well,” the other man said dryly and with a self-depreciating roll of the eyes. “The point is that Cas can’t say no.” Dean gave a start at that, blinking at the man opposite him. Surely he hadn’t heard right, but the other Dean just regarded him with a glare. Dean wanted to shout something, outraged at the implication that he would want Cas to give herself over to the leviathans.

“The leviathans expect that once they have the Queen they will reign supreme,” Sam started to explain, leaning back casually and completely undisturbed by the content of their conversation. “And they will. But they don’t have to do so here.” He pointed over to the other book. “There is one antagonistic figure within Leviathan lore, one that can rise against them, but will eventually fail,” he went on to explain, “he is called by a multitude of names within the many oral stories that were written down as gospel, but one of them should be familiar to you.”

“The Righteous Man.” It was Castiel who spoke the words, slowly, calmly and when Dean – both of them actually, but wearing different expressions – looked over at her she lifted her head. She did look at neither of them, her eyes wearing a far-away look.

“What…? Me… Us, I mean? Are we still on about that stupid Righteous Man crap? Because I sure as hell-“ Dean started to argue, but it was Sam who spoke again.

“That is still you. Like humans and like beasts, angels do hold on to their figureheads, even if they have proven themselves to be redundant.” Dean frowned at Sam.

“Wow, thank you Sam, for the pep –talk,” he snorted, but the other Dean lifted his hand in a dismissive and tired wave.

“Leave him be,” he said and turned back to Castiel. “The gospel writes the Righteous Man off as nothing but a potential danger, that’s why they were trying to take us out. But they were too unconcerned to really try their best.” A hollow grin stretched future Dean’s lips, but his eyes shone cold with grim satisfaction. “They would have worked harder if they had known about the Laments.”

“The only one apart from God who can kill leviathans is the one they aptly named the Grand Fisher. That would be you,” Sam explained, flicking his fingers in both Deans’ general direction, but his eyes were trailed on Castiel.

“So why can’t we be?” Dean demanded to know once Castiel had averted her eyes, “not that I want to be any prophesized hero again, but I sure as hell wouldn’t mind knowing more about how to take down Dick!”

“We just can’t. Okay? Drop it,” the older Dean hissed at him, wiping his hand over his face. “We tried to look for an alternative once it became obvious that the Grand Fisher was out of the picture.”

“So? And why’s that?” Dean asked, getting tired of this, being handed only bits and pieces of information that might save his entire time line, but he was still listening. This was important, this was knowledge he could take home to Sam and make Frank and Crowley dig up more for them.

“Remember that figure that shows up in both texts?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow and Dean’s eyes darted to Castiel, who was pale faced and still trying to avoid looking at anyone.

“The name’s Leucothea,” the other Dean spoke up, “the White Goddess.” The Winchester’s eyes were trailed on Castiel and Dean couldn’t help following their example. Castiel had shrunk back, getting closer to Dean and away from her contemporaries, but it was pointless. The other Dean’s expression changed from calm and assessing, to angry within a fraction of a second. Dean wondered if that was something Castiel had to watch on his face too all of the time. It was an ugly expression. “So you know! You know and you didn’t do anything!” Dean of the future shouted, rising up on his feet and towering over Castiel and Dean who had remained seated.

“Calm down!” Dean shouted, glaring up at himself and then directing his gaze at Castiel. “What’s going on?”

“It took us quite a long time to draw the parallels. We’ve been looking for that elusive Leucothea for three months before we finally made the connection. And she’s been here all along! Playing human, playing angel!” The other Dean was still shouting and Dean didn’t even try to stop him. Even though he felt like a bastard for it, he actually understood his anger. The other Dean’s eyes narrowed at Castiel’s silence, even when she looked up at him with wide, imploring eyes. “That’s why an arch-angel’s blade didn’t kill you, that’s why you could breech our circles. You’re a goddess!”

Silence followed this last statement, heavy and suffocating, only broken shortly by the sound of the fire spitting. Castiel didn’t say anything, Sam continued to watch and Dean was glaring at her. At least one of them, for the other’s expression was far more wide-eyed disbelief with an oncoming frown of confusion and wariness.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean asked and looked from the other Dean, who just cocked his eyebrows at him, to Castiel herself. “You’re a goddess?”

“No,” she insisted and future Dean balled his hands into fists, taking a step closer so that had both got up on their feet as well. “I’m not a goddess!”

“Not yet,” Sam helpfully added, crossing his arms with an amused expression as he watched the argument unfold. “That’s the potential, but it’s an active decision she has to make. Empress of the Leviathan, Queen of Purgatory,” Sam said with pleasure, looking up at the cloudy sky overhead, “it’s not bad, not for an angel that forfeited its place upstairs.” Castiel lowered her head and Dean glared at Sam.

“What the hell is your problem, Sam? You’re being far too passive-aggressive for my taste!” Sam looked at him with an almost pitying smile, his eyebrows both raised, then he looked over at his brother. Dean did the same, but his future self just shook his head and he looked so tired, Dean was almost afraid he’d fall over and die. He already started pitying himself, instead of being angry. If Sam could cause such an expression in Dean, something must be seriously wrong.

“Go get the food out of the Impala,” he said, but didn’t look over at Sam, who just sighed and got up on his feet.

“What’s wrong with him…?” Dean asked, when his future self pinched the bridge of his nose.

“His wall’s gone, that’s wrong,” was the reply he got and future Dean’s tiredness left in favor of anger. He looked over at Castiel, who did meet his look with one of despair and pain. “Everything’s wrong and you’re just not doing anything.”

“I’m sorry,” she said and Dean was surprised that his future self actually looked sad at that.

“I know, but it changes nothing. You left everything in a shattered mess,” he replied and Castiel fell into silence once again. Dean frowned at both of them, watching them not talk and just stare at each other.

“Come on, man. I understand you, probably better than anyone,” Dean started, “but he’s cleaning up.” His future self actually had the gall to chuckle at that, small and hollow, leaving his eyes cold.

“Don’t tell me that you think that’s enough,” he replied icily and Dean bit back a retort, “not when you know that Castiel has the means to end it. Has had it for months.” Future Dean shoved him away and stepped up into Castiel’s personal space. She wasn’t exactly impressed by him looming over her, but she wasn’t happy either, her face pinched. “It’s time to end it.” Castiel looked at him in silence, but then she sighed, the sound chilling Dean to the bone.

“If that is what you want,” she started, licking her lips before she continued, “then I do what it takes.” Dean stared at both of them in shock and disbelief. This was exactly like Frank had said; if Dean asked Cas to do something, he would. No matter what it was that Dean was demanding of him, he was desperate enough to redeem himself that he’d rather give himself over to the Leviathan than tell Dean no.

“For fuck’s sake,” Dean ground out, “are you both completely nuts?!” His future self merely regarded him with a frown, while Castiel turned her head away from his incredulous stare. “Cas, you can’t be serious! You can’t just go throw yourself away because of some stupid prophecy!” Castiel didn’t say anything so Dean grabbed her shoulder, but it was the other Dean that took his wrist and made him let her go. Dean was bristling with anger at his inability to do anything about this situation. He snatched his hand back out of his future self’s grip and turned his attention back to Castiel. “Since when do we believe in prophecies?! Cas, you don’t need to do this! That’s not the right way to redeem yourself!”

“This is not your time,” his future self said, forcing him backwards and a few steps away from Castiel. “This is not your decision to make. You don’t fight a war without sacrifices!”

“Why?! Why has it always got to be family?! You can’t be okay with this!” Dean hissed and for a moment the other man’s eyes softened. Even though it lasted nothing more but a second and Dean was roughly shoved backwards, it had been enough to read the answer to his question. He didn’t want to do it, but there was no other way. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but that it didn’t matter what he wanted. He just wanted to be done, he wanted this chaos to finally end. And this was the way to do it. Castiel was one of many casualties on the way to the end.

“Cas… come on, man…,” Dean implored, looking over at her and hoping despite everything that she’d change her mind. His future self lowered his eyebrows at Dean.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” he asked and Dean wanted to shout no in his face, because at least someone got to, but Castiel was crossing her arms over her chest, turning away from them. Dean saw that she was trying to think, but he didn’t want her to make up her mind all on her own. He wanted to make her see that this wasn’t worth it, but in the end he nodded.

His future self led him away from the circle in which the fire was, past Sam, who was idly leaning against the hood of the impala, watching them pass him with a smile on his face. Dean could still see the fire’s light where they stood, he could see Castiel sitting down on the ground, her head lowered and her hands folded as if in prayer.

“Why are you here? Who sent you?” Dean turned his head to where his future self was leaning against the back wall of a tiny building.

“Is that really the question that you need to ask here?” he retorted and pointed over to Castiel. “When you’re doing the most-“

“Just answer the question,” his future self interrupted him, a hard glare directed his way. Dean took a sharp breath through his nose, but he mustn’t forget that his time left here wasn’t unlimited. There was no point in wasting precious minutes with dancing around the problems.

“We conducted a ritual. My memories are a bit fuzzy about it, but I know that I wanted to go back to the other 2014, the one we prevented.” The snort that followed this answer wasn’t totally unexpected, neither was it completely undeserved. “We wanted to get Cas’ blood and the Colt. Possibly information about the leviathans from Lucifer. And, seeing as I had an archangel blade with me, killing him in return for getting the Colt was probably on the table too.”

“So you wanted to try your luck with the Colt against Dick, probably with some modified bullets,” his future self summed up and when Dean nodded, he shook his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Even Cas said it could work! It could send them back to Purgatory if we did it right!” Dean argued, but the other man just pushed himself off the wall and glared at him.

“You wouldn’t do it right. We tried to use the Colt against Lucifer and it failed. We lost Jo and Ellen because of it! And you want to take a small weapon, built for monsters that were once human, against something like leviathans?! What do you think will happen?!”

“It’s not as if we’ve got anything else!” Dean shouted back, not impressing himself in the least. Dean took a step closer to him and it was so strange staring into a face two years older than his and already feeling himself turn into. It was almost worse than last time, because then he had been so sure that he would never let it come to this.

“We do, we have the most efficient weapon against them!” the other Dean hissed at him, getting so close he could see the freckles splattered over his nose and cheeks and the lines etched around his eyes, his mouth, his forehead. Dean stared at him, but after a few moments he took a step back and shook his head.

“Remember what that other Dean in Zach’s future did?” he asked and the man opposite him narrowed his eyes. “He sacrifice Cas as a diversion! And we said that we’d never do that!”

“Yes, and I remember what the other Dean retorted,” his future self said, his voice rough and barely above a whisper. “He said that we were in that mess because we didn’t sacrifice our friends. The situation hasn’t changed, Dean. Nothing about it has changed and we’re as helpless to just watch it unfold as we were the last time.” Dean shook his head.

“No. That’s not true. You have a choice here. All you’re doing is treating Cas like nothing more than a weapon to use. You’re sacrificing him because you know exactly how much Cas needs you to forgive him.”

“This is not a question of forgiveness and you know it,” his future self said, turning his head slightly to the side to watch their campsite. “And it’s not as if you have a moral high-ground. No matter what time you’re from, you’ve used Cas and you’ve emotionally manipulated him because you know how much you mean to him. We always did and we knew how to use it against him.” Dean didn’t say anything because there was no point in denying it or lying to himself. The other Dean sighed and drew his hand through his hair. “Listen man,” he started and looked at Dean, “I know this is a fucked up situation. But I’m done… “ He huffed a sigh and he was smiling slightly, an ugly small thing, loaded with self-loathing and powerlessness. “We’ve been on the run and looking for a solution for years now. And this is it… And I don’t care what you think. Go back to your time and try your best.” And with this the other Dean turned away from him and made his way back to the camp. Dean watched him go, looked how he passed Sam with whom he exchanged a few quietly spoke words before he rejoined Castiel. He sat down next to her, arms crossed over his chest, and glared into the fire while she watched him. Dean wanted to drive his fist into the wall. His frustration and anger and no small amount of despair made him feel like exploding. He wanted to get out of here, he wanted to shake both of them and he wanted to know how to end this without driving them all to an inevitable death. He didn’t want it to end like this, but he didn’t know what to do other than what his future self had just told him to: go home.

He slowly made his way back to the fire after Sam had left his spot by the Impala.

“What are you going to do?” Dean asked, when he rejoined the natives of this time, not sitting down as close to Castiel as he would wish to, but there was a graspable tension between her and his future self that he didn’t want to get caught up in. The other Dean pulled something out of his jacket, a small wooden box with lots of carvings covering every surface.

“What Cas is up to is her decision. Sam and I will depart in less than two hours.” Castiel looked up at him in confusion, even after Dean had put the sealed box into her hands.

“Why? What are you going to do?” she asked and it was obvious that she didn’t want them to leave again, now that they were finally reunited.

“It’s too dangerous to stay in one place for long. The leviathans are still after us,” the other Dean told her, “and there’s something we got to do in Michigan.” The last he said with a look over at Dean from the corner of his eyes and Dean frowned.

“So… We’re parting ways soon then,” Dean said slowly, still trying to decipher the look he had received, “well… Cas and me need to head to… What was it? Illinois?” Castiel nodded wordlessly, then she looked over at the other Dean again.

“Just open it,” he said when she didn’t do anything with the box, “we found it during our travels. It was difficult to obtain, but it’s the real deal. Forged 600 years ago we were told.” Castiel seemed confused by that, but she opened the box. Dean looked over at them and blinked in surprise when all that Castiel held up was a plain, old key. But form the look in Castiel’s eyes, she knew exactly what it was and it must have been special.

“What’s that?” Dean asked and Castiel turned the heavy looking key around her fingers. Nobody deigned it necessary to give him an answer, instead Castiel looked up at the other Dean.

“Thank you,” she said and lowered her head again, “I’ve stopped looking for it…” Dean was slightly irritated at not being in the loop, because that shabby key must be somehow important. He watched Dean look at her, just looking, but then he got up, putting his hand around he forearm and pulling her up as well. Both Castiel and Dean were surprised, while Sam just continued reading.

“I need to talk to you,” Dean’s future self said and glared at him, “alone.” Castiel seemed as surprised as Dean was.

“Dude,” Dean argued, but his future self just rolled his eyes at him, “honestly?”

“Shut up,” the other man hissed at him and Dean didn’t quite know what to do with the churning, bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Are you coming?” Castiel shot Dean a look, but he forced himself to shrug and she nodded.

“Of course.” Dean watched them for a second, unsure if he even had a reason to feel so immaturely jealous, but then he remembered something and opened his bag. Better safe than sorry.

“Hey! Wait a second!” The other Dean stopped and turned around, just in time to catch the small box Dean had thrown at him. He looked down at it, finding it to be the box of condoms. “If you decide to give him the last night on earth speech.”

“Very funny, smartass,” his future self snorted at him, while Castiel actually looked slightly panicked before Dean turned her around and left their make-shift camp site.

“So you bring a pack of condoms to your time-travelling adventures,” Sam spoke up and Dean recalled that he was now alone with Sam. It should make him feel at ease, but something about him was off, even as he closed the book with a smile and walked over to sit down next to Dean.

“I thought I was headed for somewhere else, somewhere with orgies,” he half joked, unsure whether this Sam would understand that there was a lot more truth to it than he let on. He must have told Sam some well-kept secrets about his short trip to the future before they conducted the ritual, but he couldn’t remember it. Sam just shrugged.

“No matter what future you visit, there are certain facts that are immovable,” Sam said and turned his head to smile at Dean. “It doesn’t quite matter what details you change, you’ll end up at the same place.” A small chill went through Dean at Sam’s words and he frowned at him.

“Why would you say that?” he asked, “we’ve changed the future before, you jumped into the pit, there is no Croatoan apocalypse, Cas isn’t mortal.”

“As I said, details,” Sam corrected, “he still said yes, Castiel still was mortal, you still end up with nothing but a hollow ache and the world is still ending. Not quite like planned, but I am here and humanity is slowly disappearing from the surface of this planet.” Dean lowered his brows, but then he widened his eyes and would have jumped up if Sam hadn’t put his hand around Dean’s wrist. “You mustn’t disturb the unfolding of Dean and Castiel’s romantic tragedy,” he told him pleasantly. “Why don’t you stay and talk? Dean rarely talks.”

“Why,” Dean started but had to stop, his entire form seized by a bone-shaking chill and the scream died in his throat when he looked at the almost pitying smile on his brother’s face. All he could force out as a pained groan was another “why”.

“It was supposed to happen. My brother did me a great favor by tearing down that terribly irritating wall you had put up.” Dean was unable to move and the man in front of him still smiled, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Why are you so surprised, Dean? I had to win.”

“Win?!” Dean finally forced out and pulled his arm from Sam’s grip. Sam! Why hadn’t the other Dean said anything?! Why hadn’t he realized that what sat before him wasn’t Sam?! “How can you possibly consider this winning?!”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Dean,” Lucifer said, drawing his hands through his hair and tugging them behind his ears. Dean actually took a moment to process this shocking development, forcing his terrified mind into at least some semblance of calm. There was no white suit and he was traveling around with Dean instead of raining down fire and lightning on everyone. There were no demons, nothing to hunt. Sam’s clothes were slightly dirty, his hair not freshly washed. Nothing about him was that pristine being in a glaringly white suit. Dean widened his eyes in sudden realization.

“You’re mortal!” Lucifer sighed, seemingly only mildly irritated. “You’re stranded and graceless, just like Cas was in that other future!”

“What did I say about details, Dean?” Lucifer asked him, totally unconcerned and Dean didn’t actually find it within himself to be only the slightest bit happy about that development. Because Sam… Sam was lost once again. “Fate is a really peculiar thing, don’t you think?” Lucifer asked.

“There’s no more such thing, we stopped all that destiny crap,” Dean ground out, glaring at the fire so he didn’t have to look at what was left of his brother.

“And yet we are here. What damage one angel can do when he’s been influenced by humans,” he mused and Dean wanted to shut him up. It might even be satisfying to slam his fist into Lucifer’s face, knowing he could knock him out, knowing he could actually kill him with his very hands. But what point was there to it? He would just kill Sam too, if he still was in there.

“What will happened to Cas?” Dean forced himself to ask, because Lucifer might be a complete dick and Dean was shaken to the bones, but he was still a source of information.

“Very similar to that annoying little stunt you pulled with me,” Lucifer told him, “he’s going to gather them and return to Purgatory with them. Becoming the White Goddess will give him enough strength to do it. The Leviathan were a bit careless when they tried to put him back together according to their wishes. They should have kept him weak, tearing out the rest of his mutated Grace instead of just leaving it underneath all that leviathan filth. By trying to fulfill their prophecy, they also doomed themselves back to Purgatory. Not that they’ll care that much if they have their Queen.”

“So… Cas will be gone…?” Lucifer nodded, “why can’t he just toss them back without jumping in there as well?”

“Because he’s already becoming one of them, I’m sure you noticed all the ways he’s different. It’s too late. If you want the Leviathan gone from Earth that’s the only way to do it now.” Lucifer wasn’t very sympathetic, not that Dean had expected anything else, but the thought of losing Castiel to the Leviathan once again was almost as terrible as the thought of soon losing Sam.

“There’s got to be a way to stop this future from happening,” he hissed and Lucifer just leant back against their supplies, arms crossed and he watched Dean with a pleased smile.

“Yes? Feel free to try,” he said and closed his eyes, the smile still staying in place. Dean was left to his own devices, with the shell of his brother falling into a light sleep and the fire throwing shades across his face.

So he was bound to fail. He didn’t know how it had happened, how the devil had slipped out of the hallucinations and into the body of Sam. He didn’t know what had happened at the bottom of the lake where Castiel had perished. He didn’t know what was going on in this time. He felt powerless and weak, tired and afraid. He wanted to go home, but he was scared that he would just end up here again once the two years had passed.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Sam? Can you hear me?” he asked, but only the fire and the even breathing of Lucifer replied. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, “come on. Come on. Sammy?”

“Dean?” The voice was weak and confused, but it was Sam. Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank God. Sorry, I just had to make sure you were still okay,” he said and next to Lucifer he could now also hear the deep, almost sleepy breathing of his brother, two years away, but still safe.

“Is everything okay?” Sam asked him, his voice now full of concern. Dean couldn’t help smiling, shaking his head.

“No… No, nothing’s okay here. It’s mad… Sorry… I just… Sorry, it’s been a crazy few days.” Sam actually chuckled and Dean could hear him take a sip of something, probably coffee. “Hey, Sammy?”

