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Maybe Sam and Dean shouldn’t have cast that spell with no supervision. But it looked like a good idea, at the time.
(Maybe that should have worried them.)
Sam has been so sure. He’s improving every day at weaving spells.
All his arguments don’t weight much in front of that Dean, looking at the storage room with open curiosity. He already opened and closed several drawers, nearly touched a dangerous artefact, and is now opening the ’gross stuff’ drawer. He makes a face and closes it.
“Dean?”
He turns toward him. His appearance hasn’t changed, but his eyes are so much younger. It reminds Sam of that time he was hit by a spell that de-aged him mentally... except he isn’t regressing now. It looks like Dean’s mind is stopped at a specific time. According to him, from one moment he was travelling on his own—Sam was at Stanford and John hunting solo—and the next he landed here.
“Yeah Sammy?”
“Sam,” he corrects out of habit.
“You didn’t tell me what’s that place.”
“The bunker. We live here.”
Dean looks around, a disappointed pout on his face. “Here?”
“There are many other rooms. It’s only a workspace.”
He nods absent-mindedly, then his eyes slide to him and fill with mischief. “You look so old.”
“So do you.”
Dean frowns. “Yeah but... You are...” He waves his hand in a way Sam interprets as tall. “And what’s that horrible haircut?”
“It’s not horrible!”
Dean looks at him with an offending amount of pity.
“It’s the future.”
“Future sucks.”
“You don’t know a thing about it.”
Dean stares pointedly at his hair. Sam narrows his eyes. He’s trying to give him a complex?
“Wait...” Dean starts pawing at his own face. “I need a mirror!” He runs off.
“Wait! You don’t know the bunker’s layout!”
Dean doesn’t listen.
Sam has no choice but running after him.
Dean inspects his face at length in the mirror. Sam led him to the closest bathroom because he refused to do anything before seeing his reflection. He didn’t remember his brother being so vain. He uses this small respite to text Eileen, who promises to join them as quickly as she can. Luckily, she’s in Nebraska and she’ll be here soon. Sam could handle the situation alone, it’s not that serious, but how he’s supposed to read spellbooks if Dean keeps getting distracted so easily and he has to keep an eye on him?
Rowena has been an indispensable help, the last time, he remembers wistfully. He shoves the regrets away. There’s no point in dwelling on it now.
Sam is going to fix the situation. Eileen is going to help him. There’s no need to involve anyone else.
For now.
Sam really hopes it wouldn’t come to this. It doesn’t bother him if Eileen knows, but the others... He isn’t in a hurry to spread the word, especially to a certain angel.
Sam convinces Dean to follow him in the library. He isn’t confident about leaving him alone... He can’t be sure the spell won’t suddenly get worse. And, even if it doesn’t, Dean is bound to get into trouble. The bunker is safe when you know what to avoid. Dean nearly caused a couple of disasters because he can’t keep his hands where they should be. In the library, the risks are limited.
Sam picks up the spellbook they used and puts it on a table, hoping he’ll understand what went wrong. His phone buzzes, showing he got a text. A weight leaves his shoulders. Eileen is here. She’ll be with them in a couple of minutes.
“What’s that?” Dean asks, his eyes zeroing in on the phone.
“A phone.”
“You serious?”
Dean moves to grab it but Sam whisks it away. Dean pouts.
“You have your own phone,” Sam points out.
Dean starts patting his pocket until he finds his phone. With any luck, it’ll keep him busy a couple of minutes. He turns the phone in his hands, observing it from all angles. Sam has hardly the time to open the spellbook than Dean asks, “What do you think happened to other me?”
“What?”
Dean shrugs. “I’m here, in that,” he says, gesturing at himself. “Do you think we switched places?”
“No.”
“So where he is?”
“You lost a couple of memories. That’s all.”
Dean hums, unconvinced.
“It already happened,” Sam points out.
“Maybe. But I don’t think that’s the case right now. I–” Dean brushes his left wrist. He looks at it and frowns. “I’m here, and I think he’s there.”
Sam blinks. Dean shrugs.
“I’ve got a feeling. Anyway, we’re lucky it didn’t happen yesterday. It’d have been awkward for Lee.”
A smile tugs at Dean’s mouth.
“Lee?”
“Webb. Hunter.” Dean notices Sam’s vacant eyes. “You don’t remember him? You were certainly too busy arguing with Dad to.”
“I... used to.” Sam would rather not think about those times. ”Was he one of Dad’s hunting buddies?”
It’d explain why Dean said it’d be awkward. A hunter would be suspicious of a sudden change of behavior and certainly try to kill Dean.
