Archive of Our Own ^beta

It should have been easy to find a dude with wings. They kinda stood out. Big, white, fluffy wings in a world of humans. And it wasn’t like he had too far to look. Cas didn’t stray far from the stomping grounds of the Better Angels, unless they were on a mission. Or, that’s just the impression that Dean had gotten from their world’s Cas. And Sam had backed him up on that with some kind of vision or playing with all of those screens that those asshats back at the Men of Letters headquarters. His brother had refused to tell him either way. He’d just tossed him one of their doohickies that was literally just an iPhone spray painted gold, and nothing could convince Dean otherwise. It went with the whole vibe, smarmy, pompous assholes determining the fate of the world.

Worlds.

Whatever.

Dean rolled his shoulders to shake off the static feeling that clung to him. His jeans and flannel weren’t made for time and space travel, but Dean would shock himself into another death over wearing one of those damn monkey suits or those fucking late stage Sensation Cinematic Universe movies-ass Expendable Soldier Man #5 costume.

He was world hopping and interviewing. He needed to make a good impression, and none of that would do it. Especially with Cas. Uptight, perfect superhero, rule-bound Cas.

Speaking of…

Dean slowed down, taking a good look at the bar he had strolled into, like he hadn’t portaled into a men’s bathroom that definitely made the top ten worst men’s rooms that he’d seen in his life.

And he’d seen plenty.

But the point was, it was a bar, something that the Better Angels would never show up in. Not unless one of them were thrown in there during a fight. They were all about purity of mind and body. Something, something, deeper focus. Something, something, price of control.

Something, something, boring as all fuck. Which was probably why Sam bought into some of that. Dean might let that slide in Sam’s case, the kid wasn’t waking up with screaming nightmares anymore since he started jogging, which was a win- win for everyone. Sam and Dean got to sleep and Eileen… Well, she didn’t get startled out of her sleep with no warning. Probably a good thing all things considered.

Dean brushed himself down, pausing by the edge of the bar to gently ruffle up his hair. Dean examined his reflection before throwing it a wink. Absolutely perfect. And Cas would ignore all of it like all of the others did. Except the crucified Cas, which was weird as all fuck and Dean was trying his damnedest not to think too hard on it. That whole world had been fucked up with the skulls and lightning. Dean could have sworn that the lightning and clouds were laughing.

You didn’t stay in a place where the clouds were laughing.

Dean sighed, fluffing up his hair a bit more before stepping away from the bar to look at the crowd. This place was normal. A quick glance at the menu and the beer on tap showed absolutely nothing familiar, although he would be ready to give La Luna a shot, looked good enough. Cosmic Cowboy was interesting for perfectly normal reasons. (Thank you very much, Samuel.) He was tempted, but on the clock.

They had 72 hours to go until their world went the way of Old Dan and Little Ann. Probably less if they broke through to where Sam and Charlie were working. Eileen could probably kick all of their asses, but her voice could only hold out for so long before it started fucking with her throat. Sam of course could throw them all over the damn place to buy Charlie time. But he should be there, if only to have another body in the way.

Sometimes literally.

But Sam had insisted, and Charlie had said that he was their best bet for getting Cas on their side, which Dean had laughed at until he realized that they were serious.

Sure, Cas hadn’t despised him but that was only because it was against the whole turn the other cheek mentality of the Better Angels. That or Cas had long learned that Dean didn’t stay dead and there was only so much satisfaction that could be gotten by killing him over and over. Once that was gone, so was the spark. But that was fine, Dean was used to being ignored by Cas. This little tiptoe through the alternate universes was just a lovely revisiting of those years of his life.

Before Cas had gotten himself shot into the void of space, suffocated, and became one with the void, stars, and James Doohan’s ashes. He’d saved the world of course. Or maybe fucked it up worse considering they were only here because Cas had done the heroic thing. If he believed the Men of Letters.

Jury was still out on that one. But Sam and Charlie believed, so he was doing this.

He was Cas shopping through the Extended Universe to find one that would allow themselves to be stolen away. Usually that wouldn’t be a problem, because Dean was a damn fine catch, scars be damned. In fact, everyone dug the scars, made him look tough, mysterious and sexy, The stick was just too far up Cas’ ass for him to even notice, and that was all Cas’ fault. Dean had given his best damn effort, but the most expressive the dude had been was the aforementioned firing into space and being burned up thing.

Dean rocked back on his heels, giving the room a quick look. Nothing immediately caught his attention, which meant that he would do a quick glance outside and in the alleys before heading on back to have Charlie send him to the next Cas. Because no Cas ever would be at a bar, let alone one that was just a step above a dive bar. If any Cas drank, it would be in some swanky bar with art deco and the whole nine yards.

Except for the weirdly German Cas, but Dean was not about to look for a biergarten in a place that was clearly well into its Man in the High Castle era. It was just as creepy as that one world that didn’t have a Cas, but he had run into that other Dean in g reen who talked like he was straight out of World War II and smoked like a fucking smokestack. And it was fucking rank ass cigars, not at all the good shit that Dean had given up years ago courtesy of the massive heart failure that led into this whole fuckery. Indirectly.

A massive heart failure at twenty-six was a sharp drop and sudden twist to end of his entire world as he knew it.

Dean gave the room one last look over, allowing himself a little bit of deviation from the mission to wink at a cute girl who seemed interested. From the giggle and coy wave that he got, he had to amend that to very interested. And of course it would be very interested when he literally didn’t have the time.

As soon as they were done, Dean was taking a whole week off for debauchery that would invoke Bitch Face #72.

If he was lucky the Cartwright Twins would have a conveniently close away game. Their pitch and catch stats were stellar this year. Dean was sure he could bring those numbers up.

Dean smiled to himself, ready to give it all up for another jump when he caught sight of someone hunched at the bar. There wasn’t something that immediately said stuck up superhero, but there was something familiar in the hunch of his shoulders. He’d seen them plenty on the battlefield, on televised press conferences, slumping away from him. Dean stared for a moment longer before it finally clicked.

It was the wings, or the lack of them. Or the very badly disguised wings. He hadn’t pinged it because their Cas hadn’t bothered to do that for years, and all the other Cas-es (Castieli?) had just let it all out. The only other wing-less Cas that he had run into had been that Misha dude three hops back.

“Gotcha.”

Dean edged through the bar, weaving his way through the tables until he could slide up to the bar with his signature grin. “ Hey ya, sunshine.”

Cas tensed, Dean watching the ugly tan trench rise slightly higher than his shoulders, a sure sign of wings badly hidden. Cas stayed that way, bent over his drink like he was protecting it, all while pointedly not looking at him. That he was used to too. It was the norm for most Castiel (plural was the singular?) that he had encountered, except for the weird ones. Dean was hoping for two functioning eyes this time, and no German accent.

He leaned more on the bar, letting his body language say that he was absolutely not going anywhere and Cas would have to deal with him sooner or later. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes they were so much like their Cas (00-whatever, Charlie had a whole system worked out) that they missed out on the body language altogether. This one though, Dean was sure that he knew, and he would break. His shoulders and barely hidden wings were twitching like he was going to break. It would be fun to watch it go, but Dean was on the clock and he still had to drag the replacement Cas back and figure out just how to plug him into the Cas shaped hole in their universe.

Those shoulders jerked again, and then Cas was sitting up to glare at him. “What?”

Dean blinked at the sharp question. Not the first that he had gotten, but just strange enough that he was thrown. Original Cas had been a mutant of few words, said deadpan. He wasn’t used to so much emotion.

He watched Cas’ fingers slide over the wooden bar, gauging how much time he had and coming up blank. This was the hard part, working with no baseline.

Dean leaned further on the bar nonetheless, going for nonchalant and nonthreatening. It wasn’t working, Dean didn’t expect it to work, but half slumped on the bar meant that his knives were in easy reach. “Just wanted to know what’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Drinking.”

There was the Cas he was familiar with. Dean hid a smile against his arm, tapping the toe of one boot against the ground. “You could do that anywhere. Wanna go somewhere?”

It was probably not the best track to take, but busting out the whole ‘I’m from another world, we need your help’ hadn’t worked and the atmosphere was right for this kind of flirting. Or at least enough to get him back to that horrid men’s room. He could probably knock Cas out and drag him away easier there. Of course, the problem still remained that this was Cas. Slightly warier or not, he’d have to lay off the subtlety.

Cas looked him up and down, which was new. Usually it was an unbreakable stare or disgust. Although the former came into full effect when Cas was done. “No.”

The refusal was so shocking that Dean just stared at him. “ What?”

“No. I’m going to sit here,” he tapped the bar with a finger, “and drink until it kicks in.”

“It won’t. I mean...you can’t.”

That was the wrong thing to say, Dean realizing it a moment later. He knew that about their Cas (God bless the BA fandom), but he had no idea about this world. It wasn’t like he was getting the Spark Notes about where he was going. It was probably dumb luck that he’d managed to avoid this exact thing a hundred times over.

Cas didn’t push away from the bar and attack like their Cas would have. He just went tense and narrowed his eyes. Dean found himself curling his fingers around a knife. It was closer, thigh holster was just a little too far down. Not that it would do a damn thing with Cas’ healing factor, except slow him down. That might be enough. Those wings had plenty to get caught on.

Cas followed the motion, his eyes flicking down before coming back up. “How do you know that?”

“Well…”

“How do you know me?”

“Who doesn’t?”

It was mean to defuse, not to make Cas crumple and grab onto his drink like it was the last good thing in his life. And maybe Dean should have paid more attention to just where they were. Dive bar. Alone. Hidden Wings. No Rachel or Hester or Hannah hurrying after Cas. No one coming to get Cas. And the buffer space that Dean had merrily slid into.

Cas tapped his fingers against the shot glass before lifting it to throw it back. When he set it down, it was too sharp of a click and crack. “ I’m not interested.”

“What?”

Cas looked back at him sharply. “In whatever you want. Interview, autograph, revenge. I’m done with it.”

“I…” Dean glanced around the bar before looking back at Cas. “I don’t want any of that.” Cas snorted like he didn’t believe him, which was probably fair. Handsome stranger wanders up to a man in a bar knowing too many things about him and nothing he says can be taken as truth. “I just need you to come with me.”

“Why?”

“Saving the world? Isn’t that what the Better Angels do?”

If nothing else had clued him in the flinch that Cas gave at the mention of the Better Angels was clue enough. Something was horribly wrong and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Charlie and Sam were piggybacking off a system that they weren’t supposed to have access to in the first place. The Men of Letters might be a creepy pseudo-fifties agency, but they were up to date on their tech. Too long in and they would suspect that they were not going to let their world go quietly into that good night. And then they would have more problems than a grumpy mutant.

Cas curled his fingers into the bar, probably stopping short of full strength because the wooden top didn’t splinter. He turned his head just enough to look at Dean from the corner of his eye. The iris flashed a bright blue, which was very (hot) new.

The light disappeared in a blink, Cas just glaring at him. And that, at least, was familiar. (Still hot.)

“What?”

“The Better Angels. Uptight superheroes?” When Cas still didn’t answer, Dean pushed away from the bar a bit, just in case. “We’re here to protect and serve? To act as mankind’s better angels?”

“Shut up.” It was a low growl that started in Cas’ throat and ended somewhere around the base of Dean’s spine. He snapped his back straight before he could really think about what he was doing. A ‘yes, sir’ was already trying to clamber out his throat, but Dean swallowed it back. It would sound too earnest.

Cas glared at him, pinning him in place with it before he shoved his empty glass to the side. Then he stood, the process slow and involving more leaning heavily on the bar than it should have. It was almost like Cas was drunk, which was hilarious, because Dean didn’t think that he could get that way. Not unless he had been sitting at that bar for days. Then again, considering the way he looked, he might have.

Cas got himself squared away on two feet, swaying a bit. The coat moved with his wings as he tried to balance, but he didn’t bring them out. There was also a strange creak, Dean trying to place it before giving up. He needed his full attention on Cas in case punches started getting thrown. He’d been decked by 12 times thus far. He wasn’t looking to make it lucky 13. He was still getting glared at in a way that promised violence and no fun after, so Dean did the only thing that made sense.

He pretended to zip his lips, lock them, and throw away the key.

Normally, anyone would take that as deescalation. Cas would have just been confused and ignored it. This Cas was clearly defective, or too drunk to make good life choices because he just charged.

Dean grunted as Cas slammed into him, taking most of it against his stomach. Cas was heavier than he expected, which might have been drunken stumbling or seven years since he’d had to actually fight Cas.

He stumbled back a few steps, letting Cas get just a bit too ahead of himself before bringing his elbow down hard on the back of his head. It was mostly just to get Cas to stop or get his attention, not to immediately drop him.

Dean stumbled back, still moving under Cas’ momentum until he managed to get his feet under him again. Even then he didn’t stop staring at where Cas was just laid out. “Oh, shit.”

He could feel all the eyes in the bar on him, which wasn’t the plan. In, out, Cas extraction, plug him back into place and then Bobby’s your uncle, world keeps going. Then again, Sam never said that the Cas he brought back had to be conscious. Probably made it easier.

Dean chuckled to himself, crouching down to start to haul Cas’ arm over his shoulder. That got a grumpy (cute) little grumble. It made him want to laugh again, but that might actually get Cas to swing at him. His eyes were already doing that weird glowing thing and Dean didn’t quite knew what that meant. His Cas hadn’t come with brights.

“Come on, buddy.” Dean hauled Cas to his feet, gasping as the weight. He bounced a bit to get Cas properly settled against him. He was tempted to sling an arm around Cas’ waist to help keep him up, and because he was only going to get this chance to do it, but the glaring intensified, and he thought twice about it.

“We’re cutting you off.” He lifted his hand to give a nonchalant wave to the crowd before heading to the back door. “Night, everybody.”

There were a few cheers, which were good enough. At least people weren’t try to wrestle Cas away from him or call the police. The last thing he needed was to get locked in jail outside of his own world. The jurisdiction alone would be hell and exactly the kind of thing that Sammy would nerd out about it.

He half guided, half dragged Cas out the door, stepping into the alley and immediately trying not to breathe too deep. Cas didn’t get the memo and wheezed out a cough. Dean bounced him gently, not sure if it was helping or not. His attention was on the alley, glancing around to be sure that they weren’t going to be spotted, mostly because the last thing he needed was some poor sap wandering into this mess.

They were clear, Dean wiggling his free hand between them to reach for his pocket. Cas grunted at that, trying to pull away. “Don’t.”

“I’m not. Bingo!” Dean pulled the knock off iPhone out of his pocket, wiggling it in front of Cas’ face. Cas didn’t seem to be focusing on it, but it was the thought that counted. Dean fumbled with it one handed, until he managed to get the door open. He felt Cas try to pull away, but he didn’t let him, getting a better hold. “Button up, buttercup, You’re gonna save the world.”

Cas made a sound that might have been a question, but Dean had already tumbled them through the door.

Of course it wasn’t that easy. It was never that easy. Of fucking course.

The bastards still shouldn’t have shot Charlie.

“Fuck!”

“Don’t do that.”

“Why the fuck not, Cas? Tell me why I fucking shouldn’t.” Dean turned away from Cas to turn towards the trees. “FUCK!”

“Dean.” Cas didn’t raise his voice, but the snap was still there. But that was just in, a snap when Dean needed something more. He needed something to take off the edge like a fight, or a fuck. But Cas was giving him nothing.

He hadn’t given him a damn thing since Her Royal Haughtiness had swanned in to try and fix the situation that one of her subordinates fucked up.

He rounded on Cas, taking the step forward to close the distance between the two of them, pressing his finger against Cas’ chest. “She’s going to burn out my world, Cas, and everyone in it. So why the fuck can’t I be PISSED AS HELL?!”

“Because,” Cas grabbed his finger, pushing back enough that Dean felt a warning pain. He was tempted to lean into it until the bone broke, just for the sensation; but it was a little distracting to have Cas leaning up into his personal space, growling. “We don’t know where we are, or who is here. So yelling is incredibly stupid.” Cas paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “Which is par for the course for you.”

Dean huffed, jerking his finger back. It popped a bit, air leaving the joint, leaving him unsettled and ungrounded. He flexed his hand as he started to pace in a circle, just to get the energy out. He kept one eye on the forest and the other on Cas. “Real nice, Cas. Great way to start, pissing off the only other person on your side.”

“Stop.”

“What?” Dean swung closer to Cas, making a tight circle around him. “Pacing? Ain’t gonna happen. Swearing? Like fuck I am. It might ruffle your sensitive little feathers, Cas, but some of us are-”

Cas loomed up in his face again, Dean losing what he was going to say. He sucked in a quick breath, leaning back slightly. That didn’t deter Cas. He was right up there. Dean started to reach out to push him back, only to stop before he could touch.

“Don’t.”

“I don’t-”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.” Cas took a deep breath, his eyes flashing blue before he seemed to gather himself together. He squeezed them shut for a moment before opening them. The light was gone, but it didn’t look too far away. “I’m not your friend. I’m barely your ally. I’m only here to get back to my world. So, show me some respect and use my name.”

Dean blinked, his mind a muddle of mush and the urge to just drop to his knees. He opened his mouth to refute when Cas poked at his chest again. “I’m not him. You got the wrong Castiel.”

“Oh, you poor fools, you brought back the wrong Castiel. What makes you think that one can save anything?”

