Chapter Text
“Hello, Dean.”
This is not at all what Castiel Novak expected Heaven to be like, or whatever sort of afterlife he now finds himself in. He tries to look around and gain his bearings, but instead stumbles and nearly crashes to the floor.
“Hey, hey. Take it easy. I’ve got you, Cas.” Dean steps up into his space, his arm curls around Castiel in support, and guides him to take a seat.
Castiel’s head feels fuzzy, the world around him sways and blurs. He reaches out to grip Dean’s wrist. “Did I fail? Did you die, too?”
When Dean kneels in front of him, the swirling colors of his vision finally coalesce into the beloved details of Dean Winchester’s face. There are tears in his eyes.
“Funny story, that.” Dean brings his hands up to cup Castiel’s face. “You’re here. You’re right here, and real.” He leans up farther into Castiel’s space and brushes their lips together in a soft, tender kiss.
“Should I not be real?” Castiel asks as he drops his forehead to rest against Dean’s.
“I don’t know how you are.” Dean visibly pulls himself together. He kisses Castiel again before he looks up and off to the side. “Do you have any water?”
The quiet chant of ‘holy shit’ going on in a continuous loop cuts off. Castiel hadn’t noticed it until it stopped. The room is no longer swaying, so he risks pulling his gaze away from Dean to take in the room as a whole. It is cold, gray, windowless, crowded, and entirely unfamiliar.
There is also another person present. A young woman with vibrant and uncontained red hair, wearing clothes similar to Dean’s. He gapes as he watches her open an icebox and return with a clear bottle.
Dean takes the bottle and removes the top before handing it to Castiel. “Cas, this is Charlie Bradbury. Charlie, Castiel Novak.”
As Castiel stares at her, she stares right back, finally lifting her hand and shaping her fingers in a foreign sort of salute.
Dean snorts. “I don’t think he’s seen Star Trek, Charlie.”
“You can never go wrong with ‘live long and prosper,’ Dean.” She steps forward, her eyes huge, and offers her hand to shake Castiel’s. “Hi. Um. Hi. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m so sorry I was just keeping you in a box. For now! You would have gotten a display case eventually. Which, wow. That’s even worse, huh? Like, I’ve always wondered how mummies feel about being in museums. Or those saints whose relics are kept in those big fancy cathedrals.”
Castiel squints and turns towards Dean. “Where are we, Dean? What is going on?” Nothing makes any sort of sense.
“Okay. About that…” Dean reaches up and rubs the back of his neck, one of his classic tells that he is uncomfortable talking about whatever the current topic is. “What do you remember?”
“I remember getting shot… and telling you that I loved you. Not very much after that, snatches of dreams perhaps. Dean. I don’t understand.”
“Right, right. Okay.” Dean drags another chair over and sits down close enough that his knees brush against Castiel’s. “Do you remember how we were told the gun was cursed? Your soul, whatever it is that makes you you, it seeped into the gun. The Colt. You must have been there this whole time.”
“How much time?” There is obviously something significant that Dean is not yet telling him. Castiel glances between Dean and Charlie.
“You’ve been locked away in that gun for 156 years,” Dean finally answers.
That can’t be right, 156 years? He didn’t hear that correctly, he couldn’t have. “Oh,” Castiel’s voice is faint. “You look very good for being over 180 years old, Dean.”
That makes Dean huff a laugh, though it is quiet, and he is clearly apprehensive. “I’m twenty-eight. No worries, you’re still older than me, old man. It’s just. I did die. I don’t remember that part of my life. I remember you. I dreamed about you, started dreaming about you right about the time that gun got dug out of the ground. Charlie is part of the team that found it, that’s why she’s here. She let me in here to see the gun. I’m, I don’t know. Reincarnated?”
It is an incredible tale, Castiel can’t quite bring himself to believe it just yet. He is the same Castiel, bodily brought back in one piece to reunite with the however many times descendant of his Dean who is somehow at the same time still his Dean. “You are certain we are not both dead?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure, Cas. Listen,” Dean swallows down his nerves and looks Castiel in the eye. “This is a lot, I know. Take your time. I’ll be here, no matter how long it takes for you to settle in, get your feet under you. I’m right here.”
Yes, he is right there. Castiel really looks at Dean. He looks the same in all the ways that matter. Same green eyes, same freckles. Same work-roughened hands. There are obvious differences though, too, once he really takes the time to look. Fewer scars, in different places. Whiter, straighter teeth. A different hairstyle. And then there are the clothes. These are finer spun and more colorful.
This should be impossible. He’s a doctor, he deals in facts and evidence, not fantasy. And yet. All of the facts and evidence before him point to the fact that Dean is telling the truth. Something fantastical did happen.