If that far-fetched theory is true. Which is not.
“He’s not!” Dean protests, weirdly offended. “He’s... you know.” He shrugs. “Annoying. He keeps bragging. Always trying to convince people to do things they don’t want to do. Always the center of attention.”
The more Dean talks about Lee Webb, the more Sam is confused.
“You like him or you don’t?”
Dean smirks. “Yes.”
“You can’t answer yes to that question.”
“That’s what you think.”
A door opens. Sam stands up, watching in the garage direction. Eileen walks in the war room. She offers him a bright grin. Sam signs, You’re here.
Obviously.
“Hi Dean.”
“Who are you?” Dean asks, his voice light with curiosity.
Eileen glances at Sam who shakes his head. He forgot the last twenty years.
Eileen quirks an eyebrow and Sam knows he’ll have to explain her everything. She walks to Dean, smiling again, and holds out her hand. “Eileen. Sam is my trophy boyfriend.”
Sam scowls but Dean throws his head back in laughter. Sam startles. He acts mostly the same way, but there’s something... carefree about him. Different of the brother he’s used to.
He frowns. Isn’t his actual brother carefree?
Next to that version, it doesn’t seem so. Like something whose colors faded over the years.
(Sam stores it in his mind for later. Dean is touchy about his age. That kind of jab will worry him for weeks.)
Dean accepts the handshake. “You look so tough. I’m sure you can beat his ass.” Dean smirks. “My hunter sense tells you can beat my ass.”
“Any day. But I like the both of you, so I keep sparing you.”
“Nice!”
Eileen turns her attention on Sam. “So what happened?” she asks and signs.
“I cast a spell, and Dean lost the memories of the last years–”
“Decade,” Dean interrupts in. He waits for Eileen to look at him before adding, “Or so Sammy thinks. I think I switched place with your Dean.”
“We have to find out which of you is right.”
“But...”
Eileen shrugs. “We can’t fix this if we don’t know what happened.”
Sam sighs. She’s right.
Which means he has to warn someone else, the very person he’d rather have not warned.
“I’ll text Cas.”
“Cas?”
“Castiel,” Sam clarifies. “He’s our friend. He’ll be able to tell if... what happened to you.”
He’ll lecture Sam, maybe going as far as saying I told you so. Cas looks down on his witchcraft experiments. He likes to point out all his mistakes and list every way a spell can go wrong—and there are many ways a spell can go wrong. Sam isn’t in a hurry to hear him be his usual rude, impatient self. It’s relaxing when he’s away from the bunker. To think that he’s the one who’ll ask him to come back...
Sam texts him before he loses courage. He puts his phone back on the table, screen down, and looks his brother.
“What you need to know is that... he isn’t human.”
Dean’s eyes widen. “He’s what? A witch?”
“No. He’s... something else.”
Whether he lost his memories or he comes from the past, one thing is certain: he doesn’t know yet angels exist.
“Alright.”
Sam waits but Dean doesn’t add anything.
“Alright? That’s all?”
Dean shrugs. Sam expected more surprise. They learnt monsters could be their allies—or neutral forces, not deserving to be hunted—only after he left Stanford.
“It’s weird to think we have a friend.”
Sam gapes. It’s not the reaction he has been expecting.
Eileen’s laugh echoes around them.
Sam reads the spell a third time. He didn’t do a single mistake. He doesn’t understand why it has this effect.
Dean and Eileen are sitting across him, talking. Dean asked Eileen to teach him some ASL and, from what Sam sees, it’s mostly tauntings and hunting related words. It’s better than when they were swapping stories about him, Dean talking about their childhood—Sam was a child, he could cut him some slack—and Eileen telling about the misadventures she witnessed.
The door opens and slams shut, drawing the hunters’ attention.
“That’d be–”
“What happened to Dean?”
Castiel enters the room. His eyes find Dean and he stills. Dean’s easy smile vanishes. His eyes go round. Sam tries to remember the first time he saw Cas, before he became Cas precisely. It’s difficult. Too many years have passed since then, too many events that transformed their relationship.
Dean keeps staring at Cas. He shakes out of his shock and jumps to his feet. Yeah, Sam remembers Cas’ offness can be disturbing. He’s about to tell his brother to not attack, that’s the friend he was talking about when he realizes Dean isn’t about to attack. His eyes are wandering all around Cas, never meeting his eyes, never quite stopping on his face. Sam frowns and tries to follow his eyes. All he sees is Cas, with his usual, ordinary appearance.
