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In every single problem Dean had ever had in his life, he put it all on divine intervention. It had been a pretty heavy constant ever since he'd been at about his 30's, finding out that Heaven pulled at the strings of his entire existence. Ever since he'd learned about angels and God with a capital G existing, he'd really found just about every annoyance large or small could be traced back to them. One didn't go through experiences like having his whole life scrubbed away to think he was an executive douche-bag for a few weeks, going to literal Heaven and Hell, or end up hosting an actual angel in his home and not find that there were some constants in the pattern.
All of that had led to the current headache he was dealing with, namely Jack being completely gone. A very powerful kid, missing and without a soul could end up causing a lot of trouble. That made it his and Sam's job to contain it. It had led them to the good old fashion FBI trick to try to track him down, only to find himself in a very awkward position of not being able to lie, leaving the woman he was talking to behind the counter to seem very confused.
"I'm Dean Winchester, and I'm looking for the devil's son," he said before laughing nervously and inside of his head telling himself he was going to find whoever was responsible for this and smack them upside the head. Screwing up his nerve, he decided to try again. "I'm Dean Winchester, and I'm looking for the devil's son… This badge is fake..."
He didn't even bother to try a third attempt, not seeing the point to wasting his time with the ruse that he couldn't even force past his lips. Also, he had a feeling it would just embarrass himself even further, or even worse the receptionist might call the police. The name Dean Winchester was kind of attached to such inconvenient things like mass murder and the like, and he had a feeling if he was even slightly pressed he'd blurt out how the two times the government had assumed he was dead and therefore no longer needed to be on the top ten's most wanted list had just been faked.
Just as he'd found Sam and started to explain what was going on, grilling him on his love of Celine Dion, the two found themselves in back in the bunker of all places. Confused and whirling around, he tried to find the source of whoever was screwing with them.
"Okay, what the hell is going on?" he asked in annoyance, far from amused.
"How did we get back to the bunker?" Sam asked, seeming just as bewildered as Dean was pissed.
"I don't know, but whoever is screwing with us is getting decked in the face. Look around, maybe we'll find something," he replied to his younger brother as they searched around.
It didn't take long before the noticed an envelope laying out on the table with their initials carved into it, plain and unassuming, but a quick look to Sam's concerned expression assured Dean that it hadn't been there before.
"Dean, wait!" Sam cried out in warning just as Dean snatched it up and tore it open. "Dude, what if it's dangerous?"
"What's it going to do, give me a paper cut?" he muttered before pulling out a letter. "The hell?"
"What is it?" Sam asked before he moved around him to give it a read as well.
Dear Sam and Dean,
I hope that this letter finds you well. Ah, that seems like a cliché way to start this off, but I have a feeling if I don't try to be at least a little polite about this you two will be pissed. Let's face it, from the very start of our relationship, things have been kind of rocky between us. I don't think even I could have ever really predicted the way you stormed into my house and got so angry about me writing about you, and knowing stuff is kind of supposed to be my thing. Anyway, I'm rambling. Sorry. Long story short, I'm writing to say my goodbyes to you.
As we've all said about me for a long while now, I'm not the best writer in the world. In fact, I'm pretty bad at it. I've taken comfort in the fact that at least my bad writing is entertaining, but let's face it, it's gone from 'so bad it's good' to kind of stale. I need to go and find my muse, maybe allow myself to be inspired again instead of trying to retread the same storylines with different beats.
What happened with Jack recently has really proven that to me too, and I think we can all agree if there's anything I'm worse at than being a writer, it's being a dad. So, I've decided to kill two birds with one stone. I took Jack and we're heading off to a new world I created. It's pretty barren right now, just a void outside of all my other creations, but I figured while I help him get his soul back we can bond and learn something about ourselves at the same time. Who knows? Maybe my next book can be self-help or something.
Anyway, I guess this is sort of my official retirement from being God? Well, not really. Things will still run pretty well even if I'm gone, but it's a vacation for sure. Be warned though, while I'm away the balance in the worlds I already made will probably be pretty off. Shouldn't be too big of a deal, nothing destructive, but maybe some slight issues? My worlds can be pretty cramped at times. Things might bump into each other a bit, but with luck I'll be able to convince Amara to come with us after a while and that should handle the balance issues. (Don't tell her I said this, but she's gotten really addicted to humans. I think it's kind of funny actually, you know in a weird sort of black humor way with her trying to kill you all.) My last act officially as God will be to undo the whole not lying thing. Jack's just processing some things right now and I think he'll handle it better if there's no lasting damage, and less of a headache for you guys too.