Dean swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I’m not going to believe a word they said.”

Cas huffed, but didn’t pull away. “Why not?”

“Because they’re gonna destroy my world. Why would they tell the truth?”

“Why would they lie?”

“Well,” Dean stepped away now. He needed not to be looking into Cas’ eyes. “Why would they bother to send us away if we weren’t a threat to what they were doing?

Cas raised an eyebrow, which could be a good or bad sign, he wasn’t sure. But that was good, it was familiar. He knew how to handle that. (By desperately holding it together and then going home and frantically jerk off and hope that his brother stayed the fuck away.)

The eye contact was held for a moment more before Cas looked away. Dean didn’t know whether to be bereft or relieved. Mostly he was still angry, although that was down to a simmer.

Cas took another step back and looked around, his shoulders slumping. The hump of his wings still under that disastrous tan coat followed. “That makes no sense.”

“It makes all of the sense.”

“Dean, they could have crushed us any time. It was obvious.”

“Not to me.” Dean turned away and started pacing again, glancing up between the sky and the trees as he tried to get a bearing on where they were. “We were in. Had everything right there. All we had to do was hold.”

“The four of you, against everyone?”

Dean paused in his pacing before waggling a hand. “Three. Could have been four if you decided to tag in instead of moping around feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Why bother? They were going to toss me back anyway.”

“Is that what you want? To go back to that bar and drink yourself to death?”

“No. That’s impossible. If I wanted to do that I’d go to a liquor store.” Cas lifted his head and looked around. “But I don’t see one here.”

“Shit out of luck then.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Dean stopped, pivoting on his heel to point at Cas. “No, no, no. You don’t get to say that. I am giving you a chance to be a hero. You love that shit.”

It was the wrong thing to say, he could tell by the way Cas went rigid. His wings moved under his coat, Dean getting a glimpse of dark feathers or maybe it was the lining. Cas had white feathers. And that was the wrong thing to focus on, because Cas was squaring up with him. Dean had faced off with a lot of superheroes, he knew the look. This was different, a kind of ferocity to it than he was used from the other guys he ended up fighting. New. Interesting.

Exciting.

Dean rolled his shoulders, rocking up onto his toes. “Got your feathers in a bunch, gorgeous?”

“Shut up.”

“About what?”

“Everything.”

“Gonna have to be more specific.”

Cas gave him a long up and down look before straightening up. Disappointment curled in Dean’s gut because he thought that this was it, the end to the bubbling anger in his gut and something that he could handle. Thrown into some weird purgatory of an in between world was one thing, but being there and knowing that there was no way out was another.

Except that he wasn’t going to take it, because there was no way that he was going to be stuck here and just let everything go. Sammy and Eileen might be trying to hold down the fort but that didn’t change much. It was the two of them against whatever the Men of Letters threw at them because the Better Angels weren’t going to be getting involved, at least on their side. Bastards would probably be convinced by whatever Margaret Thatcher told them. Jokes on them though.

That wouldn’t be good enough this time.

Dean paced along the edge of the woods, trying to see something that would give him a hint. Besides, Cas was right there. Easy target.

He rounded on Cas, grinning as he saw the man tense up again.

Good. He knew what was coming.

Dean took a step forward, slow and predatory. “I’m not hearing those specifics, Cas.” He got something that was almost a snarl that made him go tingly all the way down, but he was on mission at the moment. “But hey, I’m good with starting first. What’s crawled up my ass is the fact we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere because the back up I expected never showed up because he was too busy feeling sorry for himself. And now, he’s too busy getting his panties in a twist about a fucking nickname than figuring out how to get the hell out of here. And pouting like a little bitch instead of stepping up to be the goddamn hero he’s supposed to be.”

“SHUT UP!”

Dean wasn’t prepared to be tackled to the ground hard enough that his skull knocked against the ground and made his vision blur for a second. He didn’t get the time to recover before Cas was punching him in the face and damn if that didn’t settle him. Smiling just seemed to drive Cas on, but Dean couldn’t stop, not when Cas was slamming his head back onto the ground over and over until his vision was starting to go black. Not close enough to go unconscious, but right on that sweet edge.

He managed a ragged breath in between blows, managing to slur out, “You know how to treat a girl.”

Cas stopped, which wasn’t the point. Dean frowned, his vision clearing the longer that he stared up at Cas.

He was still there, looming above Dean with one arm raised and fingers curled into a fist. He didn’t seem to be all there, just staring down at Dean as that glow in his eyes disappeared. And he was curling into himself, like he just remembered that he had a soft underbelly. Maybe a punch would get him moving again, but Cas’ knees had pinned his arms to his side.

It was easy to focus on their breathing in the silence, and Dean hated it. He’d spent too damn long listening to his breathing. It’s the way that he had counted down until Alistair came back for him. He needed noise.

He scoffed, twisting to try and dig his thumb into a soft spot on Cas’ knee. He couldn’t manage it, Dean breathing out between his clenched teeth. “If this is how you fight no wonder you got your team killed.”

Dean took a breath to say something else, but Cas switched back on, the blue glow back in full force. He stood up, reaching down to grab a fistful of Dean’s shirt and the holster strap that ran across his chest. It was super hot.

Super relieved that Sam had given him the time to change into something more suitable to saving the world than his hot dog pants and send noods socks.

Although…

He couldn’t chase that thought further because Cas was lifting him bodily from the ground and holding him easily. Par for the course with Cas confrontations really. The spark was a little stale, but the whole glowing eyes was really starting to do it for him. The creaking less so. Sounded like Cas was about to lock up. Dean didn’t get the chance for a real choice comment before he was being thrown back into a tree. He knew that because there was a particular sound to tree impacts.

His spine snapped like it was one.

Dean slid down the tree, bent awkwardly. It hurt to breathe for a moment until he remembered the particular hitch that he had to do until he managed to align everything again. That took a bit, Dean pausing halfway through at some soft noise before ignoring it. Who the hell knew what was here and Dean was not about to face it with a broken back and a useless hero.

He started to ease himself up onto his feet when there was a strange scurrying noise in the undergrowth. Dean jerked his knife out of his boot and gun out of his thigh holster even as he started backing up. Cas wasn’t currently his first choice in partner in this, but he was better than nothing. If he cut out halfway through, at least that was half the job done.

Asshole didn’t come up to cover him though. Dean would just have to adjust, which wasn’t at all fair. If they were doing this right, Cas would be adjusting to him. They didn’t have the time to talk about that, not with the five people coming out of the woods.

And he used the term people loosely.

They were the right shape, but they didn’t move right, like they were surprised by the placement of their joints. Mostly it was the smiles, too damn wide with teeth peeking out over the edges. Dean was sure that if they stopped, those teeth would still be standing out. Definitely weird.

Definitely familiar. Especially the ugly mug of the one strolling just behind the others.

The man-thing grinned wider, spreading his arms wide. “We’re in luck today, boys. We’ve been thrown a Castiel.”

Castiel just grunted and stepped a little further forward as they started to spread out. Dean glanced over before focusing on their leader. “Way to be a dick...Dick.”

He tried not to flinch, because that was not his best. Not that it mattered. In the grand scheme of things, the Leviathan didn’t go for the witty repartee. Dick didn’t even look over immediately. When he did, it was with a series of cracks of too many joints in his neck. Dean swallowed back bile because nothing should sound like that. “God.”

Dick cracked his way over to Dean, one sharp tooth slipping out. “Oh? Another Dean. Must be a day ending in a Y.”

There were hissing chuckles from the other Leviathan. It burned a little bit, Dean plastering on a grin as he adjusted his aim for Dick’s forehead. It wouldn’t kill Dick, but sometimes he had to practice self-care. Shooting an asshole in the head counted. “Leviathan with a shit sense of humor. I run into seven of you before breakfast.”

That got another tooth, but at least that one looked disapproving. Dick snapped his gaze away, looking over the rest of them before shrugging. “I think we deserve a treat. Eat the Castiel,” Dick pointed at Cas before pivoting to Dean, “pay up with the Dean.”

There was a disapproving groan from one of the Leviathan, but at least whichever one it was was smart enough to keep their mouth shut when Dick turned towards the noise. They all looked like they were going to work together, which was going to make his life hell.

Dean sighed, taking stock of what he had. It wasn’t much, the Cas retrieval mission had been alive only. And Sam had hustled him out initially without much time to prepare. Yelling that the Men of Letters were going to destroy the world hadn’t really given him hints on what to bring. At that point he hadn’t even known what the Men of Letters were.

Assholes, that’s what they were. But that still didn’t narrow it down.

And now he had Leviathans, and a knife that would make cutting off their heads a pain in his ass.

He checked his M1911. Bullets he had. Slow was good enough.

He chambered a bullet, grinning directly at Dick. “Do we need to slow down?”

Dick made an almost bored motion with his fingers, signal enough to get them all to charge. Dean watched them come, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he decided where to go first.

He didn’t get too long to think. Cas moved by his side, Dean turning his head to be able to watch out of the corner of his eye only to immediately be blinded as Cas threw off the trench.

Surprise kept him still for a beat too long. Long enough that Dean was sure that some Leviathan would be trying to bite off his arm (not an experience he was keen to repeat).

He grabbed at the trench coat, clawing it off of his head and letting it drop to the ground. He would have kicked it but there was a distinctly metallic sound.

Dean spun, ready to start shooting only to stop when he saw that it was Cas, striding forward as his wings opened up. Except they were definitely not what he expected.

His world’s Cas had white wings, fluffy, cloudlike, exactly like what you would think when you think angel. It’s what most of the other Cas-sis-es-es (for fuck’s sake), the others had had when they had wings. And this was probably on him for not checking underneath the creeper coat, but there had been other things to worry about. And the wings were under there, he’d been seeing them move. That’s all that he’d cared about. All of the hiding and shiftiness he’d just shrugged off as a new flavor of Cas, or the whole worst version of the guy.

No.

He’d been hiding the beautiful wreck of his wings.

Cas’ feathers were black, or the ten or so feathers that were actually left to him. Primaries and alula. Or lesser coverts. (Bless the BA fanfiction writers who wrote the things Dean did not read out of curiosity to see who they were shipping him with [the answer was no one, he was a nonentity. Sam, however, had a healthy pool of fics]. They were committed to their research.) And they were ragged, barely functional things.

The rest were metal feathers, black and filling in the gaps of the rest of the wing. Just enough shine to show the sharp edges and look just like his Baby after a fresh wax (which was starting to get his dick confused as hell). The feathers rattled slightly as Cas stormed forward.

The wings seemed to take the Leviathan off guard too, all of them coming to a stop. Which was nice of them. Dean wasn’t done staring and really wishing that someone had talked to his world’s Cas about this. Wings were cool, wings were badass. It was so much better when they were metal.

One Leviathan seemed to get with the program a little faster than the others, but Cas was already pulling one wing back, hitting with the outer edge with a push that sent the Leviathan to the ground with a punched out whine. Dean made a noise of agreement before he could stop himself, because same.

Cas didn’t bother to look at the Leviathan, still powering ahead towards Dick. The head Leviathan looked vaguely interested, his hand going to his pocket before he twirled out a knife. Impressive looking thing, but definitely not enough. Maybe enough to slow him down, which might be enough for a Leviathan to get his jaws around Cas and start crunching down, which was not the plan. Whatever the Men of Letters said, they were going to at least try to get this Cas working as the replacement Cas.

Dick waved the knife vaguely at Cas. “Brave little birdy.”

Dean couldn’t see Cas’ face, but he was willing to bet that it was blank. What he could see was the roll of Cas’ shoulder, which turned into a smooth motion down his back as he ducked Dick’s swing.

Cas twisted as he stepped forward, spreading his wing wide past Dick’s head before snapping it back towards his side. The metal feathers stabbed into Dick’s head, pushing in deep even as the secondaries and the primaries cut through Dick’s neck.

Dick had the chance to make a shocked noise before his head tumbled away with a firm shake of Cas’ wing.

Cas turned to watch it go, a bit of a smirk on his face as he flicked the blood off of his feathers. “Dead little lizard.”

Dean fell a little bit in love. Maybe a little more than little when Cas met his eyes. Sparks, fireworks, butterflies, the whole nine yards. Real nice.

Real distracting because it wasn’t until Cas looked away that Dean realized that they had more company.

He spun around, aiming and firing at the nearest Leviathan. It toppled over, but that wasn’t much of a victory. Not when there were practically a hundred pouring in after it.

Dean took a step back, glancing around just to make sure that they were as fucked as he thought.

Surrounded. Awesome.

He exchanged a quick look with Cas, making a vague after you gesture. Cas looked at him like he was insane, which, fair. No sane person would throw themselves at this many Leviathan. Still, Dean didn’t see that they had a choice.

He raised an eyebrow, Cas quickly looking resigned. But he raised his wings, which might as well might have been an agreement. Dean would take it.

Dean switched his grip on his knife as he took aim at the get Leviathan. “Alright, who wants some?”

Apparently all of them, which led to a long, awkward trek through the forest with an increasingly annoyed Cas. The only thing that briefly made it better was Richie, who had also gotten himself caught. At least talking with him passed the time. And man, could the dude talk. Dean got Richie’s whole life story and the deal with wherever they were.

It was Purgatory. It’s where the Men of Letters sent everyone that was deemed unnecessary or dangerous from all of the worlds. No, Richie didn’t know what qualified people, it wasn’t like the Men of Letters told them. (That was Cas’ one contribution to the conversation.) Yes, they stuck between a rock and a hard place, or Eve and a Shadow. Yes, Richie’s world had Indiana Jones.

No, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull had not sucked ass, which goes to show that sometimes the feeling that you were in the wrong timeline was absolutely right.

The Richie interlude wasn’t long. They stumbled into an elephant graveyard looking place and everything went to hell...again.

Eve showed up, creepily called all the people and creatures with her her children, while petting them. Gross. Richie mouthed off and got himself dead. The creatures hadn’t even started in on him before Eve was threatening him while looking like his mother which was, honestly, a new experience for him. As was the creeping shadow that killed people once they decided not to join up.

Flying, however, was not new. It was terrifying, worse than regrowing any part of his body. He’d done it once, and that was on a plane. Never with Cas (not even in his dreams, or nightmares).

And so he did what any sane person would do.

He screamed the entire damn way.

Dick had been right, damn him, Deans were a dime a dozen in Purgatory (and hell of a lot easier to make plural). They’d stumbled into a whole camp of them. Or, Dean had, while running to throw up everything that he’d ever eaten because being gripped tightly in Cas’ arms might have been an on and off dream, but flying was not. Never again.

Not that the conversation got started because they were swamped with Deans.

There was Infomercial Dean, Medieval Dean, 1991 Cool Career Ken Business Model Dean, Untouchables Dean, Dr. Sexy MD Fuckable Doctor Dean (Hot. No.), Dyed Mohawk and Kilt Dean, Hanna-Barbera Dean, Lederhosen Dean, Knock Off Apocalypse Now Dean, Hollywood Dickbag Dean, Japanese Dean, Clean Cut for the children Dean, Deanna (Hot. NO.), Dean Who Looked Like He Lost His Wife with a Jacket with a Bloody Handprint, Tattooed and Smoking Dean clearly meant for HBO, Dean that wasn’t Dean and definitely looked more like Sam and kept asking about Star’s Hollow (wherever the hell that was), Soldier in Some War Dean, Clearly Living Off Daddy’s Money Dean, Cowboy Dean (Hot. God damn it.), Black-Eyed Dean, Vampire Dean, Peaky Blinders Dean.

And, of course, Jensen Ackles.

(There was also a squirrel, but for the life of him Dean couldn’t tell if that was native to Purgatory, a mistake that the Men of Letters had made, or an actual Dean.)

None of them were interested in fighting, but more than willing to lend out a car. Which was suspicious right up to the moment that Dean saw the sheer amount of broken down pieces of junk at the edge of their camp. There wasn’t a damn 1967 Chevy Impala in sight, which was a travesty. Dean didn’t want to bring it up, not when Sad Jacket Dean looked like he was about to break down into tears while staring at the cars.

Thankfully, the Prius, Fiat and the Caravan didn’t start.

The fucking Odyssey did.

The radio crackled into static, Dean just barely stopped himself from knocking his head against the steering wheel. It had been cutting in and out as they drove through Purgatory. It was probably a miracle that they were getting any kind of signal considering that this was apparently the dumping ground of all worlds. But, if he had to drive through all of Purgatory searching for the mystical and possibly not real resistance, he was going to need music. Because Cas wasn’t talking, he was too busy looking like he was trying to sink into the passenger seat. That just left him with nothing but trees.

There was nothing calming about driving through something that might as well be a horror movie. Hell, this whole thing was a horror movie, deadly shadow monster included.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to settle himself. Clearly, it was the wrong move because Cas grunted and leaned forward to fiddle with the radio dial.

Dean made an offended noise, reaching down to slap his hand away. “Dude.”

“What?”

“It’s the number one car rule.” Dean risked a look over when Cas didn’t answer. He was expecting the deadpan look because, clearly, Cas had come from a world where no one had bothered to teach him proper car etiquette. Clearly, it didn’t have a Dean either, but that hit a bit too close considering the pack of Deans that were eking out an existence in the junkyard of the worlds’ dumpster. “It’s real simple, peanut. Driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

He glanced over at Cas again, getting a quirk of his eyebrow.

