Chapter Text
The next time Dean wakes up, he feels his head throb and ache like he’d hit it on a concrete wall a million times in a row.
The ringing in his ears is the worst part though. Dean gets one glance at the light source and has to close his eyes again at the same second because it hurts. Sure, he’s been hit in the head more times than he can count in his life, he knows by now that a head concussion is a bitch, but something about the whole ‘I’m in another reality’ deal is just taking a toll on his body.
Well that, and the fact that he’s not even supposed to be alive. A bit of both, probably.
Dean pushes past the nausea and the dizziness that takes over his body to try and pay attention to his surroundings. He’s sitting on the floor, with both hands trapped somewhere behind his back. Instinctively, he tries to pull them forward, but to no avail. Awesome.
He groans, forcing his eyes open and blinking a couple of times until the light isn’t unbearable anymore. The room he’s in is a mess , to say the least. There’s dirt everywhere and empty bottles gathered in a corner not too far from him. There’s only one working lightbulb lighting the entire room, hanging right above his head. Dean realizes then he’s cuffed to a small pillar, with ropes tying his torso as well like an extra safety measure.
It’s not long after that he finds out where the strong smell of smoke is coming from. He sees a figure standing by the window far from him, the silhouette hidden in the shadows, safe for the light of a cigarette hanging from his fingers. Dean recognizes him by the curve of his shoulders alone, and his stomach does a little twirl at the sight of him.
He watches him take one last drag before putting it out on his jeans, throwing the crushed end somewhere on the ground. Then, his raspy voice makes its way into Dean’s ears.
“You’re awake,” he says, his back still turned to Dean. Dean gulps, body going stiff with the anticipated fight. This Castiel didn’t seem like he wanted to listen to Dean at all. In fact, Dean’s surprised he even let him live to see another day. He’s not completely sure he’ll be getting the same kindness again. “Good.”
Dean wriggles and tries to pull his arms free for a second, but stops on his tracks when Castiel turns to face him, taking slow steps to lean against the edge of the table in front of Dean.
In the light, and without that cloth covering his face, Dean can see the full extent of the effects of time in the former angel. Dean sees one or two wrinkles by the side of his eyes, and an abundance of grey mixed with the dark strands of his hair and the thin layer of his growing beard. He sees the long scar with more detail now, a rash and sloppy cut that starts right under Castiel’s left eye, crossing his cheek, chin, and neck, only stopping near his collarbones. The cut is old and healed, but the skin is dipped around the white line of the scar, highlighting just how deep it was.
And still, despite the changes, Dean thinks he’s beautiful.
Castiel moves like he’s unbothered by the passage of time. He grabs a dismantled gun on the table, slowly putting it together without sparing a look at Dean.
“Holy water, silver, salt, the demon blade… You’re just immune to them all, aren’t you?” Castiel speaks, and Dean knows that wasn’t a question that awaited for an answer. He shifts uncomfortably in his spot, heart racing in his chest. “Are you going to tell me how you’re doing this?”
The bulb on Dean’s throat goes up and down, the adrenaline slowly making way into his system once again. He isn’t scared of Cas — well, maybe he is a little, but Dean is more worried about not fucking this up with saying the wrong thing than anything else. He wets his lips, hands opening and closing behind him while he tries to pick the right words.
“I’m not a monster,” he settles for the obvious at the end, the safest option of them all. Cas scoffs while he assembles the frame, eyes trained on the gun. “I’m not . Don’t you think I’d be dead by now if I were one? You tested me.”
“Sure, because you can trust anyone these days,” Castiel says, as stubborn as ever. Good to see that didn’t change, Dean thinks. He rolls his eyes, cursing under his breath. “You’re the one with a plan, you tell me.”
“I don’t have a plan. I don’t know what you think I am, but I’m not . I’m not a demon or a shapeshifter or a fucking ghost. I’m… I’m just me,” Dean tries, his heartfelt explanation only getting a soft ‘hm’ from Cas. Frustration grows in his chest. “Look, I’m telling you the truth here. I have no reason to lie to you or to hurt you so just, please Cas, you have to listen to me—”
What happens next is quicker than Dean could’ve ever imagined. Cas makes a move to grab something on his waist and in the next second Dean hears something hitting a spot only a few inches above his head, making him flinch on instinct. Dean looks up, only then seeing the sharp dagger digging in the wood of the pillar, a breath away from cutting the top of his head.
