Chapter Text
Dean used to expect that he’d wake up somewhere else. As a kid, he’d curled up in a strange bed in a grungy motel room and imagine that he’d awake back in his own bed with Mom leaning over him. Sometimes when he was drunk enough, or just plain exhausted enough, he still lay on the edge of consciousness waiting for her hand to brush through his hair.
When Sam had left him for Stanford, Dean had awoken the next morning expecting to see his brother lying on the bed beside him. In Purgatory, he’d slept propped up against a tree in a thicket beside Benny and woke up expecting to see Cas. The hope only ever lasted a single moment before his eyes focused and reality came crashing back down like it always did.
Today was no different. No one was standing over him. Cas was still gone, Sam was still the one earmarked for these damn trials and Dean was beginning to think this notion of shutting the gates of Hell was only a fairytale.
He didn’t even know if it actually was a different day. Without windows, it was easy to lose track of time down here in the bunker. It was a far cry from the open spaces he was used to, but he didn’t mind it like he’d thought he would. They could pretend it was different. They could pretend it was safe.
Dean rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked to clear his vision before glancing at his watch. Ten thirty in the morning. No wonder his back ached like a son of a bitch. He’d been asleep for more than six hours.
Dean sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. He grabbed the whiskey from the table. It was empty, which explained the dull throbbing in his head. He set the bottle aside and stood, stretching his stiff spine.
On the surface, things did feel different. He’d been waking up in the same bed for weeks. Every morning, he awoke expecting to find himself back in a dingy motel room yet, every time he opened his eyes, he was still here in his own bed.
It should be a sign that things could change for the better, but he knew it was only a matter of time before it all went to hell. Underneath the smoke and mirrors of a clean mattress and a full kitchen he could call his own, nothing had changed.
He’d still walk out to find Sam hunched over some arcane book. Beyond the bunker walls, the world was still one bad day away from self-annihilation and one of their heads was still on the chopping block.
Dean wasn’t even fully awake before he headed out the bedroom door towards the shower room. If this place’s water pressure couldn’t drive the weariness from his bones then nothing could.
He tugged off his dirty t-shirt and tossed it into the basket with his socks. His bare feet padded over the tiles. He unzipped his jeans and kicked them off. The corner of his lips quirked up when he saw that he had remembered to hang his robe back on the hook.
He was happy here. As happy as he could be anywhere, but Sam wasn’t and something about that was seriously jacked. Sam said he saw some shiny pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Dean wasn’t sure what that treasure looked like for his brother.
Dean had everything he wanted here and he knew the only light awaiting him at the end of this ride was hellfire. If Sam saw something else, something better, Dean wanted him to live long enough to find it.
If Dean were the one signed up for these crap trials then everything would be fine. It was worth a shot, but the chances of it actually changing anything were so remote that it wasn’t worth risking Sam. He was starting to hope that Kevin never finished the damn translation.
Steam rose up around him. Dean stepped in and let the pounding of the shower’s spray beat the tension from his shoulders. The white noise of the splattering water drowned out his thoughts while the moist heat eased the pounding in his skull. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes.
Wishing wasn’t going to change anything and there wasn’t anything he could do right now aside from remember to pick up more shampoo. The bottle he’d propped upside down against the shower wall sputtered only air when he squeezed it.
All that left was Sam’s girly ass shampoo. Dean could do without spending the day smelling like a sweet vanilla almond, whatever the hell that was. He’d die before admitting that he actually liked the silky conditioner in that crap, but he could never deny how much he loved that plush robe. It was the only thing that could convince him to shut off the shower.
Wrapped in his robe and wearing his new favorite slippers, Dean stopped at the mirror and used his towel to swipe away the condensation. Shaving could wait for another day. He fussed with his hair for a few seconds before calling it good and heading for the kitchen.
The coffee was already more than half gone. He poured a cup before shuffling out to the main hall. It wasn’t exactly a shock to find Sam surrounded by a stack of books with his head buried in one of the musty old things.
Dean leaned against the table and stared at him. “You seriously haven’t gotten bored of reading yet?”
Sam jumped in his chair. “Dean. You’re awake.”
“And you’re a nerdy freak. Now that we’re past the obvious, how are you feeling?”
“Fine…” Sam’s brow creased when he focused on Dean. “You okay?”
“Am I okay? That’s the best diversion you can come up with? You really are a mess.”
“Seriously, Dean. I’m fine, but you look like crap.”
“What’re you talking about? I look awesome.”
Dean raised his mug, toasting himself. Sam didn’t look convinced, but returned his attention to the book while Dean took a long sip of the lukewarm coffee. The bitter caffeine was just the kick he needed.
He walked around to read over his brother’s shoulder. Sam seemed enthralled with the text, but it didn’t look any different than any other dusty book lying around here except that the text was too small for him to make out from where he stood.
“Do I want to know what’s got you in research mode or is it just gonna put me back to sleep?” Dean squinted as he leaned in closer and realized it wasn’t only the size of the text that was making it impossible to read. “Is that even in English?”
“Some of it.” Sam guzzled down the last of his coffee before shutting the book. “I’m just cataloging these spell books.”
“Spell books? Should you even be reading those things? You might mumble some incantation and turn yourself into a chick…or more of a chick.”
“Uh…am I interrupting something?”