And then the bastard reached over and clicked the radio dial again. It crackled again with more static before finally settling on a station.

“So glad to meet you, Angeles.”

“Jesus, no.” Dean twisted the dial hard, the radio giving a squeal of too many stations too fast. He fumbled for a moment before turning it off to get blessed, blessed silence. “Not that.”

Cas made a sound that might have been a laugh. It might have been more disgusted. But he wasn’t the one who had had to listen to Jensen Assholes humming this same damn song practically the entire time they were trying to find a car that started. He’d only stopped to tell them that none of the Deans were going to come and help before going right back to it. Fucking bastard.

Dean hunched forward, staring right ahead. The road wasn’t too hard to see, it was more the fact that it existed that was freaking him out. (That and the fucking horror movie trees.) He doubted the Men of Letters had just carved themselves service roads into Purgatory. Not if what Eve had been talking about was true. This was her territory, and she really wasn’t the infrastructure type. Or that was the vibe that Dean had gotten. That and angry. And murderous. But he was used to that. His superpower (aside from a healing factor and the inability to die) was getting people really annoyed. It mostly (didn’t) work out in his favor.

He flexed his fingers around the steering wheel, feeling the heat from Cas’ glare. Dean did the only thing he could do, which was shoot a wink Cas’ way. “Calm down, feathers. Could be worse. We haven’t even reached the point where I’m singing.”

The blank stare was really quickly getting old, but that was what he was stuck with. And it was definitely not a bug, but a feature. The only Cas that had smiled had been that Misha guy, but he’d also been a Misha not a Cas. And probably wouldn’t have died immediately. (Pity.)

Dean watched Cas out of the corner of his eyes, watching the tiny movements in his wings as Cas settled back. It didn’t look comfortable with his wings hiked higher than they already rested, but at least he wasn’t a squirming mess. The feathers clacked against each other as they moved and Dean could just hear Sam telling him that he shouldn’t ask about the wings. (Blah blah blah, sensitive subject. Blah, blah, blah, place of caring. Blah, blah, blah, actually kind of important in this situation).

He tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel, holding on for a moment longer. “What’s with the wings?”

They hitched up like he expected, touching the roof of the car before settling back again. And maybe Dean should have shoved him in the middle row, but he wasn’t about to put an unknown against his back.

The wings came down by inches, but Cas didn’t answer, which Dean was expecting at this point. Sullen silence was the mood of the soccer mom car. It was almost enough for Dean to consider risking the radio again. Anything was better than silence until they reached the borderlands, however far that was. The direction of “Follow the road until you run out of trees” wasn’t that great considering there was no way to tell when they would run out of trees. The garbage dump of the multiverse was mostly trees. If he never saw another tree in his life…

Well, maybe that was a bit much. Give him a few weeks.

But a Honda Odyssey he could never see again. Thing drove like a boat. Good things the roads were straight and none of Eve’s children (gross, like so gross) were coming after them.

In any other circumstances it would be a nice weekend drive. Just him and Cas. Not like he’d dreamed of this before.

And, if he had, it would have been in his Baby.

This was more of a nightmare because of the unsexiest car in the multiverse. And because he and Cas hadn’t even hit first base.

Dean drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, just trying to bring something into the silence and work out the tension bubbling under his skin in a more productive way. More productive than breaking his fingers. It would probably be more annoying than the tapping.

He was still tempted to try it.

Then again, that might make Cas fly off since he could do that. And then Dean would be shit out of luck. He might not have come up with a way to plug Cas into their universe, but Sammy would have that. Or Charlie. If she was still alive. God he hoped that she was, or else he would have to severely disappoint his brother. (Eileen would help. They would have to wipe out the Men of Letters quietly and secretly, but the two of them could do it. Eileen was awesome like that.)

He glanced at Cas out of the corner of his eye, resettling himself in his seat. That did nothing, which meant that he was running his mouth. Dean knew this and was resigned to it. What he really wanted was for his brain to chime in before his mouth went off. Just once in his life.

“So, are you going to just sulk until I get us back or are you actually gonna help save people this time?”

Cas whipped his head around to look at him, Dean bracing for the inevitable crack, but it didn’t come. What did come with a glare to end all glares, one that pressed him into his seat and made his whole body shake. And not in a good way. And there was something, some kind of pressure that was pushing him down. It was either from Cas, which was brand new, or his own idiocy coming back to haunt him. His foot eased off the pedal, the Odyssey coasting to a stop as Dean crumpled under the force of that glare.

The whole plan rested on him not fucking up bringing Cas in.

And he’d fucked up.

Dean flexed his fingers before turning his head, already raising a hand only for Cas to grab his wrist and squeeze until Dean felt his bones grinding. When Cas spoke, his voice was a rumble of thunder in an oncoming storm. “Say that again.”

“What are you going to do?”

“No.” A jerk had him pulled practically out of his seat and nose to nose with Cas. Dean stared into Cas’ eyes, getting to watch in real time as the glow in them spread from the edge of his pupil to the outer edge of his iris. He licked his lips, starting to pull back only for Cas to move faster.

One wing opened, blocking half of the view out of the windshield as Cas leaned over. He used his free hand to jerk the key to turn off the car; pulling it out and throwing it out the open window. Dean watched it go, because he would have to remember where it landed. Except that it went right out of his head when he looked back at Cas. Which, fair. He couldn’t blame himself. In fact, he challenged any living person to remember what they were doing when Cas was like this.

A smarter man would have shut the fuck up.

A smarter man wouldn’t have asked the question in the first place.

Dean was not that man.

“Look, buddy, those limey bastards are gonna make it hard, but we’ll give it the ol’ college try. Nothing in this is guarante-ah.” He cut himself off as Cas gripped tighter, breaking bones now.

“Try again.”

“Sammy and Charlie can figure it out.”

“Dean.” His name was hidden in the sharp snap of his wrist and the tempting strain that ran all the way down to his elbow. Dean pushed back against it because, stupid, but it made Cas’ eyes light up like nothing else.

That didn’t help, which was why he didn’t bother to think. “What the fuck do you want me to say, Cas?”

The release of his wrist happened so fast that Dean didn’t know what to do about it. He let it slump before abruptly remembering it straighten it out before the healing could kick in and he would be left with crooked bones until someone broke it again. (And someone would, it was that kind of day.)

Dean cradled it to his chest anyway, glaring at Cas. “No one knows what the fuck is going on. No one I know has even heard of the Men of Letters and whatever the fuck the sacred timeline is, but its sure as shit ain’t mine or yours. Mine’s condemned and yours you fucked up. And it’s all your fault.

“Well, I’m not doing that. I still have my family, and they’re still alive, unlike yours. So yeah,” Dean hauled himself closer to Cas, ignoring the warning grind of metal against metal as Cas’ wings moved. “I’m gonna do anything to make sure they make it. I’ll lie, cheat, hell, I’ll even kill for it. Anyone who gets in my way is gonna regret it. And it ain’t gonna be you. I will drag you back there an inch from death if I have to.”

Cas was silent for a moment before he lifted his chin. “Will you? Boy.”

(And if that didn’t send him slingshoting between horny and an ashamed nine year old as his dad glowered down at him.)

Cas gave him a long look, one that was the furthest thing from appraising in a good way. Dean felt stripped down by it, to the bone. All the scars that he’d kept before being tortured into kind of immortality weren’t badges of honor, they were failures, and Cas could see down to the mistakes that gave him each one of them. And he didn’t even smirk, he looked down like he was a god and Dean was the next thing that he was going to smite, and it would be a waste of his time doing it.

(Story of his life.)

“You can try, but you will fail, like you have this entire time. And you will always fail, because you are a broken shell of a man play acting at being a hero while all of the real ones get killed. No wonder the Men of Letters didn’t reach out to you. They didn’t want you because you are a dime a dozen hot shot that, miraculously, got missed from being sent here years ago. And you know what, no one would have looked for you. You would rot and die here because everyone would forget. And then, maybe, your world would be saved because you weren’t in it to fuck things up. But you did, and now your family is going to die, painfully, before they kill your world. And it will be your fault.”

Dean stared at him, because this was the most he’d heard Cas talk since picking him up. (He was right.)

Because it was nothing new. (They were all right.)

But he was a stupid man, didn’t know when to shut his mouth. Didn’t know when to stop. All he knew was how to stop the feeling like he was collapsing inward, and that he would never let his family down.

Good thing he could kill two birds with one stone.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to keep it steady and to keep Cas’ gaze on his face, not his hands. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Or what?”

Dean drew the knife from his belt quickly, lunging forward across the small distance to bury it between Cas’ ribs. It meant that he was practically face to face with the asshole, but that’s what made it worth it, the surprise in his eyes and the knowledge that he would get to do it again and again because Cas wouldn’t die that easily.

“Or this, honeybee.”

Cas growled, grabbing onto Dean’s wrist and snapping it back. (There it went.) He reached for the knife at the same time that Dean grabbed at his next knife with his left hand. Speed was the name of the game now, because he had the advantage in the tight space.

Cas was pulling out the first knife as Dean drove the other one in, on the other side. It was too low, he had been aiming for the wing, but Dean pulled out the knife anyway. The others were harder to reach and Cas was throwing the first knife out the window like the utter bastard that he was. Well, his loss, Dean had plenty more and Cas only had a metric fuckton literally attached to his body.

Good luck using them.

He changed his grip on the knife, slashing across Cas’ stomach. Cas twisted in his seat to avoid it going deeper. That put his back up against the dashboard, right where Dean wanted him.

Dean pushed himself out of his seat, digging in his elbow into Cas’ stomach and his knife into his side to make him move. It was a tight fit, the two of them in the passenger seat. Dean ducked his head to shove his shoulder against Cas’ sternum to get Cas up onto the dashboard and give himself space.

The Odyssey creaked ominously, Dean glancing over to force the gear selector into park. It shrieked as he forced it to move without the brake on, but he eventually got it, and probably broke something by the sounds it made. But at least it meant that his hand was planted in just the right place to help physically shove Cas out the windshield.

It wasn’t a smooth shove Cas was clawing at the sides of the windshield and Dean had to use the slope of it to squeeze Cas out. And he fought. The wings couldn’t come into play, but he was shoving back. It was a stalemate for a moment, Dean grinning up into Cas’ face because it had been too long since something like this had happened.

He pulled his feet into the seat, using it to give extra leverage to the next shove. It was enough that the windshield gave and Cas went tumbling down the nose of the car and to the ground, his wings scraping against its paint. The sound was jarring, enough to knock some of the less important thoughts out of Dean’s head (or at least to the back of it).

Dean adjusted himself into a crouch, watching as Cas folded up wings and got to his feet. He smiled as Cas threw a nasty glare, pointedly pulling out another knife. Might as well. Get a little creative, have a little fun in this hellhole. Fuck up at least one thing up after a long day (days) of fucking up himself. Small victories. Dean had gotten good at living in the bounds of them. And this, this would be one hell of a small victory.

Cas pulled himself upright, flicking out his wings before spreading them wide. It was probably meant to be intimidating, but only accidentally. Their Cas had done the same thing, but only because it was the next step. Didn’t stop him from looking cool.

Didn’t stop this Cas from looking badass.

The wings came down in a hard beat, propelling forward and up onto the car. The whole thing shook, Dean adjusting his footing, getting himself ready. It was hard to know how hard Cas would hit, but Dean was sure that it would be pretty damn hard with all of that metal. He eyed it glinted in the sun before shifting slightly to the right, because Cas always pulled to his left.

He was wrong, and an idiot. This wasn’t their Cas, and he didn’t pull left. So Dean leaned right into the hit, taking it right to the chest.

He grunted at impact, his feet slipping on the seat as all of Cas’ went sent him backward. The seat held the two of them for a moment before the mechanism gave it and the seat dropped all the way back. Dean jerked with the motion, knocking his forehead against Cas’.

Cas hissed and jerked back, Dean already letting himself drop back to get a good stab in.

Aside from being shot into the void of space, he hadn’t heard of anything that could kill Cas, That meant that he had plenty of room to work out his frustrations.

The wings might have weighed more, but Cas was fast with him. He must have seen Dean moving out of the corner of his eye because he reacted by pulling his arm across his chest and bringing his wing down. The one remaining real feather brushed against Dean’s face, a pure tease for the metal feathers that dug into his arms and keep into his stomach.

Dean wheezed in surprise. He should have seen it coming, he’d seen Cas fight with them. Still unprepared. Stupid. Now he would have to figure out how to get out from under Cas’ weight and the wing that had settled through his arm and stomach. That might have to wait a moment. His brain had stopped firing off pain signals and had turned to the usual mixed signals that came when things just stayed in him. He was in pain, but man did it feel good. He was probably grinning up at Cas instead of looking anything like he wanted to keep stabbing him.

When he could focus on Cas, it wasn’t what he expected. Cas had frozen braced over him. It looked like he was shaking, but that was probably the weird overstimulation that came from wounds that were trying to heal but couldn’t. Except that his wings were rattling, which meant that Cas was actually shaking.

Dean planted his good elbow, going to sit up only to have Cas grab his shoulder. “No. No. Stay still. Stay and I’ll...I’ll…”

Oh God, his hands were doing the hovering and shaking thing too, like he had no idea what he was getting into.

But maybe he didn’t. Dean had no idea if he had ever met the Dean in his universe, if he had powers, or if he’d been thrown into this ass end of nowhere of a world.

It was probably that Edgy HBO Dean, lucky bastard. Then again, he was back in the junkyard, and Dean was right here. Impaled on Cas’ wing. Not exactly in his top 10 dreams, but close enough. He was impaled on a part of Cas at least.

Dean pushed Cas’ hand away, sitting up. It meant pressing further into Cas’ feathers, but he was still cross-wired enough that it felt good. His head lolled back, Dean remembering himself a moment later (annoying). “You think this is enough to kill me?”

He jabbed upward awkwardly with his knife, driving it deep into Cas’ chest. He used the knife as a handle to shove himself upward. He meant just to get nose to nose with Cas, but Cas twisted away, his face slack in shock. It was easy to transfer his hold to Cas’ shoulder and give him a shove.

Cas didn’t fall back but rolled to the side, the wing in Dean pulling away. He followed it, rolling with Cas into the driver’s seat.

It was easy to pin Cas there, although it meant that he was practically sitting on the steering wheel with one foot braced on the dashboard. Dean bounced a little to get the seat to drop back. The drop drove the knife and Cas’ feathers in further.

Dean heard Cas make a soft sound and then he was reaching out for him, but Dean stopped him, pinning the hand back against the headrest. He wiggled to get comfortable, just so the steering wheel wasn’t jamming into his ass. It meant wiggling further onto those feathers. He bit his lip until he tasted blood, just to keep himself from giving it all away just yet. Just what that yet was, Dean didn’t know. Both options of fighting or fucking sounded real good to him at the moment.

He adjusted himself over Cas, grinning down at him as blood dripped from his arm and side. If it had been their Cas, his pretty white shirt would be stained (which to be honest was something that Dean had wanted to do for a while. Blood and otherwise.) Now, it just blended in with the grey t-shirt that he was wearing. But it did drip onto his face, falling just short of his mouth and rolling over his cheek, all while Cas looked shocked. Or maybe it was awe. Either way, he could hedge his bets between the two of them.

Dean winked at him, curling his hand more securely around Cas’ wrist. “What do you say, Cas? Think you can break me?”

Cas didn’t answer immediately, he was just glancing between Dean’s face and where the feathers of his wing disappeared into Dean. It looked like he was frozen, the only thing that showed that he was alive was the rise and fall of his chest. That and the glow that came from the wound around the knife, which was weird. Their Cas had a healing factor, but wounds just healed. No light show required. But it was so cool.

Dean’s gaze was locked on it, waiting for whatever new thing that this Cas would pull off. He was so distracted by the gentle glow that he forgot to pay attention to Cas, at least not until Cas moved and pushed his feathers deeper into Dean.

It took him off guard, Dean rocking into the bright points of pain with a moan. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back too, a rookie mistake, but Cas was a gentleman and let him have his moment.

Dean took a few deep breath, feeling those feathers scraping against his ribs. That almost sent him floating off again, but Dean managed to rein himself back in. This was a fight (damn it), and he should be paying attention because Cas wouldn’t be a gentleman forever (promises, promises). He dropped his chin to his chest, working his eyes back open. The expression on Cas’ face made him grind down on the wing.

Cas was looking up at him like he was some kind of miracle (and Dean was not about to burst the guy’s bubble). And that looked just as good as the blood splatter on Cas’ face.

(God, he wanted to kiss him.)

The expression on Cas’ face changed, Dean still too pleasure-pain drunk to really clock it. It wasn’t until Cas’ wing was moving that he really looked. By then Cas was already laughing, Dean picking that up and laughing with him; at least until Cas rolled and threw him out of the driver’s window.

There was a moment of confusion when he was airborne, Dean staring at where Cas was sitting in the driver’s seat, pulling the knife out of his chest. Dean only got a glimpse of that before he was hitting the ground, right on the side where Cas’ wing had been.

He yelped, rolling awkwardly before he managed to catch himself. He didn’t let himself roll to a stop, instead scrambling to his feet. Dean clawed at his leg until he drew the pistol from his thigh holster, well aware that Cas was watching him the entire time. (Good. Let him look.)

Dean flicked the safety off, flashing Cas a grin before charging forward.