“Hm?” Dean looked over at Lucifer’s sleeping form, just like Sam when his mouth wasn’t stretched into that unfamiliar, superior smile.

“I know you don’t like it, but it’d be best if you just went to sleep,” he said after a while. Judged by the impatient sigh on the other side of their soul-mate phone Sam wasn’t about to grant his request. “Sam, I’m being serious. You shouldn’t take your hallucinations lightly.”

“Believe me Dean, I’m not. But I do know my limits,” he said, “and I’d rather breech them than let you be stranded in the future.”

“No, Sam, please.”

“No. It’s already past 6. I can manage till noon,” he assured him but Dean wasn’t happy. Every moment Sam pushed beyond his limits, Lucifer might be getting one step closer. “Why are you so desperate to get me to stop?”

“Because Cas will be able to send me back and because…,” he had to clear his throat and look away from Sam’s body now sprawled over the blanket. “You’re not well in this time, Sam… I don’t want this to happen to you.” Sam was silent for a long moment and Dean was afraid that the already faint connection had broken off. Maybe he should have left the circle to get better reception, but he didn’t dare to move away from camp.

“Okay,” Sam said, “I can only pull you back if you’re at the designed place. I’m not sure if I can pull you back earlier, but I can at least try.”

“Dude, I’m in Pennsylvania. How am I supposed to get to Illinois without Cas?” he hissed and looked around. Castiel was nowhere to be seen and he didn’t hear any voices either.

“And where is Cas?” Sam wondered and Dean got up from his place at the fireside. He walked around, following the lines in the ground, to get the feeling back into his legs and maybe calm his nerves down as well.

“Hell if I know. Future me is probably giving him the last night on earth speech,” he said in irritation, a bit glad that Sam laughed at that.

“Dude, no, you’re not!” he protested and Dean only shrugged. Even though Sam couldn’t see it Dean huffed. “Oh my god, you totally are!” Hearing the incredulous laughter in Sam’s voice made Dean smile despite his rather subdued mood.

“I don’t know if he is, man! And in my – his defenses, Cas got the body of a hot chick right now. Smells quite nice too.” Dean wondered if his future self could smell it too and if he had better self-control in case he did.

“Sure.” Dean could hear the smile in Sam’s voice and he let himself grin too. “So… How will you get to Illinois?”

“I don’t know…,” Dean said with a groan, wiping his palm over his face, “I have to wait for Cas… This would be so much easier if you just listened to your big brother.”

“But I won’t, so stop whining,” Sam said with finality and Dean hated how stubborn Sam had to be at times. “People can live for a while without sleep.” Dean snorted.

“If that was supposed to encourage me, it totally failed. And even if that’s true, normal people don’t have Satan parading through their head,” he argued and the huff on the other side implied that Sam rolled his eyes at him. Then Sam yawned and Dean sighed. “Okay, I think this is not helping you to stay lucid. Just…”

“I know. You try to stay out of trouble those last couple of hours,” Sam told him, then, with a sharper voice added: “no stupid heroic stuff, okay?”

“What?” Dean asked with a bemused expression, shaking his head at his brother, “You know I’m not into heroic stuff.”

“Yeah, whatever Dean. Just get your ass where it’s supposed to be,” he said and Dean just had time enough to hum in agreement before silence settled again in his ears. He listened some more, just in case Sam had anything else to say, but he only heard the fire and a faint blowing. The sky in the distance was getting darker again, like storm clouds closing in on them. There was still a lot of that muted daylight and a look at his watch confirmed that it was about twenty past 6 in his own time. So it must be after two in the afternoon, but it was as always hard to tell.

Not seeing Dean and Castiel returning and believing that no matter what the two of them were up to, it might take them more than just a moment, Dean sat back down, grabbing the Leviathan Gospel. The other Dean must have taken the Lament with him again, which was quite a shame seeing as that one seemed to be more valuable in terms of usefulness. Looking through the very first page, translation and origin note excluded, Dean soon realized that it would be quite a strain to work through this book. It wasn’t written in verses, thank God, but it was still strangely poetic in its wording. He could recognize his own notes in the margins of the book, trying to decipher the metaphors and terms, noting down references to other parts in the book and various other things. Dean sighed and set himself to the task of reading through the mythological foundation of the Leviathan.

Next

Black Dove // Part 6

silly_blue — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 17:24:20 GMT

Previous

Part 6

Just after noon, in a small warded place in a forest far too close to the toxic vapor of the Outside, Castiel allowed a break. Dean had complained and exaggerated his own fatigue before Castiel had finally caved. It wasn’t a cabin anymore, more like a wooden roof supported by four beams and a number of rotting boards for walls. There was a line of flat rocks arranged in a circle around it, all smeared with dark, coppery sigils. The forest was also not the coziest of places; most of the trees just bare trunks as if a fire had wiped past, leaving everything brittle and black. Dean had first assumed that they were taking the same route back as they’d come, but Castiel apparently had other plans, taking the fastest path, the one with least Dead Lands and less polluted places.

Castiel was spreading rugs and blankets on the floor, instantly giving the place a strange air Dean wasn’t entirely comfortable with. He lay down, face buried in his arms and Dean could see the irregular, almost stuttering rise and fall of his back. Dean decided to leave him be for a second so he could catch his breath and turned towards the bags, looking for something else to eat. A stale slice of bread and an apple where all he came up with and wished for the food Castiel had served before.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean said after he had eaten, nudging his socked feet against Castiel’s thigh. When Castiel lifted his head to glare over his shoulder, Dean sat up on his knees and inched closer to him. “You don’t look too good,” he said and put his hand on Castiel’s pale forehead. His skin was damp but cold and when he reached down to check his pulse he found black veins standing out on his otherwise white skin. “Uh… Cas…”

“I know…,” Castiel grunted, sitting up and rubbing his face. “My form shows cracks.”

“What… exactly happens when it breaks? Will you be better if you don’t have to focus your power on this body?” Dean wanted to know, keeping his hand on Castiel’s shoulders, fingers brushing the skin just above his jacket’s collar.

“Not immediately… I’ll still be weak until I’ve eaten or rested properly…” Dean sighed, but Castiel shook his head. “Dean…”

“Yeah, I get it… You’re still in your…” Dean searched for a word, but in the end he just shrugged. “But just because I behaved like a drunk idiot once, nothing has to happen… Nothing will happen…” Castiel reached up to rub his neck, but it wasn’t the same shy gesture he had seen years ago. “Cas… What do you think will happen?”

“I don’t know, Dean… That you reacted at all has taken me by surprise,” he said, resting his hand on his neck, even as he tilted his head backwards, eyes closing. Dean bit his lips, but then he got a bit closer and sniffed the air just next to Castiel’s neck. Castiel promptly opened one eye, looking at Dean with confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You know,” Dean started and drew back enough to look down at Castiel, “I have no clue what your body wants from me, but right now I don’t really smell that much.” Castiel lifted his eyebrow. “The olive oil scent is quite faint and I can smell that… leviathan stuff on you. It’s some kind of… I don’t know… heavy scent,” Dean tried to explain. “It almost drowns out the sweetness…”

“So you think it’s safe,” Castiel tried to finish his thought, but Dean shook his head.

“No, I have no clue how anything about you works, Cas… But I don’t think I’ll be overwhelmed,” he explained and hazarded a grin that Castiel rewarded with a confused tilt. “And it is kinda scratching my ego that you think I’ll do something bad. You’re not a siren, right?”

“A siren?” Castiel wondered in disbelief, but then he had to laugh, shaking his head. “No, that’s not how I work. At least, not how I used to work. Being a new species is rather confusing.”

“So,” Dean concluded, “maybe you should let go before you break.” Castiel looked at him dubiously, but to Dean’s relief he nodded. Dean smiled, hoping for an encouraging expression and waited for the shift and the sweet scents to assault him. But nothing happened. Castiel didn’t change, he just kept looking at Dean with a slight head-tilt. “Uh… You’re still a guy?”

“You want me to change now?” Castiel asked and Dean shrugged, but lifted his hands invitingly.

“As good a place as any,” Dean answered and Castiel sighed, “okay, I’ll move to the other side of the room. Give you some space.” But Castiel’s hand shot out and he grabbed Dean’s wrist. His fingers were still soft and warm, but slightly damp.

“Stay,” Castiel requested, his voice nothing more than a whisper, but it was firm, just like his hold.

“O-okay.” Castiel let his hand go and sat back. And for a second the sweetness was everywhere, streaming down his nostrils and lying heavy on his tongue, closing off his throat and sending his nerves on edge with a rush of adrenalin. He watched Castiel scratch her neck, still pale but void of those black markings, then she reached up to rub her smooth chin. Dean saw the way she pulled her bottom lip in, chewing slightly before releasing it again. He saw her long fingers carding through strands of dark chair. He saw her tug up her shirt at the collar, adjusting her clothes, showing just the tiniest bit of stomach and the valley between breasts.

He saw all of it and still retained the mental functions and control over his body to think about whether his desire to touch and taste was influenced by the shape Castiel’s body assumed. Maybe it should alarm him that the answer was a solid, unconditional no. He wondered what that told him about his perception of Castiel.

“You’re quiet, Dean,” Castiel observed, her tone cautious. Dean shrugged and some of the tension left Castiel. “Good. Intriguing, but good.” Dean had to laugh at that and Castiel dipped her head which hardly concealed the fact that she was grinning too. Castiel shot Dean another look, but then she turned around, grabbing for her backpack. Dean flinched when he saw what Castiel was pulling out.

“Oh, no man, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Dean said with a laugh, then he winced when she shrugged out of her jacket. There was no sudden surge in desire as Castiel discarded her cardigan. No waves of heavenly smells that tempted Dean to get out of his clothes too and crawl on top her. He was actually surprised that the haze he had felt before didn’t return and wondered why it had even happened in the first place. He wasn’t meant to react to the hormones Castiel’s body produced, especially not when she tightly controlled what Dean got to perceive. Maybe his body had adjusted to it after the initial shock, just like humans had slowly adjusted to the scents and poisons of the Outside.

Or maybe it was just Castiel that knew how to adapt.

In any case, Dean did draw a breath when Castiel grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. He watched the muscles move under the skin, still pale but healthier looking than before. Dean had always been an admirer of women and just because he found Jimmy kind of hot now didn’t mean he wasn’t taken in by the nice size and shape of Cas’ breasts. Or what small glimpse he got of them before they were cupped up in the blue bra.

“Let me,” Dean started and had his hands on Castiel’s back before he could even finish his offer for help. Castiel let go and Dean fastened the hooks, then pulled the straps up Castiel’s upper arms, adjusting them on her shoulders. Castiel fumbled with the cups, but seemed to deem them fitting enough. She looked up at Dean expectantly and Dean couldn’t help whistling.

“Okay. Yeah you win,” he confessed and Castiel grinned at him, “you do look good in a bra.” She seemed to be pleased by that because she pulled her clothes back on, lying down on the blanket. “How are you?”

“Hm.” Castiel closed her eyes. “Relieved,” she said after a while, opening her eyes again to look at Dean. “But I won’t stay like this for long.” Dean frowned, but then he lay down next to Castiel, pressing close to her even though she tensed for a second, before she rolled to her side.

“Why?” Dean asked and turned his head to look at her. “I promised.” Castiel smiled at him, touching the back of her fingers to Dean’s hand.

“Yes. I’m sorry for assuming,” she told him. “But I still feel that our interaction is affected. And I don’t want to make you uneasy.” Dean couldn’t argue with that. There remained something about Castiel in this unfamiliar form that was unsettling. But it was his new form, not a vessel, but something of his own. That it was female was not really the main problem anymore. It was that it was leviathan, an incomprehensible, black core hidden beneath blood and a deceptively human shell.

“Dude, you’ve done a whole lot of inappropriate things. Don’t worry about me being uneasy,” Dean assured her instead. Castiel propped her head up on her palm, studying Dean with a slightly apologetic smile.

“I don’t know what to worry about. You humans are concerned about all manner of things,” she said, “and you continue to take me by surprise.” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Generally you or…?”

“You, Dean,” Castiel answered with a chuckle, but then her face grew pensive.

“Not always a good thing, huh?” Castiel just shook her head; no one needed the reminders of where Dean had done things Castiel had not expected. “Okay.” They both relapsed into silence and Castiel pillowed her head in the crook of her elbow, closing her eyes, while Dean turned his face upwards. Faint light was coming through the cracks in the wood and the sound of Castiel’s breaths in the silence of the forest almost made his eyes drop closed as well. But with the silence his thoughts were free to roam again, quickly focusing on the worry for Sam. He was almost out of time and while he was sure that Castiel would give him the blood before he left, he should collect more information, something useful to take back into his time. He trusted Castiel to be able to send him back after his and Sam’s dead-line and he’d probably try to stay a bit longer. If only this didn’t take its toll on Sam. He couldn’t recall their conversations about the ritual; he had no idea what this was doing to his brother other than keeping him awake for more than three days. Inviting vivid hallucinations was not what Dean wanted to do but if he just packed his things and left here it wouldn’t feel right. He was sure Cas was able to fend for himself, he had found some sort of purpose and place in all of this, but he really didn’t want to leave him behind like that. Without any chance to hear that his attempts at redemption were appreciated. Dean could shout it from the mountains and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“What?” Dean blinked in surprise, turning his head to look at Castiel. She still had her eyes closed, but a small frown had formed between her eyebrows.

“I didn’t say anything,” Dean assured her and her frown became more prominent before she opened both eyes to look at him. She didn’t ask anything, just continued assessing him and Dean lifted his eyebrows in silent inquiry. Suddenly, Castiel widened her eyes and sat up. Dean did too, albeit with caution, keeping his eyes on her. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly open as she listened to something that he couldn’t hear.

“Cas…?” Castiel’s hands shot to her head, blocking Dean out of her sight and staring wide-eyed at nothing. Listening, listening. Dean’s confusion turned to worry. Was that another summoning? Now of all times? Or had the leviathan finally found a way to slip into the empty spaces Heaven had left behind? Dean moved in front of Castiel, trying to get her to look at him, but she just stared right through him.

“Dean…” Dean breathed in relief, grabbing her upper arms until her eyes finally cleared and settled on him. The shocked expression crumbled and Dean wanted to pull her towards him, but he was surprised into an inability to move. He had seen Castiel emotional before, here more than before, but never like this. Not anger, not agitation, not even silent resignation. He had absolutely no idea what could make an angel break down and cry.

“Cas, what’s going on?” he dared to ask, finally moving just enough to be closer to Castiel, a promise of comfort should she want it. Surprisingly, Castiel did reach out, her hands blindly groping for something and Dean took hold of them, squeezing her fingers before settling their joined hands in her lap. “Cas.” Castiel lifted her face towards him, her eyes wide and she sounded breathless when she spoke.

“A prayer,” she said and he could see wonder, pain and hope flicker through her eyes. “Your prayer.”

In the five frantic minutes that followed Castiel’s announcement, there was absolutely no point in trying to talk to her. She had dashed out of his grasp and started packing again. Dean watched her, his insides feeling tense and wrong. It was him again, always him, that had caused this explosion of emotion within her. It was him that had driven her far enough to spill tears at the smallest sign. A prayer following what probably had been an attempt to end her life months before.

Dean was equally disgusted and jealous of himself. Because even though it was terrible that he could ever hold that kind of power to move an incredibly powerful creature with nothing but a throwaway call, he was still angry that it was for that other him Castiel was spurred into such frantic motions.

“Cas, what did he say?” He was leaning against one of the precariously wobbling pillars, arms crossed and face grim while he watched Castiel pull on the backpack. Castiel stopped moving and looked up at him like a startled animal, as if she had forgotten that he was here. She relaxed somewhat, the firm lines of her mouth and frown easing up slightly.

“He…” She stopped herself and studied Dean. “I will not meet him. I need to make sure that you are safely returned to your own timeline.” And that at least was a small comfort – she still cared enough not to leave him here. Dean shook his head.

“No, I’m sure he could tell me some interesting things and I did promise you to beat some sense into him,” he told her and Castiel’s mouth twitched into a fracture of a smile.

“Thank you,” she said and sounded so relieved that Dean couldn’t be angry anymore, at least not as angry as before. She stepped closer to him and looked through the spaces left barren between the charred trees. “He didn’t say much. Just a location where he expects me to meet him and Sam.” Dean lifted an eyebrow.

“Are you sure it’s not a trap?” Dean asked and decided he could as well punch himself in the face when Castiel averted her still wet eyes.

“No… But even if it is a trap, I am willing to go,” she said and looked back up at him. “You do know him. What reason could you have to trap me? There is no need to at this point.” Dean sighed and shrugged. It was true after all; but he didn’t quite trust his future self not to do stupid things. Like using Cas as bait.

“Well,” Dean started, stepping out from under the remains of the cabin, Castiel following, “we still have some hours left. Europe it is then.”

“They’re not in Europe.” Castiel walked past him and set a path through the forest leading away from the foot prints still visible in the almost black earth.

“What?” he asked in surprise, “I thought they got onto the ship a couple of months ago?” Castiel nodded.

“The location Dean gave me is in the state of Pennsylvania,” she said with a small frown.

“What’s in Pennsylvania?” Castiel’s frown only deepened.

“A Settlement,” she said and looked up at Dean, confusion visible on her face as she tried to put the pieces together. “But one that we had to give up… I arranged the relocation for the inhabitants about a month ago… It’s still Dry Lands, but it’s empty.” She gave a shake of the head. Dean on the other hand just shrugged, not in the least concerned.

“But that’s exactly the kind of place Sam and I would prefer,” he told her, “ever since the leviathans have been on our trail, we’ve favored abandoned places to stay clear off their radar.” Castiel didn’t seem contended with this piece of information.

“That may be so, but while the Leviathan are aware of the existence of Settlements and Outposts, they do not know their exact location or the identity of their inhabitants,” she explained. “You wouldn’t have to fear detection…”

“Well, there’s no point in worrying about it,” Dean decided and placed his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, patting it once before letting go again. “So are we walking?” Castiel lifted her eyebrow at him and he sighed in defeat. “Flying then. Great.”

When Castiel’s wings rustled out of Dean’s view he could make out a chain link fence just a few meters from where they were standing. The air here was chilly and humid, the faint wind blowing a drizzle of rain into their faces. The ground was partially covered by stone plates with plants pushing up from between the cracks. The gate just ahead of them was closed but the lock had been picked, probably an easy feat considering how withered the thing looked. Dean dared to look behind him where Castiel had turned into a pale-faced statue. The landscape was nothing spectacular, the pavement soon torn up and the road lost in short grass, ranges of lichen covered rocks and low hills in the distance. The sky was dark and menacing despite the time of day.

Dean checked his watch; 5:48 AM. Another sleepless night for Sam.

Looking back at the fence he saw simple brick stone constructions with tin roofs arranged in straight lines. The settlement couldn’t have been that big judging from the number of buildings and despite the peeling paint on the doors and the weed growing in the cracks of the paved ground didn’t look as bad as Dean would have expected.

“Come on, Cas. Let’s go in,” Dean called and walked towards the entry. The gate made a loud screeching noise as it swung open, wobbling in its weak and half-broken hinges. He stepped inside and searched for a sign for his future self and Sam. He noticed mud from the outside on the stones. Tracks. Dean turned back to where Castiel still stood, hesitating to even enter. Now that he looked for it, he could make out more tracks in the wet ground. A car must have come here quite recently, passing straight through the relatively narrow road that curved to the left around the brick houses. The excitement he felt at the prospect of actually meeting his future self was unexpected. After all, the last time had not been easy or particularly rewarding. And if he could trust what he had picked up from Castiel’s meager accounts he was bound to end up as a phenomenal dick in 2014. He just hoped that Sam did better even though anything would be an improvement to what he’d seen the last time.

He was quite a few steps into the abandoned settlement when he realized that Castiel was not at his side. He turned around, finding her lingering by the gate, indecisive even though her face didn’t really betray all the anxiety he suspected churning within her. He huffed and lifted his arm towards her until he had her eyes on him, then he turned it towards where he suspected Sam and this time’s him to be.

“Cas, he’s here, somewhere in this settlement. If you want to meet him then now’s the time,” he told her and even though Castiel didn’t say anything, she walked up to him, her expression composed but her eyes wide. She took a deep breath through her nose, then she set her shoulders and took the lead, Dean following cautiously, keeping his eyes open for any danger than might lurk in the shadows and small spaces between the buildings.