“It’s–” Dean chokes before glaring at Sam accusingly. “You didn’t tell me about the wings.”
“What wings?”
Dean gestures at the empty air. Something alights in Cas’ eyes. He takes a step forward and stills again, as if he didn’t mean to but can’t bring himself to move back.
“You see them. I knew you should have been able to.”
“Of course I do.” Dean turns toward Cas. He gestures at the air again. “They’re taking the whole room.” He stares at something next to him and scuttles away.
Grace fills Cas’ eyes, turning them a shiny blue. A shrieking fills the room, piercing Sam’s eardrums. He hardly has the time to wince it stops. Dean frowns.
“If you don’t want to be heard, maybe you shouldn’t talk. Especially that loud.”
Cas is smiling now.
“What are you?” Dean’s voice sounds little, not really afraid but... with fragile awe.
“I am an angel of the Lord.”
“Oh.”
Dean’s eyes wander again. Cas looks a little more at Dean before turning toward Sam, the smile slipping off his face, all business again. He quirks an annoyed eyebrow. Sam crosses his arms and raises his chin defiantly. He did nothing wrong.
“How did you mess with time?”
Time? He hasn’t lost his memories?”
Dean grins victoriously and casts him a mocking look. They are so annoying.
“No. This our Dean, but his soul is younger. He’s not some alter ego either.”
Dean startles. He opens his mouth to ask something but, noticing Cas is staring, he withdraws, impressed.
“His soul...”
Dean folds his arms around him, as if he could hide his soul from Cas, making him smile.
“It’s his soul, though there isn’t... it’s before I gripped him tight.”
“What does that mean?” Dean asks.
“It’s in the future, not your concern.”
Dean scowls. Something startles him before he can snark back. He stares into the air, moving slightly back. Cas uses his loss of focus to turn his attention on Sam.
“But how... how he’s seeing and hearing you if he’s Dean? Our Dean can’t.”
Cas winces. He glances at Dean. “It’s our Dean, I know so.”
Eileen repeats Sam’s question. Cas signs back. He never went to Hell.
Sam frowns. Going to Hell prevents people from seeing angels?
No, but... Something dark crawls in his eyes. The demon knew his art.
Sam needs a moment to understand Cas is talking about Alastair.
Sadness slips away from Cas’ face, his features settling on cold lecturing. “What did you do?”
It looks more like an accusation than a question. Cas doesn’t have the single clue on what happened and he still treats Sam as a culprit.
“Dean helped.”
“I did nothing!”
“Not you... Future you.”
“Sam,” Cas says, his voice sharper.
Sam grits his teeth. He doesn’t want to waste more time defending himself—Cas already made his mind, so it’d be useless—but it’s upsetting. He can’t let go of that. He should teach him a lesson later. He could mess with Cas’ Netflix algorithm or replace all the peanut butter by something else—Cas can’t taste anything, but he’s weirdly offended whenever there isn’t peanut butter in the bunker.
But it will wait.
Sam waves at the table, where the book is open on the spell page. “That’s it.”
Cas walks to the table. He frowns. “A healing spell?”
“For Dean.”
Cas stills. A surprised noise chokes in Dean’s throat. Cas glares at Sam.
“Dean doesn’t need healing spell. He has me,” he growls.
“It does no good for his knees.”
Cas gapes.
“We were only trying to fix that, and a couple of other aches, before the next hunt.”
Maybe you’re too old for hunting, Eileen mocks them.
I’m not, Sam retorts.
“This–” Cas glances at Dean, staring into space with round eyes, and forces himself to relax. He settles his expression on something more neutral. “It was dumb to use magic for something I could have done, no matter what you believe.”
“Suuuure.”
Cas looks down at the book and turns the page. He frowns, looks back at the previous page. He lifts exhausted eyes to Sam.
“Those are two different spells.”
“What?”
Cas eyerolls, looking like he’s going to choke on his annoyance. “You mixed two spells,” he repeats, signing along. “You’re lucky you didn’t tear the fabric of reality with that mistake. What were you thinking?”
“I–”
“My apologies. This is what humans call a stupid question. I bet you weren’t thinking at all.”
Sam doesn’t think he’ll have enough ideas in a lifetime to get even with that.
Eileen snorts. Hard. Sam casts her a wounded look. Eileen bats her eyelids so innocently Sam wonders if he misheard.
“How there can be two spells?”
“This book is mixing all the spells together, certainly to prevent amateurs to use it.”
Sam scowls. Dean is still looking at the nothingness, like in those cat videos Jack loves. He’s squeezing his hands together.