Cas braced himself in the front seat, but that wasn’t where Dean was aiming to go. The scuffle in the front seat had taught him one thing, he would need room unless he wanted to get clocked by Cas’ wings (tempting).

He jumped to crash through the middle window, momentum carrying him to the other door. Dean let it, taking aim at Cas and firing as he passed behind.

The first four hit, then Cas was bringing a wing around, bullets clanging off of the metal feathers and spending themselves. Dean swallowed hard, feeling his cock twitch with interest at that.

A flick had the bullets dropping into the front of the car, Dean following those instead of Cas. A mistake, because Cas was using his wings to lop the headrests and part of the front seats. Dean had to twist into the little aisle between the seats to avoid them. He still had to punch one out the window he had come through. Cas’ wing took out the other middle window, Dean watching it as he dropped to one knee.

It took some fumbling to get one of the seats detached, Dean sending it forward into Cas’ wing, pinning it between the front seat. Dean threw his weight behind it as well. It brought him face to face with Cas, but that wasn’t a trial.

He brought his M1911 up under his arm, pressing it against Cas’ forehead. “Bye, bye, Birdie.”

Cas didn’t snap back at him, but leaned closer until he forehead was pressed against the muzzle of the gun. Dean sucked in a quick breath. Nothing had killed Cas so far, but there was always a first time. But it felt daring. Dean took his bluff, starting to curl his finger around the trigger when he felt a sharp point against his stomach. Dean sucked it in, glancing down. He wasn’t surprised to see his own knife threatening his guts.

“Oh,” Dean looked back up at Cas, “That’s a gift, Cas. You keep those.”

The blade twitched against his stomach before slicing through his shirt enough that the tip dragged against his stomach. It wasn’t deep enough to cut (tease), but it was doing his shirt in. If he’d bothered with his usual suit, this wouldn’t have happened.

He twitched when Cas turned the blade, tapping the flat against him (damn tease). “A gift? You stabbed me in the heart.”

“Don’t like it?”

Cas didn’t immediately answer, but Dean felt the trapped wing twitch. It was stronger than he expected, which meant that his plan would fall through.

He was kinda looking forward to it.

He licked his lips, Cas immediately following the motion. Dean rocked forward, feeling Cas’ surprised puff of breath against his lips. And then the knife was being driven in on his other side.

Dean gasped out a “Son of a bitch” that didn’t carry any of the heat or anger that it was supposed to. It came out breathy, worshipful.

Completely distracted too.

Cas rocked back, rolling his whole body into the motion. The seat knocked against the knife in Dean’s side, the pain enough to make him stagger. That was enough for Cas to yank his wing out, tearing across the seat.

Dean dropped down to his knees to avoid the sweep of the wing. He felt the clip of the ends across the back of his neck. He hissed and reached for the knife in his side. It took a hard yank to pull it out, Dean reaching out with his other hand to balance on the backseat so he didn’t tip over. Which was good, because Cas was coming back in with a right hook.

He mostly ducked it, feeling Cas’ knuckles brush over his cheek like a lover’s caress. Dean turned his head with it before he could stop himself. It was stupid really, it meant that he took most of his attention off of Cas. He paid for it with a shift kick to his ribs, but it meant that he got Cas’ foot.

Dean curled around his aching ribs, but he didn’t give up his hold on Cas’ ankle. He pulled on it, hoping for a break or for Cas to fall but the man just tipped back, grabbing at the front seats, Dean huffed his annoyance, hiding it by walking his hands up Cas’ leg. A good pull could dislocate it, or he could just hold it. (Both. Both was good.)

Cas didn’t let him keep it, jerking his leg back just enough that Dean had to lean forward. He went to try to get a better grip on it when Cas kicked and got him in the chin.

Dean fell back, getting only a shoe and an aching nose for his troubles. He reached up to test his nose, pulling it back into place. Dean hissed at the pain even though it was already starting to disappear as the healing kicked in. It was still a long enough distraction for Cas to start getting to his feet, and he had the upper hand again. So Dean did the only logical thing.

He threw Cas’ shoe at him.

It hit just as Cas was starting forward, Cas starting to lean to the side so it hit his shoulder. It wasn’t much of a turn, but Dean could squeeze himself in the space. He was pressed right up against Cas, in danger of getting caught up in a wing. Dean reached out for it as it came close, grabbing onto the top of the wing to keep from slicing off his fingers. He would need those later.

He put enough pressure on the wing to shove Cas back but not to break it. Dean wasn’t ready to do that, not yet.

It must have been sensitive because Cas shuddered and all but threw himself to the side. Dean went with him, knocking hard into Cas and then into the remaining middle seat. The whole van rocked with the impact, Dean using Cas to keep himself upright. And, of course, he threw a few punches into Cas’ kidney, because he was nice like that.

Cas growled, grabbing for Dean’s hand to pull it away. Dean just stepped closer, using his hip to hold Cas against the side of the van. Cas flailed out both with his fists and wings. Dean ducked his head against the onslaught, using his body weight to keep slamming Cas back, eventually scrambling his hands up to grab hold of Cas’ head. It was more efficient that way, might actually stop Cas, and less likely to send the van onto its side (or rip off the side entirely).

One slam had the seat belt attachment coming loose and whipping against the side of Cas’ face before dropping to the floor. He grunted, turning his head to the side. It was just a moment, but it allowed Dean to crowd Cas up against the side, an arm against his neck and face, forcing it to the side. That gave him a great view of the cut that the seat belt had left. The glow was there again, Dean watching it hungrily. The light shone out brightly, only starting to dim when the skin started to close around it.

He kinda wanted to press his lips there, just to see how that light would feel. Dean had never seen anything like it.

It was also a distraction, Dean realized it as soon as he felt Cas tense under him. He could almost feel John Winchester slapping the back of his head and reminding him that he had to focus or he’d end up dead. Of course, that it itself was a distraction, one that Cas used.

Cas rocked his head back and then rammed it into Dean’s.

The burst of pain was enough for him to stumble back, reaching out for the back of the bench seat while the other pressed against his face. Nothing was broken, it was all just a low ache, enough that Dean could ignore it in favor of trying to get his footing.

But, of course, he tripped over the damn shoe instead.

Dean flailed for a moment before dropping hard on the bench seat. He glanced down to make sure that he wasn’t going to slide off. Dean caught sight of the shoe, flicking it up onto his foot before kicking it over to Cas.

It was just a petty thing to do, but it made him feel better, especially when Cas used his wing to slap it away and the laces got tangled up in his feathers. Cas made a (cute) disgusted face, shaking out his wing before quickly giving up. He turned his attention to Dean and started to stalk over.

Dean shivered, reaching down for another knife only to come up short. He risked a glance down, only to realize that he was out completely, and his gun was somewhere up front. Dean shifted his weight as he reached back for the loose seat belt. It wouldn’t hold Cas forever, but enough to get to a knife, or his gun.

(Maybe if he cut it close enough, he could get Cas’ feathers back in him.)

He gathered up the seat belt in both hands, snapping it and raising an eyebrow. “Feelin’ frisky, angel.”

Cas just raised an eyebrow, which was good enough for him. Still, old habits died hard. “Gonna need a safeword.”

“Try it.”

“Interesting.” Dean chuckled, rocking to his feet. “I like it.”

Cas cocked his head to the side, giving him a long look before spreading his wings as much as the Odyssey would allow him. It was a breathtaking sight, all of his feathers glinting and bristling in the light. It was a shame that Dean couldn’t look too long because Cas was already lunging forward.

Dean brought the seat belt up, aiming to get it around Cas’ neck and pull it tight. He managed to get a loop around his neck, going to pull it tight when he was jerked short by the locking mechanism. Dean cursed under his breath, tugging hard before giving up to dodge to the side as Cas’ wings closed in. He lifted a foot, jamming it against the metal feathers with the vain hope that it would hold instead of just punching through. He didn’t have the time to be regrowing a whole foot.

His boot slipped over feathers with a bit more rigidity than he expected. Dean shifted his weight, bracing his boot against the shoe that was still tangled in Cas’ feathers. It gave him the leverage to hold Cas back for a moment, then the shoe was sliding out and his leg was dropping down. Cas’ feathers scraped along the top of his shin, cutting his jeans and drawing blood.

Dean jerked his leg back, ignoring the brief sting of pain to lean on it as he tried to pull the seat belt forward again. He could feel it giving up at the top, Dean going to throw himself forward to give himself some more slack. Except Cas was already there, punching him squarely in the jaw and crowding him back when Dean recoiled.

Cas’ wings came down on either side, Dean glancing at both to try and pick out which one would be coming for him first. It was a waste of time, and his attention snapped away from it as soon as Cas rested a hand on his.

Dean dropped his gaze, sure that he should be doing something else other than thinking about how nice those fingers looked, especially curling around his wrist. He licked his lips, completely unsure if the next words out of his mouth were going to be a come on or a taunt. If he was very good (and he was very good) he could do both.

Cas didn’t let him, (unfairly) disarming him with a smirk that made Dean twitch a little bit. And then he was moving too damn fast.

One hand was pressed against his chest, Dean glancing down as he was eased surprisingly gently back. He only remembered to struggle when Cas went for the seat belt.

He tried to jerk away only for Cas to loop the seat belt around one wrist and then jerk it up. Dean reached out, grabbing for Cas’ face to push him away, but that just brought his hand too close. Cas caught it easily, looping that wrist in as well. He pulled the seat belt tight with a jerk, leaning forward to drag Dean back into the corner of the seat.

Dean snarled and kicked out, hearing Cas grunt but he didn’t stop until Dean was crowded into the corner and practically held in place. Except that he wasn’t trapped, there was still a bit of slack, more if he could tear the rig from the wall of the van. Even with his wrists tied together, he was sure that he would be able to get a loop around Cas’ neck. Then they would be cooking with gasoline.

He smiled up at Cas, sliding down the seat to try and get his legs around one of Cas’.

Cas was ready for him, shoving his knee between Dean’s legs to wedge himself there as he loomed close. There was probably some way to get around that, or to kick Cas away, but he (didn’t want to) couldn’t think of it at the moment, especially when Cas casually reached up to yank the seat belt out of the side of the van. Dean stared at the display of strength, finally getting his brain back online when Cas passed it over to one side. It was overkill to slam his wing into the side of the car to hold the tension like that, but he did it.

In the face of that, it was impossible not to make some kind of noise. Dean just hoped that he did it quiet enough to avoid enhanced ears.

(Of course he didn’t.)

Cas cocked his head to the side which was so damn cute (which he managed to keep to himself), his eyes narrowing. He probably though it was a distraction. And it was. It was a damn big distraction for Dean. He was being pinned in place by a hot guy, hands tied with said guy between his legs. There was a way to get out of it, something about wrapping his legs around Cas’ waist and then… He kept fizzling out around there. The best plan that he could come up with was staring dumbly, and maybe just arching his back. Like that he could get one leg up onto the bench and then…

Cas leaned in closer, staring intensely. The other Cas hadn’t really done this. Their Cas, the Cas from their world. He had been watching, but never like this. None of the rest of the mortals were worth his notice.

This Cas stared, and it was making his mouth dry.

Dean tried to swallow so he could speak, but his voice still came out too hoarse. “We still fighting, or are we fucking now, Cas? You’re giving me mixed signals.”

There was a flash of blue in Cas’ eyes, which he probably should take as a warning. If not the growl definitely was.

But Dean had never been good with warnings. Ask his brother. Ask John Winchester. (Ask Alistair.) So he just grinned and leaned up a little bit. It was awkward with his hands tied. It meant pressing up against Cas’ dick or chest. He chose the latter, because there were some lines that you did not cross. Besides, Cas’ chest was less dangerous.

He was wrong.

Their world’s Cas had never let Dean get close to him. There was a whole thing about his moral standing, methods, and questionable status. Sam was a mutant, born and naturally coming into his powers. Dean had all the right recessive genes and had to manipulate them to get them to show. And there was something the Better Angels didn’t like about created mutants. And hell, Dean agreed with them all things considering (all things being four straight months of torture), but that didn’t entitle them to be dicks about it.

Dean was used to those stupid matching suits, all with the perfect musculature practically carved on. He’d always suspected that it was just good design and padding.

Cas didn’t need that. Sure, Dean had noticed the muscles (he might have died multiple times, but he wasn’t dead), but it had been a lower priority considering the death of his whole world was looming over him. (It wasn’t the only thing looming.)

Dean tried to swallow, but it felt like it did nothing. Probably because his mouth was still partially open, and he couldn’t get the damn thing to close. Just like he should be putting his foot in Cas’ gut, but one foot remained planted on the floor and the other on the seat, the knee drifting to allow Cas closer. And the bastard did come closer, although Dean wasn’t too sure that Cas was doing it on purpose with the way that he was glaring. Dean wiggled his wrists, not really trying to get away. Cas seemed to take it as such, reaching up with his hands to pin the seat belt to the seat and his other hand on Dean’s shoulder.

The smart thing to do would be twist away and hook Cas’ knee, or kick at his wing. Not to stare at Cas’ lips. There might be something else going on somewhere else.

Dean flicked his gaze up, meeting Cas’. He hadn’t been thinking about the glow. Too much. He hadn’t been thinking about the glow too much but it was back in full force.

It was badass, hot, and maybe a little bit of a religious experience.

It was also a stupid idea, but Dean had never said or been told that he was smart. (In fact, it was mostly the opposite.) But he had staked most of his reputation on his dumb ideas. And this was hardly the worst.

After all, it was getting out of Purgatory, getting to Sam, and then it could go back to the way that he and the old Cas had been. Where they barely acknowledged each other and just went about their business.

Really, it was for the best.

And he was really bad at denying himself.

Dean swallowed, trying to crack a smile. He could feel how it was starting and stopping, but Cas didn’t know him at all, so he wouldn’t notice. He was too mad.

He meant to be smooth, maybe a little bit taunting. Anything but real. But real was what came out, a slightly too breathy bit of real.

“Castiel.”

Dean didn’t think that light could get brighter, but it did, going from vaguely blue to white. He would have taken that as too much if Cas hadn’t moved closer, one hand abandoning his shoulder to grab his leg and hike it up. And that was definitely a growl again. Dean was willing to bet it was a good thing. Had to be because Cas was leaning in now, his hand never leaving Dean’s leg.

That was all great, but Cas still wasn’t moving more than that. Dean tried to twist in Cas’ hold, but he was kept in place. He huffed, pulling at his wrists only to find that they weren’t moving either.

Dean cast a quick look at where Cas’ wing was keeping the seat belt pinned before looking back. Cas was still staring him down. He attempted another careless grin even as he felt the urge to shake a bit. “Not for nothing Cas, but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.”

As a break went, it was subtle at first. A slightly deeper breath, gathering tension in Cas’ shoulders. And then it was all rushing out like a dam failing. Dean only had a moment to bask in that before he was being shoved back so hard that something in the seat cracked. It started to drop back before coming to a halt that jarred him. Dean wanted to tip his head back to check on it, but Cas was coming in hot.

He clambered up on the seat, adjusting the seat belt so that Dean was pulled back as flat as the seat would get him. Then Cas’ hands were on his hips, jerking him forward in a slow and lingering grind. And that answered his question

Dean dropped his head back with a groan, letting that turn into a laugh. Cas didn’t seem opposed to it, Cas didn’t seem to be paying much attention to doing anything other than adjusting Dean to a better position. Dean helped by hitching both legs around Cas’ hips and using that to pull him close again.

Cas went easily, his face hovering close enough to Dean’s that Dean thought that there would be a kiss. Mercifully, he turned his head and just dropped it onto Dean’s shoulder.

That was good. That was better. Now he didn’t have to worry about kissing as implications. There was just the heavy weight of Cas’ body against his, the bite of the seat belt around his wrists, and the roll of Cas’ hips against his.

They were still dressed, and in civilian clothes, not any suit. Although, Dean had never fucked completely in his suit (mostly out of it, sure), but they were made for protection, so he doubted that it would work.

Then again, seeing Cas, this Cas, any Cas, in the white and gold of the Better Angels was definitely a turn on.

Dean dropped his head back, biting his lip to keep a whimper down. He shut his eyes, and it was all too easy to imagine that. But not the old Cas, this Cas. With his black and metal feathers, and already sweaty from a fight. Any fight. But still in the back of the car because they couldn’t wait…

He couldn’t hold the next moan in, Dean arching his back to get closer and damn the slight chafe of his boxers. It didn’t matter, it was on the edge of good now. Pain into pleasure through his fucked up body. But that didn’t matter, none of it did compared to the chance to do with any Cas. No, only this Cas. This Cas who was as fucked up as he was.

Broken, remade and, finally fucking touchable. No more of the goddamn distant angel.

Except Dean wasn’t touching him now.

He opened his eyes, rolling his head to the side as he stared at where Cas’ wing was still holding him in place. And God did he want it, to be tied down and thrown around, but he wanted to touch at the same time. It was unfairly distracting when Cas had hooked his hands underneath Dean to change the angle to one that had him seeing stars with every circle of Cas’ hips.

God, he was going to come in his pants like a teenager. And Dean had never been so eager for that to happen.

Just one adjustment first.

He twisted, the pressure and friction coaxing a strangled “Cas” from him. Dean felt Cas react to that, a full body shudder that had him clutching Dean closer to him. And fuck if that didn’t make his cock jerk with interest. He wasn’t even against the seat anymore, Cas holding Dean up himself.