Despite the continuous drizzle, the air didn’t feel clean. There was something heavy and musty tickling Dean’s senses, the faintest smell of something old or decaying. He couldn’t see any source of it, but what did Dean know of corruption? There must have been a reason to abandon this settlement despite the apparent need of as many of them as possible.

Castiel’s pace slowed and then she came to a stop. Dean wanted to ask if she’s been able to pinpoint the origin of the prayer, but the question was superfluous; not too far from them, dull with dust and wheels caked in mud, was the Impala.

“Oh, baby!” Dean called, mentally thanking whoever was listening up there for small mercies. She looked a bit weatherworn and dull, but she was not lost. Dean wanted to approach, but Castiel stopped him.

“Wait, maybe it’s best if I go first. I don’t know how Sam and Dean will react to your presence.” Dean rolled his eyes at the warning but Castiel looked at him sharply. “I am not giving you a choice here. You saw how Frank greeted me and I cannot heal or revive you if anything goes wrong.” Dean wondered about his chances in arguing this, but he gave in and nodded.

“Fine, but I’ll be a step behind you,” he told her and it was a sign of her nervousness that she allowed him anywhere near.

Dean saw the house the two had decided to occupy before he saw any of the men themselves. The walls were covered by smears of what must have been blood. A circle of patterns was dug into the ground surrounding their cabin, a free standing building of small size next to an empty grass field.

Castiel stopped and looked at it, which was proof enough that she was weary of entering and being trapped or not being able to enter at all.

“Impressive, aren’t they?” The voice made both Castiel and Dean, who was almost prompted out of hiding, look up. “This would probably keep every bastard that had ever crawled over the face of the earth out. Not you though, of course. Because you! You’re something else entirely.” Castiel looked to the side, still a few steps shy of many circles and lines making up the huge warding symbol, strangely like a devil’s trap.

Dean Winchester two years into the future was all faked casual charm, leaning against the wall with the still glistening blood sigils creating a distorted, thorny halo around his head. With a pleased smirk on his lips but a cold, assessing glint to his eyes, he watched Castiel. When she didn’t say anything Dean uncrossed his arms and stood up straight, the smirk slipping.

“You’re late.” Dean could see that this was the jolt that spurred Castiel into motion again and she did take a bold step, breeching the lines of the circle. Dean wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn that a blast of dry, warm wind hit him with the sound of rustling feathers.

“Dean,” Castiel said, her voice carrying over to his hiding place, and Dean watched his future self’s frown deepen.

“It’s not as if you’ve got your wings clipped,” future Dean continued, “even in Europe I could hear the whispers of the Black Dove doing its humanitarian road-trip through America.”

“I came as fast as I could. I currently have another charge that needs my attention,” Castiel replied, voice calm and unfaltering, but it failed at sounding easy and unconcerned. Under the other Dean’s cold stare she advanced until they were only a short distance apart. Dean swore he could feel the tension between them even from his hiding space. Finally, Castiel lowered her eyes. “I was worried about you. I am glad you prayed.” Dean was actually quite surprised to hear such open honesty, but he was even more surprised when his future self didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“You’re not doing anything against the leviathans,” he said instead. “Why exactly are you still here?” Dean thought that the distance between his hiding space and the other two had swallowed the conversation, but Castiel was just moving her mouth voicelessly. Dean could fill it with so many good and true answers. With reasons and promises and hopes, but the other Dean couldn’t and didn’t want to. So he sneered at the silence. “You’re still as spineless as you’ve always been. You don’t even care that this is the end, you don’t care that you’ve forced everything into this direction.” What surprised Dean weren’t the actual words because he was sure that he’d said them before in some variation, at some point in time. It wasn’t even the anger that pierced every word and made Castiel shrink into herself despite her attempt at keeping calm. It was the look in his eyes, the one Castiel didn’t see because she was staring at Dean’s feet, but one that Dean knew well enough. Dean of the future played being angry, keeping the rage close, because it was easier than working his way through what really was there – he just didn’t care anymore. Dean was done. And it made him dangerous and unpredictable.

So when the other Dean actually moved towards Castiel, hands reaching out to grab her by the collar of her jacket and yanking her further into the trap, breaching lines and symbols, and smashing her against the wall covered in blood, Dean moved before he had thought about potential consequences.

“Hey!” He shouted, pulling out his gun and pointing it towards what he still never wanted to be. Not again. “Get away from him!” Castiel had her eyes widened, before she narrowed them in obvious displeasure. The other Dean slowly turned his head when Dean himself advanced cautiously, both hands firmly around his gun. To his credit, the other Dean didn’t seem surprised for long and snorted, but the hold on Castiel loosened a bit. “Hands off, buddy,” Dean said, waving his gun slightly to the side and his counterpart took the cue, stepping away just slightly, with is hands raised mockingly. “I really don’t want to shoot myself again, okay?”

“Cute,” the other Dean said, lips pulling up into a hollow smirk, before he completely ignored Dean in favor of snapping at Castiel: “Befitting the leviathan whore.” Castiel’s eyes widened in shock and if Dean didn’t know better she actually looked ill. Dean wanted to tell him to shut up, but then he actually understood what the other man was implying. He made a face that wasn’t unlike Castiel’s own and stalked up to Castiel, pulling her away from the wall and behind himself.

“I’m not a leviathan!” he argued and the small frown appearing on the other Dean’s brow was at least a bit of a comfort. “There’s nothing supernatural about me. I could tell you the same damn thing we both told that dick in Zach’s fucked up Croatoan future if that’d make you happy!”

“Time travelling,” the other Dean said, his frown deepening, but he did relax some, his shoulders losing a fraction of their rigid tenseness. He looked over at Castiel who had stepped out from behind Dean to be able to intervene should anything happen. She nodded at his silent demand for confirmation and future Dean shook his head in puzzlement. “What lesson are you learning this time, huh? Apart from that the world is ending in 2014 yet again?” he demanded to know of his younger self, his voice carrying a note of disdain.

“It’s an errand, not a lesson,” Dean snorted, shaking his head, “I need Cas’ blood and forwards seemed better than backwards.” Expectedly, being a dick a few years into the future hadn’t made Dean a complete idiot if the look of irritated incomprehension was anything to go by. He didn’t get to ask any questions though, because they heard the steps of someone approaching.

“Oh.” And there was Sam two years into the future, a surprised frown melting into an easy smile. And he was whole and healthy and dressed in slightly dirty jeans and the only white thing about him was the shirt he wore underneath his jacket. “I gave you five minutes alone and this turns into the beginning of something kinky.”

“Shut up,” the other Dean groaned, tense and annoyed when Sam just smiled widely. Next to Dean, Castiel breathed in deeply, bracing herself for something that didn’t quite come when Sam looked at her, tilting his head slightly in assessment.

“Castiel.”

“Sam.”

“It’s good to see you again. When Dean called you I was unsure whether you would follow the call. We did part on slightly bloody terms.” Maybe it was Sam’s total calm and patient talking as if Castiel was an easily spooked animal or child. Maybe it was the glaring contrast between his behavior and his brother’s uncomfortable tension, but something about this situation was seriously giving Dean goose bumps.

“I will always come to Dean’s call,” Castiel replied, but future Dean broke the heavy atmosphere by shoving Castiel, hand fisted in the back of her jacket.

“Hey, woah! What did I say about keeping your hands off him!” Dean warned but his future self just shot him an irritated glare.

“Relax. Being a bit rough won’t break her,” he said and Dean found so many things wrong with that, but Sam put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed. The encouraging, unworried smile prompted Dean into following. At least Sam wasn’t being a dick, strange jokes aside.

Castiel was released when they were next to a fire place, the wood ready to be lit, and blankets spread. Dean and Sam had never been fussy about sitting on the floor, so it was slightly odd to see this small amount of unnecessary comfort and color. They were in a different circle now, all lines leading to the fire place and a wavy line of symbols connecting it with other circles Dean could spot. They were well prepared, but Dean wasn’t sure for what. So he watched himself make Castiel start the fire, keeping his eyes on her like a hawk before Sam guided him away, and looked around their camp. Apart from the blankets on the ground there were open and closed rucksacks as well as firmly sealed wooden boxes and bottles he couldn’t see inside to make out their contents. When Castiel was done with her task she got back on her feet and joined Dean in keeping a watchful eye on what happened on the other side of the fire. Dean and Sam were talking, their voices too low to be heard over the spitting and cracking of the branches catching fire, but there was something odd about their interaction. Dean just didn’t know what. Sam always kept his hands on Dean in some way, touching, reaching for him and Dean kept on flinching back before allowing it. Dean wondered what had happened in the two years, what Sam might have done or what he might have done to plant that little seed of wariness. It would not be the first time, Dean was sad to acknowledge, that things had been tense and unnatural between him and his brother. It was still painful to watch and wonder, so he turned to Castiel, who yet had to say anything.

“How are you?” he asked, not bothering to keep his voice low. Should the other Dean know that he was actually concerned about Castiel. Let him know that he was so wrong about digging his claws into anger and holding on. Castiel didn’t reply at first, but she gave a shrug so she had at least acknowledged his question. “You’ll be fine, Cas… Just…” Dean looked for something helpful to say, but in the end he just brushed his fingers against hers. They jerked away, before wrapping themselves loosely around Dean’s pinky. “Grit your teeth and ride his anger out. He’ll lose steam eventually,” he said. Castiel turned her head and looked up at him with a sad expression.

“I don’t want him to lose steam. I don’t want him to burn out hollow.” So Castiel had noticed something about him too, some sort of resignation lurking beneath the cold and harsh exterior. Before either of them could say anything else, the other Dean walked up to them, face set. That is until he saw Castiel’s hold on Dean, then his eyes widened before they darkened and Castiel let go.

“I’m sorry to break up your moment,” he said the word as if it was particularly distasteful and Dean could kind of understand the attitude behind it, “but we have things to discuss.” He looked first at Castiel, then at Dean, “seeing as I probably can’t get rid of you, you’d better come and listen too.”

Next

Black Dove // Part 5 continued

silly_blue — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 13:20:50 GMT

Previous

Maneuvering between the ruins hadn’t been difficult at all with Castiel as a guide, but on his own Dean realized that he was quickly losing his sense of direction. He tried to tell himself that the urgency forcing his quick steps was only caused by him running out of time but he knew too well that it had far more to do with the last look Castiel had shot him before running.

It took him a while of aimless stumbling around until he noticed the shadows on the walls were not moving. He looked at them in wonder, seeing the different shapes starting to merge, divide and change while he studied them. When his eyes were focused on them they started moving again, all washing over the wall in one direction, continuing on to the next, then turning a corner, with a few straggles staying behind and actually waving at him. Dean started moving again, following the trail under the whispers of the spirits. A sudden scream, more like an angry and frustrated roar, made Dean almost stumble over his feet in shock. Even though Dean was pretty sure Castiel wasn’t in any pain, he still ran, the spirit shadows keeping up with him. He came to a stop when he got into a tight space encased by walls of what might have once been a row of factory buildings, and fallen stones, enormous shadows covering all of the walls until they ended in what little Dean could see of the sky. Castiel was standing facing the wall to Dean’s left, but his head was turned to show wide, blue eyes staring at him, with an emotion Dean had hoped never to see in the angel’s eyes again.

It was… Accusation, anger, disbelief, grief, pain and so much more an angel wasn’t supposed to be able to feel. Cas was not supposed to feel. Even though Dean’s initial reaction would be to muster some of his own righteous anger as a wall of defense or maybe run because pissing Cas off was still potentially lethal, he just tensed his shoulders and stepped closer. Castiel’s shadows shifted, the head with its wisps of long, floating hair jerking and the chest area expanding quickly while the wings flared and would have smothered Dean as they reached closer to the only exit of the small space if they had been more substantial. Dean had noticed that none of the Raunacht’s other participants was coming any closer, so maybe Dean should heed their warning, but he had done his fair share of reckless things when it came to Cas. So he approached some more, Castiel turning to face him and in the strange light coming from above he looked… ethereal for a lack of any better word. Dean was no poet, especially not when faced with Castiel struggling to keep his emotions at bay. Struggling but failing. He kept darting his eyes away from Castiel’s white-washed face, to the form reflected on the walls. While Castiel kept himself rigid, wide eyes fixed on Dean with an alarming intensity, the shadow’s hands twitched, the long fingers bending, forming fists before unclenching its hands again.

“Cas… Hey,” he said and almost took a step back again when the familiar scent of sweetness and salt intermingled hit his nostrils. Despite this Castiel must have still controlled himself well when even the few meters between them didn’t send an overwhelming wave of desires his way. When Castiel’s mouth pressed into a thin line Dean stepped closer until he was an arm length away from him. He did reach out, but the wings of the shadows beat nervously and Castiel’s shoulders tensed even more, his posture getting just a little bit stiffer. It was enough to signal Dean that being touched right now was not something Castiel wanted. “Okay… I get that you’re angry and that’s-“

“Angry?” Castiel called, silencing Dean instantly. Dean lifted his hands helplessly, unsure what to say. He wasn’t here to feed Castiel the words he needed to hear and hell, there probably wasn’t that easy solution that had come to him in what seemed an eternity away. A kiss whispered to the back of Castiel’s neck wasn’t going to cut it this time, no matter how sincere he was about it.

So this was it. The place and time both Dean and Cas had been pushing and pulling for even though Dean had wished to never get there. He would rather let these wounds rest, covered and festering, yes, but he doubted they could be healed by clawing them open again. Once, dark with grief, despair and alcohol, Dean would have liked to plunge his hands into the cavity of Cas’ pale chest, rip and tear and see that there was something - something that was worth all of this.

Now he knew that Cas was far from empty, that he had plenty of soul and plenty of heart. Just different, just Cas. And that didn’t make this tear between them hurt any less. So Dean had no intention at all to try to prevent this any longer, not when Castiel’s nostrils were flaring and his eyes were too moist. But it didn’t mean Dean would just roll over and let him stomp over him in his anger. This dead-end was their doing, it had taken the both of them to dig themselves this deep into a situation that seemed more than difficult to get out of. But he would let this happen.

“Okay,” Dean finally said and lifted his hands in a manner of defeat, but didn’t say more. Castiel’s eye-color flashed its unfamiliar turquoise again before resettling into the intense blue he was far more comfortable with.

“You’re working with Crowley!” Castiel shouted and Dean raised his shoulder as if bracing against a storm. Dean knew Castiel’s anger to manifest as hisses and whispers, low and dangerous. He was unsure how to interpret this loudness when it wasn’t accompanied by bloodied fists.

“Yeah, so we’re all out of options with the leviathans,” Dean argued, trying to keep his voice at a reasonable level but Castiel just widened his eyes, opened his mouth and shook his head with an expression of unbelieving amazement. “Pardon me if we have to take a bit more drastic measures for survival!”

“Hah!” It was almost a laugh and Castiel stepped away from Dean, hand reaching up to scratch between his eyebrows, his mouth still stretched into a grim smile. “And what about my circumstances? Those did not warrant drastic measures?”

“Raphael and his crappy sequel to the Apocalypse?” Dean asked with a mirthless snort and Castiel dropped his hand with a bewildered look on his face. “You know what drastic measures to take when trying to prevent an Apocalypse! You gather Team Free Will and deal with it! Come on, Cas!” Castiel actually laughed at that, his eyes still zeroed in on Dean. It was disturbing enough for Dean to relapse into silence and wait for Castiel to speak.

“Yes, when crap like this comes around, we deal with it,” was what eventually left Castiel’s lips and he raised his fingers to wiggle them in the air. Dean froze when he recognized the words, breathing in loudly through his nose. “Like we always have. What we don't do is we don't go out and make another deal with the Devil.” By the time Castiel was done with citing Dean, and looking freakishly pleased even though that edge of barely concealed anguish was still there lurking just like his mother-of-pearl skin, Dean was grinding his teeth.

“Oh, don’t start that!” he hissed, even though he knew exactly what Castiel was doing and not even able to fault him for it. Castiel lifted his hands, tapping one to his pale mouth, which flashed a warmth-deprived blue when the fingers pressed against the chapped lips.

“Pardon me, Dean. Wasn’t that what you said?” Castiel asked with an almost innocent head-tilt, giving Dean the feeling he was trapped in a cage with a vicious beast pushed into the breakable shell of a human being. And he kind of was, until the desperation was back in Castiel’s voice. And this was real and tangible, which Dean could deal with better than Castiel acting things out for the sake of driving his point home. “So why did you?”

“We couldn’t deal with this, Cas. And you know it. You unleashed something into the world that gnawed it up in a matter of months. You stand upon the ruins of it!” Dean didn’t feel any satisfaction to see the guilt flash in Castiel’s eyes. “You left us no other choice but to go to Crowley!” Castiel turned back to face Dean sharply, glaring at him.

“Yes! Of course! Things bigger than you, terrifyingly more powerful than you threaten to squash you and everything you decided to stand for. So you go to the next best more powerful entity.” Castiel slightly bowed in Dean’s direction, both of his hands pointing to his chest and it was so oddly human Dean could do nothing but stare. “Me, oh, but I’m dead! So how about a demon? How about the King of Hell? How about Death himself?” Castiel was shouting at him, despite their close distance and Dean understood. He understood the fury between them, the language of violence that Castiel had learnt to speak because it was the only one Winchesters tended to understand. After all had failed, Castiel was resorting to human means of coping. Dean spoke this language well, but Castiel shouting and the words he spoke still sent a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah, yeah exactly that! You gotta use your weapons!” Dean winced just after the words had left his mouth but taking them back was impossible, especially as the look on Castiel’s face cracked and his voice lowered itself down to a hiss:

“You do and I don’t?!” Dean didn’t quite know how to answer to that, so he shuffled to the side, to lean against the wall with his arms crossed defensively.

“Not if you have to use your friends as a decoy to get them! Not if you have to lie!” Castiel regarded him with an assessing look, but he lowered his head in a small nod.

“Good, I agree. It was wrong of me to lie to you,” he said and Dean didn’t quite know what to do with this unexpected and calm concession thrown into this argument. “But the reasons you turned on me is not because I lied.”

“No, it’s because you went behind our backs, Cas! You don’t do that!”

“And you don’t banish your friends when they’re almost out of Grace,” Castiel spat right back and Dean shut his mouth in surprise. He almost asked if he was still sore about that trick, but Dean kept his tongue in check. “And we could list all the ways you wronged me and all the ways I wronged you. But they don’t matter, I forgave you for them and at this point I really don’t have the energy to care whether you forgave me from them too.” He stopped and took a breath that allowed Dean to think about the things that Dean wasn’t sure he had forgiven. Opening purgatory, the shattering of Sam’s wall, that complete betrayal by someone Dean had held close. “What this is about, Dean, is that you’re a hypocrite.” Dean raised both his eyebrows and he let his hands drop to his hips. He pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer to Castiel with a furious look.

“What?” he hissed and he should have expected Castiel not to back off, but to meet his glare head on.

“You are good, Dean. But you are sickeningly self-righteous,” Castiel told him, narrowing his eyes and Dean wondered how long that venom had bubbled within Cas. “You tell me not to work with Crowley, but here you are, doing it yourself!”

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean cursed, “I told you why we had to do it!”

“And I begged you to understand why I had to do it!” Castiel roared and even though it was merely a sound pushed through human vocal cords, it shook Dean to the very bones. “But you were too outraged at the very thought that I could act independently of the leash you’ve kept on me to even try to understand!”

“Leash?! No, I’m not even touching that one!” he shouted right back, hitting his palm with his fist in an attempt to channel his exasperation somewhere. “I was outraged because you were about to do the single-most stupid thing since God created the leviathans!” Dean was well aware how that was a gross exaggeration aimed to pierce and crack. But Castiel just bit his lips, forcing that deadly paleness back into them. “I told you not to and you did it anyway! God, Cas! How could you have been so stupid!!”

“Yes, how could a primordial being be so stupid and not do what a single mortal wants it to do?!” Castiel asked, his voice grating on Dean’s nerves when it was on that unbearable balance between shouting and growling, with Dean never quite knowing what Castiel would do next.

“If that primordial being is being a child about realizing what it means that actions have consequences then it can shove its superiority right up its ass!” Dean knew that he was being an immature idiot about it because Castiel did have at least some semblance of a point. But primordial being or not (and what was Dean supposed to do with that?), it was not his fault that angels didn’t know any better than humans did. It was not his fault that angels made bad calls, it was not his fault that Castiel made about the worst call anybody could.