Dean shot back up to his full height when he heard the voice come from the stairs. He spun around, cursing when the coffee sloshed onto his hand and nearly splashed his robe. At least he wasn’t packing his gun or he might have just wasted Kevin.
“Where the hell did you come from?” Dean asked.
Kevin looked at him like he was nuts. “My room…”
The kid had been so quiet up there that Dean had forgotten that Sam had insisted on bringing Kevin here. Aside from having a giant target painted on his back, Kevin was damn near killing himself hanging alone in that freighter.
Dean couldn’t argue that the kid was the only one who looked worse than either him or Sam. He just wasn’t sure why Sam thought Kevin would be any better off with them. It was hardly as if they were the shining examples of good, clean living. They had enough trouble keeping themselves alive.
Dean grabbed a tissue to dry off the bottom of his cup before he set it on the table and shook the excess liquid from his hand. He froze with the wadded tissue dangling over the trash when he saw the bloody tissue already there.
Before he could glare at Sam, he realized that Kevin was still staring at him. “What?”
“What are you wearing?” Kevin asked.
Dean glanced down at his robe and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is it a crime for a man to be comfortable in his own home?”
“You look like Hugh Hefner.”
“I do not.”
Dean looked to his brother for support, but Sam only shrugged. “Actually, Dean, you kind of do.”
“Shut up. My porn collection is way better.” Dean narrowed his eyes on Kevin. “How do you even know who Hugh Hefner is? You’re like twelve years old and were raised in a library.”
“Really? I’m eighteen and I was in advanced placement, not a monastery. Libraries do have internet.”
“Okay… So how’s the translating coming?”
The second to the last thing Dean wanted to hear about was the tablet. The only thing worse was the visual threatening to solidify in his head of Kevin and whatever the kid thought qualified for porn.
“Slow.” Kevin rubbed his temples. “I’m still stuck on the second trial.”
“Good.” Dean cleared his throat when both Sam and Kevin gave him funny looks. “I mean, it’s good you’re taking a break. You’ve earned it.”
“I’ll take a break when I’m done.” Kevin walked on towards the kitchen. “I just came down for more coffee.”
Dean waited for him to go before nodding in the direction Kevin had gone. “Aren’t you gonna talk to him?”
“About what?” Sam asked.
“Well, I thought you brought him here so he wouldn’t work himself to death.”
“You said it yourself, Dean. It’s not safe for him out there,” Sam said. “He’s better off here where we can watch, but we do need him to keep working so we can finish the trials and seal the gates of Hell.”
“So I can finish them.”
Sam sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Dean, we’ve already talked about this.”
“No, you talked. I listened. Look, Sam, I know you’re stuck on this puppies and rainbows crap, but back here on planet Earth we got… What?”
Sam tilted his head as if he were listening to something, and it wasn’t Dean. “Did you hear that?”
“You trying to change the subject again? Yeah, I got that loud and clear.”
“No.” Sam was quiet again before he continued. “There are voices.”
“You’re hearing voices now? Super. Nothing like proving my point.”
“Dean, shut up.”
“Dude, it’s probably just Kevin talking to one of his imaginary friends. Between you and me, that kid is a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”
Dean was going to leave it at that until he heard it too. They were hushed whispers like a television left on in the next room, but the closest television was in Sam’s room. Dean crept closer to the wall, listening.
“That’s just great,” Dean said as he stood back up. “Some people got rats and we got fairies in the walls. I hate frickin’ fairies.”
“We don’t have fairies.”
“Says who? We got just about everything else lying around here.”
“Not helping, Dean.”
Sam continued pacing the wall while Dean returned to his coffee. He didn’t really think there were fairies in the walls. It probably wasn’t even a poltergeist. Kevin likely just flipped on a radio, but it was a fine enough distraction until it apparently drove Sam insane.
Sam started with sliding aside books then boxes. Then he grabbed the end of one of the cabinet and tried to push that out of the way. Dean rushed forward to rescue his crystal decanter before Sam could slosh the bourbon onto the floor. He set it onto the table and turned back to see Sam looking at him expectantly.
“Are you going to help me with this?” Sam asked.
Dean stared back at him. “Not until you tell me why you got the sudden urge to redecorate.”
“I think the sound is coming from behind this thing.”
“You sure it’s not in that thing?” Dean asked, suddenly rethinking his fairy theory.
Dean still grabbed the other end of the cabinet before Sam scuffed the floor or threw out his back. He barely noticed the weight only because he was too distracted trying to keep his slippers from scooting off as he shuffled his feet backwards.
He set the cabinet down when Sam did and walked around it to where his brother was crouching. There was a bronze speaker cover in the wall. Dean knelt down beside it. He’d been right about the radio and the reception sucked. The intermittent words were masked under heavy static.
He was almost back to his feet when he started to make out some of the words. Most of the signal was too garbled, but he heard ‘army’ and ‘demon’ as clear as a good EVP.
Dean hunkered back down beside his brother. Their shoulders brushed as they leaned together towards the speaker until Dean heard the words that made him rock back onto his heels. He didn’t hear what came before or after, but he heard enough.
The gates have opened.
Dean looked at Sam to verify that he’d heard what he had. Sam’s expression wore the same dread that was in the voices. With all the talk of demon armies, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what gates the voices were talking about.