“You can touch them, if you want,” Cas offers, his voice all soft.
His attitude changes so suddenly Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he gets dizzy with it. Or if he slips and aims his annoyance at Dean.
That would be funny.
Dean scoffs and turns away. He’s clenching his hands so tightly his knuckles are white. Cas looks away from him, unbothered.
“I’ll read the whole book and try to find some clues to fix your mess.”
Sam grits his teeth. That’s why he hasn’t wanted to call Cas.
“While I...?”
“Don’t do anything.”
Cas picks up the book and sits at the other table, as far as he can. He goes to the first page and dives into it.
Dean circles the table to stand next to Sam. “Are you sure you’re friends?” he whispers. “He doesn’t seem to like you that much.”
“That’s how he talks to most people.”
“He doesn’t talk like that to me,” Dean brags.
“I said most people.”
“The angel likes me better!” he singsongs. “What was the point in going to church and praying?”
Sam glares at his brother. Dean snickers. He skips away, nearly trips and glares at his knee—his bad knee Cas is unable to heal no matter what he likes to think. He stretches his leg and walks to the shelves. Sam shakes his head, chagrined.
Eileen taps his shoulder. He’s cute.
Infuriating, you mean.
Eileen grins. I wonder how our Dean copes at his time.
Well... His knees are younger so THAT part worked.
Eileen stares at him before dissolving into laughter. Sam smiles, pleased. He notices from the corner of his eyes Dean glancing quickly at Cas then at something around him. Sam knows his brother. He can tell this sneakiness means no good. Before he can warn Cas or tell Dean off, Dean reaches out. His hand stops in the air. Something awed crosses his face. He slides his hand down, not noticing Cas casting him an amused glance before focusing back on the book. Dean repeats the motion.
Cas’ wings have to be beautiful! You see how he looks at them? Eileen pauses. It looks like they are soft, too.
Sam signs back. You think he’s petting Cas’ wings?
What else?
Nothing. Sam winces and Eileen smiles mockingly. He does his best to ignore his brother. He doesn’t want to see any of that.
Cas snaps the book shut. Dean jumps back and winces. He taps his foot on the ground. Cas stands up.
“By an incredible luck, that spell deactivates alone in thirteen hours.”
It means Sam didn’t need to call for backup and it could have settled without anyone—Cas—being the wiser.
Cas smirks down at Sam. That’s it. He’s going to ruin his Netflix algorithm and making all the peanut butter disappear and replacing all the jelly by jam. Maybe he’ll even plan other stuff.
“If that Dean comes from the past...”
“He does.”
“Should we let him stay that long? Maybe we could ask Jack–”
“No!”
Cas’ vehemence catches him off guard. Cas himself looks taken aback.
“There’s no need to bother Jack,” he says more calmly. “We only have to wait for nine hours for the spell to come undone. It’s not a matter of life and death.”
Eileen waves to get Cas’ attention. Once it’s on her, she grins, and starts signing, Jealous?
Cas darts a glance to Dean, who is frowning at Eileen’s hands, as if he can learn more ASL by mere will.
Why I would be?
If he can see you, it means he can see Jack.
It’s different.
Eileen eyerolls. I know it’s different. But you know what else I know? She grins and wiggles her eyebrows. You love Dean seeing you and fangirling about your wings. You don’t want to share that attention with anyone.
Cas narrows his eyes. He stares at Eileen, his hands falling to his sides, before turning his back to her. Eileen snorts.
“So... we just have to wait and everything will go back to normal?” Dean asks, watching between them, his eyes flickering out of focus every now and then.
“It seems so.”
“How can everything go back to your normal since I’m here?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re hunting. You’re dating the hunter Eileen Leahy. Angels exist. We’re living in a underground bunker more stocked than Bobby’s home.”
Hearing the name is like being punched in the stomach. The Apocalypse World Bobby is around, but he’s so different of their Bobby.
Dean winces. “Bobby is dead,” he whispers.
Silence falls after his words. Dean is the first to shake himself out of it. “How can you keep your lives if I know all that?”
“You won’t remember,” Cas says gently.
Dean turns to face him. “What do you mean? You’re gonna erase my mind?”
“It must be done.”
“Bold of you to think I’m gonna let you mess with my head.”
Sam is comforted by Dean’s defiance. His brother accepted too many things too easily until now. It was too different from who Dean is.
“You will.”
Dean raises his chin.
“You will, because many lives at are stake.” Cas gestures at Sam. ”You know this is your brother. You know this time is your future. The path you followed allowed you to save countless people. A whole day wouldn’t be enough to list everything you did. But what I know is that you would never gamble with other people’s life, no matter the risks for you.”
