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Castiel had been in this universe for less than a month.
He wasn't sure what force had pulled him out of the Nothing. He wanted to believe it was Jack — but maybe it had been something far less kind.
This place was nothing like the one he came from. For starters, there were superheroes.
And then there was a version of Dean who was, in every way, not the Dean he knew.
Castiel suspected something malicious had sent him here, something intent on making him suffer even further. Hadn't dying and spending years in the Big Empty been punishment enough?
Amara had told him: Dean had died while he was there.
He had died.
Castiel hadn't even been able to be there — to be near him, to try to save him. Dean wasn't even in Heaven; he had gone to another universe entirely to help his parents.
Castiel felt guilty for feeling lonely.
That loneliness kept drawing him back to watch over this other Dean. He knew the man wasn't his Dean, but being alone had worn him down these past few days. He had tried to stay away after seeing this universe's Dean — it was like seeing a ghost, one armed to the teeth with a personal armory and eyes that held a different kind of grief.
Dean might not have noticed him, but Castiel had seen his soul.
It was so much like Dean’s.
Imperfectly perfect.
And so here he was, watching this not-Dean eat in a takeout place through the window. The man wasn’t alone; three others sat with him.
Rain hammered against Castiel's trench coat , heavy and cold saoking through the seams as he pressed his back to the alley wall, trying to stay out of sight.
Wishful thinking, maybe — but could he have been sent here to watch over this not-Dean?
After all, this Dean called the most crime-ridden city in the world his home, and he spent his nights stalking rooftops as a vigilante.
He was going to get hurt. Castiel knew that
And he couldn't bear to loose a Dean again.
==============
Jasons POV
Jason likes getting Batburger after patrol with the others…
though he’ll never admit it.
It was nice, even if he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
He glanced at Cass. Maybe she felt it too—
but she was slurping her milkshake like a content gremlin,
eyes fixed on Duke and Tim gossiping across the booth.
Totally relaxed.
Jason sighed and stared out the window.
The glare of the overhead lights made the glass too bright to see much of anything.
Maybe he just needed sleep.
Bruce could bitch about the lack of check-in later.
Right now he needed his sweet, beloved bed.
His precious sleep.
“Hey! Are you dozing off under there?” Duke asked, poking my shoulder.
I smacked his finger away.
“No, I’m not, glowstick.” I pushed myself upright and gestured for Duke to move.
“Where are you going?” Replacement asked.
“Bed,” I said, already halfway there mentally.
“But I thought we were all going to the cave after eating.”
“Nope. You kids can deal with the old man yourselves.”
I tried to make a clean exit—
but Cass caught my attention, signing:
Rooftop tag?
I opened my mouth to tell her maybe tomorrow—
but Tim cut in like the little shit he is:
“He’s old, Cass. He needs to sleep off his knee pain.”
Cass huffed a laugh. Tim looked far too proud of himself.
“Besides,” he added, “he’s already lost a few rounds. Probably ashamed to try again so soon.”
I glared.
They acted like I wasn’t still standing right there.
Too tired to fight the dramatics, I huffed and pushed out into the night.
At least this Batburger was in Crime Alley—
close to my hideout.
Fog clouded my thoughts as I walked.
All that training, years of honing my instincts to razor sharpness—
and here I was, dragging my feet after a routine patrol,
guards down, vision fuzzy.
Pathetic.
The sudden spike of pain in my left leg hit like a sledgehammer, knocking me sideways.
“I got him! Quick!”
Footsteps thundered toward me.
They started swinging whatever crap they’d grabbed from the trash—pipes, boards, a brick.
Big mistake.
I swung back, knocking teeth loose.
“Black Mask says hi,” one goon spat before shooting me in the arm.
Pain flared, and I snarled, reaching for my gun—
—but then someone appeared behind the shooter,
touching the guy’s forehead with two fingers.
The man crumpled at his feet.
“Who the fuck are you?!” another goon shouted, raising a taser.
“No one to you,” the newcomer said, voice rough, old, tired.
The trench-coat stranger walked toward them.
The taser hit him square in the chest. He didn’t even blink.
He touched the man’s head.
Collapse.
The last two bolted—
only for the stranger to teleport behind them,
grab their jackets, lift them off the ground.
Two more bodies went limp.
He dropped them gently, like discarded coats.
Then he turned to me—
and the expression on his face was painfully soft.
Like a kicked puppy.
Like he already knew me.
“Sorry I didn’t step in sooner,” he said.
He stepped toward me.
I stepped back and aimed my gun.
“Who are you?” I growled.
“I’m not your enemy.”
The smile he gave was awkward, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he still knew how to make one.
He stepped closer, so I shot him in the shoulder.
He barely reacted.
He reached for me, hand trembling like he was fighting something inside himself.
I slashed upward with a batarang—
and the blade warped around his skin like putty.
“What are you?!”
The blue-eyed freak backed me up against the wall,
eyes bright and unbearably familiar.
“He did a similar thing during our first encounter,” he murmured, gaze flicking over my face like it hurt to look.
“What are you talking about?!” I snapped.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
Silence stretched between us.
I waited for an explanation.
An attack.
Something.
But he just stood there, breathing like he remembered a ghost.
It was late. I was bleeding. This was tomorrow’s problem.
“Right, well—thanks for the help and all, but…”
I started to move past him.
He grabbed my elbow in a vise grip.
“You’re injured,” he said, voice thick with concern.
His gaze landed on my bleeding shoulder.
“I’ll walk it off,” I muttered, annoyed, exhausted.
I turned—
—everything went dark.
Castiel
After healing his injuries, I slung his arm across my shoulders, supporting his weight.
He was heavier than I remembered.
I flew him to Red Hood’s apartment and tucked him carefully into bed after removing his helmet—
which was difficult, considering the bomb built into it.
It is better if I erase his memory of this.
I will have to show myself to this world eventually,
but not yet.
I am not ready to face anyone right now
And Jason—
Jason cannot know I was the one who intervened.
Not when the danger is my fault—
because he will have no memory of this attack.
And I will not let harm come to him due to my current emotional turmoil.
so I will have to deal with this black mask.