Work Text:
Season 4 time line post 4x18 Monster at the End of this Book:
Dean felt bad for ditching Sam in their crappy hotel room without a ride, but he had still been asleep….and really Dean had never had any intention of bringing him along for this short trip. He scribbled a short note on the hotel stationary that he’d back in a few and he slid into the Impala. He thought Chuck might be able to give him some answers to what was going on with his brother, or what might happen with Lucifer. If he knew and wasn’t telling them…Dean would get his answers one way or another. Screw what Castiel, Asshole of the Lord said about him being a prophet and being protected. Cass didn’t care about them. He only cared about Heaven’s mission. Well, Dean’s mission was to protect Sam.
As he walked up the cracked sidewalk of the tired-looking house Chuck lived in, he figured he probably knew he was coming, prophet and all. He knocked, his knuckles wrapping against the wood lightly. No answer. Dean sighed impatiently, shrugging his denim clad shoulders with nervous energy. He knocked again, this time with an enclosed fist. Nothing. Screw it. He slipped his lock picking kit out of his pocket and made quick work of the flimsy door lock, wincing as the door creaked loudly on its hinges. As he walked in, the living room was empty of Chuck. It was, however, littered with manuscripts, crumpled pages, and empty liquor bottles. Dean closed the door behind him, calling Chuck’s name softly. He was heading to check the kitchen when he felt a crumpled page crush under his boot. On a whim he picked it up and pulled it back as flat as he could. His eyes skimmed the words, wondering if this was new information that could help them fight Lucifer. The first sentence he read made him turn pale.
Dean sat in the backseat of the little blue four door sedan, his eyes afraid to make contact with his best friend sitting next to him. Castiel had not asked why he chose to sit beside him but when Dean’s hand slid across the seat and he laced their fingers together in the dark, the Angel could feel his longing like a punch to his gut. Something was wrong. He watched the hunter stare at their interlocked fingers, their eyes joining for only a moment, before Dean tore his eyes away. His regrets would drown him if he let them before the night was over. He would regret not telling Castiel he lo..”
Dean threw the page on the ground. “What the fuck is that shit?!” Dean yelled to an empty house. “What the Hell!” He stared at the offending paper on the floor, strangely tempted to pick it up and read it again. That could NOT be right. He had just seen Castiel, somewhat douchey servant of Heaven, here yesterday. Why would he be in the car with them when he could fly…Why would Dean EVER be in the backseat of said car? And why the FUCK would he be holding Cass’ hand?! If Chuck could see the future….Dean spun around in a circle, wanting to pick up pages and burn them…or read them. Suddenly he heard a flutter of wings and the Angel in question appeared before him.
“Hello, Dean. Why are you in Chuck’s home while he is away?” Castiel said as he titled his head.
Dean backed away, head spinning. How far in the future could that page be? A day? A week? Wasn’t that kind of sudden for that much escalation of a relationship? RELATIONSHIP? No. Nope. Uh uh.“Oh! I was just leaving. Yeah. Totally. Just….leaving.” Dean crushed the page under his boot as he scurried out of the house, eyeballing the Angel like he thought he was going to mount him from behind. He actually walked backwards part of the way to the Impala, staring at the backseat like it had betrayed him. He slid into the driver’s seat and peeled off without so much as a goodbye to the Angel standing in the doorway, looking perplexed. Castiel tilted his head then came back inside, trying to decide what Dean had come here for. He stopped and looked to the floor, the toe of his dress shoes nudging the crumpled, crushed paper. Dean had touched this. He could sense that. He scooped it and gently unfolded it, laying it on Chuck’s desk and smoothing it out. He read a paragraph toward the bottom.
Dean stared in horror as the Reaper’s corpse hit the ground, dead by his best friend’s hand. “Cass, what have you done?”
Castiel stared back, his eyes wide with shock, fear, or anger. Dean could not tell.
He looked to the bloody Angel blade as if it had done the deed. “What had to be done. You know, this world, this sad, doomed little world…It needs you. It needs every last Winchester it can get and I will not let you die. I won’t let any of you die….” Castiel’s eyes were wide and wild. Pain pierced through them to stare down Dean, who was staring wide eyed with wonder at the fallen Angel. “and I won’t let you sacrifice yourselves. You mean too much to me. To everything….”Castiel’s voice broke with emotion as he stared into Dean’s eyes. Dean blinked back tears at the emotional confession.
Castiel grumbled to himself…”Well, that doesn’t sound like me.”
From the top of the stairs, Chuck cleared his throat as he walked down, smiling softly at the Angel. “I wouldn’t read any more of those pages if I were you, Castiel. I’ve always heard it’s not too good to know too much about one’s future. You know what they say, God has a plan.” Chuck went to take the paper from Castiel’s hand but he was gone in a flutter of wings, the page left abandoned on his cluttered desk.
“I DO have a plan, but those two are going to drag this thing out way longer than necessary….Idiots.”