Dean’s shoulders straighten. He looks away. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll touch your forehead and take those memories away.”
Dean tenses more. He nods curtly. “Alright.”
Sam doesn’t know what to say. It’s the right thing to do. Maybe they should tell him of the times they saved the world to make it easier. If Dean actually knows the scales, he’ll accept gracefully what he has to do.
“Dean,” Cas says before Sam can find the better words. “Would you like to visit the bunker?”
Dean looks between all of them, before settling his attention on Cas. “Sure.”
Cas nods. He turns his back and walks out of the library, not storing back the book—he always does that. Dean follows him out of the library, deeper in the bunker. Sam blinks after his brother, surprised by the trust he’s giving Cas, especially after learning he can mess with memories with one touch.
You think we can leave them on their own? he asks Eileen.
She smiles softly. I’m sure it’ll be fine.
A couple of hours later, Cas walks back in the library, still followed by Dean. Dean is in a better mood. He’s bouncing—wincing and stopping every couple of steps because of his bad knee Cas is unable to heal. He’s grinning and his eyes are sparkling.
“This place is awesome. I can’t wait to live here. I’ve got my own room!”
“I... know.”
Dean looks dreamily away. “I’ve got a kitchen and a Deancave.”
“You saw all the rooms? The gym too?”
Dean scrunches up his nose. “Don’t talk about the downsides.”
“The gym isn’t a downside.”
Dean eyerolls and mouths back Sam’s words. Sam is so not going down this path. Dean is... what? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? He’s almost half his age.
Sam cuts the thought short. It’s too weird, even for them.
“What are you going to do now?”
“Cas told me there’s a garage, full of cool cars, but none of them as cool at the Chevrolet Impala 1967. He’s got taste.”
Cas’ eyes wrinkle fondly.
“Don’t go too far. It’ll be better for Dean to awake in the bunker when he’ll be back in our time.”
Dean waves him away. “Don’t worry. We’re just going to the garage and take a little walk around.” There’s a sparkle in his eyes making Sam wonder what he means by that.
“Don’t do anything dumb.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Cas vanishes in the garage, Dean following him.
Sam really hopes they aren’t going to do anything stupid. Anyway, Cas is on board with Dean’s plan and Eileen doesn’t worry. He’s too outnumbered to do anything.
Dean comes back, starry-eyed. He keeps glancing at Cas, at his—invisible—wings, acting all shy and skirmish.
“What happened?” Sam mutters to Cas, suspicious.
“Nothing you have to worry about.”
Words that make Sam worry, obviously. Cas keeps talking, unaware—in a generous reading.
“I told Dean we’ll share the dinner.”
“I’ll cook!” Dean chimes in before faltering. “But... err... Don’t expect anything as good as what your usual Dean does. He had a decade to hon our skills.”
“I’m sure it’ll be good.”
Dean offers Cas a shy smile. He looks back at Sam, amused. “I guess you aren’t gonna help.”
“I can help!”
That’s how Sam ends up in the kitchen, with Dean. His brother is handling himself in the kitchen and cooks four burgers. Sam doesn’t tell him angels don’t need to eat. Dean knows, at his time, and it doesn’t prevent him to cook for Cas.
It’s rather nice. Sam is a little unsettled about how this Dean is both like their Dean and different.
“It’s ready!”
Sam texts Eileen and Cas. They join them a couple of minutes later. They all sit around the table, Eileen next to him, Cas next to Dean. The burger isn’t as good as what Dean cooks them usually—the decade between them makes a difference—but it’s better than what Sam expected from this younger Dean, who travelled the country and lived on fast-foods and diners.
“So?” Dean asks eagerly.
“It’s good,” Cas lies, as if he isn’t only tasting molecules.
Sam nods and Eileen thumbs up. Dean ducks his head, pleased.
They finish their meal in silence, Dean stealing glances at Cas, to stare at his wings—certainly.
“And now?”
“A movie night would be the perfect ending for today,” Cas offers.
Dean reaches out to Cas’ shoulder, but he drops his hand before touching it. His smile doesn’t disappear. It doesn’t shatter either.
“Good idea.”
“You can choose the movie.”
“Lost Boys!” Dean shouts before Cas can finish his sentence, all shyness forgotten.
Some things never change.
Cas somehow tricks Sam and Eileen into clearing the table and doing the dishes. Sam doesn’t have a second of respite with him.