Anyway, Jack is in capable hands and I'll have him contact you when he feels better. Wish me luck!
Sincerely, Chuck
Dean ended up reading the letter a couple times, feeling more and more irritated each retread.
"So, still want to smack him in the back of the head?" Sam asked idly.
"Yes, damn it!" he snapped out angrily. Sam had gotten this very weird reverence for Chuck ever since learning the guy was God, but honestly Dean saw the same annoying little squirt he'd threatened while he'd been wearing underwear and a bathrobe. Not that any smacking would be happening with him in some new world. "Great, this is the last thing we needed."
"Maybe it's for the best," Sam mused.
"What do you mean by that?" Dean asked.
"Dude, we kind of took the kid we were sort of raising and stuck him inside of a box, and maybe we said it was the only choice we had, but we still lied to him," his younger brother sighed before throwing his hands up when Dean opened his mouth to say something. "I'm not saying that he wasn't out of control, but clearly we weren't handling it! Look, as someone who didn't have a soul for a year? Yeah, you don't care about things. Like, at all. This… this might be the best chance he has of getting better, and we've always wanted Chuck to step us more. It could be a good thing."
Dean sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Honestly, he was kind of exhausted. Emotionally speaking, he was pretty drained. The kid had taken out Dean's own mother, but his feelings on his mom had gotten more than a little complicated lately what with the whole betrayal to the British Men of Letters and all that. It had just felt like things were getting back on track only for this to happen and he…
"Okay, he said the balance was going to be off," Dean said, switching gears. He often used work to ignore the complicated emotions that had been hitting him for over a decade now. He could honestly say he missed the years before he even knew what a yellow-eyed demon was. Life had been so much simpler back then. "When we were last hearing about that the idea of Chuck or Amara dying, it meant everything went boom. What's it mean now?"
"Well, Chuck isn't dead. He just left, and it seems he went pretty far. Maybe that might affect things," Sam guessed.
"Yeah, but how?" Dean demanded, but Sam could only shake his head, clearly having anymore idea than his brother did. "Great. Well, I guess we'll find out when we find out. You better get a hold of Cas and let him know what's going on. He'll be worried otherwise."
"He's really attached to Jack. Don't you think he might want to hear the news from you?" Sam suggested.
"Why's it matter who he hears it from?" Dean asked. "I swear, I've always got to be the one to pray to him."
Sam just shot him a look before rolling his eyes. Walking away while muttering, Dean caught a couple words like 'clueless' and 'idiot' but aside from that, not much. He just ignored it. Sam had always been pretty insulting about his intelligence after all. Bitch just didn't want to be the one who had to make the call was all.
"So, that's pretty much the situation," Sam said as Castiel and Dean sat at the table with them. The whole thing had felt kind of awkward. The hunter and angel were on kind of weird terms right now concerning Jack. To say they felt differently about the kid would be underselling it completely, and it had hardly been buddy-buddy between them. The brothers had settled on Dean getting the angel to the bunker, but had left most of the talking to Sam.
"I see. Getting Jack somewhere safe where he can process his emotions and regain his soul probably will be best for him," the angel said softly.
"That's it?" Dean asked. "You're just fine with that?"
"No, but I have to be," Castiel replied, his voice a bit curt but not angry at least. That was a step in the right direction. "Jack is a good boy and has proven himself more times than I think he is properly given credit for. He will find his way eventually and I will be waiting to welcome him back home when that happens."
"That might take a while though," Sam warned.
"True. It's possible he won't even be back in your lifetime, but I've waited longer for my Father to return to Heaven. This is an acceptable solution," Cas stated before looking to Dean. "For what it's worth, I am sorry for the fallout that happened over everything."
Dean was good at holding onto a grudge, at least with most people, but somehow he always forgave Cas. He didn't want to really fight about this anymore either, so he shrugged his shoulders.
"It is what it is," he said. It wasn't an apology back or anything, but it was at least an end to the argument. That would be good enough for them, he supposed. "In any case, what's this whole balance issue thing about? Any clues?"
"Father created many worlds, more than I know about for sure," the angel explained. "If there is, as he put it, any bumping into each other I would assume it would be in the form of alternative worlds colliding with ours, maybe more rifts opening like the one Jack created. We could have another situation like the world where Michael had won the war. At the very least, we should be on guard for any alternate versions of ourselves that might prove dangerous."