“I do know, Dean. I know what it costs me to keep on choosing you,” he answered calmly, which took some of the wind out of Dean’s sails, but not the burn of the frustration at having to fight this out with words instead of fists and silence. He hated Cas stressing how everything he did was somehow all for Dean. He really didn’t need even more weight on his shoulders and sure, yes, this was one of the most selfish reasons out there and Dean knew he wanted Cas to make the decisions he would make. Not because Dean wanted them, but because they were the right ones! He didn’t need to be Cas’ solution for everything. He didn’t need to be Cas’ excuse for everything.

“Okay, fine. Good if you know, but you still made the wrong choice,” was all what Dean could force through the emotions that started closing off his throat. He wasn’t sure if he was angry, disappointed or just so damn tired.

“Why do you keep stressing this, Dean?” Castiel uttered a defeated sigh and even the skin on his hands was covered with that shifting layer of white when he raised them to rub his face.

“Because this is what this entire argument is about, isn’t it? That’s what any argument is about! There’s just no point in discussing it,” Dean told him wearily, unsure whether they were done now. If the drooping of the feathers Dean could see displayed on the wall was any indication the anger seemed to be momentarily replaced by resignation. It wasn’t where he had wanted to push Castiel.

“No it isn’t!” Castiel snapped, glaring at Dean through his fingers, before he let his hands drop again. “I believed that if anybody would understand how many bad decisions I’d make in an attempt to save those I care most about it’d be you!” Dean blinked at him in surprise, taking in the still rigid line of Castiel’s body, how he grabbed the fabric of his pants as his fists clenched at his sides.

“I get that, Cas! But what you did-“

“-was the only option I had!” Castiel cried and he turned away from Dean to slam his palms flat against the closest wall. It didn’t shatter underneath them, but the violet slapping noise still shouted pain. “I had no choice!” Castiel’s shoulders were shaking and the bitter smell of the sea, of salt and algae drifted over to him. His composure was obviously cracking, but it wasn’t the dangerous sweetness that reached Dean. He was not sure what that meant, but it was alarming.

“Cas-“

“If I hadn’t made that deal with Crowley, I would have been executed and this world would be burning up under the pressure of another Apocalypse!” Castiel’s loud voice drowned out any plea for a break Dean had wanted to voice. “When I returned from the Cage you had not been where I expected you to be and I thought Sam not joining you meant that he wanted you retired!” Castiel’s breath came in shuddering gasps, too close to sobs, but still laced with an edge of pain whose source Dean wasn’t sure of. The washed-out light of morning was slowly chasing the shadows away, both those of the spirits and that of Castiel. Castiel’s gasp and stinging words were crispy clear in the almost silence that started to settle.

Dean took a step closer and then another one and Castiel didn’t resist the hand that came to rest upon his shoulder blades.

“Cas… Easy…”

“No! Shut up Dean!” Castiel hissed and raised his head enough to shoot a look at him that was both desperate and angry. Surprise momentarily blocked out the uncomfortable mix of old anger and worry, but Dean kept his hand on Castiel’s back and his eyes on his face. “You always want me to listen to you! Listen to the Righteous Man making the decisions! Listen to the fearless leader as he roars out his dead-trap commands! Listen to the big brother because obviously he knows best!” Dean couldn’t even say anything to that, Castiel’s eyes boring into his, willing him to get it. “Just this once, care enough to listen to me!”

“Fine! I’m listening!” Dean shouted back, couldn’t keep his voice any calmer or steadier when Castiel’s words seemed to shake the ground they stood on. He dug his nails into the fabric of Castiel’s shirt. Worry gnawed at him stronger than any anger could and he slipped his hand to Castiel’s shoulder, trying to move him, but he wouldn’t budge, his eyes still fixed firmly to Dean’s.

“You asked me where I was, Dean, when I could have made the other choice,” Castiel said and Dean had a moment of confusion before he could place it. “I was there, Dean… I wanted to tell you everything. But you were retired. I thought you were happy.” Castiel’s eyes were pleading, swimming with pain before he averted them to shake his head. “I wasn’t thinking straight so I went to ask you for help, selfishly, foolishly. Because there was nothing you could have done, nothing I could achieve but to pull you right back into a war we had close to no chance of winning.” Castiel slowly moved his head again, looking at Dean from the corner of his eyes. He could almost feel Castiel’s grief and regret, monumental and reverberating deep within his own being. Dean thought about the year he spent with Lisa, trying to pull a white blanket over all the wounds and remnants of a life that had shattered with Sam’s sacrifice and Castiel’s disappearance. A normal life had been ill fitting and suffocating, but he had eventually broken himself apart enough for the rest of him to fall into the spaces Lisa and Ben provided. Would he have left that life behind if Castiel had appeared before him, all thunder and lightning again with more work to do in the name of all of those who would never know of all the things Dean sacrificed? Would he have pulled off that blanket to face more crushing pain without Sam there to fight for?

“I’m sorry,” Dean finally forced through his lips, managing to turn Castiel enough to face him, “that I wasn’t there for you. But you could have been honest when you noticed I was hunting again.” Castiel shook his head, but he didn’t deny it.

“You had no time for my problems,” he said instead and Dean squeezed his too bony shoulders until Castiel flinched.

“That’s not true,” Dean argued sharply but when Castiel looked up at him he hesitated.

“How many times have you called me to Earth and told me to solve your issues? How many times have you told me to give your own concerns priority?” he wondered and the lack of venom in his voice, the total disheartened resignation made Dean’s knees weak and his stomach coil. “Dean, you didn’t care to understand the enormity of the war I was fighting.” Castiel actually lifted his hand now, warm and soft as it cupped Dean’s cheek. Dean didn’t know what to do with such gentleness in the face of the things Castiel told him. All the tension in Dean’s stomach, he felt like vomiting. But Castiel’s palm was warm and loving, just like the look in his eyes, even though it was pained. “I didn’t want to see you having to break under another Apocalypse. Not again… So I made a deal with the devil.”

“Cas…”

“And it was wrong and in my desperation I hurt you... But you’re alive,” he said, voice barely above a whisper as his fingers stroked Dean’s cheek.

Dean couldn’t do this anymore. He swatted Castiel’s hand away and for the fraction of a moment, he saw the heartbreak in the angel’s eyes, but then he pulled him close, one arm around Castiel’s middle, grabbing the fabric of his shirt, the other burying itself in soft, dark hair. The choked sound that followed the tight hug might have come from Castiel, but Dean knew it had been his own and he pressed his cheek against the side of Castiel’s face.

“I get it…,” he told him, drawing his hand through Castiel’s hair in what he hoped to be soothing, but he couldn’t deny that it was mostly to anchor himself. The press of Castiel’s face into the crook of his neck wasn’t enough, the solid warmth of him against his heaving chest wasn’t enough.

“I had to stay alive,” Castiel went on explaining, the words a constant stream of whispers breathed against Dean’s skin. “I had to make that deal. I hoped you’d understand why I did it. If you can’t forgive me-“ Castiel stopped himself to exhale a hot and fragrant puff of air that tickled the short hair on Dean’s neck. “You’ve got no right, Dean, to judge. Not this, not you.”

“Cas, I get it,” Dean repeated, more firmly now and it was enough to silence Castiel, but he didn’t dare to let him go. They stood like this as the small space around them got lighter, Dean breathing in the heat and smells rolling off Castiel’s body and closed his eyes to the bare concrete walls. Raunacht had ended; the planes had come together and now drifted apart again, having said their whispers of the past. And Castiel was still here, his shadow human again, but he had spoken. Dean didn’t know from what depths Castiel had pulled the words that now lay between them for him to process. They were not good at that, at establishing a way of expressing how they really felt. Not with words, never with words. Cas and he… It had worked in the past, somehow, but not enough Dean realized. There was depth, there were shadows and ravines to Castiel, unfathomable and hidden behind what Dean had come to see him as.

And he did get it. He understood that he had stopped seeing Castiel as a being that was able to change in any way but underneath the shaping power of Dean’s hands. He had stopped understanding and caring when Castiel had been at the very start of experiencing the world as something that Dean thought to be more human and less monster. Castiel had grown and Dean had missed it all because he’d been too stubborn and fixated on what Castiel was supposed to be to acknowledge it.

“If you do,” Castiel said, his voice surprisingly steady and he extricated himself from Dean’s hold to narrow his eyes at him. “Then never again demonize me for something you’ve done too and will do again.”

Dean nodded at him, even though he wouldn’t quite agree that an angel, especially Cas, shouldn’t be held to a higher moral standard when it came to doing dumbass shit. Dean was too exhausted by Castiel trying to explain himself to him that he couldn’t be angry though. What would have happened, Dean wondered, if he had listened to Castiel that day in Bobby’s study after their fall out? Or afterwards, when Castiel asked him to stand by him. Dean reached up his hand to rub it over his mouth. He’d said no. God, how could he have said no?

“We should have figured it out,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut to take a deep breath. “I should have listened to your side of things. But I abandoned you. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” was all Castiel said and Dean opened his eyes to look at him. He wasn’t sure what kind of expression he expected to find on Castiel’s face, but it probably wasn’t the gentle, rueful smile he received. It left Dean breathless and searching for words longer than he’d care to admit.

“Uh, okay. Now that we have established that I am an asshole and we both have serious communication issues…” Dean tried for a lighter tone, still struggling to stomach everything that had happened during the early hours on what seemed to be his last day in 2014 for the next two years. He trailed off and groaned, pulling the still smiling Castiel into another hug. “Stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” Dean heard Castiel ask, his voice muffled by being pressed against Dean’s shoulder. He did sound slightly amused though. Dean’s kind of manly one-arm hug held Castiel in place, even when he reached out the other hand to pat him on the back, just two quick slaps before he let his hand linger where his spine curved gently inwards.

“Like you aren’t angry anymore.”

“That’s not how I look. I’m still angry,” Castiel answered and it did sound puzzled and serious at once in his usual Cas way of taking things too literally. Dean sighed, shaking his head and leaning it to the side where it came to rest on top of Castiel’s.

“Like I,” he started but faltered, trying to find the words for a concept that seemed absolutely ludicrous to him. But this was Cas, he had a habit of doing the most destructive things. “Like you think I’m…” He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t put names to it.

“Everything?” Castiel offered and Dean tensed against him. “You are, Dean…” Castiel turned his head, which forced Dean to move his as well and meet his eyes. “I thought we’d established that somewhere along the way.” He was teasing slightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement and it was for some reason just what Dean needed to get out of his stupor of fear and disbelief.

“You’re one crazy son of a bitch, Cas,” Dean said, shaking his head. The laugh that followed his words came out completely unbidden, but once he laughed he couldn’t quite stop until Castiel didn’t even try fighting off the teeth-showing smile tugging at his lips. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know-“

“Just,” Castiel stopped him, raising his fingers to Dean’s lips with a small shake of his head. Dean was silenced, waiting for the angel to continue speaking. He saw a flicker of emotions – doubt and sadness Dean both wanted to chase away – pass over his face. Dean moved his lips against Castiel’s fingers in what could have been – a lifetime, a timeline away – a kiss. Castiel smiled again and lowered his hand. “Take it back to your time and don’t forget that you deserve to be someone else’s center of the universe.”

“I don’t think I have the luxury,” Dean confessed and Castiel sighed, not quite losing the smile yet. “Especially not when you’re not there to tell me.”

“I told you now,” Castiel stated calmly and for some odd reason… it was enough. Dean nodded at him, a small grin ghosting on his lips.

“So, uh, what now?” Dean wondered, deeming their moment to have come to its conclusion. Castiel looked at him, then his eyes swept up to the sky looking like ash. In its muted colors Dean noticed that the unnatural sheen on Castiel’s face had disappeared with the last traces of the other spheres touching upon the mortal one.

“What did Sam say?” Dean gestured for Castiel to follow him back to where he had stored their equipment.

“That I need to be where I started at noon,” he answered, leaving out the probably obvious fact that he had no idea where that had been, “how many hours does this leave me with?” Castiel seemed displeased by this confirmed time limit.

“5 hours, give or take.” Dean couldn’t help hissing at that. That was just not enough time to do anything and it would certainly take them longer than 5 hours to reach wherever Dean had landed. Castiel must have guessed his thoughts, because he straightened, apparently making up his mind about something. “So we focus on getting what you need.”

“Cas, I told you, we’d find-“ Castiel shot him a stern look, but it took him talking to drown out Dean’s protests:

“What do you need, Dean.” The familiar harsh rumble of Castiel’s voice caused Dean to sober up and he nodded. Sam back at home needed him to be at the top of his game, especially now that they were clearly running out of time. He felt a pang of guilt and regret that he probably wouldn’t have the chance to set anything right with Castiel.

“My initial destination was the other 2014, the future that Zachariah had shown me,” he started to explain and Castiel frowned at him. “What? Isn’t it possible?”

“What means did you have exactly?” Castiel asked instead, coming to a stop when Dead did, close to where he had hidden their bags. Dean dug for them while he answered:

“Sam said something about residue energy that stuck to me thanks to hitching a ride with Chronos. And the blood we had on the weapon we killed him with.” Castiel was still frowning by the time Dean handed him his far too heavy backpack. His arms trembled slightly when he shouldered it and Dean saw that his face was still pale, almost ashen under the early morning light. He wanted to offer to carry the backpack for him, but Castiel chose to speak before he could suggest it.

“I can think of a number of rituals that could make use of that as ingredients, but to send you to a future that had been potential as far back as 2009 and has since become disabled?” he asked, showing Dean a skeptical expression that started to rub off on Dean as well. “That time line exists solely in your head now, as a memory, and as a shut off niche within the flow of time that only angels who had been aware of it should be able to access.”

“Yeah, maybe that explains why I’m here,” Dean said with a half-hearted snort, “you think maybe Crowley put us up? That it wasn’t possible from the start?” Castiel wrinkled his nose for a moment, but then he shrugged.

“I don’t know. Possibly. But I didn’t mean to imply that it was not doable. You were there after all and you made it a reality through that. That it didn’t come to pass for you doesn’t make it any less real,” Castiel explained and Dean could feel the start of a headache. Castiel’s mouth tugged up at one corner. “You’ve got that I hate time-traveling face on again,” he commented and Dean had to laugh at that.

“Yeah, sorry, not an angel. I don’t get that shit,” Dean confessed and Castiel let himself fall back against a wall. It wobbled and a small amount of dust rained down on him. “You’re alright?”

“I could eat something,” Castiel said calmly, with a small crooked smile that showed too many perfectly white teeth to be calming.

“Chick-flick moments are exhausting,” Dean tried to joke and somehow it must have worked. Castiel’s grin looked genuine and had quite a hint of teasing. “Don’t say anything along the line of you actually being a chick,” Dean warned him, pointing his finger at him, “because, dude, you’ve been guy-shaped for the longest time. Some of that quality Winchester masculinity must have rubbed off on you.”

“Oh, shut up, Dean,” Castiel snorted, but then he reverted into a serious mood and Dean straightened involuntarily. “For those five hours I’ll manage. So let’s not waste time when it’s already limited,” he suggested and Dean could get behind that idea. As much as he wanted to meet this time’s Dean and actually keep his promise to Castiel, the 5 hour dead-line was alarming. He looked at his watch. He frowned at it and Castiel looked at him, tilting his head slowly.

“What is it?”

“It’s just… What if my noon isn’t his noon?” he asked slowly, watching the minutes tick by. Castiel shot him a confused look and Dean showed him his watch. It was 10:23 PM on the 17^th of November. “Sam said at noon. That’s when he’s gonna pull me back. 12 AM on the 18^th of November.” Castiel continued looking at him with an unreadable expression but a slight frown furrowing the skin between his brows. Dean didn’t quite know what caused him to desperately need to hear a positive reply. To get affirmation that his time here had been extended, even if just for a couple of hours, for a few moments longer, for a few chances more. Castiel finally did something else than stare, reaching up his hand to rub his chin. The stubble there had grown over the past couple of days and when Castiel moved his fingers up and down from his bottom lips to his chin Dean could hear the faint scratching noise. He had wanted to ask him to shave it off because he looked too much like that other Cas but now he was too busy looking at the color of his lips and how his fingertip slightly dragged the bottom lip down, all glistening and vulnerable pink inside. Dean kind of wished that he could blame his fascination and the not quite uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach on it being monster mating season but Castiel’s salty olive oil scent with only a drop of sweetness in it held.

“Well, it could be,” Castiel finally offered and damn if Dean didn’t hear the hesitantly hopeful undercurrent in Castiel’s voice. “It’s not how a return to your origin time usually works,” he added and Dean remembered enough of the aftermaths of his trips to know it’s true. “If I understood correctly Sam upholds a constant connection to you, serving as your anchor… Thus your time continues parallel to each other…”

“So we have more than 12 hours left,” Dean said victoriously and Castiel smiled tightly.

“That might be true,” Castiel told him, his voice serious and Dean sighed, shaking his head.

“Yeah… No dallying, all right,” he said, shouldering his bag and looking towards the sky. “So what now?”

“How about we start moving? We need to head back to Illinois if you need to leave where you entered. The less I have to fly the better…” Castiel started walking at a swift pace that hid the quiver of his legs without waiting for Dean’s opinion on it. “Unless there’s something you require that we need to retrieve from somewhere else?” Dean caught up with Castiel and sent an unconvinced frown his way.

“You don’t look like you could fly all over the place even if I needed you to,” he admitted and Castiel snorted, his footsteps still quiet even though he seemed to move in a less graceful manner.

“I could if you needed me to,” Castiel corrected him, “but my form might break.” Dean groaned at that, letting his head fall backwards to stare up at the ash colored sky.

“Thanks for the vote in confidence, man. It’s not as if I couldn’t keep it in my pants. Or use that pack of condoms I conveniently brought,” he reminded him, then he narrowed his eyes at Castiel, who decidedly kept his face turned away from Dean. He pushed his hand into his bag and with a bit of rummaging he felt the shape of the box. It was still there. He huffed a disbelieving laugh when he caught himself sigh in relief. “Man, how long does this take anyway?”

“Couple of days,” Castiel told him and when he finally did look at Dean he seemed embarrassed. “The worst should be over by this evening… But it wouldn’t be good if I reverted now…” Dean wanted to make an offended comment at that, but Castiel lifted his hands. “Dean, it’s not your fault. It’s just that I make less than ideal decisions when you’re in the picture.” Dean wasn’t sure whether to bristle or be flattered by that confession, so he settled for a chortled laugh. Castiel sent him a red-cheeked, disdainful glare in return.

“Sorry…! It’s just,” Dean laughed, rubbing his forehead, “this conversation should be far more awkward than it actually is.”

“It is rather awkward,” Castiel spat in irritation and Dean reached out his hand to bump his fist against his shoulder.

“No, I mean… It’s just strange,” Dean said, slowly sobering as he turned his thoughts around in his head, “you and me…” His hand remained on Castiel’s shoulder, squeezing his fingers into the fabric of his still slightly stained jacket. “I mean it’s messed up and needs lot of work, but it could actually happen.” Dean was unsure what to do with the silence that followed his statement. They walked over the dusty remains of the landscape around the ruins for a moment before Dean dared to look at Castiel. Just to find him looking back with an expression that tore at Dean’s chest.

“Sorry… I’m just thinking with my mouth open,” he babbled and his grip tightened, pulling Castiel to a stop. “Cas, listen…”

“No…” The shoulder under Dean’s hand tensed. “It wouldn’t mean…” He bit his lips and Dean could see him fighting to find the right words. “I wish that it’s as easy. But it won’t be. Even if you decide not to abandon me once I am resurrected in your time, it’ll still be the end of the world. You couldn’t forgive me for going behind your back, you won’t forgive me for what I did to Sam. So what makes you think you’ll get us through this… mess as you said for us to work?” Dean creased his brow in surprise and, harder to admit, a stabbing pain at these words. Castiel took a shuddering breath, his chest heaving and he reached up a hand to wipe at his face. Dean widened his eyes when he saw blood trickling from his nose. “You can say this now because it’s safe. Nothing you say or do here has an actual impact on you. This-“ he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suppress a groan.

“Cas? Cas! What’s going on?” Dean asked, getting in front of Castiel to grab both of his shoulders before he could keel over.

“No. Not now, not this,” Castiel breathed and started coughing, a sickeningly wet sound and he gasped for breath around whatever was closing off his throat.