He looks back at Cas with eyes wide. Cas, on the other hand, stares back at him with a cold and calculated gaze, his jaw locked in concentration. Dean holds his breath.
“You don’t get to call me that,” Castiel says slowly, punctuating the end of every word. His gaze is so intense that Dean can only gulp and look down, closing his eyes as he curses inside his head. So much for trying to say the right thing.
The silence stretches between the two of them for a moment, and Dean sighs in defeat before he decides to speak again.
“I’m sorry,” he opts this time, shoulders slumping on each side of him. “I don’t… I don’t know what happened to you after I left, I don’t know why you think I’d be a monster but I am telling you the truth here, man. I am . I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have let that Dean send you to die, alright? I know I fucked up.”
Cas hums softly as he finally finishes putting the gun together piece by piece, putting a single bullet on the chamber before finally making eye contact with Dean again.
The drum of Dean’s heart pounds in his ears, almost louder than the sound of Castiel’s boots on the floor, walking until he’s standing right in front of Dean. He uses the muzzle of the silver pistol to lift his chin, giving Dean no other choice besides staring up at him. Dean catches himself wishing he’d at least used his hands to touch him. That he’d at least get to feel his knuckles on his skin during it.
Cas keeps his distance.
“Let’s say I believe you then, Dean,” Cas begins, head slightly tilted to the side while he looks down at him. He uses his thumb to take off the safety lever, blue eyes never leaving him. “Last time you were here, I lost everything. Why shouldn’t I just kill you now?”
Dean holds his gaze, gathering every piece of will he has to force himself to keep the brave act up, a downward smile appearing on his face. Cas wants to be though? Fine . Two can play that game.
“Go ahead,” Dean says, delivering his life on a silver plate for Cas. “I’m already dead.”
Cas squints his eyes, slowly kneeling in front of Dean and staying inches away from his face. He presses the gun right under his jaw, the metal jumping each time Dean gulped. Cas looks at every part of his face with immense care, and his voice is soft when he speaks.
“Explain.”
Dean can’t make himself look away from Cas, so he ignores the gun on his throat and speaks. “I went back to my world, and I survived a few apocalypses but… I died. And after I blacked out there I woke up here.”
The press of the gun gets lighter but Cas keeps his finger on the trigger, blue eyes still fixed on him. “And where’s your angel, then? Why didn’t he rescue you?”
His words fall like salt in an open wound.
Dean can’t help himself. He thinks back to all the times he prayed to him after the Empty took him, thinks about all the times he cried in the darkness of his room because he didn’t get to say goodbye . He thinks about bleeding out in that barn, and feels the guilt like led on his chest. ‘I deserved it’, he thinks. ‘This is why Cas didn’t come, this is why he didn’t answer. He thinks I deserved it too.’
He pushes all of those feelings down, fists closed tight behind him where Cas can’t see him struggle.
“Cas is dead,” he rasps out, feeling proud for not tearing up this time. It feels stupid to grieve and accept he’s dead, especially when Dean is looking right at him. But this isn’t him. And this isn’t the Cas he met all those years ago either. “I’m alone.”
And it’s only after that that Cas draws the gun back completely, the safety clicking back in. He stands back on his feet, pistol going to the thigh holster on his right leg before he grabs his dagger from the pillar. Dean can only breathe again when Cas turns his back and walks to the table again.
He sees him rummaging a few things, never looking back to Dean again. Dean’s thankful for a while, unsure if he’d be able to hold Castiel’s gaze again. “Isn’t your brother usually doing all he can to not let you die?”
“I made him promise he wouldn’t, I don’t…” Dean closes his eyes, pressing his lips together before he manages to force the words out. “I didn’t want to come back, alright? I’ll save you the sad and tragic story of Dean Winchester, but I was tired.”
“And yet, here you are,” Cas says, putting the little ammo and weapons he had on a sling bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He grabs a rolled cigarette from his pocket and brings it to his lips, using a familiar lighter to light it while he takes a drag. “I take it you haven’t forgotten the current state of this world. Our resources are slim, why should I take you in under my care when I have other things to worry about?”
“Because I know how to fix this mess,” he blurs out, seeing Cas glance at him from over his shoulder as he breathes out smoke through his nose. Castiel lifts an eyebrow, slightly turning in his direction. Dean doesn’t let the opportunity go to waste. “I know things. A lot of things. There’s stuff your Dean never knew about before the world went to shit. Stuff that can help.”
Cas fully turns this time, taking another long drag and scratching his eyebrow with the hand that holds the cigarette while he thinks. “There’s no way of fixing it. You know that.”