"So we might just Mirror, Mirror it?" Dean joked.
The angel looked more confused by the comment, so Dean just let it slide.
"Who knows how many creations by Chuck out there?" Sam cut in, as if to try to dispel some of the tension still there. "From the sounds of the letter they'd all be rubbing up against each other. The odds of anything we can't handle getting dumped in out world was pretty remote. We should just keep our guard up and deal with it as it comes."
"Alright, sounds good to me," Dean said. "Cas?"
"I will keep an ear to the ground for you," he promised, and that seemed to be that.
Oddly enough, about a month after Jack had left, there'd been some odd squirrels running around the place. Sam had experienced one climbing on top of his shoulder and refusing to leave his side except when lured away with food and another that kept knocking books off the shelves in the library and scurrying all over the open pages, while Dean told himself firmly that rabid squirrels couldn't read. Just as he'd had enough of the little animals though (mostly because he kept finding the one so attached to Sam kept getting into his pies), they'd disappeared. Only a still smoking bowl and several ingredients scattered about in a mess had left any indication of where they might have gotten off to, but both Winchesters wisely decided whatever had happened, it wasn't worth looking into.
It was better than another rogue archangel coming through and possessing one of them in a bid to take over the world. Honestly, they'd been having to worry about saving the thing so often that if Chuck's retirement only meant the odd rodent problem, Dean was pretty okay with that.
So they settled into the odd routine of hunting, relaxing and just allowing themselves to hang around the bunker. Castiel was even around more and it was honestly nice for his company that didn't include whatever drama Heaven had to stir up at the moment. Why the angel had insisted on trying to go back so many times and fix that mess was beyond the oldest Winchester, but he didn't suppose he could blame a guy on having a whole 'saving those that needed you' thing going on. It'd be pretty hypocritical of him after all considering his own line of work.
So far, it had been almost downright normal for them, almost like settling into a less hectic routine. Dean had just been in the kitchen, cooking up bacon for some cheeseburgers and feeling pretty good about the world when it happened.
It felt like an explosion had been set off in the bunker, shaking the very foundation so hard he was lurched forward against the stove. It was only his reflexes that allowed him to catch himself in time to avoid getting a face full of hot grease as he landed.
"Seriously?" he growled. "What now?"
He was just leaving the kitchen when Sam rushed around the corner, looking concerned.
"Please tell me I'm not the only one who felt that," he said to his brother, causing Dean to shake his head.
"No, something's in the bunker all right," he muttered, grabbing his pistol from his pants. "Come on. Let's find whatever it is."
"Any ideas?" Sam asked, not seeming to eager to find out.
"Oh I don't know, Sam. Judging from the feel of it, Chuck decided to rip off Jurassic Park and turn us into T-rexes," Dean snapped out.
"Would anyone even read that?"
"I'm sure someone would," he muttered before heading down the hallway to look into it.
It had gotten relatively quiet, and he wasn't feeling very good about what they were going to find only to stop short at the sight of it. A whole car was sitting in their downstairs study, some Fiat of all things, along with another Sam and Dean climbing out of it, looking just as confused as he felt.
They looked fancier than he'd ever seen himself, that was for sure, in posh clothing that he was sure had designer labels stitched in somewhere, golden watches, and shoes that didn't look like they'd ever seen a speck of dirt since they'd been made.
"Dean?" Sam choked out, only for the other Dean to look at him with a bewildered look.
"Sam?" he asked back.
The original Dean felt like his head was swimming. All of a sudden, he really missed the squirrels.
"Excuse me, but what's going on here?" the other Sam said. Despite the weirdness of the situation, Dean couldn't help but snicker a little bit at the look of him, in a purple suit-jacket of all things and a freaking man-bun. Well, at least it would be easy enough to tell the two of them apart.
Then again, as he looked at his own counterpart with his crisp white shirt and bracelets of all things… he didn't think he'd have much in common with this opposite of his either.
"Okay, Sam get them to the main room," he muttered before putting his gun away and turning around. "We're going to need beer for this, and bacon, in that order."
He ended up staying in the kitchen gathering the food longer than he really should have. Honestly, Dean didn't really want to deal with this. Good fighting against evil? Saving the world? Hunting monsters? He could take all that, but lately the world had just gotten so damn weird. It made his head spin, but deep down he knew he wouldn't really be able to hide away forever.
