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Dean didn’t spend the next 40-ish years simply driving along some nondescript road in Baby until Sam bit the big one. He did, however, drive for quite a while before pulling over. He sat on Baby’s hood, frowning and wondering about something that had been bothering him. Wondering about…
“I wondered how long it would take for you to start thinking about him like this.” Dean turned to find Jack standing calmly, hands resting at his sides. “I honestly expected you to take much longer, what with how… repressed you always were.”
Dean’s curious expression returned to frowning. “Where’s Cas?”
Jack smirked. Dean couldn’t help narrowing his eyes at the familiar expression. He wondered for a moment if it was a God thing, or if Jack had absorbed more of Chuck’s personality than anyone could’ve imagined. “Castiel is… safe.”
Dean’s lips pressed together in a thin line. He forced himself to remain calm as his anger built inside his chest. “Where’s Cas, Jack?”
Jack tilted his head in an even more familiar way. Dean crossed his arms, breathing a harsh sigh through his nose. “He is… helping me. With a project.”
“What kind of project?”
Jack smirked again. “I thought I’d try my hand at Creation.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed again. “And what exactly—“
“Would you like to help as well?”
Dean paused. He closed his mouth, studying the former Nephilim. “Help with what exactly?”
Jack simply raised a hand and—
*SNAP*
Dean blinked. It was sunny and bright. Warmth from the sun heated his skin in a way that it hadn’t all the time he’d been driving on that empty, nondescript road. He was still seated on Baby’s hood. Still dressed in the same old jeans and flannel shirt and green canvas jacket and weathered old work boots.
He turned his face away from the sun and took in his surroundings.
Huh.
Instead of the open road he now found himself to be sitting in the middle of what appeared to be typical American suburbia. The houses, similar enough without being cookie cutter, were modest family-sized dwellings with two floors, a garage, and both front and backyards—some surrounded by honest to, uh, Jack white picket fences.
The house he was seated in front of was painted a light blue with white trim. Flowers that attracted things like hummingbirds and bees were planted along the front of the house and either side of the path leading up to the porch. A low stone and concrete fence bordered the lawn along the sidewalk.
“Hi, Mr Winchester!”
Dean looked away from the house to a small group of children riding bikes along the sidewalk, chorusing their greeting, and waving as they rode past. Their names came, unbidden, to his mind. He waved back, bewildered, and grinned as he watched them go. He stood and looked around the street again. A few houses away, a woman [Madeline Drake, his mind supplied] retrieved items from a mailbox and waived at him, a cheery smile on her face that was customary for her. As with the children, he waved back. A little way in the other direction, the neighborhood crotchety old man that kinda looked like Stan Lee was yelling at some other kids that were getting too close to his lawn.
He turned back to the blue house, hands tucking into the front pockets of his jeans. He frowned, pulling out the set of keys he clearly remembered leaving inside the ignition before… After being momentarily distracted by the silver ring on his ring finger [his wedding ring], he studied them. The same old bullet keychain held his car keys, the key to Bobby’s old house, his main storage locker—though it looked a little different than he recalled—and another three keys he didn’t recognize. [House keys]
Looking back up at the house, he approached the front door. He tried the knob, finding it locked as he’d expected. Picking one of the strange keys at random, he fitted it into the lock. When it didn’t work, he tried the next one. The lock clicked open, and he went inside letting it shut softly behind him.
Inside was a lot like what he’d predicted it to be, judging from the outside. A typical family home. He spied a familiar leather jacket hanging on a row of hooks by the door, next to and equally familiar tan trench coat. Murmuring from down the hall drew his attention. Two voices. It sounded like a man and a child. He tip-toed towards them, curiosity piqued further. He paused at the door of what appeared to be a kitchen. The man’s voice was clearer… and wistfully familiar. He swallowed the lump in his throat as his heart clenched.
He caught sight of a photograph hanging on the wall beside him at eye level and gaped. Three individuals dressed in those purposely ugly nerd sweaters you find during the Christmas holidays. Two men and a small child, seated in front of a decorated tree. The child [Harry], with tousled black hair and happy green eyes, was seated between Dean himself and—
“Dean?”
Dean turned to see familiar (achingly familiar) crystalline blue eyes staring at him in shock.
“Cas?” Something inside his chest simultaneously tightened and released.
“What are you…?” Castiel raised a hand as if to touch Dean’s face, pausing just short of contact. His expression questioning, turning almost sad. Something deep inside Dean didn’t like that. He lifted his own hand, pressing Castiel’s palm to his cheek.
“I…” he swallowed. His skin turning clammy. His vision unable to decide where to focus. His grip on Castiel’s wrist tightened. “Cas… I…” He drew in a deep breath, looking deep into the familiar blue eyes, beseeching… praying…
Castiel’s eyes shifted to where the photo hung, a small frown on his face before his expression softened. He turned back to Dean, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. He gave a low, nearly silent laugh, thumb caressing Dean’s skin where it was still pressed against his face. “I know.” He said softly.
Dean huffed. “Dude, did you just Han Solo me?”