“What- Tell me what to do, Cas!” Dean shouted, but Castiel pried his hands off his shoulders and shoved him away before sinking to hands and knees.

“Step away,” Castiel managed to force through his lips, already splattered with dense black slime. Castiel coughed again, his fingers digging into the dry ground just as he started heaving. Dean did take his warning when the foul stench of a slaughterhouse mixed with the sharp, dense smell of brackish water hit him. This was leviathan, Dean knew at once, could smell the ocean, poisoned by these beasts in each panted breath Castiel exhaled. He had no idea what was happening, but he kept close enough to jump to Castiel’s aid if he believed there was anything he could do to help. As it was he could just watch Castiel beginning to hack up a dribble of black tinted fluid, but then he started vomiting gushes of black slime, oddly chunky and Dean slapped his hand in front of his nose and mouth.

“Oh shit, what’s-,” Dean started, his voice muffled behind his fingers, but then he winced and squeezed his eyes shut when he saw something that looked pretty much like a chewed up finger and fleshy bits. “Aw, no! Shit!” Minutes passed, filled with the sound of Castiel vomiting and the sickening splatter of the black mass. The bitter and salty scent of whatever that rotting thing used to be made Dean’s eyes water and saliva gather in his mouth as he forced down his own urge to gag. He had seen his fair share of disgusting things and lived close enough with Sam to have seen him puke his guts out multiple times. But this was a whole other layer of disturbing.

When the noise shifted to labored breathing, coughs and occasional dry heaving, Dean finally dared to step closer to him, avoiding the huge, nasty puddle. It didn’t look like vomit at all, more like some form of leviathan blood.

“Is it over…?” Dean asked, reaching out to grab Castiel under the armpits to haul him up on his feet and away from the black goo. Castiel held a trembling hand to his mouth, but he nodded. “What… was that?” Dean wondered and he let go of Castiel long enough to grab a flask of holy water.

“Dick,” Castiel started, his voice rough and he swallowed a couple of times. Dean handed him the flask and Castiel rinsed out his mouth, but it didn’t really help the rawness of his bruised throat. “Dick ate another Leviathan,” he said and Dean recoiled.

“Gross bastard! But why does that affect you?” Castiel licked his lips, his face devoid of all color, but black blood smeared around his mouth and nose. He looked clammy, his face glistening and eyes red-rimmed and moist.

“Leviathan are a race of vicious beasts, the weak get eaten by the stronger… That’s how Dick became their King… And it affects me because I’m part of the Leviathan body…” Dean tried to make sense of that while Castiel took another gulp of water. “When I’m weak I can’t quite control myself… I must have sent a signal to him that I require nourishment… So he provided it.” Dean cringed at that, the entire concept made him want to put a couple of bullets through someone, preferably Dick.

“But you vomited it back out!” he argued and Castiel turned his eyes towards him, dark and vibrant in his otherwise pale face.

“Not all of it… I couldn’t help absorbing some of it before I could force my body to reject the rest,” he admitted and Dean didn’t even want to know what it had cost Castiel to do that. Castiel rolled his shoulders with an almost noiseless wince, before straightening and stepping away from Dean’s arm. He looked down at the remains of the Leviathan, but then Castiel reached into his pocket and before Dean could say anything he had thrown a lit match to the pile. The fumes that started to rise up from the puddle, thick and a dark green, smelled terrible. “Let’s go…”

“Just… wait a second Cas,” Dean said, following, “should you really be walking around? We do have a couple of hours left. You should rest.” Castiel groaned, wiping the last pits of Leviathan off his face. “Cas… I know I’ve pushed you to or actually beyond your limits before… But we’ve got the time. You don’t need to do this now.”

“Dean, I do,” Castiel said, his voice tired but patient, surprising Dean. “Rejecting the nourishment took more power than the little I got from absorbing it.” Even though Dean had already guessed that, hearing it from Castiel made him shake his head in frustration. A part of Dean wished Castiel had just taken the power boost, even if it made him less… not human, but certainly not more leviathan. But the fear of Castiel with a lopsided grin on his face and veins pulsing black and poisonous under his skin are exactly the reasons why Dean should be glad that he had rejected it almost immediately, no matter how weak it left him. Castiel studied Dean’s face calmly as he tried to make up his mind. “There’s no point in waiting. There never has been. We’re just delaying the inevitable,” he said with a drawn out, tired voice and Dean wondered what exactly the inevitable was. Leaving? Thinking back to the last couple of days, Dean realized that Castiel had always been reluctant to leave his side, always reluctant to move, always reluctant to give in when Dean pressed onwards.

“I don’t want to leave you, Cas,” Dean said and Castiel looked up at him with surprise, something wounded and guarded in his eyes and Dean felt the edge of dread within himself sharpen before it softened. He didn’t say but it is inevitable. He didn’t say I don’t belong here. Both of them knew it and it would only fill Dean with more guilt to have to speak it and see the pain of rejection in Castiel’s eyes. Because that’s what it felt like to Dean, even though he knew that he was not given a choice here. Staying any longer in a time that wasn’t his, with a Castiel that wasn’t his and a world that wasn’t his to save was no option. Sam needed him. He needed to fix this, before the world was too broken for him to even try. As the silence continued between them, Dean took a step forward, putting his hand on Castiel’s back.

“You could sleep, Cas. At least for an hour or two.” He knew he was fighting a losing battle, even without having to look into Castiel’s face. The angel started walking again. Dean did too when he assumed that this was all the answer he would get.

“Sleep doesn’t help much,” Castiel said, deciding on a path to take, even as his eyes darted over the ruins. “I want to do this,” he said, “let me help you while I still can.”

“You’re a stubborn son of bitch,” Dean sighed, “just like Sam.” Castiel shrugged, but didn’t say anything to get the conversation going again.

They walked in silence for what felt like an hour, leaving behind the ruins, then the heaps where rubble was all that was left and got to yellow, dry and ankle-deep grass that snapped under their boots. Dean’s attention was divided between almost obsessively checking his watch, afraid that somehow it would suddenly spring forwards, and Castiel. Castiel wasn’t doing good, but he did his best to conceal it. Dean thought it was pointless for him to even try, but he assumed that angels did have their pride too.

When Castiel started coughing and spitting out black slime that instantly made the already beaten grass wither even more, he grabbed a fistful of Castiel’s jacket and hauled him to a stop.

“Just breathe, Cas. We can take five goddamn minutes for you to get through this,” Dean urged him and Castiel shot him a dark glare out of red-rimmed eyes, but then he took a shuddering breath and hunched over slightly, hands firmly on his thighs as he coughed up more of the foul smelling stuff. Just watching it seep into the cracks in the dried earth made Dean cringe. This corruption was inside of Cas, filling his stomach, his lungs and his heart. “Try to get it out, man.” Castiel actually managed a pathetic gurgle that probably counted as a chuckle in other circumstances.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asked and grabbed for the flask Dean was handing him, rinsing out his mouth.

“Well, stay away from Dick and you can spare yourself the morning sickness, sweetheart,” Dean teased and Castiel rolled his eyes up at him, lips still around the mouth of the bottle.

“Smartass,” Castiel finally snorted, smacking his lips and screwing the lid back on. “You still haven’t told me what it is you need to acquire,” he said and Dean lifted his eyebrows at the complete lack of subtlety in this topic change. They started walking again, Castiel’s steps still sure, but his shoulders were too straight and his hands twitched at his sides. “So I guessed it’s what we assumed it to be.”

“Your blood, yes… And the Colt. It’s the thing I’ve received the gold thread for… I don’t think you know where it is,” he said and Castiel looked to his side, his eyebrows lowered in confusion. Dean couldn’t fault him his apprehension as he didn’t see much sense in acquiring the Colt either. Not that Dean wasn’t in favor of grasping at straws when they presented themselves. “Apparently we wanted to make special bullets to take down leviathans… I guess it was Crowley that came up with the idea that they’re vulnerable to the blood of their first host…” When Castiel remained silent, Dean thought about the exact words Crowley had used. Portal? Gate? Something like that.

“I doubt it can kill them,” Castiel finally said after a stretch of contemplative silence between them. “But it could banish them.” When Dean turned to look at Castiel he elaborated: “Send them back to Purgatory I mean. For them I was like a…”

“A portal?” Dean supplied when Castiel was unsure how to continue.

“Yes… Something like that. I allowed them to pass into the world through me… It is possible that my blood could serve as something similar, like a small gateway back to Purgatory. Just like an exorcism. But I doubt the Colt helps much and I fear that my blood has far less power than my body would have…”

“Yeah… But we don’t have your body, Cas,” Dean said firmly, even as Castiel averted his eyes. Because yeah, Castiel was here, his body was here. “And we’re not opening yourself up again to Purgatory. Because that was a disaster the first time.” Castiel didn’t say anything to that and Dean wasn’t sure whether he should let it go or shout. “So blood it is.”

“You’ll need a bigger container than Bobby’s flask,” Castiel said dryly, “there are hundreds of Leviathan, Dean, and you can’t draw them together.” There was more to that statement, Dean knew, but Castiel just kept his mouth firmly shut.

“I don’t plan to. I just care about ganking Dick. One step at a time.” Castiel nodded slowly, but didn’t give any encouragements.

Next

Black Dove // Part 5

silly_blue — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 13:17:45 GMT

Previous

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

Black Dove // Part 4 continued

silly_blue — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 13:13:12 GMT

Previous

Dean was glad when he could see the first signs of what remained of Norfolk in the distance. He had tried for about ten minutes to engage Castiel in conversation, but after getting first an irritated growl and later an alarmingly pitiful whine from the back of the angel’s throat he had given up. The air around them had cleared up from the scents of the forest, but Dean could still smell his vomit on both of them. Castiel, for all his tight lipped frown and irregular bursts of shivers still must have had enough energy to control the shape and mysterious workings of his body. Dean was only secretly sorry about it, but mostly he was concerned about the surprisingly fast pace Castiel’s condition seemed to worsen.

The debris of a ruined city made Dean hopeful that they had enough time to rest for Castiel to regain his energy or eat or lock Dean out of his room. The near-by cry of a seagull made Dean flinch, not having expected it in the least. The birds were perching on the stones that were left of buildings or street sign poles. Dean couldn’t recall having seen any animals before, especially not in the Outside world. Prying his eyes away from the alarmingly huge birds, Dean turned to keep close tabs on where they were going. They were on an uneven, but paved road through the city. It looked abandoned but not in a state of falling apart any minute now. As if people had just packed up their stuff and left. But the fact that this city looked like it had turned into a ghost town decades ago was still unnerving when Dean knew that it’s only been a year.

“We crossed over a very strong ward just a few meters back… The corruption forced people closer to the shore, but for now the decay should be stopped,” Castiel explained almost as if he had anticipated a question and Dean was glad to get coherent sentences out of him. The lights were all out in the houses around him and windows were smashed, but it didn’t look unsalvageable. When he mentioned that Castiel gave a shrug. “It isn’t. Given time this might become a city again… It just takes a lot of human effort… And most people here are just getting ready to leave…”

“But couldn’t you ward more cities or villages? Preferably before America will become one big toxic jungle, some leviathan-controlled fortresses and rudimentary settlements strewn all around the landscape,” Dean wondered. His picture of 2014 was incomplete and patchy, but the distinct lack of human civilization was worrying. Castiel’s sigh called Dean out of his thoughts.

“I try what I can, but Dean… It’s been a year of corruption and I’ve only been back for a couple of months… I can’t build human cities or societies… I can merely guide and teach…” Dean saw lights in the distance, flickering in chilly air around them. He turned his head to study Castiel.

“Why?” he wondered and even though Castiel wasn’t looking at him his expression became pinched, a layer of contemplation covering the slightly uneasy one from before. “I mean I get it, you can’t be everywhere at once, but why do you think you can’t do more?”

“I am not meant to lead, Dean,” Castiel answered, his voice silent and drowned by the cackle of seagulls sitting on top a nearby building. Dean shot them an irritated look, but when he turned back to Castiel the angel had directed his gaze to the floor. It looked bashful, ashamed and hurt. Dean knew not to poke and prod for more answers when Castiel got like this because it could easily turn into the angel putting all his emotions on the table for Dean to see. And Dean still didn’t know how to deal with that, he wasn’t even sure why the idea of leading a group of humans seemed such a raw topic.

“Why not? You seemed-“ Castiel did raise his head to look at him now, his eyes narrowed, but not in anger.

“I have been arrogant enough to think I could do it. I couldn’t do it within my own species. What makes you think I would do better with yours? I put down my sword and I put down my crown. And I don’t want them back,” he said, his voice fierce but dangerously low too, making Dean take an involuntary step away from Castiel and the strange glint in his eyes. “I’m nothing but a messenger now.” Dean didn’t avert his eyes, even though Castiel’s small and infrequent outbursts always caught him by surprise and left his mouth dry and void of a retort that sounded adequate. So he kept silent and looked at Castiel until he did a sharp intake of breath and looked away.

“Okay. You’re tired and I’m being annoying. Sorry,” he said and Castiel actually looked surprised to get any apology at all, having probably expected some inappropriate joking remark and Dean wasn’t sure why this rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t want to hurt him, at least not now, not anymore just by running his mouth. And he didn’t – shouldn’t – push him when he was obviously in pain for Dean’s own safety.

When Castiel turned his eyes to stoically glare at the ground, Dean looked towards the light. There was no metal fence, nothing to keep anything or anyone out but for the invisible wards Castiel had mentioned. The seagulls on the roofs were distracting, but not distracting enough for Dean not to notice the faint noise of people. If he squinted his eyes just enough he could both make out a harbor area not so far off and some people standing around the corners of the streets.

“No guards?”

“Outposts are not the same as Settlements, Dean… It doesn’t have the same level of organization…” Dean snorted, but before they could get close enough to catch a glimpse at one of the people standing around, Castiel pushed him into a side-street. Dean stumbled, but managed to brace his hands on the wall so as not to stumble over his own feet and the empty bottles and fallen trashcans. “Some people here are difficult to deal with… Let’s just get straight to Frank before they think they like to question either you and me.” Dean was confused about that, but followed Castiel through the street and into alleys, Dean catching sight of the harbor every now and again, the water dark and menacing, reflecting the reddish sky on its oily surface. Castiel led him down a flight of stairs and through another alley, ducking under an empty door arch and through an abandoned building. They startled more sea-gulls but when they got out of the building they were on a small cobblestone square surrounded by the back walls of houses. There was a road leading away from the square and muted noise came from that direction. Castiel didn’t guide him there, but steered them towards a low brick building attached to one of the houses. The windows were small and had wooden shutters, but Dean could still see light coming from them. The square was littered with debris, most of it metal of some sort and he could see a van parked under a shed. They walked up to the door, but Castiel turned around and held up a hand. Dean stopped before bumping into his palm and raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe you should stand back for a second. He has a habit of greeting me with a loaded gun,” Castiel told him. Dean couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him after hearing that.

“I think that’s how Frank greets everyone, Cas,” he assured him but Dean’s grin died down when he saw how displeased Castiel appeared. Not wanting to get into an argument about it, Dean stepped back with both hands raised and Castiel lowered his. When the angel’s back was turned Dean still grinned to himself in relief. He didn’t know Frank well, but he had been helpful (if also more than a bit strange). And even if Frank couldn’t do much he would at least be a familiar face, one that was alive. Dean looked back up when Castiel knocked at the door. It swung open almost at once but instead of a greeting Dean gave a violent start when a gun-shot rang through the air. Once, twice.

“Shit!” Dean shouted, unsure whether to take cover or to run to Castiel’s aid.

“Frank, I require your assistance.” Dean took a step forward, seeing Frank with a gun raised towards Castiel. Castiel who had blood running down his face and a new hole in his shirt, but who still managed to appear calm and imposing.

“I don’t think I do business with a Leviathan whore,” Frank said almost sweetly, “very nice of you to visit though.”

“Oh, come on Frank, put your junk away and listen to what Cas has to say!” Dean argued, stepping up to Castiel, who was now raising a trembling hand to his forehead. The blood disappeared slowly almost if Castiel’s pale and clammy skin soaked it back where it belonged. Dean looked away when he tried to peel the bullet out of his skull. Frank widened his eyes, turning the mouth of the gun towards Dean. “Woah! I’m not a leviathan!”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, suspicion in his voice, and narrowed his eyes. “And you’re not exactly trustworthy, especially not when travelling with the likes of her.” Frank waved his gun into Castiel’s direction and when Dean looked at him out of the corners of his eyes he could see that he wasn’t doing well. Another bullet might as well shatter every bit of composure Castiel still had left. Dean didn’t want to risk it, even though if he doubted anything dangerous could happen. Dean wasn’t an animal and Castiel knew how to throw punches.

“Can’t we just skip to the part where I cut myself to prove that I don’t bleed black goo and relocate this one inside?” Frank seemed doubtful, but he put his gun aside. Without further ado, Dean pulled out Ruby’s knife, cutting into his the flesh of his arm, carefully watching for a change in Frank’s expression. Frank seemed unimpressed, but gave a dismissive wave of the hand and turned around to walk into his house.

“Cas, how’re you doing?” Dean asked quietly but just received a tight-lipped head-shake. Dean closed the door after Castiel and looked for Frank. His place seemed to be one big room, most of it taken up by tables pushed to the brick wall, packed with computers and their screens. There were newspapers piling everywhere and pieces of papers stuck to the wall. Frank had found himself an armchair to sit in and waved Dean over, kicking books and bottles off a low table. Dean walked over to him and took a seat in the other thread-bare armchair.

“You’re looking pathetic over there, Dove,” Frank called and Dean turned to look over his shoulder. Castiel was leaning against the door, eyes closed and he didn’t look as if he could take another step.

“Cas…?” Castiel lifted his hand to rub the side of his face, then he pushed himself off the door, slipping out of his backpack.

“I require a moment’s rest,” he said and walked past Dean, but not before Dean could grab his wrist.

“Dude, you need far more than just a moment’s rest. Just-“ It was impressive how Castiel, weakened as he was, could still manage to glare at Dean in a way that made him want to take shelter.

“You can catch up on your beauty sleep on the cot upstairs,” Frank said dismissively and Dean let go of Castiel’s hand. He watched him leave through a wooden door, but then worry got the best of him and he got to his feet. Frank gave him a kick underneath the table.

“Take a seat and spill,” he ordered, “what the heck are you doing here - with the Black Dove of all people!” Dean looked at him in incomprehension.

“The… What? Black Dove?” he asked and Frank’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Dean grew fidgety under his glare because potential ally or not, Frank’s gun was still within reach and Dean was pretty sure he was able to die in the future. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to tell Frank the truth about who he was (or from when he was) but he had no idea how to lie convincingly either under these circumstances. He remembered having come across the term Black Dove before; it had been written on the tag attached to the embarrassing umbrella. “You mean Ca-“ Frank shushed him immediately, his hiss carrying over the whir of the computers and the screech of the seagulls outside.

“You know the rules, muffin. Saying her name is like the code-word getting all of their attention on us!” Dean wanted to protest, because that was not how it worked, but Frank glared at him, waving both hands, “shut up until the echoes have died down!” Dean raised his eyebrow in irritation, but Frank made a slow downward move with his hand, voice calmer now, “and listen.” Dean waited but Frank kept silent. The computers still whirred and from somewhere he heard the low buzz of a fridge or something, maybe also a generator. He had thought there was no mobile network or internet anymore, but he was pretty sure that was surveillance cam material he was seeing on Frank’s screens. “I have no idea what you’re doing back here when I pull all registers to get you and your brother shipped out. And I’m pretty sure you and the sunshine upstairs weren’t exactly on speaking terms when I last saw you. You told me to never breathe a word to her where you were and now you’re here? With her?!” Dean wanted to cut into that, defend Castiel or ask questions, anything, but apparently Frank still thought he had to keep Dean silent. “I know you were raving mad, but this takes the cake! You know you can’t use her to get to Roman unless you’ve got a surefire way to toss them back where they came from!” Here Frank paused, leaning forwards and studying Dean with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t have what you need, do you?”

“No, I don’t even-“

“Then you’ve got no business being here and letting yourself be ensnared by a pair of sad, pretty eyes.” Dean groaned, but Frank just poked him in the chest. “Oh stop it with your childish eye-roll. Do you think I didn’t see how you kept looking at her? She’s a leviathan, Dean. Don’t you dare lose focus!”