He was going to have to figure out how to get that damn fruity car out of that room though. He could hide away with doing that for a good long time.
Eventually though, he came back out with a large plate of food and four beers clutched in between his fingers before he set them down at the table they were all sitting at.
"So," he said as he put the plate down and grabbed a piece of bacon and munched on it. He tried to appeal casual, as if crap like this happened to him all the time. It wasn't that hard, since it was pretty close to the truth. "Welcome to Earth."
His counterpart snickered a bit at that, hiding his mouth behind his hand to try to hide himself laughing before it morphed into a cough.
"Thank you," he replied, sounding only slightly joking himself, most of the tone had sincerity in it. "Not exactly the red carpet treatment, but appreciated."
"So, you two are hunters?" Sam asked, seeming to get eager to get to know exactly what kind of world they'd come from. At least this time they were human.
"We are," the other Sam replied with a soft smile and nod of his head. It was a bit unnerving to Dean. He'd seen other people wear Sam's face before, acting as him or just taking over his body, but this one was just… off. The way he sat, pronounced his words, waved his hand a little bit as he talked like he was too lazy to hold it upright, it just kind of wigged Dean out knowing this was not his down to earth, plaid wearing brother. And was his own counterpart wearing suede? "We were actually in the middle of a case when we… I'm not sure how I'd describe it. We were driving down the road and there seemed to be this thunderstorm rolling in, only lightning hit and it was yellow… dark and golden, but glowing at the same time."
"Hit the car," the alternate Dean explained. "Scared the dickens out of us."
"I'm… I'm sorry, did you just say dickens?" Sam asked in a chortle before his brother glared at him. "Sorry. Uh, go on."
"Well, that's kind of it," the posh Sam said. "We ended up here and saw you. Not much to it. Strange really, because all were hunting was a few zombies. Nothing that could have done this."
"No, that would be God," Dean sighed out.
The two other versions of the Winchesters looked at him confused before he shook his head.
"It's a whole complicated thing," he explained. "God sort of… left, on a writing vacation. His existence keeps balance with destruction and because he's gone, it's causing his different worlds to sort of..."
"His exact words were bump into each other," Sam explained. "It seems to be causing a few people to get misplaced."
"I'm sorry, his exact words?" the other Sam asked with an arched eyebrow that made him look like he was posing for a magazine. "God speaks to you?"
"Actually, he wrote us a letter," Sam explained. "Uh, still have it if you want to see it. On the other hand, you might need another beer."
"We actually don't drink much of this stuff," the other Dean said as he picked it up and studied it.
"Dad won't keep it in the house," his brother explained with a smile. "He likes his private label Scotch. He spoils us."
"Wait, your dad is still around?" Sam asked.
"And he spoils you?" Dean choked out. Okay, this was going from annoying to kind of insulting now.
"I think he wanted us to have the best of everything," his counterpart explained. "Building an entire empire of HunterCorp from scratch, hunting monsters for pay, it was like seeds planted in the Earth. Nice to enjoy the harvest."
"Greatest Dad ever," the alternate Sam said both happily and whistfully.
Dean was starting to feel the urge to deck himself, in a manner of speaking. What was this?! What, Chuck created a world where the Winchesters just got everything and had never known pain or some crap?!
He was just about to start shouting when the conversation was interrupted by Castiel of all people walking into the bunker.
"Dean, I felt something odd and I wanted to see if..."
The angel trailed off when he saw the scene, but that wasn't what caught Dean's attention the most. The other Dean had stood slowly, staring at the angel like he could barely believe his eyes. Relief colored his expression but also pain, like he could barely believe what he was seeing.
"Castiel?" he breathed out. "Is… Is that really you?"
For a moment nothing was said, not a thing breaking the silence between the five people in the room. All of a sudden he rushed forward and Dean reacted before he could think, grabbing his gun to stop whatever was about to go down before this other version of him suddenly grabbed the angel and hugged him tight, shoving his face into his chest.
"I… I thought I'd never… God, I can't believe it's you..."
Castiel stood there awkwardly, his hands hovering in the air, seeming to want to return the hug but unsure exactly how or if he should. Eventually his hands rested on the human's back and patted him gently. Dean was surprised when a sob actually escaped his counterpart, trembling against the angel. The Sam that wasn't his stood with a pained look on his face.
"Dean," he said. "You know that can't be-"
"Don't care, Sammy," came the mumbled reply against Cas' chest.