“Fuck, baby, like that.”

(Fuck, that felt too real.)

Cas looked up abruptly at that, his eyes glowing so brightly that Dean couldn’t see the pupil. Dean bucked his hips harder at that, Cas just taking that in stride. His gaze dropped to Dean’s lips, Dean licking them just to see what happened.

Cas reacted, dropping his head again. This time it would have had them pressed forehead to forehead, but that was too much too intimate. It was all too easy for Dean to let his head loll back. Cas ended up pressed against his neck. And that was an experience, Cas’ breath rolling across his skin with every rock forward.

Dean scrambled at the seat belt, wrapping it around his fingers before giving it a tug. It gave slightly, Dean trying again.

He didn’t know if he managed to slip the seat belt out or if Cas moved his wing. It didn’t matter, he was free, and the two of them were unbalanced.

Dean felt himself start to tip, his heart pounding fast. He squeezed his legs around Cas, throwing his arms over Cas’ shoulders.

None of it helped. The two of them rolled off the seat and hit the floor. Dean had one heady moment of being on top before Cas rolled them.

Dean hissed as his head knocked against the floor. That was only a problem for a moment, his attention going immediately back to Cas as the shadow of his wings fell over him.

They were distracting, but not as distracting as Cas caging him in with his arms and weight. And a long, delicious roll that had Dean’s eyes fluttering shut. He couldn’t help but follow with a grind of his own hips, chasing after what had been lost in the surprise fall. Cas was right there with him, curling back over Dean.

This time he allowed Cas to rest their foreheads together. He needed it, his skin tingling with the need to touch. His hands were still looped around Cas’ head, but he could only curl his fingers into Cas’ shirt. He didn’t have the leeway to do more. Oh, but he wanted it. The small, desperate parts of him that he hadn’t managed to kill wanted under Cas’ skin, right where that glow was.

Close second was that he wanted to come. He’d never been so hard in his life. Cas wasn’t helping, not even with his driving pace because it wasn’t enough.

He clawed between Cas’ shoulder, desperately bucking his hips up. “Cas, you gotta…”

Cas just growled, a clear answer to what he thought he had to do. Dean shivered anyway, his eyes starting to fall closed, at least until Cas’ wing moved.

There was a jerk against the seat belt, strong enough that Dean had to strain to keep his hold of Cas. The tension didn’t stop, the seat belt biting into his wrists with just enough pain to make it sweet.

Dean let his head fall back against the floor of the car with a thump. The concerned noise that Cas made was probably his imagination, because the next thing he heard was a breathy moan.

He dropped down completely onto Dean, one hand curling into Dean’ hair and pulling his head back just slightly. Dean arched into it, chanting Cas’ name. Then Cas dropped a hand to his lower back, catching up and holding him like that, keeping Dean helpless as he chased his own pleasure.

Dean shouted at that, wordless and desperate as he felt the edge start to slip. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to pull Cas forward, all while staring at Cas like that would make the difference. It was more eye contact than he’d had in his life, but it was doing it for him.

“Cas, please, please, please….”

Cas didn’t act like he heard Dean, which should not have been a turn on. But then Cas was shifting, bringing them back into better contact, but that might have been accidental. Even with the glow, it looked like Cas was practically gone (selfish bastard).

Dean grunted, trying to roll them over in what space they had left, but Cas wasn’t letting him move. There was a high whine from somewhere, maybe Cas. Dean didn’t have the time to think much about it.

Cas collapsed forward, the hand on his head dropping down over his eyes.

Dean twisted, trying to throw it off only for Cas to press down harder. “S-shut your eyes.”

Dean didn’t have the breath to ask, let alone the ability to form words. He got his answer soon enough when Cas curled over him with a shout. Then there was something else, something that built and crested before rushing through him; light and warm and so good.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out as he tumbled into orgasm. Dean tried to shout or do anything, but he couldn’t do anything but shake as he came harder than he had ever in his life.

And then it thundered through again.

This time he was sure he whined. He was damn sure he was crying, tears leaking out from under Cas’ hand. He tried to get the words together to tell Cas to stop because he was for pain, but this was too much.

Then it stopped, leaving him a wrung out and panting mess. Everything felt like it was flirting with that boundary when the pain felt good and when it felt bad, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. It took all he had to drag breath into his lungs.

Cas’ hand slid from his face, Dean watching until Cas slid out of his line of vision. There was a thud and a shake through the van which answered the question of where Cas had gone. He should turn his head to make sure Cas wasn’t about to run off, but he couldn’t really feel his legs. He was willing to bet that Cas was feeling as wrung out as he was.

He went to stretch, having to bit his lip as everything shook, like his body was trying for a third orgasm. It wasn’t going to get it, Dean could tell from the exhaustion and the absolutely disgusting mess that were his boxers and pants.

Dean made a face at that, wiggling in place before giving up. It was too exhausting. Better to just lay back and stare at the top of the car until he could figure out how to speak again.

“What the hell, Cas?” His mouth felt weird, and his tongue felt heavy, but he got it out. What he couldn’t do was turn his head to look at Cas, but the huff he got was plenty.

“You asked if we were fighting or fucking. I answered.”

Dean tried and failed not to shiver as Cas so casually throwing out the word fuck. It was completely different, but he found that he didn’t mind. It was nice having a Cas that was actually human.

There was a heavy silence, Dean not understanding it until Cas spoke up. “Was...he that bad?”

Dean blinked up at the ceiling, taking far too long to open his eyes. It took far too much to keep them open. Still, apparently something had slipped out, and Cas had asked a question.

He rolled his wrists where they were still trapped in the seat belt, giving up a moment later. It was too much effort. It was all too much when all he wanted to do was take a nap. Dean wiggled to get comfortable, relieved that his body didn’t threaten him with more orgasms. Whatever had pushed through him was well and truly gone. He sighed with relief, ready to sink into unconsciousness when he remembered that Cas had asked him a question.

That took effort, dragging his mind just out of the afterglow drift it had going on to piece together something to explain Cas to...Cas. (That didn’t mean that he was about to open his eyes.) It was hard, because he only knew what everyone else did. Maybe more, because there had been a few times that he’d been punched in the face or gut, or gotten something broken because he’d butted in on Better Angels’ business.

But it wasn’t like he actually knew the guy.

Dean shrugged (or just thought about it, he wasn’t sure). “He was a hero. So...you know…”

Because Cas had to. Different world and wings aside, they were bound to have that much in common.

He thought he heard Cas make a soft sound and move which, good for him, he had use to his limbs, but Dean didn’t hear anything else. He was already drifting away into an exhausted sleep.

If Dean was honest with himself, getting kidnapped by knock-off Buffy and her Purgatory Edition Scooby gang wasn’t on his BINGO card for the year.

(To be fair, he had a lot of crazy shit on his card because he was trying to win against Eileen (get invited into the Better Angels) and Charlie (marry an alien and become empress of a galactic empire).

Sam wasn’t even in the competition because he ranged from seriously misunderstanding the assignment (two meatless Mondays a month) to putting things that were frankly impossible (them owning a house, In this economy?)

Maybe he should have considered being taken hostage by teenagers.)

On the other hand, meeting a hot Cajun man was absolutely on his BINGO card.

Castiel breathed out, watching his breath condense in the cold night air before drifting away. It was better to watch it go than pay attention to what was going on behind him in the cave. First of all, he was on watch. And second of all, he had no idea what to do with Dean flirting so easily with Benny. It didn’t seem like it intended to go anywhere, and both of them seemed okay with that. And Castiel didn’t know how.

Or even why it hit him so hard.

Dean was the one who had gotten them stuck in Purgatory in the first place. He was loud, overbearing, and annoying. And he wouldn’t listen to anything that Castiel said to him. But every time Castiel closed his eyes for longer than a blink, he could see Dean looming over him, bleeding from where Castiel’s feathers were buried deep in his body and smiling.

“What do you say, Cas? Think you can break me?”

Oh, he hoped not. He hoped that he wouldn’t be the end of Dean.

Just once….

He breathed out again, staring out into the forest. No one had bothered them yet, but he doubted that Eve would let them get away considering the tenuous alliance she had with the Shadow.

He swallowed and twisted to his left to look at where the forest abruptly ended, giving way to just darkness. Only that wasn’t right. It was darker than darkness.

It was empty.

He shuddered, turning around to look back into the forest, only to find one of the kids, Jack, standing there.

Jack gave him a smile, his arms wrapped around himself like he was cold. Castiel really didn’t know if he was. He didn’t really know what Jack was.

Dean knew him, tangentially. He’d been surprised to see Jack there and then seemed to have waved that off easily. Like he hadn’t just rattled what little was left of what was holding Castiel together.

“Jack? Yeah, I know him. Well, heard of him. Some assholes tried to grow their own mutants to be weapons. The Better Angels got to them before that. There was a whole argument if they should be counted as mutants and protected in the first place. They were still arguing about it when one of the program heads mutated himself and came after Jack. Cas, our Cas, threw himself and the bastard into space and got the ship they were on exploded. Asshole could take bullet, sword or lightening bolt, but not space. Burned them both to ashes, But the kids are safe.”

Castiel watched Jack, trying to pick out just what the boy was thinking. Dean hadn’t seemed too surprised to see Cas, so it was likely that he looked a lot like the original. The hero.

Jack at least didn’t look devastated, or too sad. He just looked interested.

“Can I sit?” Jack nodded at the log that Cas was sitting on. “Watch always goes quicker with two.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse. He had taken watch because he didn’t want to be in there with the rest of them. They might have all been from different worlds, but it was clear that they liked each other, trusted each other. They were a team at the edge of their world, fighting off the Shadow and Eve. And that scared Castiel.

It reminded him too much of his Better Angels. The way they had been before…

Jack was still staring, clearly not taking his silence for an answer or going back. Castiel sighed and nodded, scooting over a bit to give the kid some room. He waited until the last minute to lift his wing away, trying not to wince as Jack’s gaze immediately went to it.

The other Castiel’s wings wouldn’t have looked like this. They couldn’t have.

Jack didn’t comment, with was another kind of purgatory in itself. Instead, he sat down on the log, twisted slightly away to keep watch in the direction that Castiel wasn’t immediately facing. He brought his hands up to blow on his hands a few times before dropping them back into his lap. “Do you think that Dean will be able to help Kaia use her powers?”

It wasn’t the question that Castiel had expected. It left him stunned for a moment before reluctantly casting back through the whirlwind of an introduction. He’d gotten all of their names, but tried not to match them to faces or names. He didn’t want to in case things went wrong.

Benny was an adult, but the others were just kids.

He’d heard enough kids screaming as they died.

Castiel shut his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to chase away the memory. He heard Jack turn towards him, not wanting what was coming next. He didn’t want Jack’s pity.

He didn’t deserve it.

“I think Dean can try. If not, she’ll open a portal just to throw him out of here.”

“Maybe.” Jack chuckled, like this was just something to work on at home instead of in the universe’s garbage dump. Castiel opened his eyes as he heard Jack tapping his thumbs together.

He turned to look at the boy, trying to piece together what had made him so dangerous that the Better Angels had wanted to get rid of him. The weapon angle, sure, but he didn’t seem angry or determined to destroy the world that had turned on him. Or maybe that was just after years in Purgatory. It was the kind of place that would lead to that kind of introspection.

Castiel shifted to get a better look at the kid. He knew almost nothing about the Men of Letters. What he’d heard was from the brief argument when Dean had first dragged him into that world and then from the junkyard full of Deans. But Jack had been in there longer than him. “Why are you here?”

Jack bit his lip, which meant that it was probably a rude question, but it needed to be answered. They might have a backdoor, but there was no guarantee that this was the end of it. The Men of Letters might have used this time to get more prepared. Or they might have another plan if they were defeated. Castiel didn’t think that an organization specializing in time and the multiverse would be so easily chased away.

Jack dropped his gaze to his shoes, dragging the toe of one through the leaves. It took him long enough that Castiel was sure that Jack would let the question drop and the rest of the watch would be spent in silence.

Eventually, Jack took a deep breath before letting it out. “I don’t know for sure. They don’t really say when they come for you. It’s just a bunch of regulations and terms you don’t understand before you’re sent here. So, most of it is guessing from what the others told me. I was sent here because I was too powerful.”

“Like dangerous?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. They just told me I was extraneous and sent me here. But I was three so...I didn’t even know what that meant.”

Three.

Castiel stared at him. Jack had to in his early twenties. Still young.

Jack must have picked up on some of that because he laughed and shook his head. “No. No. I’ve always kind of looked like this, maybe a bit younger. But, I guess they didn’t want to wait for their weapons to grow up. I’ve only been here seven years. Kaia has been here the longest, but she got here herself.”

“How?”

“Her powers. She got scared of something and this was how she ran, but then she got lost. Or that’s what she remembers.” Jack shrugged. “We don’t like to push, because she feels bad.”

Of course she would. She could have gotten them all out, but she kept failing. Maybe one day she would manage it, or maybe she would be forever stuck because of the weight of expectations. Castiel didn’t know, all he knew was that he liked their other plan of marching right back into Eve’s lair less.

Jack nodded like Castiel had said something. “I hope it works.”

“It might not.”

Jack just shrugged. “Then we’ll try something else.”

“Jack-”

“We only need one jump. One way out. None of us knows what is going on in our worlds. Benny makes it sound like he was sold out by his wife, so I don’t think he wants to go home.”

Castiel was taken aback by that, trying to match that with the laughing man that he could hear from all the way back in the cave. “I don’t-”

“Patience says that the MOL said something about her being redundant before sending her here. Alex thinks it’s because she wouldn’t use her powers for evil like the rest of her family, she kept slipping up. Claire’s a werewolf and she’s not supposed to be. She thinks she was some kind of girl at the start of the horror movie type deal, but she didn’t go down. Jesse is the Antichrist.”

“What?”

“Or one of them. I don’t think we can assume we’re completely unique given the multiverse. There might be others.” Jack shrugged. “But he’s sure the Men of Letters came after him because of that. Because he didn’t turn bad either, but he ran off to hide and kept hiding. He didn’t do anything but the Men of Letters came after him.”

A pattern was starting to emerge. Plans and stories that didn’t go right and then attempts were made to fix them. People tossed around depending on what was believed to be needed. Which begged the question of just how the Men of Letters got their information. Were they receiving it from someone else, or were they were ones making the decisions? The latter was a terrifying thing, because where was the check and balance on them?

“Scary isn’t it?” It was like Jack had read his mind, or maybe he could. No one had told him what powers Jack had. Dean hadn’t even known, although he was strangely quiet about the whole thing. Jack didn’t seem ready to offer, he seemed content to just stare out into the woods for a moment. Then he took a deep breath, holding it before letting it out. “All of us voted while you were out here. When Kaia manages it, we’re going go back with Dean and try and help.”

“What about your own worlds?”

“We’ll, it’s mine. But the others don’t know. I think they’re worried that they’ll be sent back.”

“They could still.”

“Not if we beat them. It’ll send a message.” Jack perked up, looking at him with a smile. “I said I’d come ask for your vote while we were out here.”

Castiel looked back at the cave, seeing the shadows of the people within. He wished that he could be back there, but he couldn’t. He wished that Jack wasn’t out here either.

He pulled his wings closer to himself, hyper aware of the sound of the metal feathers. Jack at least wasn’t staring. He was obviously trying not to, which was better that Dean’s outright staring.

Like he was looking for the Castiel that he had known, apparently well enough that he didn’t hesitate to throw around a nickname and pet names.

He swallowed, hoping that his voice kept steady. “I don’t think I will.”

“Why?”

It was a flash of childishness that took him off guard. Castiel blinked and turned to look at Jack completely. It took him a minute to remember what Jack had said. He was born a weapon, but he was actually ten.

A ten year old had been nominally in charge of all of these kids until Benny had appeared, and he didn’t know how long that had been.

A child had been sent here. How long had he been alone from then? How long from when his Cas had died?

Cas would give Jack this, he was determined to get everyone out. That was good of him. Clearly, something that he had learned from his Cas. And everyone was right. That Cas was a hero, and he didn’t dare replace him, because he had gone so beyond that.

He curled his wings closer to him, almost mantling them like any of this was something that he could protect himself from. It wasn’t subtle, so of course Jack noticed. Jack moved out of the way, even as he clearly made an effort not to stare too long. It was shockingly human in a place that seemed to be about savagery, not that Castiel could blame any of them. How long could anyone live in a place like this, knowing that they had been specifically picked out for removal but not knowing why? As far as he could tell, it was a choice between fighting for every inch or letting yourself sink into that knowledge that you weren’t wanted.

Castiel was surprised he hadn’t been sent here sooner.

Movement caught his attention, Castiel watching as Jack nudged some leaves around with his shoes. He stopped after a while, kicking at the pile of leaves before leaning forward to meet Castiel’s gaze. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to but...I don’t know a lot of people who want to stay here.”

“It’s not a matter of want.” Castiel paused, ready to let that settle it. Except that it wasn’t settled. Everything bubbled up. It was easier when he was back home because everyone knew already. He didn’t have to explain.

He never got the chance to explain.

It wasn’t a matter of want. It was a matter of deserve. And what did it say when he saw himself in most of the people here?

He took a deep breath, feeling the thrum of energy through him and the heavy weight of his wings. “I belong here.”