“He’s not a leviathan!” Dean protested, finally done with listening to Frank, “Okay? And I’m not here to listen to you rant about it! Heck, I don’t even have an idea what you’re talking about half of the time!” Frank crossed his arms over his chest and Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen… I’m not… from around here.” Frank didn’t even move a muscle, just looked at Dean with a less than impressed scowl, waiting for him to go on. Dean propped his elbows on his knees and leant a bit closer, just so he would be in reach of the gun if Frank thought he was not human after all. “You know that there are all kinds of monsters out there and that… he’s an angel,” Dean said, nodding his head upwards while Frank only snorted derisively. “So you shouldn’t be that shocked about what I’m about to tell you.”

“Humor me then,” Frank challenged and Dean sighed.

“I’m from 2012.” That got no reaction out of Frank. “And I don’t know how I got here, but I know I have to get back and that I should probably do something significant here but I have no clue. So the best I can do is try to figure out if there’s a way to stop the Flood before it even happens. I thought you could know where this time’s Sam and me are. Maybe they have useful info for me.” Frank at least looked slightly interested at that, but then he huffed a laugh and slapped his knees, getting up.

“Yeah right,” he said, walking over to a table and pouring himself a drink.

“Frank, I’m serious. Do you think I enjoy being stuck in this time? This is a disaster! One I might actually prevent!” Frank shot him an angry glare and set the glass back down on the table with more force than necessary.

“If that’s true, then sorry kiddo. This is your future – hiding away in dirty holes like this waiting for the end. You better start to learn how to deal with it!” Dean wiped his palms over his, leaving them over his eyes for a moment. He was tired, really tired now.

“Look, this is not the first time I’ve been to the future, okay? It’s not even the first time I’ve been in 2014. And it’s changed! I can change it, Frank!” Dean argued. Frank shook his head, looking out of the shutters and Dean noticed that it had grown darker outside as if night had crept up on them.

“You, your brother and the Dove…” Frank spat out, shaking his head, but then he turned around and let himself drop back down into the armchair. Dean breathed a silent sigh of relief. “You’re the most stupid, messed up and exhausting people I’ve ever met. But alright I guess.”

“Alright?” Dean wondered and Frank sighed deeply, scratching his head. “Where… Sam and this time’s me… Where are we?”

“I’ve got no clue, honestly,” Frank told him, “but about four months ago you caught the ship to Europe. I don’t care for all the details, it’s safer that way, but apparently you got in contact with some monster hunters over there.” Dean frowned; as of now he had no contacts at all to hunters outside of the States. He knew that they must exist, but as far as he was concerned, they had been pretty useless.

“Don’t you know where we went? Europe is pretty vague…” Frank shrugged, but he got up again to pull out some papers from underneath an ancient looking phone. “Can you at least say where the ship was headed?”

“All the ships are headed for Antwerpen,” Frank told him, studying the papers with their coffee stains, “it’s every fugitive’s starting point. Usually people are allowed to enter other European countries after some checks and a waiting period at the fugitive camp. I don’t know how that shit works but usually your language ability, profession and social network decide where you’ve got to try your luck.” He hummed to himself and tapped the paper. “There. The Office in Antwerpen sent note that you’ve been allowed to catch a train to Switzerland where you’ve been picked up… Don’t ask me who took you in or where you went from there. You could be anywhere, maybe you’re not even in Europe anymore, maybe you’re chilling in the Mediterranean. What do I know. You got out. Good for you.”

“Out? You don’t get out,” Dean argued loudly, “not when the world is falling apart underneath our feet!” Frank just rolled his eyes at Dean, tossing the papers back on the table and reassuming his seat.

“Sorry, boy, but as far as I know, you’re off the chess board,” he said and Dean drew his hands through his hair in frustration. “And I think you and your brother are smart enough to stay there until you’ve got a means to kill the king… Or,” Frank leant back in his chair, propping his feet on the low table, “effectively use the queen.” Dean looked up, hands in his neck.

“What?” Frank rolled his eyes towards the ceiling in annoyance. “What are you… Are you talking about-“

“Not. The. Name,” Frank warned and Dean let his hands drop into his lap, shaking his head in frustration and confusion.

“What does he have got to do with anything?” Dean wanted to know and Franks looked at him sharply.

“You know her better than I do. You know how powerful she is, you know how dangerous she is. Dick Roman wants her but he doesn’t dare to get her by force – that must mean something.” Dean blinked in surprise. “She is unhappily happy about playing her role as Dove in the Flood and she gets the job done. Fine, I give her that. But I think that as far as chances at the world not ending go, she’s the best we’ve got. But,” Frank snapped his fingers, making a vague gesture towards the door Castiel had disappeared through, “she dallies. And I am stuck trying to get Europe to keep the doors open.”

“It’s apparently not the time for fighting,” Dean answered, trying to appear as calm as possible. But Castiel’s insistence that he wouldn’t want his sword back was in some manner frustrating. Cas was a soldier and had been very adamant about getting this across to Dean, so why would he prefer to be degraded to a mere messenger? “Maybe… maybe it’s just a fight he can’t fight all alone…” Frank didn’t say anything to that, but reached behind him, grabbing the bottle off the table. “Didn’t Sam and I say anything about coming back?”

“Well… it did seem like you were looking for something to bash Dick Roman’s head in. So I guess if you find it then you’ll be back.” Dean heaved a sigh. “Come on, boy! Stop moping. You can at least just clock out of here at the end of the day.” Dean shook his head, but he didn’t feel like arguing anymore. His head was swimming with thoughts and the buzz that could either be Sam chatting to him or another migraine in the making. He felt dirty, sore, exhausted and confused.

“I can’t go back empty-handed,” Dean muttered and Frank shrugged casually, no real interest in Dean’s worries.

“Go and get a shower. You’ve got the stink of the Outside on you,” Frank said after a while, pointing towards the door, but keeping his attention on an older newspaper that was stuck under the heel of his foot. Dean didn’t feel particularly offended at Frank wrinkling his nose at him. He grabbed his bag and headed for the door. The corridor beyond was dark and chilly, almost moist. The walls were cold to the touch and the floorboards creaked ominously as he slowly advanced until the corridor opened up. It was a bit brighter here, a single light-bulb illuminating the hall. All the door arches missed their doors and Dean could see a kitchen, some sort of study and a small storage room with cans and weapons. There was also a flight of stairs which Dean chose to climb. It was equally dark on the upper floor, but Dean crept along the wall, looking into the empty rooms until he found some closed doors towards the back. Checking the first he found what seemed to be Frank’s bedroom. The next door revealed a tiny bathroom. Dean breathed a sigh of relief and slipped inside, turning the rusty key in its lock with no small amount of force. It clicked shut and Dean stood in an eerie darkness, small slivers of light coming in through the shutters with additional wooden boards nailed over them. Frank and his paranoia. But at least there was light when Dean found the switch. The bathroom had dirty yellow tiles with some darker brown swirls on them, the shower curtain was chalk stained and there was mold collecting in some of the corners, but the water was running, the toilet was somewhat clean and Dean had had worse locations for taking a shower.

On his own again his mind was steering straight to Castiel, probably asleep behind the third door he hadn’t dared open, while Dean rubbed the stench of the Outside off him. He knew Castiel was pretty tough and that a dizzy spell would not knock him out, but this was different. Different to the slow bleeding away of his Grace, different to being knocked out by monsters, different to being plunged into mortality. Dean had never been able to grasp the extent to which Castiel’s powers and limitations ran, but he was sure that something must have been changed. As far as he knew, Cas had never shown signs of exhaustion just because wearing a vessel was tedious, or maybe he had and Dean just didn’t care enough to ask. Dean was frowning at himself, wiping his flattened hair backwards and switched off the water. The towel was scratchy and stiff, but Dean couldn’t care less at the moment, turning the water faucet and getting razor and toothbrush. The small mirror didn’t show much, but enough for Dean to see that he looked just like he had for a long time – tired, worn thin by worry and sleeplessness. He splashed water onto his face and didn’t look again.

Dean turned the door knob slowly, trying to cause as little noise as possible. The door clicked open and turned almost soundlessly on its hinges. Dean let out a small sigh of relief and peered through the small crack. The room behind the door was dark and stuffy, a slim column of light from the dim corridor landed on a dusty rug and another barricaded window, not showing the slightest bit of the outside world. Dean opened the door a bit further and it gave a creak of protest, but Dean still stuck his head in and looked. The travel cot was pushed to the wall, with a heap of thin blankets on top of it. Castiel was not covered by any of them, curled up on the cot and facing the wall. Dean took one step in, sniffing the air cautiously because he did not know how much of an influence Cas’ weird biology actually had on him. He was pretty sure that it was not only the sticky sweet scent that had invited him to switch off his mind and give in to Castiel’s unexpected warmth. The odors of rich sweetness mixed with that strange olive sea-breeze hung in the room like a cloud, but it was neither overwhelming nor did it zombie-fy Dean’s ability to think. When Castiel didn’t stir and he could still recite an exorcism backwards in his head, he walked in a bit more daringly. He was close enough to touch now and he reached out his hand to put it on the angel’s head. His hair was soft, but slightly damp with sweat, curling on Castiel’s forehead and around his ears. He was warm to the touch when Dean relocated his hand to the shoulder turned towards Dean, but not alarmingly so.

“Dean…,” Castiel mumbled and even in his half-sleep he managed to sound both irritated and warning.

“Uh, hey,” Dean answered dumbly, keeping his voice low, but rubbing his palm up and down Castiel’s arm slowly. “How are you?” The angel moved his head and peered up at Dean through tousled bangs.

“Hanging on,” he said and Dean frowned down at him, “Dean… please… Get out.” Dean tried his best not to be hurt by that, nodding and getting up. Castiel sighed, a warm puff of sweet air that caused an involuntary shudder. Before Dean could leave, Castiel reached out, grabbing hold of his sleeve. He turned to his side and looked at Dean with a small smile. “Thank you for caring.” Dean nodded at him, unable to not smile in return and when Castiel let him go he left the room.

Frank was giving him an unimpressed glare by the time Dean rejoined him.

“For hating her guts, you’ve got quite a soft spot for her,” Frank commented dryly and put a plate of what looked like shredded spaghetti in a watery red sauce on one of the tables. Dean took a seat next to Frank, pulling the plate towards him.

“Thanks. And I don’t hate him,” Dean said as convincingly as he could, chewing the spaghetti, “future me’s a dick, don’t take his opinion on Cas for granted.” Frank threw up his hands and groaned. “Sorry.” Frank refused to speak to him for the next couple of minutes, so Dean ate his dinner in silence, looking at the screens. From what he could see they showed normal cities, people going about their business as usual.

“I always thought that one day the government would eat us all up, turn us into zombies with not a care and no need for personal freedom,” Frank said, staring into one of his screens even though nothing interesting was happening. “But I didn’t quite think it’d be so literal.”

“Yeah… I don’t quite get how this total control crap can even work,” Dean agreed, shaking his head and Frank shrugged.

“Propaganda and fear get you a long way, kiddo. And if I got the Dove right, then there was also some kind of drug involved, some sedative that prevent people from getting too freaked when their lives are slowly being taken over.”

“Was?” Dean wondered, but the thought of the leviathans using some kind of mind-numbing drug on the entire population… It was different, sure, but Dean couldn’t help thinking of the spread of Croatoan.

“The Dove probably got onto Roman’s case about it,” Frank told him and Dean snorted in disbelief. Frank raised his eyebrow at him and Dean’s sneer slipped.

“What? Dick won’t just stop doing his stuff just because Ca- just because he tells him to!” Dean argued.

“Did you think I was kidding when I said you’ve got to learn how to use her against Roman?” Frank asked, turning towards a computer and clicking around the keyboard until a couple of pictures opened up. Dean widened his eyes and pulled his chair closer to Frank’s, glaring at what seemed to be stills from a surveillance camera. He could see Dick Roman, leaning towards another figure with his hand on their shoulder. Frank clicked some more and the picture zoomed in and then sharpened. Dean drew in a breath when he saw that the figure, arms crossed over breasts, was indeed Cas. He wore similar clothes, but the form was definitely female, hair braided and fixed to the back of his head. He looked young with his defiant pose and innocent hair-do, small in his carelessly thrown together clothes and almost white in the grainy picture next to Dick in his impeccable, black suit.

“Picture was taken a couple of months ago, probably just after she had reemerged or whatever she calls it… I believe she’s got some manner of influence over the leviathans, but I don’t trust her... She could strike right there, sever his head off his neck. But she doesn’t and that makes me nervous. Who knows what exactly she is and even if you vouch for her, that doesn’t make her less of one of the exact same things that are trying to make the world go down the drain.” Dean rubbed his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut.

“No he’s…” Dean lifted his hand from his forehead, trying to say something, but then he let it drop to his knees. “I don’t know, Frank.” Dean felt exhausted again, slumping in his chair and trying to ignore the picture on the screen. He wished he could say that he trusted him, he wished he could say that just because Cas wasn’t human didn’t make him suspicious. But he couldn’t. He had held on to the conviction that Cas could never follow his own agenda and look where this got them. There was no way that he could do so again, even though he believed that Castiel had been genuine in his distaste for Dick.

“I know that this hurts your poor little heart, but those are the facts even though I don’t know the context. And while your contemporary ass is somewhere sightseeing in the old world, you’re here. You can get those answers, you can push her.” Dean got up from the chair, turning away with his jaw firmly set. He walked over to the window, looking out through the shutters. Night had fallen fast, plunging everything into red tinted darkness.

“I can’t,” Dean finally said, “I’m running out of time here, Frank! It’s not my place to go on pushing him in either direction! It’s his call to make!”

“No it isn’t!” Frank insisted, voice loud and hard, laced with an anger Dean couldn’t understand. “You can’t expect one single entity – non-human entity I might add – to decide the fate of the world. We can’t give her that power and not know how she’s ticking! Come on, you’re a hunter, you know what I’m saying! If you can’t badger it into helping then you might as well do the world a favor and kill it!” Dean banged his hand against the window frame, making the glass rattle.

“For fuck’s sake, Frank!” Frank rolled backwards with his chair, turning around to look up at Dean. Mockingly, the screens still held the pictures of Dick and Castiel. Just seeing them next to each other made bile climb up Dean’s throat and a desire for vengeance spread inside his chest. A dark and wild feeling that Dean did not want to explore.

“Listen, boy. Your darling little angel cake is the queen on the chessboard. I know that and you should get it into your skull. Whether she is the leviathans’ black queen or humanity’s white one will determine how things turn out,” he said evenly, his eyes fixed on Dean’s face.

“Oh, cut the crap with your chess metaphors! You speak as if he’s just-“

“Just a tool. Exactly. I’m speaking like she’s just a figure on the chess board and you’re just that one guy that can push her around,” Frank answered, tapping his fingers against the table’s surface. “The question is… can you play?” Dean couldn’t help but wince, turning away from Frank again. He drew both hands through his hair, trying to calm himself down with the weight of what Frank tried to push onto him. Controlling Castiel, making the decisions for him, all of his faith on his breakable shoulders. It made his head spin and his stomach coil uncomfortably. It was down to him again, down to a choice of yes or no and Dean wanted to run. He wanted to run again and not make a decision at all. The world could continue spinning without him.

“I can’t, Frank, I’m not the guy that he needs!“ Dean finally said, turning back to Frank, his hands clenching at his sides. Frank sneered, his mouth a grim line of distaste.

“Pull yourself together! You’re an immature, whiny brat, aren’t you? Afraid to take responsibility, shove it to that other guy so he can push her over the edge of the blade. When have hunters shied away from getting their hands dirty? When have hunters not picked up arms to push, maim and burn those supernatural bastards?” Dean breathed in heavily through his nose, feeling anger surge inside of him, both on his behalf and for Castiel.

“Stop it! Don’t talk about him like that!” he shouted, sending Frank a heated glare before he pulled open the door and left. He slammed it shut behind him, the noise echoing dully into the night air. The outburst had only been a short spark of contentment, but now Dean was left to fume. He walked a few steps, looking around and breathing in the ocean breeze. It was chilly here, the wind carrying little droplets of rain with it. He could hear the faint noise of water, as well as the occasional sound of a seagull’s cry. Human noise too, if he just strained his ears enough and he could see a cat sitting on top of an overturned box, eyeing him with disinterest. Dean put his hands into his pockets and stalked off. He was sure Castiel wouldn’t like him going away on his own, but he needed a bit of space to think.

He walked towards the narrow road leading away from the small yard, towards the noise of humans and what most likely was the harbor where the ship to Europe left. He didn’t get very far though because he heard footsteps coming up to him, very silent, but Dean had a feeling they were intentionally loud enough so as not to startle him.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, Cas?” Dean wondered and heaved a sigh. He leant against the wall of a house, empty like all of them. Castiel stepped up to him, taking the space right next to Dean.

“Not with you out here,” Castiel replied, earning himself a snort from Dean. “Is everything alright?” Dean considered lying, but he was so fed up and tired that he couldn’t even bring himself to for the sake of peace.

“No. Not really,” he told him and Castiel turned his head, his expression calm and attentive. Dean raised his face upwards, looking at the starless sky. “Frank was annoying… but…”

“He told you something you didn’t like?” Castiel wondered and Dean looked at him, “about me?” Dean merely nodded. “What was it?”

“You chatting with the leviathan boss,” he said and Castiel blinked at him in confusion, “Frank told me you got him to stop brainwashing people.” Dean huffed, a mirthless grin on his face when Castiel did nothing to contradict him. Castiel no longer seemed confused, but neither was there any hint of shame on his face. “Awesome…” Dean said darkly, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was too close to that day when the truth about him dealing with Crowley was revealed. Too close and too painful.

“What do you want me to say?” Castiel wondered and Dean clenched his teeth. He turned around swiftly and brought his hands to Castiel’s shoulders, slamming him into the wall. Castiel widened his eyes for a moment before the calm and patient expression returned. It only made Dean angrier.

“Just don’t lie to me! Never lie to me!” Dean hissed, his heartbeat too frantic, and Castiel closed his eyes. “What kind of deal did you make with Dick? What did it cost to get him to back off?” Castiel opened his eyes again, the blue of his iris bright as if illuminated.

“Nothing. I demanded and he complied,” he replied, far too calmly and Dean’s grip strengthened, pressing Castiel’s shoulders into the concrete of the wall.

“I don’t-“ believe you, trust you.

“Dean,” Castiel interrupted him before those hurtful words could pass his lips, “have you forgotten what I am?” Dean opened his mouth to either reply or curse, he wasn’t sure, but Castiel answered his own question. “I was their host. I was the one that brought them back to the world, even unwillingly. Dick listens to me because he thinks I am of utmost importance to the Leviathan race.” Dean glared down at Castiel, trying to make sense of his words.

“What does Dick want from you?” he asked after a while. Castiel lifted an eyebrow, the first real expression flitting over his face since Dean had decided to get a little rough with him.

“Well… Considering how he obeys most of my wishes and sends me all sort of things in an odd manner of courtship,” he said and trailed off when Dean’s eyes widened and his grip slackened.

“Courting?”, Dean asked in disbelief, “So he…”

“The King wants a Queen,” Castiel finished and Dean’s breath got stuck into his throat. He felt like throwing up again, but he just let his hands drop and stared at Castiel. He didn’t know what to say, his gaze slipping away from Castiel to the concrete wall. As Dean’s silence continued, Castiel spoke again: “He says that their prophecy decrees that the one to free them shall be the one at the King’s side.”

“That’s ridiculous…”

“Not for them… Just like the Apocalypse is not ridiculous to angels… There are myths and legends to every race out there. Even beasts have their stories,” Castiel told him, tilting his head to catch Dean’s eyes again. “The Leviathan are powerful Dean, but they do not belong on Earth. They destroy everything they touch, spreading corruption that rids them not only of their food but also of their land.”

“Then they should just get back to where they came from,” Dean hissed to which Castiel shrugged. Clearly, that wasn’t an option. Dean knew they wouldn’t go back on their own or without taking a big chunk of humanity and earth with them.

“They saw that I am able to nurture the lands so they believe that having me would stop the corruption and steady their reign on earth.”

“Would it?” Dean asked and almost flinched at the pained expression Castiel didn’t even try to hide. He quickly lifted his hands, hovering over Castiel’s shoulders before he put them against the wall on either side of his head. “No! I’m not… It’s not an option, Cas…”Dean felt almost panicked at the thought that anything he said could push Castiel to do something reckless. Not when he knew absolutely nothing about what was on the table.