"Dean, this isn't healthy. You know that," Sam said, his voice getting a bit more firm. "Come on, how long are you going to hurt yourself like this?"
Dean felt confused about what they were talking about before the other Dean pulled away and sighed softly. He looked Castiel in the eyes before he smiled a little, but the expression was a bit of a bittersweet one.
"Yeah, I know," he admitted before shaking his head. "But sue me, I don't care."
"Dean," the angel stated, but it wasn't clear which one he was speaking to.
After a moment, the other Dean pulled away and gave a smile, though his eyes looked weak with the unshed tears clinging to them.
"You look… amazing," he breathed out as he rested a hand on his shoulder. "All these years and still the same, huh?"
"I have actually changed, more than you could possibly know," Castiel informed him. "And I do not think I am the angel you believe that you are talking to."
"Of course. Of course you're not. You're here, after all," he replied before taking a step back. "Sorry. That was pretty rude of me."
Dean felt he should say something but the words caught in his throat. Looks like this Dean didn't have everything after all. Just what had happened to his Castiel to cause such a reaction like that? Yet something inside of him burned a bit, not liking how close the two looked. Is that what he looked like when he hugged the angel, when he was close to him? He'd never realized how intimate it could seem, having never really seen it from the outside like this before.
"Maybe we should get you guys settled in while we try to figure out a way to get you back home," Sam said, cutting through the tension that seemed to have filled the room. "We can all talk more about this later."
"Right," Dean said. "You do that. I'm going to go for a beer run."
He had a feeling he was going to need a lot more of it after all.
It wasn't until hours later that he got back, having hit a bar first. A few shots of whiskey had helped calm his nerves. Though if he was honest with himself, something that wasn't always true with his habits, he wasn't entirely sure why his nerves were so shot. Yeah, seeing a double of himself was kind of freaky but it wasn't like it wasn't the first time something like that had happened. Hell, he'd met an alternate version of himself and literally watched his neck get snapped over a decade ago now. So while it was officially in freaky town to see a Posh Spice version of himself, it hadn't been until Castiel had come in that things had really set him off.
Dean liked to think he knew himself well enough to get what the reaction had been about. Trust fund kid or not, this other version of him was still a hunter and had no doubt still seen a lot of shit. He himself had grabbed the angel enough times to know the feelings that were behind moments like that, the relief of him being alive and safe, back with Dean where the Winchester could protect him.
His alternate had mentioned it being years, had nearly cried at seeing him. Whatever fate had befallen the angel from that world could not have been a pretty ending. Had he died somehow? It looked pretty likely to have gotten such an intense reaction.
The thing was, Dean wasn't really sure how he felt about that information or the other guy thinking it was appropriate to get so damn grabby with Cas. He really, really wasn't sure how he felt about the fact that the angel hadn't even seemed to have been bothered about it.
Then again, as much of a badass warrior the angel was, he was also this creature of comfort. He could heal as easily as he destroyed, and the two of them had spent so many years together working on breaking Cas out of that hard shell to get to the emotional side of him. It wasn't that odd for him to be willing to offer a bit of solace to another Dean that was clearly suffering.
So why the hell did it bug him so damn much?
He wasn't any closer to an answer when he left the bar or when he got to the grocery store and grabbed the drinks, snagging several 6-packs of bottles with different brands. He figured at the very least he could see the reaction of the spoiled punks trying something besides Scotch.
Maybe a bit of the issue was jealousy. Seriously, their dad still alive and being praised by both that Dean and Sam as the best guy ever? Yeah, that kind of stung a bit.
When he got back to the bunker, the lights were off everywhere but the library. Curious, he dropped off the drinks for the exception of a couple bottles and went to go check it out. To his surprise, it was the other Dean, sitting in a chair and flipping through a book idly. Was… was this guy doing research?
Well, if he needed proof he was the polar opposite of the other Dean, he suppose he had it now.
"It's kind of late," he said casually to announce himself. "Can't sleep?"
The man looked up at him as Dean held out one of the bottles. After a second hesitation, the other hunter took it and set the book aside. Dean almost choked on his drink to see it wasn't research at all, but the Bible of all things. He'd barely touched the tome himself, never having really had faith, even after finding out the truth. Knowing something existed and believing in it to actually make a positive difference in his life were two completely different things after all.