Instead of wallowing in what might have been, in losing his version of Dean, he chooses to revel in this gift that he has been given. A chance to fall in love with Dean all over again. A chance to live a full life. Together.
He pushes himself up out of his chair to straddle Dean’s lap. “I am settled in now.” He threads his fingers through Dean’s hair and captures his mouth in a deep kiss.
Dean exclaims in muffled surprise but doesn’t hesitate to grab hold of Castiel’s hips and kiss him back. The connection is still there, Dean still feels like home no matter the circumstance surrounding them.
After the kisses slow down to more resemble simply breathing each other in, Charlie coughs to gain their attention.. “I, ah. You guys want to crash on my couch? It pulls out and everything. Unless you have sleeping arrangements already? It’s just getting late. And I, for one, am hungry.”
Castiel had entirely forgotten she was there. He slides back off of Dean’s lap as Dean turns to Charlie to answer her. “Uh, no. I haven’t made any reservations or anything. Can’t say as I was thinking that clearly on my way down here. You’re sure?”
“Completely sure,” she reiterates. The two of them make arrangements on where to meet and what to do for dinner, and then Charlie is off and out the door.
“Are you ready to go outside?” Dean asks as soon as Charlie is gone. “I’m not sure if I should try to prepare you, or just go with it. I didn’t really plan for this to happen, just so you know. Hoped, in some corner of my mind, without actually acknowledging the possibility. In case nothing happened. So, that means I made no plans. At least my clothes should more or less fit you.” He notices he is babbling and stops, giving Castiel a chance to actually answer.
“I am ready to go outside,” Castiel responds. He is getting the impression that it will be better to see for himself than try to imagine what Dean tells him.
He still feels shaky on his feet, but steady enough to follow Dean upstairs and outside into the late afternoon sunshine. Castiel crowds against Dean, their fingers twined together, as they push through the door.
How does one go about introducing someone to the 21st century? Dean has no idea. He’ll have to wing it, because really, where would he go to do research on this? He makes sure to keep hold of Cas as they walk out the door and onto the sidewalk. He isn’t actually sure what the middle of Wyoming thinks about two dudes holding hands, but at the moment he doesn’t really care. At least they are two six-foot-tall dudes and aren’t likely to get much hassle about it.
Of course the first thing that happens is a truck with a bad muffler comes rumbling down the street right in front of them. There’s nothing like jumping right into the deep end. He looks over at Cas to see how he’s taking it. His eyes are wide open in either shock or wonder, Dean can’t tell yet. He isn’t turning tail and running though, so that’s something. Dean needs to remember not to underestimate the guy.
“Dean.” Cas turns his gaze to Dean, silently demanding an explanation.
“Yeah, that was a truck,” Dean replies. “Automobiles, horseless carriages, lots of different words for them. It’s how we get around these days.” It’s a good thing they are in a small little town and didn’t walk out to somewhere like New York City or LA, because, yeah. No thank you. “Mine is over this way.” He points towards a side street off of the courthouse.
“We’re actually in Wheatland right now. Come on.” Dean tugs at Cas and the two of them start walking down the sidewalk towards Baby. Lacking a good idea of what is best to talk about first, he just goes with the stream-of-consciousness method on anything he sees.
“Hey, see all those flags hanging off of the street lamps? Fifty stars. We’re up to fifty states now. I bet you would like Alaska. That there is a power line, for electricity. Everyone uses it now to light up their houses, no more candles or oil lamps. Unless there is a power outage.”
Cas starts to relax by increments as they continue on. It doesn’t take him long at all to start asking questions. How are the cars powered? How did the streets get to be so even? What is the purpose of the yellow and white lines on them? He seems particularly thrilled by the Wells Fargo. At least one thing remains that he is familiar with.
Dean finally comes to a stop in front of his own car. “Cas, meet my baby. She’s taken me from one side of the country to the other and has never let me down. You want to know how cars work? I’ll show you.” He pops the hood and explains in detail how the engine works. He figures the more Cas is familiar with the science behind it, the easier time he’ll have taking a ride in one.
It does not take very long for Cas to begin to watch Dean more than what Dean is pointing at and explaining, but it does take Dean a little while to notice. When Dean finally does notice Cas is no longer paying attention to his explanations, he pauses. “What is it?”
Cas smiles. “I am looking forward to falling in love with you all over again.”
“Oh.” Dean blushes. “Me too, Cas. Me too.” He clears his throat. “Get on in, we don’t want whatever food Charlie picked up for us to get too cold.”
He drops the hood back into place before opening the passenger side door for Cas. Once he is settled in Dean moves over to the driver’s side. Blasting Zepp is probably not the brightest idea, so Dean makes sure to eject his cassette tape before turning on the ignition. He has no idea how overwhelming all of this is for Cas, but he’s determined to do anything he can to ease the transition.