Eileen leaves, since the situation is under control. Sam wouldn’t have minded if she had stayed, but he has no reason to ask her to.
He’s browsing news websites, searching for a hunt, when Dean and Cas finally hole out of the Deancave. Dean’s pace is less enthusiastic. Sam lifts his head and notices his expression is sad. Dean forces a smile on his face. He claps his hands.
“You’ve got anything you wanna tell me? A big secret? A confession to ease your conscience? The winning lottery numbers for 2002, September 12th?”
Sam frowns.
“It’s time,” Cas precises simply.
Sam glances at the computer clock. It’s only 10 pm. The... spell mistake happened around 10 am. Sam doesn’t know exactly, he hasn’t thought about checking the hours. He had more urgent matters.
”There’s still time left.”
Dean and Cas share a glance. This short day has been enough for them to be able to communicate without words.
“We can’t wait the last moment. Erasing Dean’s memories will be delicate. I don’t intend to rush it.”
Sam gets Cas’ arguments, but there’s one thing he missed.
“If you do that too soon, he’ll have the time to create other memories from this time.”
“It’s okay. Cas will do–” Dean wiggles his fingers. Cas frowns and he grins. “Then he’ll make me sleep, apparently.”
“If you’re sure...”
“I am.” Dean looks at each of them, diverts his eyes. “It’s the best way.” He looks at Sam. “Nothing important to tell me?”
“You’ll forget it in a couple of minutes.”
Dean huffs. His face settles on seriousness. He breathes in and turns to face Cas.
“You ready?”
“I am but... I don’t want to forget. I had fun today. It’s– It’s been a while since I didn’t feel not lonely,” he adds sadly. “I mean... Lee is around sometimes but he’s keeping me away.”
“You have to,” Cas says, and it’s not ungentle. “It’d change our whole life otherwise. Things could be better, but they could be worse. We can’t take that risk.”
Dean bites his lip. “And... we wouldn’t meet?” he asks, sounding weirdly reluctant about it. He casts a glance at the air. “We... wouldn’t become friends?”
“Family. We are a family.”
Dean looks back at Cas, startled.
“A family?”
Cas nods.
Dean actually looks at him. His eyes slide over Cas, pausing regularly, and travel up slowly. They stop on his face. Dean smiles a little but geniune smile.
“I kinda thought so. I wasn’t sure, but it crossed my mind...” He shrugs. “I have a thing for blue eyes. Didn’t know someone could have so many of them, though.”
Dean hesitates and leans on the side, putting his weight on something invisible. All those reminders Cas is an angel is unnerving Sam. He knows, but it’s easy to forget after spending so much time with him. Cas is so unlike the angels from belief, unlike the other real angels too.
“Does it mean I’m gonna to be dumped? Again?” Dean asks, frowning.
“My apologies.”
Dean waves it away. “’S fine. I’m surprised it’s lasting that long. I wouldn’t have thought of, ya know, hunters. When we’ll meet?”
Cas shifts on his feet, reluctant to answer.
“Come on, you’ll go all Men in Black at me, you can tell me.”
“2008. September 18th.”
Dean whistles. “It’s going to be a while.”
Cas looks impossibly sad and Sam winces. Dean has no idea how long it'll be, for him.
Cas reaches out slowly to Dean.
“I don’t want to forget.”
Cas pauses. “I know. Maybe... It’s a risk but maybe we can try something else.”
“Cas,” Sam warns him.
“I won’t let him remember,” Cas snaps at him. “I’m not reckless enough to play with things I do not understand.” That jab at Sam doesn’t go unnoticed and won’t go unpunished. “I’m going to lock it away...”
But even Cas, with all his powers back, can’t delude himself more. He’ll never be able to lock those memories away enough for Michael to not be able to reach them.
“I...” An idea shines in his eyes. “I will take this memory, and will give it back to future you once he’ll come back to me. Does it suit you?”
Dean shrugs. “As long as I don’t lose them altogether... I guess it’s fine.” He glances at Sam. “See ya soon.”
“Yeah,” Sam chokes, too emotional for what is happening.
He isn’t saying goodbye forever to Dean. He shouldn’t have this impression.
Dean faces Cas again. Cas puts his fingers against his temple. Dean leans into it and, somehow, Cas ends up cupping his face, looking at him fondly. Dean closes his eyes. Sam looks away. Seeing his brother so trusting toward someone he just met—no matter if Cas is their friend for years—is creeping him out.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“You won’t remember.”
“I’ll miss you anyway.”
The time stretches. Those things take time, Sam knows it from experience, but waiting is difficult. He doesn’t glance at his brother and Cas, though.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed when Cas says, “It’s done.”