"Thank you," the other man said as he looked the bottle over, seeming to be inspecting it more in curiosity than any real interest in drinking it. "I appreciate both you and your brother being so welcoming to Sam and I. I'm sure we were quite the disruption to your schedule."
Dean could only blink at him. It was so weird to see his own self talking like that.
"You a religious sort?" he asked as he sat down across from him and indicate to the book with his bottle. It was more than just a conversation starter. He was genuinely curious just how different this guy was from him.
"I am," he replied with a nod. "Hard not to be, with the life I've had, though I never met God face to face like you apparently have."
"You might have and just not known it," he muttered before sipping at his beer. "How it started with me. I didn't even believe in angels until I met Cas, and I seriously doubted the whole line about God for a while after too."
"Really?" the man asked. "That surprises me, all things considering."
Was it really? He supposed this Dean wasn't as cynical as him. Seemed like he had a pretty cushy life after all.
"So how'd you meet the little feather duster?" he asked, but paused when his counterpart seemed to shrink in on himself a little bit, seeming suddenly withdrawn.
"He rescued me from Hell after I sold my soul."
Dean paused at that. Maybe not so cushy after all.
"To save Sam?" he found himself asking and the other Dean nodded.
"I take it your Sam faced the same issues growing up? The yellow-eyed demon?" he asked, to which Dean could only silently nod. "When he went missing Dad put every resource into finding him. Hired hunters, private investigators, occultists… anyone we could manage to get on board, but Sam was too well hidden. By the time I found him… it was too late. I… I couldn't handle being without him, not my little brother, so I went against Dad's orders and did what I had to in order to bring Sam back."
"I got a year," Dean admitted. "How much time did you get?"
"Twelve hours, just long enough to make sure Sam was back and… say goodbye," he confessed. "I had thought I'd been in there for years, only to have found out it had been months. Took a lot of time with therapists to get over that one, and I still don't like to think about it."
"You guys… talk to shrinks about this stuff? Doesn't that make you sound crazy?"
"Why would talking about Hell and demons make me seem crazy?" the other Dean asked, seeming genuinely confused by that.
"Because the world doesn't know those things are real," Dean stated. "This one doesn't anyway."
The seemed to floor the other Winchester.
"How in the world to you manage to get your work done then? Wouldn't people get confused when you start pulling out salt and holy water to combat the forces of evil?"
Dean decided not to get into the long and complicated explanation of fake ID's and constantly pretending to be federal law enforcement. It sounded like a headache his other self was spared from. Besides, they were getting off topic.
"So then Castiel got you off the rack?" he asked instead.
The other Dean smiled, the expression wistful and a little bittersweet.
"He did," he stated. "It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard, waking up in the graveyard and hearing his voice speaking down to me from the heavens. He told me I was chosen, that I had a very important task."
"You… you understood him?" Dean said, his jealousy oddly flaring again. He didn't entirely get why. Okay, the busted glass and near ear bleeding had been a hassle, not to mention terrifying at the time, but it wasn't like not having to deal with that fiasco was something to get so upset over.
"His voice was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. It was like singing in a choir, the way it surrounded me and how pure it was. It was almost a shame when he took a human body and it caused his voice to go so rough, but I suppose it would have been highly improbable of him to be able to work efficiently with me as just a voice," he reminisced. "I didn't realize it at the time, but I think that's when I started to fall in love with him."
Dean's throat burned as he swallowed down the beer he'd been drinking in order to keep from spitting it out. Almost choking on the alcohol, he coughed violently as he wiped at his mouth.
"The hell did you just say?" he gasped out breathlessly. "You fell in love with him?"
"I didn't realize that would be such a shock to you," he replied. "Then… you and your Castiel aren't-"
"No, no, no," Dean said quickly as he shook his head. "We're friends, that's all. All we've every been, just completely platonic, no romance at all, friends."
The way the other Dean arched his eyebrow at him, he had a feeling in his rush to answer he hadn't sounded all that convincing.
"Sorry, no. We really are just friends," he reiterated. "It just… kind of surprised to hear another version of me to… say that kind of stuff. I've never been one for relationships, with angels or otherwise. Not very good at them."
"Oh, I see. That's a shame," he replied before shaking his head. "I suppose I wasn't either, in my own way. We didn't have a good ending."
"Yeah, I kind of got that impression," he admitted. "The way you acted before, it was pretty telling."
"I suppose it was," the other man sighed out as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "It was so… It felt right, being with him, even when we were handling the war between Heaven and Hell. There were days I thought it would all come crashing down, even with Michael's help."