“Well, maybe not the entire world, but I can make things better,” Dean says, hoping Cas can’t hear the uncertainty in his voice. If he’s honest, Dean has no fucking idea of what he can do to help this world, because in his turn he never let things get to that. He didn’t have to deal with the croatoan and its consequences, but Castiel doesn’t know that. He doesn’t need to know. Dean just has to keep up the lie. “There’s a bunker somewhere in Kansas with a lot of information. There’s spells, holy objects, you name it.”
That seems to get Castiel’s interest somehow. He takes another drag, and Dean takes the cue to keep going.
“There’s a way of killing him,” Dean tries, suppressing a smile when Cas squints his eyes at him. “A way that works , this time. Not that Colt bullshit.”
“You seemed pretty convinced the Colt was the only way last time you were here.”
“I have experience,” Dean says, now allowing a small smile to appear on his lips. “I can help you, do you really wanna let that opportunity go?”
Cas tilts his head and looks at him while he considers, still looking unsure whether to trust him or to kill him. He doesn’t grace Dean with an answer, though. He adjusts the bag on his shoulder, traps the cigarette between his lips and walks out of the cabin without ever looking back.
Dean blinks and takes a while before processing what just happened. Was that a yes? Was it a no? Did he just leave to let Dean rot to death in this place?
“You could’ve at least let me go!” he exclaims, slumping against the pillar and shaking his head. “I’m gonna kick his feathered ass so hard…”
Thankfully, Dean doesn’t have to struggle for too long. A few more seconds go by with only the sound of his wriggling of the cuffs filling the room until the door opens with a swift again. A woman with dark skin and curly hair walks in, looking at him with widened eyes. It takes Dean a moment to recognize her, but once he does, the words escape him. She looks older, of course, but there’s no doubt.
Oh my God.
“It’s you?” she asks, walking inside the room with a bunch of keys twisted in her left hand. “My God, it’s you, isn’t it?”
“Cassie?” he asks, still not believing his own eyes. Cassie Robinson. God , last time he saw her felt like a lifetime ago. His father was alive then, he hadn’t been through hell then. Dean never thought he’d see her again while he lived. Not back in his world, even less here .
What the hell.
Cassie practically runs to him, kneeling on the ground and crushing him into a tight hug. She laughs while she squeezes the air out of his lungs, and all he can do is groan.
“Cassie, air,” he struggles to say, Cassie pulls back them, still smiling.
“Right, sorry, sorry,” she says, getting up to walk behind him to open his cuffs and undo the knots of the ropes. “When he told me you were here I was expecting another demon, and not…”
“I’m not a demon,” Dean insists, sighing with relief when he feels his hands free and the ropes being taken away from him.
“Relax, Winchester. I know you’re not a demon. I’m not that stupid,” she says, coming back to stand in front of him and stretching a hand in his direction. “Need a hand, old man?”
“‘M not old either,” he grumbles like the old man he is, accepting the help regardless and getting up to his feet, making a face. His knee aches and his shoulders have seen better days, but overall he's fine. Maybe with a bruise on the side of his face where Cas hit him, but he’s fine. He’s been worse. “Cassie what… What are you doing here?”
“It’s a long story,” Cassie explains, but Dean knows her enough to recognize when she’s avoiding the topic. “Are you hurt?”
“I’ll live,” He says, finally allowing himself to relax for the first time since he got here. Dean can’t resist the relief of seeing a familiar face. He pulls Cassie into a hug again, returning the tight hug she gave him, his heart less heavy now. “It’s so good to see you.”
“And it’s good to see you. The real you, I mean,” she says, pulling back from the hug. “You must be confused as hell, aren’t you?”
“Aren’t I always?” he tries to joke, smiling when he gets a small giggle from her. “Can you fill me in or are you keeping a state secret from me?”
“Oh, I should. You can’t imagine how good it is to be the one knowing it all this time,” she jokes back, tapping him on the shoulder and going for the door. “Come on, I’ll make us some coffee and we’ll talk.”
Dean nods, looking at the small cabin for some more time. He wants to ask about Cas, to know where he is and follow him wherever, but the words get stuck inside his throat. He gives her a short smile, following her outside.
“By all means, lead the way.”
Dean’s head is throbbing again by the time Cassie gives him a short version of the events.
He’s holding a mug with coffee in hands, sitting by the edge of the garden with Cassie by his side.