When Sam looks at them, Dean’s eyes are closed. Cas is preventing him from falling with one arm around his shoulders. He’s looking down at him.
“Where should I...?”
“The infirmary.”
It’s closer than Dean’s room.
Cas nods. He picks Dean up as if he weights nothing.
“I’ll watch over him and warn you when he awakes. Do not worry.”
Cas returns forty-one minutes later.
“Dean is aw–”
Sam is already on his feet and running to the infirmary. Dean is standing next to the bed, looking pissed.
“Cas lectured you too?”
Dean scoffs. “I can heal you just fine Deannnn,” he mimics. “Why did you play the ‘guinea pig’ for your apprentice wizard brother?” His persona breaks and he laughs. “It was impressive until the finger quotes. And Cas was very happy using a saying and a reference.” He lets out an amused sound and shakes his head. “He’s just so...” He sighs. “It went well for you?”
“We were in the bunker. Did it go well for you?”
“It was fine. I didn’t notice until then but almost everything hurts, not just the knees. It was nice, despite the lack of memory foam mattress.”
“You called Dad?”
Dean looks at him as if he’s stupid. Sam’s face falls. First Cas, now him... It’s not a good day.
“I stayed where I was, and waited for you to make everything right. I wasn’t going to risk changing everything. What if I said something what I shouldn’t to who I shouldn’t and you ended up kale-obsessed? What if... What if it prevented us to meet Cas?”
The last point doesn’t really feel like a downside, today.
“You spent the whole day in a motel room.”
Dean shrugs. “There are worst ways to pass the time. Other me didn’t cause problems? Really?”
“He insulted my haircut.”
Dean snickers. Sam glowers.
“Told me I’m old, so you are old too,” he adds before his brother can mock him again. “But, other than that, he spent the day with Cas.”
Something passes quickly in Dean’s eyes.
“He... what?”
“Spent the day with Cas? They got along right away. He’s really your best friend.”
“I see.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m tired. I’m going to my room.”
“But you just said–”
Dean has crossed the room before Sam can finish his sentence.
–you spent the day resting.
He blinks. That’s weird.
Castiel knocks at the door, and waits. It’s one of those times when patience is what Dean needs to open up and confide. It’s not always true.
Castiel waits. A sigh sounds in the room. “You’re still here, right?”
“I’ll stay as long as I need to.”
“Come in, then.”
Castiel opens the door and stands on the threshold. At first glance, Dean isn’t in his room. Castiel walks past the door and sees him, sitting on his chair, in the corner of the room. It’s worst that Castiel expected. He doesn’t understand. Dean seemed in a good mood when he came back. He even smiled at his reference.
“Do you allow me to stay?”
Dean smiles. It’s a sad little thing, not reaching his eyes, and it breaks Castiel’s heart.
“I’ll never say no to that, you know?”
Castiel shuts the door. He sits on the bed, facing Dean, his wings curling naturally toward him—they always position themselves to protect him—, and waits. It’s not as boring as waiting usually is. Dean is here, even though he’s sad. Castiel hears his heartbeat, perceives the slight humming of his soul.
Dean clenches and unclenches his fist. Castiel stares the movement. He looks up at his face, his green eyes stubbornly turned down, and waits.
Dean is the one breaking the silence.
“How it was? To spend time with a younger me, who never tortured anyone?” he asks, an edge in his voice.
“Wonderful. You know I love the time we spend together.”
Dean winces. He diverts his head, facing the wall. “It wasn’t me. We’re different people. I...” He closes his eyes. “I was good with who I am but... but now, you see, don’t you?”
“See what?”
“I’m not... I was a better person. A less worse.”
Castiel frowns.
“I’m still seeing the same man, who keeps loving no matter how unfair and cruel life is to him.”
Dean side-eyes him. “You don’t like him better?”
“I love you. I love who you were yesterday, the last year, a decade ago. I love who you will be tomorrow, in the next decades, in the next centuries.”
Dean turns toward him, a blush creeping on his cheeks. “Centuries? I can’t do that.”
“Human life is limited,” Castiel concedes. “But afterlife is not.”
Countless emotions dance in Dean’s eyes—in his soul. He lowers his eyes to his knees. “You’re good at this.”
Castiel tilts his head.
“I love you too. I won’t mind being yours for centuries, if you’ll still have me.”
“I’ll have you.”
Dean smiles. He lifts his head, relaxed. This is better.
“He did anything weird? I remember being weirder then.”