Jack was silent for a moment, then he leaned forward. It meant that he would be able to catch Castiel’s gaze, but he didn’t. He just stared off into the forest. The only motion for a while was the tapping of his thumbs together before he shook his head. “No one belongs here.”

“I do.”

“Cas…”

“I killed them.” It felt good to get the words out, Castiel having to take a deep breath. It felt good, but he felt like he should take them back. Mostly, he hoped that Jack would stop looking at him like he had been, like he was just another version of the Castiel that had given his life for a boy made to be a weapon and the rest of the world. Because that wasn’t him. It might have been him much, but then he’d become this.

Jack shook his head, Castiel confused if that was denial or some kind of judgment. He was in suspense until the moment Jack offered him a sad smile. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Castiel stared at the boy, surprised at the lack of condemnation. Everyone else jumped to it, maybe because everyone else had lived through it. They knew exactly what happened. Jack had no context, he had no stakes in the game. He hadn’t been touched by it. The thought was enough to make Castiel slump, but he held himself still. “No. I...I think it needs to be said.”

Jack made a go ahead motion, but Castiel didn’t need it. He just fixed his gaze on the depths of the forest and let it all tumble out.

“We had the Better Angels in my world, mutants, in my world. And we were heroes. A place for others like us to go. And it wasn’t perfect, but it was good, and we had worked hard for it. And things were getting better.

“Then came Marv, who worked for some pharmaceutical company, one that had been sympathetic to us from the start. They had been actively trying to find ways to make drugs for those whose mutations made any kind of medication useless. Marv didn’t want to do that, he wanted to make something else to help slow down a mutation, or stop it from showing for a few years. Not forever but...there had been a kid with speed powers, but he was a newborn when they showed. He snapped his own neck three days after he was born.

“It wasn’t common, but we were being allowed to live longer, so it came up often enough that people were talking about ways to help. And I trusted Marv, because he worked somewhere we all trusted. And the Better Angels were willing to help until the moment he said he needed some of our blood. He shouldn’t have considering the company hired mutants. But he said he needed a larger sample size. The others refused.”

“You didn’t?”

Castiel shook his head, feeling the edges of a ragged laugh trying to escape. He swallowed it back, fighting to keep it there. “There was another one, a kid who was the right age this time, but they couldn’t turn their power off so they were on fire all the time. They were locked up with the Better Angels, and terrified of what they would do to the world. We weren’t getting answers, so I agreed and then didn’t think about it until Marv came back and asked for a test. I didn’t think anything of it, there were others signed up. I just thought they wanted to look like they were doing something for the public and having me there would reassure them. Considering all I had were wings, the stakes were low for me. There were plenty of others that could take my place on the team.

“I don’t remember much after the injection.” Just the pain, but Jack didn’t need to know that. The searing pain that made Castiel wish that he was dead. “But I remember waking up to a room of corpses and Marv was so pleased. I couldn’t figure out why, at first. He took more blood, and said the next time it would be better. And then I…” Castiel took a deep breath before turning his palm up and letting the energy coalesce there. He could feel Jack’s attention snap to him, but he didn’t look away from the light glowing just under the skin of his palm. “My mutation is just my wings. This came after. It’s...energy.”

“Grace.” Castiel looked up at Jack, his eyes widening as Jack did the same thing. The light under his skin was gold, and slightly brighter in the dark. When he looked up at Jack’s face, he was smiling wide. “Or, that’s what Cas called it. I don’t know if it’s really a mutation, but it just...happens.”

Castiel let his shoulders relax a fraction. “I think mine was an allergic reaction, or a secondary mutation that triggered and saved me. Because all of the others died. All of them. And I didn’t know for a long time, because I was still recovering because I might have survived, but my wings...” Castiel purposefully didn’t look back at the ragged remains of what had been his feathers. “I didn’t know until they brought Hannah in. I’d been left with the other bodies, because they must have thought that I died when my wings burned up, but I was alive, and so was Hannah, for a while. And she told me...she told…”

Castiel had to take a deep breath, feeling the shake coming on. Some nights, when he could sleep, when what Jack called grace didn’t keep him up, he could see her face, pale and bloodied from coughing up blood. And he could still hear her, her voice getting fainter as the mutation burned out of her and she slipped away.

“We told you. We told you. It’s all your fault.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath for a moment longer before letting it out. It was easier in the completely dark, easier not to see. “Marv was making something to kill mutants, or at least the ones that opposed him. And it wasn’t because he hated us, he was one of us. And he didn’t hate himself. He just wanted power, and he could talk himself into it easily enough. He wanted the world on their knees, begging for powers so they could serve him. And he used me to kill everyone who could have stopped him.”

Castiel had pieced that together, painstakingly from the bodies that had been left to him, and the gasping accusations that had been leveled at him. And he had made a plan.

“And the next time they brought a body in, I killed them. And then I killed everyone in the building, and the next, and the next until the whole company was wiped out. And it didn’t matter that most of the company didn’t know, because Marv had talked his way into power in that building alone and gotten people to cover for him. None of that mattered. And I should have stopped, but I kept going with everyone and everything that had stood against us, then Marv, and by then it was easy to just keep going. Until I came across that girl, that scared girl who was terrified of her powers standing there on fire because it was only her and a bunch of teenagers. And they were begging me to stop, but I couldn’t. So...them too. So, I belong here, for all of my sins. Because what’s the point of me if I just hurt people.”

Jack was silent for a long moment, long enough that Castiel was almost glad. It would take Jack a moment to get to his feet and shuffle back, then he could tell the others what Castiel had never managed to get across. He was the worst version of Castiel, so it was better to leave him here and find another one out there in the multiverse. He couldn’t hurt anyone here, at least, nothing that didn’t deserve it.

Except that he hadn’t hurt Dean. He couldn’t, not with his wings, his fists or his energy...his grace as Jack had called it. It had rolled through Dean and not burnt him out like it did others. Maybe it was the years of practice, or whatever kept Dean from being killed. But Dean had liked it.

Castiel pushed the thought away, ready to let it sit in the back of his mind and stay there forever with all of the other things.

But Jack wasn’t leaving.

Castiel opened his eyes and looked over at Jack, watching as the young man bit his lip. The glow in his palm had decreased, but it wasn’t out. And Jack was staring fixedly at it.

He took a deep breath like he was going to say something, stopping and staring a few times before he managed it. “I’ve used my grace to kill people too. Do...do I belong here?”

Castiel shook his head. “I was self defense.”

“Sometimes, not all the time.” Jack turned to look at him. “But I was made to kill, and I don’t. So I guess...I don’t have a point to me either.”

“Jack-”

“I was made to be a weapon, and I refuse to be that. My mother...the woman who took care of me and got me out, she said that I shouldn’t, because my powers could be used for a greater purpose. She died before she could tell me what it was. Cas never gave me one. He said I didn’t need one to justify my existence, just being me was enough. And, he was right.”

Jack smiled, although it was a bit watery. “I don’t see why you’re any different.”

Castiel shook his head. “I killed so many people.”

“But you stopped. You know you did wrong. You’ve tried to do better. You’re…” Jack obviously swallowed back something, the glow in the palm of his hand finally dying. Jack flexed his fingers slowly, that seemed to take up all of his attention until he let out a gust of breath. “Once you stop, that’s all you’ll be known for. My mother...she never got to be known as a mother, at least not to anyone but me. Everyone remembers her for working with the program to make weapons out of people. Cas never got to be anything more than a hero.”

Castiel glanced over at him sharply. “What more could you want?”

“Cas always said he wanted to make a garden, keep bees. He would talk to me sometimes when I couldn’t sleep about all the things he wanted to do. And he won’t get to do them now. People won’t want to hear about them now. They just want him to be the hero who saved them all. They want Castiel, not Cas. And they’ll never want Cas.” Jack kicked his foot out, sending the leaves scattering. Castiel turned his head to watch the leaves go, almost missing what Jack said next.

“It’s like they’re killing him again.”

Castiel jerked his head around, watching as Jack curled in on himself.

He knew what to do about this. He’d done it plenty of times with children who had come to the Better Angels. He’d just been following Hannah’s lead, but it had seemed to help. And he remembered enjoying it, because he remembered stumbling in with a ragged and bloody back and half grown wings and Anna telling him that things would finally be ok.

But he couldn’t do it.

Castiel curled his fingers into a fist, watching as Jack took a couple of jerky breaths before he swiped his sleeve across his eyes. It took him a moment longer to stand up, and even longer to look at him. “I’ll tell the others. I can come back, if you don’t mind.”

His first impulse was to say no, because he would rather be alone, come to terms with the idea of staying in this place. But Jack looked so much like a lost child instead of the twenty some-odd years that he looked like. And some of that was on him, sitting here looking like the man who had saved him. Listening as Castiel talked about staying behind.

That would be like killing him again.

Castiel shifted in place before nodding, preferring that than trying to explain what he was thinking to Jack. It was the right move, because Jack brightened up and practically ran back to the cave. Castiel turned to watch him go, foolish considering that there could be anything waiting for them out in the woods. And it wasn’t like he could really see what was going on in the cave, they were all just shadows. But he could hear the laughter, the life.

H e’d had that once. Hannah, Samandriel, Balthazar, Benjamin, Inias. And Anna, hovering over all of them, more like the straight man to the various parts of their comedy. Less commander. Less mother. But all of them family.

All of them gone.

Castiel turned away, staring resolutely out into the night. They would be safer if they stayed away.

They would be dead if he stayed away.

The Men of Letters might be right or they might be lying; either way Castiel couldn’t see how they would let this pass. And that meant Dean’s team back home would be dead, if one of them wasn’t already dead. Castiel knew how that felt. He had ruined his throat screaming when he had stumbled back to their home and found the others, burnt out and dead. It was all too easy to imagine that happening again. And then entire worlds would die, and he would just be a killer.

He could still fail if he tried, but it wouldn’t be a condemnation. It would almost be redemption.

And if they won…

Castiel tried not to hold onto that thought, because he had his reservations. But, oh, if they did.

H e swallowed, glancing down at his hand. It was just a matter of a thought to gather the energy, the grace, there. It was a small light in a very dark world.

Castiel stared at it a while longer before abruptly closing his fingers and letting the energy just fizzle away. The dark crept back in, not that Castiel noticed much. It was tantalizing, the idea of a victory after so long. The fear of failure was there too, but it was hard to focus on, especially with what Jack had said turning over slowing in his mind.

There was no question he had let the Better Angels down. It would be easy to keep it that way, just it be dead. Let them be dead and rotting in memory in some far off world.

The better question. What would they think of him doing nothing?

It was all to easy to imagine just how disappointed every one of them would be in him. They wouldn’t have left Dean’s world to be destroyed. They wouldn’t have left the kids.

Castiel twisted back, lifting one wing slightly so he could reach back to find the feathers that were closest to his body. He traced his fingers over the feathers there, finding the name of the car make the metal for his wings had come from first. He remembered protesting, but Robert Harvelle had glared at him and said that it was only right considering what he was giving up to give Castiel back his wings . Castiel hadn’t been able to argue that, it wasn’t worth it.

H e followed the graceful curves of Chevrolet down to the other names that Robert had enameled onto the feathers.

Anna, Hannah, Benjamin, Balthazar, Inias, Samandriel.

Castiel pressed his hand against the six names, watching the shadows in the cave. Except they weren’t just shadows now, some of the people had moved to the front of the cave. Castiel could see more of them now, gathering around where Jack was standing. Castiel’s gaze lingered over all of them, feeling a little pang. His team had never done this. They’d managed not to get themselves stranded like this, but it could have been in the kitchen or one of their rooms. It was still something like family in the same way.

Castiel turned back around, looking into the empty woods before letting his chin drop with a sigh. “Damn it.”

The whole set up was ridiculous, and complicated, but Dean was more tha n willing not to risk the time it would take for him to heal back after being burned, possibly to ashes. He wasn’t sure if he could actually come back from ashes, he’d never gotten that far. The thing was, he didn’t know how much time had passed back in his world. It could have been hours, minutes.

Or it could have been days and he was going back to nothing.

(Don’t think about it.)

Dean rolled his shoulders, making sure to keep up his smile. God knows that Kaia needed it. She looked ready to shake right off the rock she was sitting on, even with Jesse and Claire kneeling beside her. Claire was busy with the supportive girlfriend thing. Jesse just looked terrified that she would bite his hand off for where it rested on Kaia’s shoulder. Or maybe that was because he was terrified about what he was being asked to do.

To be fair, this was almost a shit plan.

They had two kids that could possibly bust out, but they hadn’t managed yet. Something about this place being like reality but not enough. Then there was a problem about this whole Empty that surrounded them thing which was scary as fuck when Benny had showed him. (The world shouldn’t just end like that.) Apparently it wasn’t a world, but the lack of it, which was why Kaia with all of her universe hopping couldn’t get beyond it, the next world was too far away for her to reach. Same with Jesse. He could manipulate reality there, but not in the Empty, because there was nothing there. They had never tried working together.

Then again, considering Dean had seen what had happened when they had both tried to reach, he wasn’t too surprised. Either Jesse or Kaia might burn up, or they might burn him. And he was needed because Kaia found it easier to jump universes if she had something to steady her. Which was why they had complicated the whole thing with Patience kneeling between them. (Dean could hear Sam shouting about the KISS method. Well, fuck it. With the way things were they were going to have to pull a Freddy and hope.)

“Ok, we all clear on the plan?”

Jesse turned pale and Kaia squeaked alarmingly. Not a confidence booster. (He was totally gonna be ash.)

Dean nodded like he hadn’t heard. “I’ll pull a Dorothy-”

“Who?”

He stuttered to a stop, turning to stare at Jack while shaking his head. “Unbelievable. You haven’t been taught a damn thing, kid.”

Jack just cocked his head to the side. Dean sighed and shook his head. “Right, I’m going to think of home, Patience is gonna made that image as loud as clear as she can in Kaia’s mind. Jesse is gonna give her a boost. As soon as the portal opens, we go through and then you close it. Close it and give yourselves a ten minute break. Make Benny count it.”

Claire made a face, sitting up without taking her hand from Kaia’s knee. “What if that’s too much?”

Dean sighed, shaking his head. This was why he didn’t work with kids. (Lies.) “Kaia said ten minutes is the shortest she can go between portals.”

“I can do five.” Kaia spoke up, her voice wobbling. She quickly swallowed, trying again even though she still looked completely terrified. “I can do five.”

“Okay.”

Claire sat up, her lip curling in something that looked a little too much like a snarl. “If she says she can do it, she can do it.”

“Alright Defensive Girlfriend Barbie.” Dean held up his hands before letting them drop into his lap. “Five then come in after. We’ll have cleared out most of the problem by them. Won’t we?”

He tipped his head back to where Cas was waiting towards the front of the cave, sometimes shooting a glare over towards Benny. (Hot. )

( Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him .)

Cas didn’t immediately look his way, but there was slight shift to his wing that meant he was listening (possibly.) But that was good enough. Dean shot him a grin anyway before turning back to the others. “See?”

Claire leveled him a look that he seriously agreed with. Skeptical, mixed with exhaustion and the realization that he was making stupid choices. She didn’t know the half of it. Most of his life was a string of stupid choices.

(He should have just grabbed Misha.)

Luckily, no one else noticed.

Dean nodded, somewhat to them, mostly to himself. And, thankfully, there was one other adult, because Benny gave him a salute. “Don’t worry, boss. We’ve got this.”

That perked the kids up, because of course it would. Benny had been watching their backs for however long they had been in Purgatory. Dean watched as they all buckled down, Alex and Jack being the only ones that were without a job currently. Although, Jack would be powering them through a second portal and Alex was the medic. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be needed.

“Ok. Let’s go.”

Patience reached forward to press her hand against the top of his head. And, for a long moment, nothing happened. Dean assumed that Patience was relaying the information that they needed, but mostly it was all of them sitting in silence. Dean could just feel Cas getting impatient. (Misha had seemed like such a chill dude.)

Then Kaia gave a little hiccup, and something made the hair on the back of Dean’s neck rise. He tried not to move as the feeling grew, the whole world feeling like it was getting thinner. He felt like he should hold his breath.

There was a weird twist and rel ease that had Dean jerking forward.

Patience’s hand fell away, Dean blinking in surprise before looking up at Kaia. She was frowning, but she didn’t look like she was panicking yet. Jesse was about the same, except that he was sweating buckets. The others weren’t even looking, focused on something behind his shoulder.

Dean dropped his hand to his gun and spun around, staring at golden slash floating in the air. It didn’t look much like a portal, unless he and Cas were expected to become 2D to get through. (This was the perfect chance for Hanna-Barbara Dean, damn it.)

He got to his feet as Cas reached up to touch the break. He sunk up to his shoulder, Cas letting it stay there for a moment before pulling his arm out. Dean watched carefully as Cas twisted and moved his arm, waiting for the glow. There was nothing and his arm was whole. Dean glanced over at where Kaia and Jesse were sweating before nodding. Not that Cas waited for it. When Dean turned back around, he was halfway through the gash between worlds. Dean cursed under his breath and scrambled to his feet.

He went to follow Cas only to pause long enough to spin around and point at Claire. “Five minutes. Start counting.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, which he took to mean as a yes. It had been mostly yes in Sam age 13-16, so it might cross over. Either way, he couldn’t wait.