The drive to Charlie’s apartment isn’t long, she gave him simple enough instructions to follow. He’s so lucky Charlie turned out to be as awesome as she is. It doesn’t seem likely that just anyone would adjust so quickly to someone materializing right in front of their eyes like Cas did.
Cas is real and here. Sitting right next to him, riding shotgun in Baby and looking adorable. Riding shotgun. Was that a real term actually used when stagecoaches were a thing? Or is it a term invented by Hollywood? He doesn’t actually know. There are a lot of things he remembers about living in the 1800’s, but it’s not as strong as his own current life. Cas seemed okay with that, but what was he going to do? Say ‘you aren’t my Dean’ and stomp off on his own? No notion of how to get around in the 21st century, no money, no ID.
That no ID thing, that’s going to be a problem. One thing at a time, though. One thing at a time. Getting Cas cleaned up, with a change of clothes and a belly full of food is a good next step.
Charlie’s apartment is a tiny one-bedroom that feels even smaller with the addition of the two of them. It also smells awesome. Dean's stomach growls.
“I hope barbeque is okay,” she says as she nervously picks up scattered DVD and game cases from around her coffee table. “I also stopped at the gas station and got lots of different kinds of drink since I didn’t know what you’d like.”
She keeps glancing between Dean and Cas, mostly sticking to Cas, who is wandering about looking at the posters affixed to the walls. Dean can’t seem to keep his eyes off of Cas, either. He’s wearing a pair of relatively simple trousers held up with suspenders over a pale blue linen shirt. They had been at home, with no plans to head out again that day, so the waistcoat Cas usually wore out on appointments was missing, as was his coat and hat. He looks a bit out of place in modern day, but it’s not that bad. Still, getting him new clothes is going to have to happen soon.
“Is Hermione Granger a great historical figure?” That question from Cas makes Dean drag his eyes up to see whatever it is he is actually looking at.
“I’m sure that Charlie would love to tell you all about Harry Potter, but maybe not our first priority.” It’s a reminder for Dean as well as for Cas. As much as he would like to simply stand there and stare at Cas like the miracle he is, there are things he needs to accomplish. Things like.... Oh yeah. “What do you want first, bath or dinner? The food will keep if you want to get cleaned up and changed first.”
“I would take that to mean you would like me to get cleaned up and changed first.” Cas looks down at himself. When he plucks at his shirt, a cloud of dust puffs out. “Yes, all right.”
Dean gains permission from Charlie, then shows Cas how to work the shower. He tries not to think about a very naked Cas just on the other side of the curtain as he sets a clean set of his own clothes on top of the closed toilet lid. Tries, and fails.
“Clothes are clothes, man. I’m trusting you can figure these out, but if you have any issues just ask. I’ll be right outside, all right?”
“Yes, Dean. Thank you.”
When Dean heads back out to the living room, Charlie is busying herself setting her tiny, rickety dining room table.
“I can make you a new one,” Dean offers, coming up to take the glasses from her and setting them down on the table. “A dining room table. It’s the least I could do, you know. With all the help you’ve been.”
“Are you kidding?” Charlie hands him the silverware next, accepting his help without comment. “My philosophy in life is, what would Hermione do? First, go to the library. But she would definitely help out in this situation without asking for a thing in return. Besides, this living situation is temporary. I’m here helping out on the excavation, then when that’s all taken care of it’s off again to a new location with a different shitty apartment. Not that I’m complaining! This work is awesome. Maybe all this good karma I’m building up means next cursed soul to pop out of some artifact will be a hot, unattached chick.”
“Right, well. Who am I to say that isn’t likely? At least let me fix this table for you so it isn’t in danger of collapsing at any moment.” Dean never exactly learned what silverware is supposed to go where on a proper setting, so he’s only making sure everyone has one of everything and deciding not to worry if the spoon is supposed to go on the right or left side. His eating experience involves a lot of diners which don't always even give you a spoon unless you order coffee or some sort of ice cream dessert.
“Sure. So. How’s he doing?” Charlie follows behind and slaps a napkin down next to every plate. She apparently doesn’t care about dining etiquette either, since she doesn’t bother to fix Dean’s place settings.
“Remarkably well, considering. Maybe even better than me. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing.” Dean slides his hands into his pockets and looks around for something else he can do to help.
“Who would?” Charlie grabs the bag of food and starts warming it up. “Sit down, drink a beer. You’ve earned it.”
Dean is on to his second beer by the time that Cas actually makes it out of the shower and into the living room. A curl of heat forms in Dean’s gut to see the other man wearing his clothes. Dean is so struck dumb by the sight that it is Charlie who jumps up to guide Cas over to his seat. By the time he is able to functionally focus again, everyone has reheated barbeque plated up in front of them, and Cas even has an open beer.