"What happened?" Dean asked, wondering just how that had all worked out in this other world.
"I didn't want to say yes at first, not if it meant hurting Sam, and there was no way Sam was going to say yes to Lucifer. When the seals broke, there didn't seem much of a choice. We were organizing resistant efforts against the demons and monsters, but even HunterCorp couldn't handle everything. I agreed to be Michael's vessel on one condition, that we would kill Lucifer in the vessel he'd already possessed instead of forcing Sam into it. It wasn't as easy as that, of course, but eventually he agreed. The clean up effort took a long time afterward, but eventually the world got back to normal."
"Yeah, I suppose a planet that already knows all about monsters would still have to adjust a bit to angels and demons going to war with each other," Dean admitted.
"So… is that when Cas died? In the war?"
The question just seemed to confuse the other man.
"Castiel isn't dead, at least not that I know of," he replied.
"He isn't? But… I mean the way you were clinging to Cas and all… I'd thought..." He trailed off at the look on the man's face. "You didn't tell him."
"No, I did," he sighed out. "After it was all over, once Michael was out of my body, the angels were preparing to leave, to go back to Heaven. Castiel came to say his goodbyes and I… I confessed to him my feelings and asked him to stay with me."
The other Dean twisted his fingers around the bottle, sighing softly.
"He just looked confused and asked me why I thought he'd want to stay now that his mission was accomplished. Then he just… flew off," he whispered. "It was like my heart had gotten torn out. He'd saved me, gave me purpose besides board meetings and trade markets, even Sam liked him… and then it turned out I was just a mission to him and nothing more. You'd think after all these years I'd be able to get over it."
"Damn. I… That's messed up," Dean admitted, but it sounded entirely believable. His own Cas had been an unfeeling bastard towards the start, not seeming to care about anything but his orders. It had taken a whole year to get him to even go against Heaven for the Winchester brothers, but from the sounds of it this Dean had done everything that had been asked of him. His Cas had never had a reason to rebel, had never learned how to be less uptight, more human. Of course he'd left his Dean in the cold like that. He probably hadn't even intended to be cruel, probably had just honestly not gotten why Dean would have wanted him to say. "Bet the Scotch didn't help that time."
The professional hunter gave a bitter little laugh and shook his head.
"No, no it didn't," he admitted before taking a sip of his beer. "I kept hoping he'd come back, would realize. I prayed to him for years, trying to… but it was pointless. I never saw him again. It was a shock to see him here."
"But it wasn't him," Dean said, having the urge to remind him of that. "It's not your Cas."
The way he said that made it sound like he was coming off as territorial, but he couldn't help it. It seemed an important distinction to make.
"I know… but even something that isn't real is better than nothing, right?" the other Dean asked before looking thoughtful. "Would… would you mind if I asked him instead?"
"Asked him what?"
"If he wanted to… be romantic with me?" he said.
A flash of red hot anger filled Dean, gripping the bottle in his hand tightly.
"He isn't some replacement goldfish," he muttered darkly.
"I know. It wouldn't be the same person… but I thought… like I said, something is better than nothing," he confessed. "If you don't like it then I can just forget it."
"Cas is his own person," Dean snapped suddenly as he stood up. "He doesn't need my permission, and you shouldn't be going around asking like it's up to me."
"I'm just trying to be polite."
"Yeah, good job," he grumbled before stalking off. Even to Dean, he felt like he was being a bit of a dick here, but had no idea why. He had no ownership of the angel. What did it matter what he did with anyone else? Yet as much practice he had at ignoring his own feelings, it was clear this was bugging him. He couldn't just brush that off. It was impossible to deny this was getting to him.
Shouldn't this guy be worrying about getting home? Why was he sniffing around his Cas, like he actually had a shot? The idea was utterly ridiculous, and he crashed in his bed and roughly rolled over, determined not to give it any more thought than that.
It was a couple days later and he was feeling better about the whole thing. The more he thought about it, the stupider it felt. Cas wasn't even really the dating type. His few interactions concerning sex had all gone horribly bad, almost to a laughable degree. It helped when a nearby hunt popped up, a vampire nest that needed clearing out. He left Sam in the bunker to keep an eye on the doppelgangers, happy to keep all the messy killing to himself. Nothing could raise his mood like taking care of a bloody job, just indulging himself in the kill. It was a great thing, almost purifying when he could face something simple, just the idea of finding evil in the world and ending it with a grin on his face.