“No, I don’t want it to be an option…,” he replied, closing his eyes and sighing. Dean finally moved, dropping his hands, leaning his shoulder against the wall, body turned towards Castiel.

“Cas… I want to trust you, man…,” he told him silently, “but you’ve got to be honest with me…” Castiel didn’t reply, but he looked at Dean. “If you can get so close to Dick all of the time… Why don’t you just kill him? If you’re that important to them they certainly won’t kill you.” Castiel sighed, shaking his head.

“Dean… I tried,” Castiel confessed and Dean widened his eyes in surprise, “but I don’t have that kind of power…”

“But you’re… Not even an angel blade could kill you, right? You’re probably one of the strongest beings in existence! And you can’t take down leviathans?!” Dean asked incredulously, pressing his hand against his forehead. “So we’re… This is really it? The way we’re going down? The end?”

“No, I don’t think so…,” Castiel said and when Dean looked at him he wore a small smile. Dean couldn’t believe that Castiel was smiling at him, but he couldn’t deny that it caused a tiny spark of hope. “I’ve been looking for solutions ever since I returned to awareness. I just need more time,” he told him and Dean couldn’t fool himself into thinking that Castiel was being anything other than honest about this. “This is not the first time I battle against impossible odds,” he assured him as if on an after-thought, but there was something bitter and resigned about the tone of his voice that Dean couldn’t quite place. “There are decisions I need to take… And I’m afraid to after what happened last time. I don’t want to become something like that again. I don’t want to be a creature you feel nothing but fear and loathing for.” Dean wasn’t sure what to say, whether to reach out to him with friendly but maybe not entirely honest reassurances or keep silent.

“You know better this time,” he offered instead, trying to keep his voice firm and encouraging, but Castiel lowered his head, his gaze slipping away from Dean.

“No I don’t,” he replied, “I’m still trying to find out what would best keep you safe from harm.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest with a grimace, tilting his head back so it rested against the cool wall."

He found his eyes drawn back to Castiel's as they slowly blinked, moving from looking at the dirty floor between his feet to Dean’s face. His face was cast into shadows, bangs falling over his eyebrows and still there was that unearthly bright glint to his eyes that made them blue no matter how dark it was.

“Like last time,” Castiel continued eventually with a note of challenge in his voice, but Dean could do nothing but stare right back at him. Castiel turned his head away and Dean could breathe again, releasing a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding into the clean ocean air. And the new silence stretched between them, thin and brittle, but it held strong.

Dean wanted to bang his fists against the wall or shake Castiel or drink until all that distance didn’t matter anymore. There were so many things behind the words Castiel had spoken - truths and bitterness - that Dean couldn’t understand. He was sure that this was not the fault of two years missing, but one year of miscommunication and mistrust, months of guilt and longing and a future of dashed hopes and bitter rejections.

Dean knew this, knew that there was no way to fix it unless he tried to understand, no way for Castiel to speak up if he didn’t push. But the enormity of it rendered Dean mute, and the moment passed, leaving Castiel was left to squeeze his eyes shut and breathe in, exhaling shakily before he spoke again:

“So I don’t know what to do apart from going on until I either find the answer or run out of time.” Dean nodded, not trusting his voice but Castiel apparently had not expected him to speak now. “It’s still early in the night… You should sleep if you mean to talk to Sam later on.” Again, Dean nodded, uttering a small “yeah” of consent, and followed Castiel back to the house with strained silence between them. Frank gave him a challenging expression once Dean got back inside, but he thankfully didn’t say anything. Castiel went on upstairs while Dean took the beer he was offered. It was chilly and Frank clanked his bottle against his.

“To all the words unspoken,” Frank said, somehow picking up on the mood without any effort, before he took a generous swig from his beer. Dean answered with more silence, drinking without tasting anything. “But there’s a limit to where silence will get you.” Dean huffed into his beer, drained the rest of it and put it back on the table. Frank’s background had changed back to its surveillance cameras, but there was still one screen that showed a picture of Castiel where he stared right into the camera with his eyes a clear blue even in the grainy picture. Dean shook his head.

“Good night, Frank.” Frank made a dismissive sound bordering on a grunt and waved Dean off.

“You better leave before dawn. There’s a ship coming and you don’t want to get into that mess,” he warned, Dean nodding and receiving another wave of Frank’s hand. Dean lost no time in leaving the room, making his way through the cold and empty corridors of the almost abandoned house. His composure wavered and cracked when he pushed the door open, but there was Castiel, lying with his face against the wall in the darkness of the small room.

Dean toed off his shoes and stripped down to his underwear and shirt, before he lifted the thin blanket and climbed onto the narrow cot behind the angel.

Castiel’s skin was warm and soft, the fragrance of his hair soothing, but he was tense when Dean slipped his arm around his waist, trying to make the most of the small space and the chill of the bare room. Dean didn’t like emotional talks and grand gestures in the quiet intimacy of a shared bed, but Castiel leant back against him, his fingers almost too tight around Dean’s wrist. Yet he muttered against Castiel’s neck:

“I’m sorry…”

Dean didn’t know why he felt no embarrassment, no reserve as he breeched this barrier between them. He didn’t know why the physical proximity of Castiel, the way he turned in his arms and pressed close to him, caused him nothing but a small pang of sadness and a bigger amount of comfort. He didn’t know why those had been the right words to speak even though they were small and empty in the face of what they must try to convey.

Dean didn’t know, but he chose not to care because this was one thing he could do. One thing to apologize for all the things he would never be able to say or do. Castiel fit perfectly into the usually empty space of Dean’s arms and he for once he was glad to have someone to hold. If only for a while.

Dean fell asleep to the sound of Castiel’s breathing evening out.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he had been out, but he felt well rested and comfortable once he woke. Quite an oddity in itself seeing as he couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up like this. The room was still dark and chilly, with just enough light coming in from the corridor that Dean could see. Castiel was lying on one of his arms, but the one that wasn’t immobilized still rested on Castiel’s waist. He had rolled slightly away from Dean during sleep, but the small cot didn’t allow for much space between them. Dean almost let his eyelids drop again, breathing in his comforting but not overwhelming smell and the intimate warmth of the bed. But he kept his eyes open, studying Castiel. Maybe this might be the point to actually get worked up about sharing a bed with him again. Or about how he was being ridiculously sentimental (and unreasonable). But he didn’t feel like it.

“Cas?” he whispered, leaning a bit closer, catching the fragrance of… warm milk with honey. It was ridiculous how at home it made him feel. Castiel stirred slightly, frowning as if resisting consciousness. “Good morning.” Dean’s lips brushed the slightly stubbly cheek as he spoke, but he withdrew once Castiel turned his head and slowly opened his eyes. Castiel recognized him and reached up to rub his face, sighing deeply. “I thought you might appreciate the wake-up call. No idea when your monster convention starts.” Castiel turned enough to let Dean pull away his arm and for him to lie on his back. He tilted his head backwards, arching his spine of the bed as he stretched, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply.

“Yes… It’s close…,” he answered after a while, but when he opened his eyes again he looked almost sad. “We should get ready.”

“Okay,” Dean said, scratching his head, “I’ll get washed up and try to say good-bye to Frank.” Castiel nodded and sat up slowly.

“I will meet you outside.”

Next

Black Dove // Part 4

silly_blue — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 13:09:46 GMT

Previous

Part 4

Castiel guided the way to Frank mostly with his eyes fixed to the sky overhead. It was milky white with dark, mold colored, toxic looking clouds. The rain had let up once Castiel had flown them out of the settlement and closer to Norfolk, where Castiel assured him Frank would be hiding. Dean had no way to know if the Norfolk, Virginia of 2014 was the same as the one he knew. But he doubted it. He doubted anything in this world was still familiar. Everything around Dean was wild plains with flat moss covered stones and hills in the distance. There were no cities, no human made landmarks but skeletons of electric lines and cracked pavement cutting through the landscape.

“So… is Norfolk another settlement?” Dean wondered when they were making a stop to eat something. Dean didn’t feel safe so out in the open and in plain sight, but Castiel was walking in expanding circles around the fire he had made. It was still day-light, but the temperature had dropped quite drastically, chill replacing stifling warmth. Dean recognized some symbols that were burned into the ground when Castiel passed but most were lines and circles that made no sense to him at all. He wasn’t even sure what Castiel was guarding them against.

“It’s actually an outpost,” Castiel said, eyes alternating between the symbols on the ground and the sky. It was as if he were listening for something or reading secret codes in the clouds Dean couldn’t see. Neither one nor the other would be particularly surprising to Dean. Castiel turned his eyes back down and nodded, then he stomped his foot and all the symbols around them flared to life with flashes of blue light. Dean cursed in surprise, but the light was gone as soon as it had appeared. Nothing seemed changed only that the fire burned a little brighter and Dean felt a bit warmer. He heard Castiel making his way over to him before he crouched down next to Dean, waving his hand at the fire, making it spark and the air around Dean warmed up a bit more. “It’s Dry Lands, but people don’t live there yet. It’s more like a camp of people waiting to catch a ship out of America.”

“You mentioned that before,” Dean said, holding out his hands to the fire, before turning his head to study Castiel. “That’s possible?” Castiel shrugged and turned his attention to his backpack, rummaging inside of it until he found a dry change of clothes.

“It’s difficult,” Castiel said, handing the clothes to Dean. “It requires a lot of organizing… But we get about one ship a month. I’m sure Frank will tell you more about it…”

“Can’t you carry people over the Ocean?” Dean wondered, looking at the clothes.

“Dean… Change into dry clothes,” Castiel retorted impatiently when Dean didn’t make any attempts to get changed. “Should I look away?” The teasing tone caused Dean to roll his eyes.

“Alright, alright! You’re worse than Sam!” Dean felt Castiel’s eyes on him while he changed, but he ignored it the best he could.

“I can’t carry more than two people at the same time… You must have noticed that flying is… far more physical now than it was before,” he said and Dean raised an eyebrow after pulling on a shirt.

“Well… more actual flying and less teleporting,” Dean agreed, rubbing his hands. He felt a lot better now without cold, wet clothes sticking to his skin. “But you had wings before. Didn’t you fly?”

“I did fly,” Castiel told him, opening the knot on a bundle he balanced on his knees, revealing a couple of sandwiches. Dean eyed them, feeling his stomach yearn for decent food. Castiel carefully handed the food over to Dean as if the sandwiches were some kind of sacred offering, but Dean didn’t complain. “In an abstract sense of the term. I could just tear through the fabric of your physical reality. Now I actually have to cover all the ground I want to pass. Moving my body whereas before I could move space with a wingbeat.”

“And now you’re one of us. Stuck on earth. Kinda,” Dean said in between bites, not at his most considerate apparently, “sorry, man.” Castiel chuckled at that and bent forward a bit, over his knees to place his hands on the ground. Dean saw him trail symbols into the earth, little curves and lines that looked Enochian. His grin and the shadows the fire cast on his face made Dean forget to swallow his food.

“It’s not that bad…,” he said, “to wander the earth with a companion.” Dean did swallow now, coughing slightly. He looked up, still grinning. “Almost romantic, isn’t it?”

“Cheesy, that’s what it is,” Dean huffed in sudden embarrassment, looking at Castiel for as long as he could endure, then turning his eyes towards the fire. He shrugged before daring to look back at Castiel. “But it’s always easier… If you don’t have to do things on your own…” Castiel smiled at him, a gentle and calm expression making his features smooth and inviting. Dean didn’t know what to do with it, so he finished his food and he let himself fall down to the hard ground and dry grass. There was no wind and it was silent apart from the sound of the fire turning the dry twigs to ash. Dean drew in deep breaths of smoky air, so different to the rain and mud scent that had clung to the settlement in the woods. The looming sky looked like fading bruises on porcelain skin, painful but healing. Dean reached out blindly, touching his fingers to Castiel’s lower arm and tugged.

“Stop staring at me, creep,” he hissed and Castiel wordlessly lay down next to him, bringing with him a dizzying cloud of strong scents that had previously been masked by the fire’s smoke. The clashing mixture of sea and sugar was almost overwhelming and Dean exhaled loudly, blinking a few times to clear a faint haze that had taken hold of his vision. “Cas, man, I don’t mean to be rude, but…” Castiel turned his head Dean’s way and frowned at him. “Uh… your smell… It’s rather strong.” Castiel didn’t seem off-put at all, but he did look ill at ease.

“I’m sorry,” he started and attempted to sit back up, but Dean flung his arm out, pressing it down on Castiel’s chest. Castiel gave a start, but apart from the rise and fall of his chest he didn’t move.

“No, no, no. Stay here. It’s not bad. It’s…,” he started, surprised at the sudden dryness of his mouth causing him to lick his lips. He inched closer to Castiel, slowly under the watchful eyes of the angel, then he turned, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at Castiel. It was strange, such a strange smell, such a strange taste. There was something funny about it, making Dean’s head spin and his heart speed up and his free hand brushed over Castiel’s stomach. The angel rewarded this gesture with a slightly panicky widening of his eyes. “Good.” Dean bent down, feeling and tasting Castiel’s erratic breathing on his wet lips, but Castiel’s hands shot up, covering Dean’s mouth and nose. Dean raised both eyebrows in surprise, then his head cleared, his fingers dug deeper into the soft flesh of Castiel’s stomach and then he shot up, scrambling backwards. “Shit!” he hissed, staring at the man currently lying flat on his back, hands still raised and eyes focused on Dean as well. Castiel’s cheeks were flushed and he looked embarrassed, but certainly not as embarrassed as Dean felt. Now with a bit more distance between him and Castiel Dean could still feel the frantic beating of his heart, he could still smell Castiel mixed in with ashes, he could still feel the heat. Dean had almost forgotten what it felt like to be drunk and sobering up after doing something absolutely stupid, but that was it. “Cas, sorry…”

“That’s… my fault,” Castiel told him sitting up, rubbing his hands over his face, lightly hitting his fingers against his lips before speaking up again. “I should have known. And yet I believed that your advances yesterday were caused by something else. Even if it was pity…”

“Cas,” Dean groaned and shuffled forwards on his knees, to put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel was warm to the touch, even through the layers of his clothes. Castiel tilted his head, looking up at Dean with an expression that Dean could only describe as longing. He couldn’t say anything for quite a while, simply meeting Castiel’s eyes until the angel turned his head downwards. “So... what is it? Don’t tell me you’re producing some kind of pheromones that mess up my head?” And body, but if Castiel looked a bit closer then he’d know that too.

“I fear that’s it…,” Castiel replied and Dean just stared before he let himself fall back on his butt and laughed. “Dean…” Castiel sounded annoyed but Dean couldn’t help it, snorting before composing himself. “My body is currently under a lot of stress and you’re not making it any easier by grating on my nerves.” Dean coughed and cleared his throat while trying to make up his mind on what to say to that.

“So… You weren’t just pulling my leg? With the ovulation… thing?” Dean let his head drop, pinching the bridge of his nose even though he couldn’t help grinning at the absurdity. “God, I can’t believe I’m actually having this kind of conversation with you.”

“I don’t wish to have this conversation, but you are the one trying to get into my pants,” Castiel said sourly, taking Dean by surprise, then he sighed and looked up at the sky. “I don’t know why this is happening…”

“Well, I didn’t notice you doing anything like this back when you were an angel… Well, unless you compensated by watching porn and smooching demons.” Castiel shot him a withering look. “So I assume this is new…” Dean raised his head slightly. “And leviathan…”

“It’s not strictly Leviathan, Dean. Leviathan do not procreate, nor do angels,” Castiel explained and Dean shrugged at that. For some reason this didn’t even faze him as much as other things he’d encountered over the years.

“Humans do, though,” he said lamely and Castiel huffed, turning towards Dean. Another wave of heat and excitement washed over Dean at the renewed proximity and he had to put both of his hands over his eyes for a second to calm himself down. Castiel waited until Dean regained some semblance of composure before he continued.

“I know, Dean. But I won’t fool myself… Even in this shape you feel the effects of it, on some basic level you know that this body is meant to procreate.” Dean grimaced at that, looking Castiel up and down. Of course, there was something else hidden beneath the familiar surface, something supernatural and mind-blowing, but to still hear Castiel in Jimmy’s body saying something like that was… almost ridiculous. Not that Dean hadn’t taken note of the gravity in Castiel’s voice and he had felt the luring pull of the not quite angel mere minutes ago. And if he was being completely honest to himself he could still feel it now. However, chances were that this was not caused by whatever Castiel’s body had planned for him. For them. Dean shuddered.

“So… have you,” Dean muttered and made an aborted gesture towards Castiel that could mean anything. He just hoped Castiel got what he wanted to ask.

“Rest assured. If your first birth is Leviathan you think twice about making your body the host of something else.” Dean widened his eyes, slowly slipping his hands off his face to stare at Castiel.

“Wha… what?” Dean’s sudden horrified tension lessened somewhat when Castiel burst out laughing, reaching out to hit Dean’s shoulder. “Dude! Not cool!” he shouted, “for a moment I thought you were being serious!”

“They did come out of my body, Dean…,” Castiel told him, now serious again and Dean heaved a sigh at that. He did remember, quite vividly so. The oily blood running in rivulets down Castiel’s unusually pale skin, the nauseating feeling in his stomach to see Castiel distorted, the slow descent into the lake, the blackness, the coat.

“But you didn’t give birth to them, Cas, don’t be ridiculous,” Dean said, his forehead creased with the implications Castiel’s words carried.

“I’m not trying to be funny or cause you awkwardness, Dean. But technicalities do not matter to the Leviathan,” Castiel said and Dean saw him clench his fists and curl his lip in a bitter grin. “I heard them, yearning to be let out. And I heard them, while my body was mending. They are aware of me in a way that… does not bode well, Dean.” Dean lifted his eyebrow and searched Castiel’s face to see what exactly he was on about.

“Nothing about the leviathans does strike me as remotely pleasant…,” he said and Castiel threw dirt into the flames, making them flicker and flare. “You don’t think that you were…” Dean trailed off when he saw Castiel’s expression become even tenser. “You weren’t brought back to be one of them, Cas!” he continued fiercely, closing more space between them to grab Castiel’s arms. The other man’s eyes widened instantly and he drew back when Dean brought himself close to Castiel’s face. Dean could still perceive the ensnaring smell that Castiel emitted, but he was able to keep a clear head this time. He shook Castiel once and then a second time for good measure. “You listen to me, Cas,” Dean hissed, his voice low and Castiel licked his lips. It was odd seeing him this nervous, but Dean wasn’t that easily deterred. “You don’t have to be one of them. You have a choice, you told me as well! You chose to help us, you chose to find ways for us to survive, not because anybody told you to, but because you know that it’s right.” Castiel shook his head, huffing out a hollow laugh. Dean noticed that Castiel was about to get up, so he closed his hand around Castiel’s upper arm, squeezing hard enough to cause the angel to turn his head.

“No…,” he said and Dean frowned in incomprehension. Castiel lifted the hand that was not impaired by Dean’s tight grip and gently pried off Dean’s fingers.

“No? No what?” Dean asked in irritation, shaking his head. Why was Castiel trying to make this any more difficult than it already was?

“This…,” Castiel started, his voice low and he turned his head upwards to the sky. “existence I lead now is difficult. I understand that I deserve any punishment, maybe I don’t even deserve to be alive unless it is for cleaning up my messes.” Dean didn’t know what Castiel was aiming at and neither did he think it was the best idea to interrupt him now. His blue eyes were focused on the sky, with that kind of stare that hinted at him seeing beyond the clouds and the haze hanging over them. “Dean… when I flared back to life the only thing I heard was the Leviathan. Their constant hissing in my mind, the gnawing of their teeth and the echoes of those that drowned in their famished violence… And as I managed to heal and ascend from the darkness they kept me in I was faced with the absolute silence from Heaven.”

“Yeah, you said you don’t hear them anymore and I told you that you don’t need them,” Dean said, punching the hard floor because he needed to hurt something. The silent pain in Castiel’s voice shook him to his bones. Just to imagine him, trying to heal and being surrounded by nothing but those monsters… For months – years even!

“Shit, I should have looked for you, Cas…!” Dean hissed, wiping his hand over his face, “we could have gotten you out!” Castiel turned to look at him, his expression first pained, but then he smiled gently.