Dean spun back around, practically plowing into Cas to get him through the portal faster. (It was absolutely not an excuse to get his hands on Cas or his wings.) But it had them stumbling through the portal and out onto a street.

He ignored Cas’ angry grumble (it was more of a growl really. Cute.) to look around, trying to recenter himself. Was there such a thing as universe-lag? Dean didn’t know, he just felt like his head was spinning and he needed a nap. But they didn’t have the time for that. Well, they didn’t have more than five minutes for that.

He shook his head hard to get his eyes to focus. It came back to him slowly, buildings and street signs slotting into place, all familiar. Dean didn’t know if the settled feeling in his stomach was just because he wanted it to be home, but he was willing to take it.

Dean took a few steps, most of them wobbly as he looked around. Then he saw it, the door tucked into a weird shaped alley with the Aquarian star shinning on the door, and the lock clearly shot off. Dean had done that trying to get in after Sam had come running back to him. (In hindsight, not a good idea.) “Cas.”

Cas turned around, looking over to the door before nodding. “Ok, go. I’ll wait for the others.”

Dean opened his mouth to ask if Cas was really going to do that or just run away. But he had stuck with him through Purgatory, and had decided to come along instead of staying.

Sam would have said something deep, philosophical, and stolen from some memoir instead of daytime television like any sane person. Dr. Sexy had never steered him wrong before.

(Dr. Sexy would have fucked Cas in the car and then spent the next two episodes in either a panic or some sort of tragic love affair, but that wasn’t the point.

At least he had gotten the first part right.)

Cas was looking at him calmly, wings loose and relaxed. He didn’t look like he was running. So Dean would take it.

He rolled his shoulder, shooting Cas a grin before turning.

What should have happened was that he burst through the door of the Men of Letters little secret hideout, crowing about how the conquering heroes had returned, checked on Charlie and then figured out a way to plug Cas in long enough to foul up the evil plan to destroy their world. (At least, it worked that way in all of the movies. The good ones anyway.)

What really happened was he got only a few steps before those damn cheap ass sci-fi doors flickered into existence. The Men of Letters’ little soldiers poured out, fanning out into a half circle. Cannon fodder, all of them, but hey, they learned that they would need actual guns now. Their leader came out as soon as they were assembled. Behind the soldiers, interesting. She had already stood in front of them before, which meant that Sammy and Eileen had kicked their asses.

Good.

“Ah, Miss. Havisham,” Dean heard a click of metal as Cas turned. “Should have known that you would show up.”

The woman frowned, Dean watching as her fingers moved nervously before she tucked her hands behind her back. “Literature, Mr. Winchester. I’m surprised, I thought you would go for something more...low brow.”

“Full of surprises. Now,” Dean dropped his hand down to his gun. He didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with her. Sam was still back there, and they had five minutes until the kids came through, and he was not about to let all of them get shot. Completely doable. With Cas it would go faster. He drummed his fingers against the pearl grip. “Make your men stand down and get the hell out of our way.”

“I don’t think we’ll do that.”

“Fine.” Dean flicked his gaze over the soldiers. “Then, do you want to die for this?”

The woman huffed something that might have been a laugh. “Of course, they know they are serving a greater purpose.”

“Are they?” Cas stepped up beside him, a wing brushing against his side before he rocked to add a little bit of distance. (Dean absolutely didn’t lean after him, because he was a professional.) “We only have your word for it.”

“This isn’t just a whim, Castiel. We wouldn’t do that.”

“Prove it.”

The woman narrowed her eyes, and Dean was totally ready to listen to her start to try and stumble through an explanation. For one, it would break the facade that was starting to get boring. Also, it would give him time to make a run for the door and get things set up.

That was the good thing about monologues. Someone else could listen and keep them distracted while Dean took care of business. (It was even more hilarious when that person was Eileen.)

Dean flexed his knees slightly, ready to start sprinting as soon as her mouth opened. But it didn’t happen. Her mouth did twitch, but it didn’t do more than that. She did focus on something just behind him, Dean already leaning back as Cas started to turn. He didn’t even need to look completely to know that it was bad because Cas bristled. It only lasted a minute before his wings were slump. Dean got a good look on Cas’ face as it switched from angry to despair. That really should have been his first clue, but he was still turning it over when he finally saw the full might of the Better Angels assembled.

He cursed, just the normal reaction to seeing them, at least until he realized that Cas had gone stiff and still. Even then it took a moment to really let it all click into place.

Cas had been part of the Better Angels in his world, he knew that. But he’d never thought that Cas would meet the ones from his world. And, from the way he was looking at them, he didn’t recognize many of them. Dean had never thought about that.

(Stupid.)

He reached out for Cas, avoiding the bristling feathers for a shoulder, only to have to jerk back as someone beat him to it.

“Castiel?” A man was shouldering his way to the front of the group, but not past where Naomi was standing. Dean was sure that the man saw the quick glance that their leader gave him. But that didn’t stop him from looking like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, literally. Edges of what looked like scales kept lifting up and shining in the light before settling back down. “Is...is that really you?”

Selfishly, Dean hoped that Cas wouldn’t know them, that it was someone that he had never met. It almost looked like it was, but Cas was still stepping forward.

“I don’t…”

The man held out a hand, still not daring to move in front of Naomi. “I’m Hannah.”

The way the breath rushed out of Cas there had been a Hannah in his world. And he might have been as close as the other Castiel had been with this Hannah, which could ruin everything.

Dean went to reach out to Cas, but he was already walking away. That seemed to be what Hannah was waiting for. He rushed over and grabbed onto Cas’ arm. It wasn’t anything like what Dean expected, especially considering that this world’s Cas had died years ago. It almost looked like Hannah was still keeping Cas at a distance (and he was totally biased).

Cas didn’t seem to notice, he just sighed out something that might have been Hannah’s name, his wings dropping. The metal feathers clicked, drawing all of their attention. Hannah looked shocked and then sad, but it was the others that had Dean’s attention.

Hester and Rachel looked suspicious. Naomi was completely blank. Uriel looked disgusted, but that seemed to be par for the course for the guy. It was also par for the course that Uriel immediately looked at him. And, where he threw his anger, Hester and Rachel turned to look. Dean huffed, not bothering to move his hand from his gun as he waited for them to react.

It happened in seconds (not a new record, he’d seen faster).

Hester stormed towards him, cold rolling off of her. Experience told him that he was one moment away from freezing (his third least favorite way to go, after burning.) Dean stepped to the side, watching the frost extend itself towards him. He shifted his hand to one of his knives. He’d gone up against Hester before, and on a sunny day like this, it would take her longer to get up to the temperature that was needed to start breaking his knives. The gun she could freeze more easily, and she knew it from the way that her face twisted into a sneer.

Dean flipped out his knife, aiming it at her and watching as she stopped. That seemed to anger her more, even as she took a step back. “What did you do?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, sweetheart.”

It was probably stupid to rile her up more, but he couldn’t help it. Even if the ice crackled over his boot, he had to do it. It was practically his job now.

Hester gestured wildly, Dean not following it at first. The ice dagger in her hand was more important, at least until she started talking.

“Castiel. What did you do to Castiel?”

“Nothing.”

Hester laughed, the sound coming out strangled when Naomi made a sharp motion. That was enough to get the ice to melt away and Hannah to take a step back. Castiel looked like he was going to follow, frowning on what was pretty typical behavior for the Better Angels. They might bluster and threaten, but they wouldn’t move until Naomi allowed them off of their leashes.

Judging by the way that Cas was watching, that was new to him too.

Dean drifted over to Cas, stopping just out of reach of Cas’ wings. He thought he saw Cas look over, but he seemed to be more focused on the Better Angels. Which was fine, that just meant he would have turn enough to see the Men of Letters. They seemed content to watch this play out. Too content.

He reached out to touch Cas’ sleeve, his fingers jerking to a stop with a tickle at the back of his mind. It didn’t last long, which meant that Naomi wasn’t really trying. Dean growled all the same, drawing Cas’ attention.

Cas looked down to Dean’s frozen hand, reaching out to touch it before dropping his arm again. Then he was stepping forward and spreading one wing. “He’s done nothing.”

“He’s stolen you from your world under false pretenses.” Naomi spoke calmly, Dean tempted to step out behind Cas’ wing to see her expression, Something in his gut told him to watch the Men of Letters leader. And something in his gut told him that reinforcements might be coming soon.

Maybe.

Cas didn’t bristle, but the anger in his tone made a shiver run down Dean’s spine. “He told me why.”

“To save his world? Castiel, I refuse to believe that any of you are stupid. But there is one thing you have to understand about Dean Winchester, any Dean Winchester, is that they lie. How would you help him save the world? As an anchor being? Do you even know what that is? Do you even know him?” There was a scrape as she moved forward. “Did he tell you how he got that way?”

Dean sucked in a quick breath, not bothering to glare at the Men of Letters. It was no threat. Naomi had known for years, it wasn’t like it was new. But maybe it would matter to Cas.

He turned his head, watching the set of Cas shoulders and wings.

That he didn’t say anything seemed to encourage Naomi because she sighed. “We asked his brother to join us. Samuel Winchester is a powerful psychic that would have flourished under our tutelage. He even accepted, and then his brother disappeared for months. Like any concerned family member, Samuel spent the time trying to find him, right up until the moment that Dean Winchester waltzed back into his life with powers and convinced him not to come to us. Why? Jealousy, Castiel. Simple jealousy that you’ll find everywhere. Everyone wants to be a hero, Castiel, and some people cannot stomach the idea that they will never be. If he can do that, why would he stop there? Why not fake the end of the world?”

Dean saw a wing twitch, feeling his stomach twist. What was worse was that Cas wasn’t even looking back at him. Good defensive form, but it was giving him nothing. He’d assumed Cas was a sure thing, hero enough to save the world.

(Of course he would leave after. He knew that.

Everyone left.)

“And who told you that?” Cas’ voice was level, although Dean could see a twitch in his shoulders. “Was it them?” He pointed back at the Men of Letters. “If it was, I suggest you ask again. Because I heard something completely different.”

“Castiel-”

“No.” Castel moved away from Dean to stand practically nose to nose with Naomi. The sight of it shocked Dean, because none of the Better Angels did this. He doubted that Naomi had been challenged since she had become their leader.

Naomi was obviously thrown of, her mouth opening and shutting as Cas leaned closer, spreading his wings. “They called you and you took their word.”

“They don’t mean us harm, I can see it in their minds.”

“Did you know them before?” The words rushed out before Dean could bring them back. But Ms. Marple’s Evil Twin was glaring like he was right. He and Cas were right. And maybe they could get out of this standoff. “I bet you didn’t. Sam and I didn’t and we actually leave the apartment. But they said they had been here for years. Which means you didn’t know. And I bet,” he pivoted on his heel to point at Naomi, “you heard end of the world and didn’t bother to ask anything.”

The look on Naomi’s face said that he was right. Better yet, none of the Better Angels had been told. They were too used to orders, after all. But that didn’t meant that they weren’t uneasy about the whole thing. Dean could practically see them thinking that he was right. Then again, on the other hand he was Dean Winchester.

He wouldn’t be surprised if they talked themselves into believing that he had been the one to convince their Castiel to launch himself into space.

Naomi took a deep breath, looking between the two of them before folding her hands in front of her. It was her assessing look, Dean feeling the creep of something against the back of his mind. He hissed and shook his head, pushing anything useless toward Naomi. Currently that was Starman by David Bowie. (Which...too soon...probably.)

Naomi recoiled, one hand curling like she was going to scratch Dean’s eyes out. Then she seemed to think better, instead gesturing behind her. Dean followed the motion of her arm, his eyes widening as she pointed at Uriel.

That’s all it took, Uriel smiling as the air crackled with electricity.

Dean cursed, fumbling with his gun with shaking hands. One of the others would probably protect Uriel, but he didn’t need to kill the man, just stop him before his heart pounding, aching, desperate, in pain and he couldn’t get away because it was everywhere until he heard Bobby screaming screaming screaming or that might have been him until it stopped but it didn’t stop it was still hurt and pain and metal in his mouth or was it blood and he couldn’t breathe right nothing working being crushed the lift he needed to tell Bobby about the lift.

He took a ragged breath, vaguely aware that his heart was pounding away. It was alright, nothing could hurt it anymore. (This, this was the worst way to die, and he knew because it had happened).

Dean worked his M1911 out, knowing that it was too slow. He’d never outdrawn Uriel, but he had to try (because he hadn’t quite convinced himself that it wouldn’t kill him this time).

Lightning flashed in a bright arc down towards them, Dean just having enough time to brace himself before there was an arm around him, pushing him against a solid chest. Dean cracked an eye open just long enough to see the moment of impact, the lightning striking down against Cas’ metal feathers. He cursed and closed his eyes, feeling Cas jerk and shake before he held steady. There was a crackling somewhere else, someone close enough that Dean jerked his leg back just to be safe.

He eased his eyes open again, staring in shock at the last of the lightning scattering down Cas’ feathers. Some of it was coming out of the wing he had slammed into the asphalt to ground, but the rest was a crackle somewhere in Cas. His eyes were glowing practically white with it. (Hot.)

“Dean?”

He realized that he was leaning in close, and probably giving the wrong impression (well, partially right. He was going to kiss the ever-loving fuck out of this man). Dean chuckled and patted at Cas’ chest. “I’m fine.”

Cas nodded, jerking his wing out of the ground before letting go of him. Dean turned slightly to the side to let the wing pass as Cas turned back around. It gave him a real good view of when Cas shook off the rest of the lightning from his feathers in the form of his blue glow. Cas turned to mirror him, leaving enough space for his wings to move, but they were basically back to back. (Oh God, this was his dream, the PG version of it at least.) Dean had to twist a bit to see Cas, but it was enough to see the cock of his head. “Left or right?”

Dean glanced both ways, Better Angels in shock on one side and Men of Letters absolutely pissing their pants on the other. He grinned at them for good measure. “You’re the guest here, Cas. You should get first choice.”

Cas made a sound that might have been a laugh or a growl. Didn’t matter, not when he offered Dean a bright smile. “Manners?”

“I can have them. If I want.”

Cas didn’t have an answer to that. He just shifted one wing a little bit further out, Dean taking that as direction. It made it easier, Dean ducking down and shuffling right as Cas spun to the left, his wings lifting up enough for Dean to go under without being harmed.

Dean reached down for one of his throwing knives, pulling it out and waiting just enough to check his aim before throwing it into the chest of one of the Men of Letters soldiers.

They went down with a grunt. The others were still trying to get themselves in some kind of battle order even as Anti-Mary Poppins shouted orders. Contradictory ones, but Dean would take the help, especially when she seemed to be fumbling with one of their knock-off iPhones to gate herself away. Which just left him with the poor saps. He felt bad for them.

Almost.

He took another step forward, pulling his gun out as they started to charge. Headshots were annoying with the helmets, easier to aim for the soft parts on the side, because the armor didn’t cover anything. And these guys were clearly more used to sneaking up on people and waving their disco stick around.

Dean took a step to the side, taking a shot at one soldier’s armpit before kicking out to take another one out at the knee. He reached for where his machete usually hung, but he hadn’t thought he would be needing it for the Cas fetching mission. (Sam hadn’t let him take the grenade launcher either...again.) That meant that he had to circle back around to get back his knife, only to get it stuck in armor again when he went to stab it up into the kidney of another soldier.

“Keep it,” he said in response to the wheeze that came out of the person. They didn’t have much to say, not even when Dean set another soldier over his back to slam into the first.

He took the chance to take a few steps back to reassess. No more doors were opening, although that might change by the way that one of them was frantically shaking the gold block, and they were unfortunately out of range. Dean fired off a few shots to clear out the soldiers around him before taking a glance over towards Cas.

That was a mistake.

Cas was fucking poetry in motion, rocking them like a hurricane and probably a thousand other song lyrics. He slapped Rachel away, reaching for where Naomi had broken her usual calm demeanor to stand with one hand outstretched like that would keep Cas back.

It was almost working, Cas seeming to struggle against himself before stumbling up to Naomi and grabbing her shoulders.

He growled, “Get out of my head,” before headbutting her, sending Naomi back on her ass.

Dean laughed, the sound enough to carry because Cas looked up at him. And holy shit did battle look good at him. It wasn’t sex hair, fucked out look, but the eyes were glowing all the same. And they were focused on him.

He preened a little (why not? Cas was looking at him like that. Cas was looking at him) before turning around just in time to have one of the soldiers slam into him.

Dean cursed when his head thudded against the ground, hearing the crack of his skull. Not bad enough to be stove in (he knew what that sounded like). It was a bad crack, probably a concussion that would clear up in ten minutes. The problem was that now his vision kept doubling and tripling as he tried to get himself to focus. He’d live, but he’d like not to get stabbed multiple times in the meantime, or be sent back to Purgatory.

He reached up to grab the soldier’s hand, pulling back viciously until he heard a crack. The person yelped, the stick going tumbling away. They didn’t go after it, instead reaching down to scramble at Dean’s weapons. Dean grunted and jammed his knee up into the armor. It didn’t get them in the gut, which would be helpful, but at least it kept them away for a moment.

Dean glanced over to the side, realizing that his gun was in reach, but that would mean letting the soldier get to some of his weapons. Survivable, but it could have him out of commission for a while, and they didn’t have the time for that.