“Are you all right, Dean?” Cas asks him, concern evident.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Good, really.” Dean picks up a fork and pulls his plate closer. “How are you?”
“I am fine as well. Thank you. Though I do have many questions.” Cas watches Dean, and copies his actions by pulling his own plate closer.
“Right, of course. Yeah, of course you do. First things first, though. Before anything else. Do you actually want to stay with me?” Dean hates having to ask that question, he doesn’t want Cas to go anywhere else. But it isn’t good to assume, is it? The guy should have some choice.
“Dean. I stepped in front of a bullet for you. We have a bond strong enough to bring us together again though my soul was trapped and yours has been through an unknown number of lives since.”
“Basically, you’re saying I’m stupid. Got it.” Dean is pretty sure that is relief making him feel light-headed, and not the two bottles of beer. His alcohol tolerance is a lot higher than that.
Cas treats him to a flat stare. “Never stupid. Merely frustratingly blind to your own worth at times. Will we be going to your home? If you lived nearby we would not be required to “crash” on Charlie’s couch.”
“Our home. Yours and mine,” Dean corrects. “Yes, but not yet. If you’re good with it, I thought we could drive to California first, visit my little brother Sam. He helped me find you and I promised him I’d explain everything. Might be easier in person. In some respects.”
“You have a brother.” Cas takes a moment to process that piece of information. “That is a long ways to go, but I have no objection. Where is it that you do live?”
“Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Not that far east of here. Relatively speaking. We’re going to have to get you acquainted with a map, huh?”
“That would be nice,” Cas agrees. “Especially since you mentioned that there are now fifty states. I am going to go with the assumption that South Dakota is part of what was the Dakota Territory. South Carolina is also one of the fifty? The states that seceded rejoined the union?”
“Whoa…” Charlie interjects. “Whoa. I didn’t ask this part before. When did you get shot, exactly?”
“It was March of 1861,” Cas informs her.
She turns wide eyes on Dean, who grimaces. “Yes,” Dean answers the question. “Including those states that seceded.” The whole Civil War thing is going to hit Cas hard, he knows it will. “It was ugly and awful and a lot of people died, but in the end the southern states rejoined the union. I’ll get you a library card when we get back home. Which is going to require some form of ID. How do I get valid ID for a guy who was born in 1830?”
“I can help with that.” Charlie raises her hand, looking sheepish.
Dean sets his fork down. “You can… what?”
“This isn’t the name I was born with. Things happened, I had to disappear, become someone new.” She waves her hand, dismissing those details as unimportant. “Give me some details and some time and I’ll give you a Cas born in this century. You’ll be fine for a while since you’ll be doing the driving and whatever else requiring an ID.”
“You…” Dean splutters. “Who are you?”
“Your new best friend, clearly.” She looks so pleased with herself, and yeah. She deserves to be. Once again, Dean can’t believe his luck that Charlie was there for him.
“You deserve a better best friend than me, but yeah you are.” He offers up his fist, which she bumps with her own as Cas looks on with a squint.
The three of them relocate to the couch after cleaning up the remains of dinner. It has been such a long day for everyone, yet at the same time there is still so much to talk about. By mutual silent agreement, Dean and Charlie avoid explaining the television as they fill Cas in on what they deem to be the basics. It’s really difficult not to delve into Google to fact check, but they’ve also decided to ease him into phones and computers.
Dean doesn’t remember nearly enough of his high school history classes, so current events it is. Throughout the evening, Cas leans more and more of his weight against Dean as he loses the battle against exhaustion. They are in the middle of discussing marriage equality, a topic suddenly much more relevant to Dean’s interests, when Cas finally slumps over entirely.
“Aww. You guys are so cute! I’ll go raid the linen closet so you can make up the sofa bed,” Charlie offers. She leaves Dean to try and rouse Cas up again.
“Hey.” He lowers his head and kisses Cas on the crown of his head, then jiggles his shoulder. “Hey, sleepy. Can you wake up enough to make a proper bed?”
Tenderness engulfs him as Cas makes a grumbling, inarticulate complaint.
“I know, sweetheart. You like your sleep. You don’t want your neck to crick sleeping like this though, I promise. Come on.”
“Dean.” That one word is so full of reproach that Dean can’t help but laugh. Cas finally does get up enough that they can move the coffee table and pull out the bed. It takes far longer than it should as Cas studies how exactly it works, but finally the two of them are under the covers with Charlie safely behind her closed bedroom door.
Cas throws his arm around Dean, snuggles in close, and falls asleep again with ease. It takes longer for Dean. This has been the weirdest day of his life. He should be stressed out, but he’s just… not. He has Cas. Everything else is secondary. When he does finally fall asleep, it is with his limbs tangled up with Cas, and with a smile on his face.