“He could see me. My true visage,” Castiel adds because of Dean’s confusion.
“How...?” His eyes darken, the little well-being Castiel managed to cause disappearing. “Alastair.”
Castiel nods. He waits to see if Dean wants to talk more about it, but Dean keeps silent. He stands up.
“I have something for you.”
Dean looks up. Castiel walks to him. He holds out a hand toward his face. Dean nods once. This proof of trust doesn’t cease to amaze him.
Dean doesn’t lean with eagerness like his younger self did, but when Castiel touches his skin, he melts into it as if it’s the only thing able to bring him comfort. Castiel’s heart soars.
All versions of him are endearing.
Castiel recovers the memory he kept safe—this is a gift, you keep those, and it’s laced with Dean’s emotions... what could be more beautiful, more precious than that? He infuses it in Dean’s mind. At first, everything is normal. Dean is a curious spectator. Then he tenses. He sees the wings of Cas—he never thinks about him as Castiel, neither did his younger self. He feels them under his hand. He sees himself dragging Cas outside and staring at him and asking him what he actually looks like. He sees Cas complying, leaving his vessel for a single moment, but it’s enough for him to see it all: the wings, the eyes, the rings.
Dean’s eyes flash open. Castiel frowns. Maybe he should have warned him about what he was going to see. He flinches, wondering if that’ll change things between them.
No, it can’t. Dean’s younger self didn’t mind. Why would he mind now?
A little sound escapes Dean. He isn’t looking at Castiel. The angel stills. Dean... Dean is staring at his closest wing, his eyes round. He’s seeing it.
Human minds are a wonder, thinks Castiel.
It only needed to be recalled it was able to, once upon a time, to regain its gift.
“Hello Dean.”
Dean tears his attention from his wing—reluctantly, Castiel notices proudly—to stare into his human eyes.
“Cas?”
His voice holds countless questions. He doesn’t understand what is happening, why he’s suddenly able to see and touch what escaped his senses until now.
Castiel folds a wing closer to him. Dean twists his fingers together, his eyes filling with awe. Castiel’s grace hums with amusement at seeing him being exactly like his younger self.
Castiel fluffs his wing. “You’re still allowed to.”
His Dean indulges them right away. He extends a hand and lays it on his wing, reverently, as if he fears to damage it. Castiel presses his wing against his hand. Dean’s fingers tangle in his feathers.
“It’s...” Dean starts petting his wing. Castiel relaxes. It’s even better than when Dean pets his hair.
Dean stills his hand, but he doesn’t take it away. He looks back at his face.
“You showed me. You showed me what your angel form look like.”
Your angel form, because Dean knows his human body isn’t only a vessel anymore.
Castiel remembers Dean’s younger self dragging him outside, turning to him, mischief in his eyes, and asking if there was enough room for a Chrysler-sized angel. He remembers him being awestruck when Castiel fulfilled his wish and showed himself.
His grace buzzes pleasantly. “You insisted.”
Dean bites his lower lip. “Would... would you...?”
Castiel takes his free hand. “Anytime, but not today. The day has been quite eventful. You need to rest.”
“I’m not a kid,” Dean mutters.
Castiel picks him up. Dean shrieks in delight before wrapping his arms around his neck.
“Okay. Point for you.”
Dean leans into him and brushes his fingers through his feathers. Castiel holds his breath. He feels Dean’s smile against his throat.
“It’s gonna be fun.”
Castiel throws him on the bed. Dean lets out a laugh.
“Be good.”
“I don’t know if I’m the mood to be.”
Castiel quirks an eyebrow. A lovely blush creeps over Dean’s face.
“The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you’ll wake up tomorrow, and the sooner you’ll be allowed to see my angel form. Since the nature of our relationship, I hope you’ll be less shy than you used to be.”
It’s a bet, and a winning one Castiel notices when Dean’s blush darkens. His grace wants to shine through his human skin, wrap itself around Dean and hold him close.
“I–” Dean clears his throat. “You’re right. I’m tired. I should sleep now.” He pats the bed. “C’mere?”
Castiel doesn’t have to be asked twice. He sits on the bed. Dean sits up to pull off the trenchcoat, laughing at his oversight—Castiel didn’t forget, he likes better when Dean takes care of it. Dean folds the trenchcoat carefully and lays it on his bedside table. He lies back. Castiel settles next to him and spreads a wing over him, like he does everytime they’re lying side by side.
Except this time, Dean feels it and melts into it. He dings his fingers in his shirt and closes his eyes.
“’Night Cas.”
“Sleep well, Dean.”