By the time he'd gotten back to the bunker it was like that stupid conversation hadn't even happened. He was even whistling as he parked the Impala and hopped up the stairs to the main hall, ready to wash up and see if he could get a burger fried up for dinner.
He didn't expect to see Castiel of all people sitting down at the table along with Dean sitting close by, so close their chairs were actually touching, the alternate version of him kissing him on the cheek at that very moment.
Dean was sure he felt his very own good mood crumble to pieces just like that.
"What the hell?" he hissed out.
"Dean," the angel said as he looked up at him and smiled gently. "Welcome back."
It almost would have been better if the angel had jumped up, yanked away from the other Dean and act like he'd just been caught. As it was, it was clear the angel didn't even mind him seeing this.
"Hey," he said softly. "What's going on here? You two look cozy."
"We've been connecting," Castiel informed him. "He told me about his own world, about his feelings, and asked me if I was willing to attempt a reltionship."
"His feelings with an angel that isn't you," Dean said bluntly.
"Well, yes," the angel admitted. "But he said he wanted to try to have something with me and I felt it would be good to pursue it and see where it could lead."
"I thought since you were so insistent I ask him instead of you, it would be best just to be honest," the other Dean explained. "I was hoping you could be happy with us as his friend."
"Aren't you wanting to get back to your world?" Dean asked. "I mean, you can't bring him with you. I need him!"
Castiel tilted his head in confusion and Dean flushed.
"As a partner, you know it hunting," he finished lamely. "I mean… he's… you can't..."
"Dean, I would never leave you. You have to know that," Castiel promised him as he stood up to approach him. "It's… unorthodox, I admit… but you never wanted me like that. I thought you wouldn't mind."
"Wanted… Wait, back up. You mean, you thought you and I would eventually..." Dean breathed out as he felt like the floor was giving out from underneath of him.
"No," Castiel said with a shake of his head. "I know you'll never love me, Dean. That's why I said yes to him, so that we could comfort each other, but I'll never leave this world. We've agreed it would have to be long distance, that there would need to be a commute, once we figure out how to stabilize a way for travel between the two worlds."
How was it that Castiel was talking about traveling between different worlds and the most shocking thing was that the angel was in love with him and had yet somehow never bothered to mention it?
"Cas, Cas I..." he said before putting his hands in his face. This was a lot to process, almost to an insane level. "Wow. I just… wow."
"Are you not okay with this after all?" the other Dean asked as he stood up as well. It was hard to look at the guy, how tentative he seemed, almost scared. That was messed up, being with someone you knew loved someone else and knowing that at any time it could screw you over. Cas had just promised to try with this other version of Dean, but the hunter had a feeling if he pushed he could convince the angel to be with him and him alone.
And the fact he was tempted to made him realize a lot about himself, that he really did want Cas in ways he'd never allowed himself to explore before. Licking his lips, he met the other Dean's eyes and swallowed hard. He could already see the rejection in his eyes, the worry and fear but also acceptance. He'd already had his heart broken once, and would probably gracefully bow out this time too.
Dean found himself sighing before pulling Cas by the shoulder into a kiss, holding him possessively. The beard felt scratchy against his skin, wonderfully so, the tongue meeting his own hot and thick. When he pulled away, he grabbed the other Dean and yanked him close.
"Help me get his clothes off. Coat stays on though," he growled softly as his counterpart blushed deeply.
"I was thinking champagne and roses," the rich hunter admitted.
"We'll tackle romance later," Dean replied. "Now help me get him naked before I change my mind about sharing him."
It took a grand total of five seconds before his other self grinned happily and kissed the angel as well, the celestial being going pliant under the affection, happy for it as both Deans began to kiss and touch him all over.
"So you have your research on spells?" Sam asked as he walked into the room with the other Sam. "I didn't know you casted."
"Dad insisted. I've really enjoyed witchcraft, ever since I've been a child," he replied before they both stopped short at the sight of the two Deans and a very happy, half-dressed angel.
"Dude, really?" Sam sighed.
"Dean, this is very unbecoming," his counterpart complained.
"Shut up, Sam," they both said at the same time before going back to paying attention to Castiel as the angel cooed and moaned blissfully, causing both younger brothers to scoff and walk out of the room, somehow both muttering it took Dean long enough.
Though, granted it was for very different reasons.