“At times… I hoped that you would come for me and I wished for it when the taunting and lure of the Leviathan got unbearable… But why should you? I was dead, yet again…” Castiel’s tone was not judgmental, but Dean still knew that this was something else Castiel kept agonizing about in this new and lonely journey. Dean opened his mouth to just say something but Castiel reached out, not actually touching him but Dean understood that his well-meant interruption was not entirely welcome at the moment. “Leviathan don’t have the power to bring me back to life. But no matter how long I called and listened, there was only deafening silence in return…” Castiel ceased and Dean studied him. His eyes were still directed upwards, narrowed as if he was squinting at too bright light. Dean breathed in deeply, then he put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Okay… Okay, Cas, I think I get it…,” he started and Castiel closed his eyes, but his head remained tilted upwards. “It was a dickish move to bring you back and ditch you. But just because you do not get validation from upstairs, doesn’t mean that what you set yourself to do is not the right thing to do.”

“Dean…,” Castiel sighed, finally opening his eyes again and looking at Dean. “I know, but I still…” It was Castiel averting his eyes that made Dean raise an eyebrow.

“Just do what you can do, Cas…” Castiel shook his head, but he made no further attempts to continue this conversation. Dean greatly disliked how unresolved the situation felt. But there was nothing he could do about it if Castiel didn’t want to speak up.

--

When the silence between them had drawn on long enough, Dean tried to steer the conversation back to where it actually started off.

“So you’re not going to breed baby monsters, are you?” Castiel’s head snapped up and he frowned at Dean, before he rolled his eyes heavenwards.

“If I keep as I am and steer clear of anybody affected by my state then that should not be an issue,” he insisted, drumming his fingers against his knees. He rolled his shoulders and sighed. “It’s really uncomfortable wearing Jimmy’s visage at the moment, but seeing as you are affected I cannot risk reverting.” Dean raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Why shouldn’t I be affected? I think anybody could smell you from a distance!” he argued and when Castiel lowered his brow Dean dropped his eyes. “Uh, no offense.”

“Because you’re human, Dean. No one in the Settlements has ever reacted to me and nobody but you seems to describe my smell as sweet. All they smell, even at the height of the cycle, is my shampoo.” Dean furrowed his brow at that piece of revelation, but in the end he just shrugged. He had already embarrassed himself to an unredeemable degree during the course of the day. No need to get all defensive now.

“So, maybe I like you for other reasons,” he suggested and Castiel lifted his head at that, eyes narrowed in confusion, before they widened almost comically. After half a minute of staring at Dean (and Dean actually forced himself to return his look) he turned his gaze back down, his skin taking on a slightly rosy hue and by the time Castiel started fidgeting with the hem of his shirt Dean had to laugh. “Come on, man, don’t behave like a teenage girl now!” Castiel frowned up at him and the mixture of shyness and irritation was rather amusing to watch on Castiel’s face. Dean couldn’t help grinning at that and he sighed deeply, looking up at the sky. “Awww… Twice into the future and one time I get a sex loving hippie and the other one a shy virgin?”

“I’m not a…,” Castiel started to argue but then he cleared his throat in apparent discomfort. “It’s not as if I’m shy, but you haven’t exactly come across as being interested before.”

“You’re interested?” Dean wondered instead of trying to come up with a dignified answer to that and Castiel groaned. “What? You’re the stuck up angel, not me!”

“I wish for far more important things from you, Dean, than sexual gratification,” he said and now Dean had to narrow his eyes at his travel companion. Judging from the look on Castiel’s face it seemed as if they were steering towards delicate subject matters again. “I’ve seen a chance at being close to you again instead of alone, abandoned and hated.” Castiel looked at Dean, his expression gentle now, a rueful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And you were nice, even though you must feel great resentment towards me.” Dean sighed, closed his eyes and dropped his head in defeat. He’d been right, this was a delicate topic, one filling him with discomfort. Because everything depended on his action, on the right choice of words, words that could either bring a shy smile to Castiel’s lips or a look of utter heartbreak. Dean hated that he held the strings to Castiel’s emotions in his hands. And even though Dean felt insecure, he was well aware that they were probably barely scratching the surface of all the bottled up things Castiel felt or had to say on them. But Dean knew that he could just be honest and do both of them a favor.

“I don’t, Cas. Okay?” he said to the dry, hard ground, quite a bit more forceful than necessary. Upon Castiel’s silence Dean lifted his head and looked at him. The smile was gone from his face, replaced by a neutral expression. It wasn’t really helpful to finding the right words. “I don’t hate you. You messed up, okay, but you’re family, Cas.” The angel lowered his head, but he kept his eyes on Dean. Very slowly a small smile formed on his lips. Dean sighed in relief and grinned at him until Castiel’s smile got bigger.

“This doesn’t make the problems disappear, but I feel a lot better hearing that from you, Dean,” Castiel confessed, “because even if you’ve changed, you’re still you… There’s still hope…” Dean mirrored his smile, then he shrugged.

“As long as we’re alive there’s always some kind of hope,” he told him to which Castiel made a small noise of agreement before both of them reverted back to silence with only the fire’s crackle as distraction. Dean had meant what he had said – now that he knew that Castiel would come back he actually had the chance to allow himself to feel something other than mind numbing guilt and the bitter sting of betrayal and loss. He was not ready to face all the bottled up anger and pain head on just yet. This was the future, something that could as well be a dream to Dean, where he could practice his reaction to Castiel. Even though he felt like a dick to think it, he could actually leave this place behind without it affecting him. Whatever he did here only left an impact on this particular time, this particular future. Not his future, Dean refused to believe that it would get to that. The leviathans would not win, they’d do the same as last time everyone believed the world was going to end in one bloody apocalyptic battle. They had defied destiny enough times for Dean to just not believe in a clear cut future anymore. 2014 was ever crawling closer, true, but Dean doubted that it was the end of the world, even though someone or something tried to tell him the year was important.

Dean looked up from the fire, taking in the empty, color-drained landscape all around them before raising his eyes to the dirty excuse of a sky. The sickly looking clouds had become more in number, a thin stretch of ugly green yellow across the sky and into the distance where it was getting pale orange. He dared to look out the corner of his eyes and found Castiel almost mimicking his pose. He had his head tilted upwards, his eyes closed and his expression soft and serene. How he could look at ease in this wasteland was beyond Dean, but this was his time and it was Castiel’s chosen task to wander the earth.

“The noise is faint,” Castiel finally spoke up and Dean turned his head, knitting his brow in confusion. Even though Dean strained to hear anything, there was still only the sound of the fire. Not even Sam-static and for one moment the absence of the near constant whispering in his ears worried him. It was probably just the wards though.

“What noise?” Dean wondered when Castiel just tilted his head slowly from side to side, eyes still closed. “Hey!” Castiel opened his eyes, displaying a strikingly vibrant and clear blue that surprised Dean, but the glow had disappeared within a blink of an eye.

“I was right. Raunacht will occur tonight and close to where I estimated,” he explained but Dean still didn’t understand. The entire concept of this event eluded Dean to some extent. Castiel must have noticed because he chose to elaborate: “Raunacht is not entirely predictable. A person attuned to the echoes of the other spheres might pick up on a string of whispers and afterimages and follow them to the correct location at the correct time. It’s a lot of guess work, but,” Castiel did something that looked like a proud smirk, “I’m pretty good at guessing.” Dean had to bite back on laughing at that.

“Yeah, thousands of years of angel radio and now the freaky leviathan channel are bound to give you some experience, right?” Dean quipped and Castiel shrugged at that. Not long after he rolled his shoulders and got up.

“I think we should move. There’s still a lot of ground to cover and I have to save my strength,” Castiel said and bent down to hold his hand straight into the fire. Dean almost shouted in alarm, but the flames died down until there was nothing more but ash and some charred twigs.

“You didn’t say anything about saving strength when you last flew,” Dean said, not quite alarmed yet, even though Cas must have his reasons. They weren’t running into any dangers, weren’t they?

“Yes, but then I didn’t have to focus so much of my concentration on strengthening the form I’m currently in,” he said and Dean looked at him in incomprehension. Castiel sighed, took a step closer and tilted his head. Dean immediately felt warmth and a sudden interest in the smooth, inviting line of his neck. But he was still coherent enough to actually notice what was happening to him and he heaved a loud sigh, crossing his arms over his chest to keep himself from reaching out.

“Okay, fine, you try not to smother me with your sugar sweet sex scent,” he said and grimaced right after, “aww, shot me. This is really awkward.” Castiel laughed and the air cleared, fresh, like an ocean breeze. Dean realized that the angel actually made a conscious effort to not inconvenience him. But he couldn’t even bring himself to be more than slightly irritated at the attraction he felt towards the angel. It wasn’t as if Castiel could help it. It wasn’t as if Dean felt like resisting much. And it wasn’t like this was entirely new.

“At least you have something to laugh over when you return to your time and Sam,” Castiel said and reached down to get his arms through the slings of his backpack. Dean took his own leather bag, giving it a short shake to feel its content shifting about. He had long given up on having his weapon at the ready all of the time and maybe it was stupid to let his guard down, but it felt even stupider to carry a loaded gun around Castiel, who was nothing but nice and accommodating. And probably couldn’t be killed by anything he had with him except maybe Raphael’s blade, but he felt absolutely no desire to test it.

“Yeah, sure. You and me and the dangers of sex. That’ll be one story I’ll certainly take to my grave,” Dean muttered and watched the warding symbols around them dissolve with faint flickers of light.

“It’s not the first time this combination came up. Or is the story of you encouraging me in that den of iniquity also one you’ll take to your grave?” Castiel asked, his dead-pan voice luring another laugh out of Dean even though he should feel embarrassed about that. An angel in a brothel was still funny though and the look on Cas’ face had been hilarious. Poor guy.

“Nah, that one was awesome,” Dean replied and stepped over what had once been symbols, following Castiel. Even out of the circle of symbols, Dean still did not hear Sam trying to contact him, but a faint wind was now blowing, tickling his ears.

“I don’t know,” Castiel said, sounding slightly grouchy and Dean grinned. “It was rather unsettling.”

“Oh, come on. It was funny,” Dean argued, falling in step with Castiel after catching up with him. There was nothing to orient himself, but the faint orange in the distance that might signal the coming of early evening. Maybe they were heading east. Castiel was tight-lipped next to Dean, wearing an expression that would have been a perfect fit on Sam’s face. “Don’t tell me you weren’t at least a little bit interested?” Castiel rolled his eyes upwards in annoyance, but then he turned his head slightly, frowning at Dean.

“I was, until you made me leave with Chastity,” he said and Dean cocked an eyebrow at the name until he remembered the pretty blond thing. Castiel clearly didn’t approve of the lecherous grin appearing on Dean’s face.

“Why? Why then?” Castiel snorted but kept his eyes clear on Dean. For some reason this made him slightly uncomfortable.

“I thought you’d take a little bit of a more active role. More active than pushing me into the arms of a prostitute,” Castiel told him, voice clear, and Dean choked on his own sharp inhale of cold air. Castiel even had the gall to look smug as Dean tried to regain his composure.

After a sputter of undignified noises a strangled “what?!” was all that made it past Dean’s lip. And Castiel was still gracing him with that smug little look. “I hate it when you’re trying to be funny!”

“I‘m not trying to be funny,” Castiel retorted dryly, now focusing his attention back onto the landscape even though there was nothing to be seen. Dean still looked at the side of Castiel’s face with a mix of disbelief and embarrassment.

“You actually thought I was offering to pop your cherry?” Castiel shrugged, still a great feat with that monster of a backpack he carried, but he did manage to look more nonchalant about this entire business than Dean could ever hope to feel. “And you didn’t think about protesting that?”

“Why should I have? It didn’t actually seem like my opinion on the matter was of great importance to you.” Dean wanted to give him some indignant retort to that, but found that he would have to lie. It had seemed like he would do Castiel a favor with getting him laid. “I’m not exactly into meaningless sex, you know?”

“Uhm,” Dean muttered, one silly elongated sound into the silence around them and Castiel huffed at Dean’s the stupid expression. “Okay, whatever. Sorry about giving you the wrong idea,” he finally said and Castiel nodded at him in acknowledgment. “But just to make sure; you would have been on board with that?” Castiel took a while to answer and Dean wasn’t entirely sure why he felt nervous tension all of a sudden.

“Seeing as you wouldn’t let me wait in silent contemplation anyway, yes. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but you do have your charms.” Dean groaned at that, a groan that transformed into a breathy laugh and he hit Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel chuckled too and winked, wearing a teeth showing grin that caused his cheeks to dimple.

“Man, Cas… I’m so sorry,” Dean laughed, shaking his head, “for all that sexual frustration.”

“That’s quite alright, I didn’t exactly have a human male’s libido, so my frustration with you was on a more all-encompassing level.”

“Oh, now that makes me feel better,” Dean retorted, but he was still grinning, tension slowly easing away into the conversation. It was still a loaded topic, one that held so many more underlying truths than Dean ever wanted to face. The way Castiel talked about it though coaxed Dean out of wanting to take the entire topic and silence it to death. The tension between them, of whatever nature it had been over the years of their interaction, was easier now, never quite lifted but it was out in the open, with half a name attached to it. “What about your libido now?”

“Oh, you know… Normal,” he said casually and they arrived at the cracked road. Castiel started following it, walking on the hard dry earth next to it while Dean was glad to get some asphalt back under his feet. He really missed his car.

“Normal meaning what?”

“Normal as in I’d like to show you how good I look in lingerie so you’d stop asking questions about my sex life,” he said, his voice teasing but with an edge of irritation. Dean looked to the side, finding Castiel frowning up at him. “And not being able to.” This might be the point where Dean should feel really uncomfortable about all of this, because if Cas didn’t put his mind to it being subtle was not his forte. Dean was half sure that this was an invitation to shut up about it. Not that Dean felt like he needed to heed this warning, but before he could feel all too bad about not being able to do just what Castiel had suggested, the angel chuckled silently.

“I’m sorry… I’m not good company when I’m like this,” he apologized, keeping in step with Dean, burying his hands into the pockets of his jacket and smiling down at the dusty roadside, “it’s just that I’ve never been able to talk to anyone about this before…”

“Don’t sweat it. It might be odd, but it’s a funny kind of odd,” Dean assured him, “but you might try to make some friends in this time-line…” Castiel shrugged, but didn’t give any reply so Dean thought about the few times he’d seen Castiel interact with anybody. It had never been exceptionally friendly, all business how Castiel usually was. But it was like that woman had said; Castiel was lonely. Dean understood that now. Finally. Dean pushed and pulled him into the direction he wanted Cas to go to and had never thought where he was when he wasn’t with them. In the long absence between a fleeting meeting and the next – where was Castiel then?

“There’s no real need for attachments,” Castiel assured him, calling him back from his troubling thoughts, but keeping his eyes fixed onto the road ahead. “It’s better this way…” Dean doubted it, because he knew exactly what Castiel meant. “I have lost the only friends I had. I have no need for new ones.”

“I… get it, Cas…,” Dean muttered, finding Castiel looking at him. He tried to fight the urge to look away, channeling his nervousness into the second impulse. He put his hand around the angel’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “We’ll manage. We’re still here. Okay?” Castiel only made a small, wounded sound that Dean hated causing, and he bumped shoulders with him, pressing his nose into Castiel’s clean smelling hair. “We’ll fix it. It’s going to be okay,” he whispered and this time Castiel didn’t even try to claim that there was no need to fix it. Because they were broken, shattered into angry, sharp edged fragments and it was only due to the distance that time put between them that they didn’t hurt each other that much while trying to slot back together. Dean believed, he wanted to believe. They were going to be okay.

“… time… not… impossible to get him back!”

“You cannot expect me to solve all your insignificant issues!”

“How can you call this insignificant?!”

“I can work with this. It’s not my business to clean up after you! I tried before and you… don’t care… end of…”

Dean threw up over Castiel’s shoes.

Tinny voices were scratching inside the sticky darkness behind Dean’s firmly closed eyes. Each breath he took burned and choked him. The air was moist and heavy, forcing itself down his throat past the acidic taste of bile and he coughed. The pounding in his head was terrible, blood rushing too fast, next to the sound of his heaving and retching.

His knelt on the wet ground between spoiled fruit and fallen leaves. Castiel was there, he felt his cool, dry hands on his damp face. The violent nausea dissipated as fast as it had come, leaving behind only a queasiness, the pain in his head and throat.

“I hate the future,” he groaned childishly and Castiel helped him up but didn’t trust Dean to stand on his wobbly legs without his arms around him. Dean cracked an eye open, but the orange light of late evening that fell on them in patches through the foliage was almost too bright.

“Dean… Dean, are you alright?” Castiel sounded concerned and Dean turned his eyes away from the treetops to look at him. He was close but the smell of Dean’s own vomit and the forest around them almost cancelled out Castiel’s scent. Dean knew that if it was Sam’s puke all over his shirt and shoes he wouldn’t be so eager to pull his brother into a hug. Castiel did though, drawing the fingers of one hand gently though Dean’s short hair while the other held him upright, firm but with care.

“Yeah… Fucking stench. Fucking voices screeching in my head,” he hissed and leant against Castiel, resting his sweaty forehead against the soft, cool skin of the angel’s neck.

“I’m sorry…,” Castiel apologized and Dean wrinkled his nose, putting an arm-length’s distance between them. He felt sore all over, his legs trembled a little, but he was fine enough, not that Castiel seemed inclined to let him go. The fastest way to the Outpost where Frank lived was straight through a long stretch of this corruption addled landscape. Foul smelling and decaying, with a rust colored sky peeking out over spotty thick leaves oozing disgusting liquid the color of snot. Dean had only managed half an hour, half an hour of bravado before the buzz in his ears had turned to nausea inducing noise, his concentration on ignoring the overripe fruit scent slipped and he’d found himself puking all over Castiel’s feet after the poor guy had turned to check on him.

“Cas, it’s not your fault,” Dean hissed, trying to wash out the taste of bile with water but it just diluted it, making Dean shudder. He screwed the lid back on the flask and slipped it into his bag. Castiel sighed deeply, but then he stepped back into Dean’s personal space.

“It’s not that much further. I will fly,” he insisted and Dean wanted to protest but Castiel’s wings unfurled with a violent waft of warm air and a rain of oily blood.

“Man, if you-,” Dean wanted to protest, seeing a shudder go through the angel, but then Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean. “I’m gonna puke all over you again,” he warned instead but the huge wings stirred and they soared into the air, through twigs and branches until they burst through the foliage. The orange light was blinding, but Castiel didn’t give him the chance to complain or even look around before the colors bled into indistinctive flashes.

Dead gave an alarmed shout when the floor returned under his feet sooner than anticipated, Castiel reaching under his knees and lifting him up to prevent stumbling over him.

“Jesus! Not the most elegant landing I’ve witnessed,” he tried to tease, but Castiel was breathing loudly through his nose, lips pressed into a firm line and drained of blood. “Cas…?” Worry spiked through Dean, but Castiel cracked an eye open and nodded at him. “Good… Okay… Let me down.” Despite his concern Dean still didn’t feel like being carried, especially not in such an undignified manner. It was slightly odd how the guy could look close to fainting but still held another grown man like he weighed nothing at all. Without further ado Dean was lowered to the ground. The wings had already disappeared by the time the hunter looked.

“I didn’t want to land too close to the camp,” Castiel told him, “so we still have a bit of ground to cover. Can you walk?” Dean shot him a side-way glance, taking in Castiel’s pale face, the tremors that went through him, the moist look to his eyes.

“I can… Mouth still tastes funky, but I feel better now that I’m out of those woods. But you don’t look too good,” he said, grabbing Castiel’s upper arm and giving it a tight squeeze. Castiel managed to smile at him.

“I’m fine… Just tired.”

“Then we rest,” Dean insisted, looking around them. They were standing at the edge of what seemed to be a dry river bed, the ground reddish and cracked. The sky here looked almost like an ordinary evening sky but it was still far too bright around them.

“I fear we don’t have the time,” Castiel said and started walking, his arm slipping through Dean’s. “Come.” Dean sighed and shook his head, before grabbing Castiel’s hand and gently pulling the angel after him in the direction he was facing. “Thank you.” Dean wasn’t sure what had earned him this gratitude - whether it was because he wasn’t putting up a fight or because he was guiding them now even though he didn’t know where they were going. Maybe both, maybe it didn’t matter. Castiel kept his eyes on the sky, mouth moving soundlessly.

Next