The first thing Dean discovers is that he’s back in camp Chitaqua, but he also finds that this camp Chitaqua is nothing like the grey and messy place Dean saw on his first time around.
There’s a lot of green, with tall walls built around it and barbed wire on the top. He notices more people too, sees how they look less haunted, but still tense. Especially when they see Dean walking beside Cassie. Some point and whisper, others straight on go back inside their cabins in fear.
At least no one tried to kill him yet, so it’s good.
And as they sat down and Cassie beings to talk, Dean realizes the world is fucked. Somehow way more fucked than it was before. There’s not even a trace of a government left, the few survivors either dead or missing. She explains that most hoards of Croats just fell apart after their Dean died. Most of them died on the spot, but some just disappeared like they were never there.
It doesn’t look so apocalyptic in Dean’s opinion, but Cassie then explains that that’s just because there’s no one left. They went looking for it, she says. There’s no one. No one in the other survivor camps they knew of. No one hiding near the big cities, nothing.
It didn’t make sense to him. Because they’re supposed to be dealing with the actual Devil. Lucifer, the greatest evil of all. From what Dean knows of him, he’s not the kind of entity to give up the play so fast.
But then Cassie explains that after their Dean died, Lucifer went on to find new ways to enforce his torture.
“I’m sorry, this is—” he uses one hand to scrub his face, pressing on his eyelids for a second. “You’re gonna have to tell me again because I’m not— I don’t understand.”
Cassie sighs, leaning back a little and looking at the sky above them. The sun had just disappeared in the horizon, the moon starting to shine bright above their heads.
“Castiel doesn’t tell me much, I only know rumors,” she explains again, scratching her neck. “When I got here he was… Well, you saw. He looked like some scary villain from a war movie. This guy I met said Cas changed a lot after Dean died, that he went missing for a couple of years but then came back a completely different person. I never met him before so I don’t have a measure, but I think you have an idea.”
Dean scoffs, eyes fixed forward. Oh, he had an idea alright.
“From what I heard, Lucifer changed his strategy after he killed Dean,” Cassie sighs, shaking her head. “He stopped disseminating Croatoan when the number of survivors got too low, and… He started to play with the heads of the people that were still here. My mom…”
Dean looks at her when he hears her voice crack. Cassie tugs her mug closer to her chest, both hands wrapped tight around it. But besides that, she doesn’t show any signs of breaking down. Still, Dean’s heart sinks in his chest.
“I lost my mom when the virus first broke out, I tried… God, I tried looking for you everywhere, but it was like you vanished out of the face of the earth. And after that I… I kept going, I don’t know. I only found this place because I was looking for you, but before I got here, I…” she closes her eyes, gulping a little. “I saw these… Clones? They were my mom but… I knew it wasn’t her. She would hug me and cry but then she would just… Try to kill me. And it kept happening again and again and again , and I didn’t know where those things were coming from. I had to deal with it for almost a decade.”
“...He called me a demon when he saw me,” Dean murmurs, nails scratching the sides of his mug. “Castiel, I mean.”
Cassie gives him a bitter smile, sniffing and straightening her posture. “Yeah, that’s what he told me when I got here. He said that Lucifer… That he used demons to mess with our heads. To try to lure us out of safety and end what’s left of the survivors. You can guess why he was so harsh with you.”
“I don’t think that’s the only reason,” he says, looking at her again and putting a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry about your mom, Cassie… I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“You were,” she smiles sadly, finally looking at Dean. “You just had other things on your mind… I still can’t believe you’re here . I thought Castiel was going crazy when he left to get you.”
Dean frowns at that. “How did he know I was here?”
“He said he heard you,” she explains. “Like a prayer, I think.”
Oh.
Oh.
Dean remembers the brief prayer right when he got here. He got so used to praying to Cas and never getting an answer that he did it without giving it much thought now. Like a habit, like breathing.
His prayer never made it out of this universe, it never made its way into Heaven or deep down into the vastness of the Empty, but it reached someone. It reached Cas. This Cas.
He closes his eyes, using all he had to not let the emotion take over him. Cas heard him, Cas came for him, despite trying to kill him and thinking it was just another trap, he came. He answered .
“I’m…” Dean clears his throat to push the emotion down. He finishes the rest of his now cold coffee in a single gulp, leaning back just a little. “I need a drink.”
This gets a laugh out of Cassie, who taps his shoulder and proceeds to get up. “Now that’s a problem I can solve. Come with me, I’ll show you around.”