Castiel rolled his eyes and shook his head, grin widening. He leaned their foreheads together. “Maybe.”
“Nerd.”
They chuckled when a small, displeased voice shouted from inside the kitchen. They pulled apart and entered the room. Dean took in Castiel’s form as the man approached a highchair with the child from the photo. He idly noted that the child was a little older [almost two] as the boy started babbling. Castiel was dressed in dark wash jeans and a close-fitting grey t-shirt. Dean swallowed. The new outfit certainly showed off more than the stuffy old tax accountant look ever did.
“Papa!” The boy shouted. Dean turned his attention to the small person Cas had just picked up, eyebrows shooting up. Castiel looked surprised and the boy was staring at… him.
“Me?” Dean asked after a long pause.
Cas smiled softly again and moved closer to where Dean had stopped. “He doesn’t call me that. Though, given how that photo has changed, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“What?” Harry tugged on Dean’s jacket, and he instinctively took the boy into his arms.
“Jack sent you here.” It wasn’t a question.
Dean held Harry on his side and wrapped his free arm around Castiel’s waist because… well, because he could. “Yeah. Where is here?”
“Earth Beta-1.” Cas brushed a hand through Harry’s messy hair.
“Earth what?” Dean did a double take as a scar on Harry’s forehead briefly became visible until his hair fell back into place. “Why does he have a scar like Harry Potter?”
“Because he is Harry Potter,” Castiel sighed. “Or he was until I, or I suppose we, adopted him and he became Harry Winchester.”
“Winchester?” Dean grinned and looked back at Cas.
Castiel’s face flushed a light pink. “I don’t actually have a last name…”
Dean pulled him closer, noses touching. “Well, you do now.” And, because he could (because he finally could allow himself to), he leaned in and kissed the being he’d been deeply, irrevocably in love with for years. He sank deeper into the warm, muscular body next to him when a loud voice sounded in his ear.
“Daddy! Go zoo now?”
Dean pulled back, face hot. “Oh, right. Kid.”
Castiel snorted. “Don’t worry, Dean,” he said as he took Harry back into his arms. “It’s good for his development to see his parents sharing affection.”
Dean froze as the implications of that sank in. Cas kissed the corner of his mouth and walked towards the front hall. “I’ll get him ready while you clear the table.”
Dean rinsed the empty dishes in the sink as thoughts ran through his head. Random bits of information coming to him as the questions formed. He was here [in his house, in the state of New York] with Castiel [his husband… of ten years] and their adopted son [formerly Harry Potter].
They were both currently thirty years old and had met at the Xavier Institute… They and their son were enhanced… born to it.
“So, we’re mutants? Like X-Men?” Dean asked as he drove Baby. Harry was secured into a booster seat in the back.
“Yes, but that term is considered derogatory in this universe,” Castiel explained. “Of my former angelic powers, I still have my healing abilities and some telekinesis. However, the latter varies with my emotions.”
“What about me?” Dean asked.
The information must’ve filtered into both their minds at the same time as Castiel paused before answering. “Super strength and enhanced speed…” He smirked. “You appear to be very… nimble.”
Dean flushed at the tone even as he got flashes, like memories, of doing some gymnastics-like exercises at Xavier’s as a teen. “I, uh…” he cleared his throat. “I don’t feel any different.”
“If Jack did to you what he did to me, your abilities will slowly come in over the next few days. It’ll allow you to… grow into them, so to speak.”
“So, no wall sex?” He quipped immediately. They both turned a deep shade of red. He cleared his throat again and resolutely stared out the front window. Turning onto a different street, he cleared his throat again. “So, uh, what about the munchkin? What can he do?”
“We don’t know the full extent of it yet. So far, he seems to be able to create a shield of some sort around himself when he’s frightened. He’s still very young. We won’t know if he can do more until he’s older.”
Dean nodded. “What about Voldemort?”
Castiel huffed. “The enhanced supervillain known as Voldemort, and his so called ‘army’, were brought down by a small team of combined personnel from both the X-Men and the Avengers.”
“The Avengers? So, all Marvel characters are in this world.”
Castiel nodded. “Yes. And Gotham City is in New Jersey.”
Dean frowned. “That’s DC Comics.”
“I am aware,” Castiel replied, sounding resigned. “The Transformers operate mainly out of Mission City in Nevada.”
If driving Baby wasn’t so ingrained into Dean’s muscle memory, he might’ve accidentally swerved into another lane. “I— what?”
“Jack wanted to also put Ryme City in Japan. I convinced him to save that, I believe the word is fandom, for a separate planet.” At Dean’s look, he sighed. “It’s his first universe, Dean. He’s excited.” Dean grunted but didn’t comment.
They were quiet as Dean turned the car into the parking lot and managed to find a spot that wasn’t too far from the door. Getting out, Dean looked skyward and snorted. “Nerd,” he murmured and shut the door.
And so, Dean now found himself walking into a zoo, of all places, with his new family. (His family.) As he stared at the bend where Cas’ neck met his shoulder, a new memory-like vision flashed through his mind. His face burned and he cleared his throat when a familiar sensation rushed through him. There’d be time for that later.
—30—