Work Text:
“The Winchesters,” Jenny seethed, hunched over the wax-stained table. Sharp, talon-like nails scraped against it, leaving anguished white flakes in their wake. “I want them gone. Out of the picture.”
The witch looked up from his bowl with an arch look in his eye. “Looking to bag some big prey tonight, hmm? You sure that’s wise?”
Jenny let slip the monster within her - the monster that had become so much a part of her that any prior life seemed distant and utterly unimaginable. Her teeth flexed from her gums and she hissed menacingly.
“Cute,” the witch said, appearing entirely unperturbed. “I can give you a spell,” he said. “And you’re obviously good for the cash.” He nodded to the slumped duffel on the nearby counter, neat stacks of bills peeking through the open zipper. “But I gotta know why. Call it professional curiosity.”
“They killed her. They killed her in our bed and I had to come home to—“ Jenny’s voice quavered and she swallowed hard against the emotion trying to punch its way out of her throat. After steadying breaths, she continued. “I need to save her. I did all the spells. I talked to every fucking oracle. And if I can just travel back in time, I think I’ve got a chance.”
“A chance for what?” casually, the witch ground herbs in the bowl.
Jenny bared her teeth. “I’m gonna kill a Winchester, five years ago. And then I’m gonna come back to Kate, and she’ll be here safe and sound.”
“Wow. That’s… Well, that’s a lot.” The witch shook his head. “But you do you.” He laid aside the pestle and picked up a bright pink book of matches. “Wrap that hex bag tight now, princess. Time travel’s a bumpy ride in the best of times, and I’ve never tried this spell on a vamp.” He winked. “First time for everything though, right?”
“A first time,” Jenny agreed with a murderous grin. “And a last.”
The witch lit a match and dropped it into the bowl with a sardonic twist to his lips. “Good luck,” he murmured as a whirl of purple light enveloped the vampire. “You’re gonna need it.”
* *
“Dean, you shouldn’t be here.”
Heaven must have made Dean mellow, because when Castiel flaps into the passenger seat of the Impala, he just rolls a lazy grin at him. “Was starting to wonder when you’d show up. I see Jack gave you your wings.” He drew his mouth to the side, consideringly. “Or is that just a Heaven thing? Can I do that too?”
Castiel opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again before he managed, “Dean, this is serious.”
“Okay. No problem. I’ll pull over.” Light welled up in Dean’s chest like water from a spring. Pretty soon it would spill over his lips and in the safe cocoon of Heaven. He was ready. He was finally ready to say—
“I think someone’s altered the timeline.”
Dean stopped the car a little abruptly (even in Heaven, slammed brakes resulted in a kind of casual shimmy to a stop, rather than a hard slam in the seat). “Altered what now?”
“Your timeline. Or, the timeline of this world. You shouldn’t be here, Dean. When I got home this morning and you weren’t there I—“
“Hold on,” Dean said, dropping his hands to his knees. “What? What home? I just got here, man. I just died. Found the Roadhouse and I heard about you - nice job, by the way. And then I just started to drive around.” He gestured between them. “And now here you are. And here we are. Cas, I—“
Castiel’s hands flew up. “Don’t. Whatever you’re going to say, just wait.” He pulled one of Dean’s hands into his, a move so immediately distracting that Dean was rendered speechless. “Dean, you shouldn’t be dead.”
“I shouldn’t?”
Shaking his head emphatically, Castiel said, “You’re very much alive. Or you should be. We— We run a bar together. On Earth. Do you remember any of that?”
Slowly, Dean shook his head. “I mean…things back on Earth feel fuzzy. Distant, you know? Like I’m looking back on everything through those old glass insulators we used to pick up when Sammy and I walked the rail line out by Bobby’s.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to focus, but I think I’d remember that.” A grin crept back onto his face. “You saying we all own a bar together? Or just… you and me. Partners.” The word sounded beautiful. Perfect. It was the perfect opening to finally tell Cas—
“Fuck,” Castiel said, without any of the sultry innuendo Dean had fantasized about. He ran his free hand through his hair, pushing it into sharp peaks. “What’s the last thing you remember before you— you know.”
“Died?” Dean laughed. “Uh, hit up a hunt. Turned out to be vamps killing parents and kidnapping kids. We got cornered and then…” Memory sliced through him. “There was one chick who tried to get the drop on me and Sam. The fight got bad and I got a piece of rebar in my back. Hey,” he said, noticing Castiel’s increasing alarm. “You get thrown into walls your whole life, eventually there’s gonna be one with a big-ass piece of metal that’s got your name on it.”
“Not you,” Castiel said, and it came out like a vow. “That’s not what you’re truly going to get in this world. In your life.” He shook his head slowly, like clearing out cobwebs.
“Funny thing,” Dean said, the memories returning sharper now. “But I knew her.”
“Who?”
“The vamp. She was some chick we tried to save years ago. We got there too late and she turned monster, and apparently was preying on people ever since.” Shaking his head, the bliss of Heaven was momentarily dulled by Dean’s soft disappointment. “All those people. All those kids over the years. If only we’d stopped her right then, you know?”
“You say there was someone you knew among the monsters?”
“Knew is a strong word, but yeah.”
Castiel nodded with one quick concise jerk of his chin. “That gives me a place to start. I’ll be back. Until then just…drive around, I guess?”
“Uh.”
Gaze burning, Castiel blew out a frustrated breath. “Oh hell,” he muttered. “Just in case it’s the last time, I’m gonna take it.” Tugging hard at Dean’s hand set Dean off balance, and then he was falling forward into Cas.
Dean’s lips parted without a second thought, intent only on the kiss, delayed for so long. Castiel’s lips were soft and warm, his press the hard desperation of a soldier leaving for war. When he pulled away it was with one quick, “I love you, Dean.” And then in a rustle of feathers, he was gone.
* *
Dean returned to Earth with a jolt, knees buckling under the weight of his suddenly corporeal body. He looked up to find himself kneeling in front of a garish motel, painted bright orange and teal with bright blue fish sketched along the wall channels. Inside the motel, a lamp shattered with a bright pop, followed by the much louder sound of a body hitting wood.
“Fuck,” Dean muttered. “Cas.”
Charging into the room, Dean found a melee. Three vampires lay in various states of anguished repose on the bed, two with arms held at delicately wrong angles. On the farthest side of the room, Castiel fought against four other monsters, boxed into the sink alcove by the vampires. Each wielded a shining silver angel bade.
Dean jumped into the fray, wresting one weapon away from an assailant and stabbing the vampire in the throat. Quick as a striking snake, he whipped around to tackle another, picking them off alongside Castiel.
When the room was quiet at last, Castiel was the first to break the silence. “You’re…you, right? The other timeline you?”
Dean shrugged. “Found Naomi and made her send me down. I told her she owed me one for everything she’d done, and that I’d make her life a living hell if she didn’t beam my ass down here.”
“Well, I’m glad.” Castiel looked off to the side, ostensibly surveying the room. But Dean knew him better than that.
“I’m here to help you get him back. Er, get me back.”
“You believe me?”
“‘Course I believe you, Cas. If you taught me anything, it’s that you’ve got the right thing guiding you.” He tapped his chest. “And I gotta follow that too. And it doesn’t hurt that I like your ending better. Do we really own a bar?”
Castiel grinned, and it felt like the sun coming out. “We do. Charlie’s eternal credit card scheme. Turns out it’s enough to finance a place out in ‘the sticks,’ as you call it.” His gaze danced. “And would you believe we have a dog?”
“Cute? Fluffy? All over you the first thing after you get up in the morning?”
“That’s the one,” Castiel nodded.
“What a nightmare,” Dean said fondly. He looked around the room. “So which vamp was— Oh.”
There on the floor lay a brunette, her hair twisted in a tornado from the fight or fall. Around her neck, the bulge of a hex bag could be seen. “That’s her,” he said with dawning recognition.
“Good.” Castiel strode to her and pulled the hex bag from her throat in one swift tug. The string gave way, and Castiel held up the bag between his fingers.
“Now what?”
“Now we destroy this time spell,” Castiel said. “And we hope for the best.”
“Right.” Dean licked his lower lip. “You know I love you, right?”
“I do,” Castiel said, but the way he lit up made him incandescent.
“Okay, just wanted to make sure. Other me’s don’t always have a great track record."
“You’re wonderful in every reality I could ever conceive,” Castiel said. Now that the dam between them crumbled, apparently he can just say things like that.
“You’re the only reality I want to have. I want this happy ending with you, Cas. I need it. I need you.”
“I know.” Castiel laid the tip of his blade on the hex bag and, eyes locked on Dean, slit it through.
* *
“I brought donuts,” Castiel announced, striding into the apartment above Jack’s Bar with a bag of pastries in one hand and two coffees balanced in the other. “And coffee. It’s your brother’s wedding day and Eileen will personally have me killed if I don’t get you there on time.”
The apartment was still, except for the motes of dust dancing in the slanted light. It was almost as though there was nobody but himself, but then—
“Need coffee in bed.” The request - or was it an order - issued from the bedroom.
Castiel laughed as he shouldered his way into their shared bedroom. “I told you not to stay up all night writing your speech.”
Dean sat in a nest of blankets, Miracle curled up on Castiel’s pillow like a territorial cat. Dean blinked at him, then blearily rubbed his eyes with both palms. “Just want it to be perfect,” he muttered.
Castiel crossed the room and set down their breakfast on the bedside table. “Hey,” he said, leaning in and combing a calming hand through Dean’s hair. “It’s going to be perfect, because it’s them and it’s us. You, me, our family. Our friends.”
Dean sank into Castiel’s touch greedily, still so hungry after so many years of want between them. “Yeah,” he rumbled. “You’re right. Love you, Cas.”
“I love you too, Dean.” Castiel climbed into bed beside Dean, folding them together into a tight embrace. The morning slid past with soft touches and soft words, and the timeline settled back into place with a gentle rustle of feathers.