He cursed under his breath, going to try and lift the soldier from him when he caught a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye. It was quick, just barely there before it was a pulse of light, like when Cas had put his arm through the breach the first time. Except that a person wasn’t coming through, Dean could only see paws.

He laughed, shoving the soldier up a little further. “Hey, asshole, winter is coming.”

Claire didn’t follow up verbally, which was almost disappointing because Dean had hoped for some kind of talking werewolf. She answered plenty loud when she snatched the soldier up in her jaws and bit down. There was a stomach turning crunch (so that’s what it sounded like from the outside) and then the body was flying.

Dean got to his feet, watching as Claire snarled at the Men of Letters, even as more poured through their shiny light doors. At least they looked shocked as they piled into each other at the front.

There was a scream from behind him, Dean drawing a knife and turning to look as Hester went to freeze Cas, catching the edge of a wing. Dean saw Cas’ panicked look as he tried to pull his wing away, ready to go charging for him, but Hester was already jerking to a stop, a look of pure fear in her face as she twitched and struggled.

He turned to look back towards the portal, seeing Alex standing in its light with her hands in front. She was shaking too, but it didn’t make sense to Dean until he saw the blood drip out of Hester’s nose and start tracking back across her cheek towards Alex.

She could control metal. There was metal in blood.

It was terrifying (Cool.)

Alex held Hester in place as the others poured out.

Benny was first, two of his weird obsidian daggers in his hand. He twirled them almost absently before peeling off to the side. There was a scream from somewhere, which meant that Benny was getting right to work.

Patience and Jesse were next the two of them leaning on each other as they stumbled to the side to take a break. A short one with the way that two soldiers were moving towards them. Dean barely had the time to spot them before one was falling to his knees and clutching at his head and the other…

The other just went weird.

Dean stepped away from what his eyes told him was not a human body, even if it had all the requisite parts, just not at all in the right places. (Oh God, he was going to throw up.)

He turned away in time to see Kaia stumbling out, flailing around a bit with her spear in a way that said she wasn’t paying attention yet. But she did manage to hit Uriel in the face as he lunged towards her. Which was neat, not cool, but she was multitasking.

The portal wavered dangerously, shrinking down to a dangerously small sliver against the air. Then there was a flash of gold and Jack was striding out, his eyes blazing gold and magnificent golden wings spread. The feathers rattled a bit, Dean smiling at the sound. He risked a glance over at Cas, watching him pause in the middle of getting Hester in a headlock to look. (And those were definitely tears in his eyes.)

The portal guttered shut a moment later, and Jack was in the air a stride after that. Dean turned to watch him fly, grabbing for his last knife. He flipped it lazily in his hand, grinning at the new batch of soldiers gathered. None of them looked particularly eager to go charging in, especially when the Better Angels didn’t seem to be fairing well. (The werewolf probably didn’t help.)

Dean flipped the knife again, grinning at them. “So, anyone wanna play?”

The answer was a hard no, but Dean wasn’t going to let it sit at that. He bounced on the balls of his feet before darting to his left. The soldiers scrambled to try and follow him, but Alex was already there, taking over from where Claire was turning back to cover Kaia and Jesse as they recovered.

The gun skittered across the asphalt, Dean just having to bend down to grab it. He gave a nod to Alex before moving to cover her as she reached out to start pulling anything metal his way. She was sweating already from it, Dean taking aim as quickly as he dared. That still meant that he only got two down before half of the group went flying.

He glanced over at Alex who shook her head. “Not me.”

Not anyone else either, they were all busy.

Dean tapped Alex’s shoulder, switching places with her as he moved towards the group. Except that some of them were twisting to look back to their little hideout.

“Damn it, Sammy.” Dean fired off four shots, not lethal, but it got soldiers to drop their glow sticks. When no one else started to raise theirs, he lowered his gun. “Take out the ones with the weapons pointed at you.”

A hand briefly appeared over the heads of the soldiers, flipping him off before the next group went tumbling away. Then there was a very familiar knock in his head. Not just his by the way that Alex flinched.

Cover your ears.

Dean jammed his knife and gun back into place before slapping his hands over his ears. It took a bit for Alex to copy him. Dean just hoped the others were smart enough to listen.

There was a beat of silence except for the muffled sound of someone wheezing air back into their lungs, and then Eileen was shrieking.

Hands weren’t really the best way to block it out, but ear plugs were (once again) something that Dean hadn’t grabbed. (John Winchester would be rolling in his grave.) He could still hear the sonic blast, and he wavered a bit, but that was better than the rest of them. Even the Men of Letters hadn’t learned because most of the group were clutching at their heads as they fell to their knees. The Better Angels were down too. Dean threw a quick look over his shoulder to be sure (and because it was always good to see) before jogging over to his brother.

He only dropped his hands when Eileen gave him a thumbs up. Dean just got the chance to draw in a full breath before Sam was slamming into him and squeezing the air right out of him. “Damn it, Dean.”

Dean wheezed, patting vaguely at Sam’s back before he had to shove him away. “What? You thought that I wouldn’t get back?”

“I thought you wouldn’t bring everyone else with you.”

“Well,” Dean glanced back over his shoulder where everyone was slowly picking themselves up. “The kids and Benny were on purpose.”

“Where did you find-” Sam grunted as Eileen elbowed his side.

She tempered it with a pat to his elbow before signing, “We can take care of them. Charlie needs Cas now.”

Dean nodded, twisting around only for his heart to skip and stutter (he hated that) when Cas wasn’t on the field. He tipped his head up as a shadow swooped over. Jack was wheeling above, dodging the somewhat shaky lightning that Uriel was throwing at him. There was another shadow higher than him, Dean tipping his head up

Cas was circling, Dean catching his gaze. That was all it took for Cas to tuck his wings and drop (like a fucking insane person) only to pull up just before he hit the ground. His wings kicked up dirt and a stray receipt, the latter slapping a soldier across the visor. Dean stuck a leg out, tripping them up as Cas refolded his wings.

Dean reached out for his shoulder, giving Cas a nudge towards the building. Cas went slowly, taking his time to look back at the others. Dean followed his gaze, squeezing Cas’ shoulder. So far there wasn’t trouble, their impromptu team was holding out, but Dean had been enough battles that he knew things could turn in an instant. And most of them were kids.

“Cas-”

“Dean.” Sam grabbed onto his shoulder, giving him a shove after Cas. “We’ll take care of this, and the kids. Just go.”

It came with the mental equivalent of a kick in the ass, and Dean was damn sure that it was only thrown his way. He shot a glare at his brother before giving Cas another little shove. “Jeez, Sammy. We’re goin’, we’re goin’.”

There was a huff, Dean not sure if it was completely in his mind or Sam doing it out loud (sometimes it was hard to tell). He flipped Sam off for good measure before taking off at a jog. Cas was only a few steps ahead of him, wings still just barely open like he expected someone to come barreling at them.

Someone might have tried, but there was a very dog-like huff and then a scream that very much suggested he didn’t look back. Dean didn’t, focused on the marked door.

Eileen had shut the door, because she was thoughtful like that. And she had said Charlie needed them, which meant that Charlie was still alive and needed to be protected.

He reached for the knob, tugging on it. He expected the door to have been locked, but Charlie must have seen them running up and disengaged the secondary lock. The door opened easily. That meant that Dean practically fell backwards when the door opened easily, but Cas was there, a hand against his back to steady and then urge him onward. Dean took the encouragement, sprinting down the hallway.

Charlie would be in the control room, so there was no point in checking anywhere else. The Men of Letters were concentrated on the outside for the moment, and Charlie would be keeping any others trapped. They could slide on in, get Cas’ anchor on, and then Dean could take on everyone that was bound to come piling in while Charlie finished up.

It wasn’t like they could actually do anything to him.

Their boots sounded so damn loud in the halls, loud enough that Dean expected someone to spring out. Charlie was amazing, but it was weird to be winning so easily. Everything had gone according to plan.

Dean glanced around, looking for something in the fancy ass art deco that was wood. (He knew art. He hadn’t been able to do much during heart failure, but looking at pictures he could do. And Sam, the nerd, had taken and kept his art history books.)There was bound to be something. It was the aesthetic.

He jumped when Cas grabbed his arm and hauled him to the side. It took him a moment to reorient himself to realize that they were stepping into the control room.

Dean leaned back against the door, making sure it was locked. Although what good it would do them, he didn’t know. Still, he rapped his knuckles against the door before turning to where Charlie was slumped in a chair at the front of the room. “Charlie?”

She perked up, but didn’t jump up. Instead she nudged the chair into a spin. Dean glanced down at the arm that she had wrapped around herself, but it wasn’t holding pressure. It was more comforting or protective. Better still, Dean couldn’t see any blood leaking out. Sam and Eileen had done a good job.

Charlie started to push herself out of her chair, Dean shaking his head and hurrying over. “Jeez, Red. Calm down. You just got shot.”

“Well, you just came from another dimension.” Charlie grinned but sunk back into her seat. She knocked her shoe against the leg of the chair. “What was it like?”

“Summer camp.”

“Underwhelming.”

Dean turned to look at Cas, giving him a long look. Cas just responded to with a shrug, like that was an explanation for everything. His didn’t linger too long over that, stepping up to lean on the U of the console as he stared at the screens. Dean was more than willing to leave him to it.

He propped his him against the portion of the desk closer to Charlie. That left him just able to see where the cameras caught the battle outside. Dean allowed himself one glance before focusing on Charlie. “So, we ready to get this going again?”

Charlie winced, Dean glancing down at her wound before realizing that she was staring at the screens. He shifted to see them, his gaze lingering on where Sammy and the others were fighting before focusing on everything else.

Charlie had turned most of the screens to the internal cameras, which meant that it was mostly empty corridors. The most action was on the smaller screens and lights on the rest of the desk. The latter were flashing incessantly, Charlie groaning and hauling herself back to the desk to start working.

It took her a moment to respond, her fingers flying across the keys and silencing a few lights and soft beeping that had been going on. When she was done, she slumped forward, pressing her forehead against her palms. She stayed there and just breathed, long enough that Dean felt a spike of worry because this was not like her.

Dean pushed off from the desk, stepping towards her. “Charlie?”

Her shoulders twitched and then she was looking up, but not at him. She pointed up at the screens, Dean watching her for a moment before following her finger to one of them.

He didn’t know what room it was in, it wasn’t like they had taken the time to check the whole building when Sam had brought them in. Hadn’t bothered to afterward either, although he didn’t know what the three of them had gotten up to while he and Cas were out camping in Purgatory. It mattered now, considering that there was someone in there, mucking around with some big square box that was starting to open up. Just what it was was hard to tell, especially with all the other screens up, but Charlie hadn’t taken them down for a reason, probably because the lights were coming back.

She cursed under her breath and started typing again, not looking up at them as she talked. “We can’t.”

“What?”

“We don’t have time.” She reached over to slap at a light, huffing out a sigh when it stopped flashing. “I’ve got my hands full keeping more of them from coming in and keeping them locked out of here.”

Dean glanced up at the man at the box. “Looks like one got in.”

“I know.” Charlie leaned hard on the keys for a moment before shaking her head. “He portaled in when the others first showed up and I was busy. I didn’t even realize that he was there for a while because they’ve been taking up all of my attention.”

Dean hissed out a breath between his teeth, watching as Charlie went back to work, muttering to herself. That messed with their plan, because he was sure that the Men of Letters or the Better Angels could just stall and buy time until the end came and there was nothing that they could do but block and hope. But then they couldn’t be fixing things.

There was a metallic tap as one of Cas’ wings hit against the desk as he leaned forward. “What’s that?”

“Um.” Charlie spared one hand to bring up something on a screen on a desk, but then she was desperately typing again. “There.”

Cas bent over, tucking his wing close to his side to give Charlie more room. Dean watched him until Cas glanced over. He didn’t crook a finger or call him over, but the implication was clear.

Dean bounced his hip against the desk before walking over. It was impossible to peer over Cas’ shoulder, which meant that he had to wiggle in close and nudge Charlie a bit to the side. She didn’t seem to notice, still focused on keeping the Men of Letters out. Dean turned his attention to the screen, his eyes skimming over what was there before finally focusing on what Cas was pointing to.

“Time Ripper?” Neither of them responded, not that he expected it. Dean glanced up at the man fiddling with the box. A bullshit sounding name for a box, but on brand. He settled in closer, scanning over the schematics and letting Cas do most of the scrolling, at least until the vague language stopped. And then he wished they hadn’t. “Son of a bitch, he’s gonna wipe us out of existence.”

“What?!” Charlie lurched back over, staring at the readout before slapping down hard on a button. “I’m giving you one chance to get away from that thing.”

That got the man to startle, Dean watching as he looked around before stepping away from the Time Ripper. It took him a while to fumble around for whatever passed for the intercom in this place. “Hello usurpers.”

Dean flinched at the British accent (why was it always British?). “What is he, thirteen?”

Charlie snorted to cover a laugh, which quickly turned into a pained grunt. Dean reached for her, holding her shoulder as Cas leaned across them to take over.

“Step away from the Time Ripper.”

“Can’t do, old chap. Orders are orders. And orders say that this timeline must be cut.”

Dean froze, glancing back at Cas before scrambling for the intercom mic. “Cut?”

“Yes. Those were the orders.”

“You said the timeline was dying,” Dean practically growled.

The man hesitated, which meant that they had caught him out. He fumbled around for a moment and, stupidly stayed to talk. Dean glanced over at Charlie, pointing at the screen. She nodded and started working, Dean watching as she flashed through all of the rooms in the building as Cas took over again.

“Is the timeline dying?”

It was a question, but it sounded like an order and it had Dean gripping the edge of the desk. He very carefully didn’t look over because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold against the flash of that glow. And he had priorities (shifting ones but at least saving the world remained on top).

“It is.” The man’s voice shook as he responded. “That’s what happens when an anchor being dies.”

Cas hummed, low and dangerous. Dean was sure that he felt one of Cas’ wings twitch out and touch his leg. And his knees should not have gotten weak like that, because he wasn’t thirteen anymore. And he was on mission. He was those two things. (Besides, the whole point of We Just Saved the World Sex was to actually save the world first. If you didn’t it was just End of the World Sex, which was a totally different thing.)

He nearly wavered when Cas spoke again. “It’s dying, but you’re cutting it anyway.”

“It’s a matter of principle and time.”

“How much time?”

“How…” The man was definitely sweating now. “However much we can allow.”

“Really?” Cas’ voice made shivers run up his spine, Dean tempted to lean away. And his wings were moving, which was probably involuntary, but the primary of one was dragging up the back of Dean’s leg. (He should really move.

He didn’t.)

“It says in your own records that the Time Ripper is used to cut down the wait time for a timeline to naturally die out.”

“Well, no. Well, yes, but-” Cas cut him off, turning to look at Dean.

Dean wasn’t prepared for the look of deep sorrow on Cas’ face. He wasn’t ready to face it. All he could do was stare at Cas (through Cas really) and try to get all the pieces to fall into place.

Really, he should have seen it coming.

It wasn’t the lies, he had assumed that the Men of Letters had been lying in some way from the start. Sam had pinged them on that too, but they (he) had jumped on the wrong thing.

He had thought that their timeline was in immediate danger and he had the solution. It had seemed so easy. Find a Cas, anchor their timeline and then the countdown would stop.

He had been wrong about the countdown. It had never been about the timeline, apparently that had been the least of his worries. It had never been about them not allowing them to use Cas as the new anchor.

They had been far ahead of them the whole time.

It hadn’t mattered how fast Dean had gotten back. The fact that Dean had Cas in this room didn’t matter because the Men of Letters were always going to win. They had always planned to win.

He turned away from the desk, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. What he wanted to do was to smash the damn controls to pieces, but that had to wait because Charlie needed them. It would keep Sammy and the others safe. He needed them safe while he fixed the latest problem that he had caused. Because of course he had jumped the gun while Sam had told him to wait and think it through, because it had looked so easy.

“Dean.”

“How do we stop it, Cas?” Dean didn’t trust himself to look back at Cas, because he didn’t want that pity. He didn’t deserve it. He deserved them yelling at him for this, not being understanding.

He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. He knew how to do this, claw it all back from the edge. It was almost his specialty at this point. Dean flexed his fingers, taking a few deep breaths until he was sure that he wouldn’t just crumble. He couldn’t right now. Then everything would be worthless.

Dean turned around, looking between Cas and Charlie. “It’s a machine. It has a kill switch.”

“Not here.” Charlie whispered the words before shaking her head. “So it must be in there.”

“Right. Where?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Charlie cursed and smacked a blank spot on the console. “The room is temporal locked, whatever that means.”

Dean stepped up to her chair, resting a hand on the back of it. “Can you break in?”

“Maybe, but we don’t have the time.”

He looked up at the screen, where the Time Ripper was starting up again. At least this time the guy looked frantic, and kept throwing glances back at the camera.

That was good. That meant mistakes that they could work with. That meant that he knew that it could be stopped.

“Cas?”

“It has to be powered by something.” Cas had one arm up on the top of the console, staring at the display as he scrolled through what Charlie had found. “If it’s not in the room-”

“It’s below.” Charlie typed in a command to bring the room up on one of the larger screens.

Dean leaned forward, staring at the small room, mostly empty space and grates. At the sides of the empty space were two conduits, one pulsing with a bright light and the other with what looked like some kind of black liquid. It wasn’t a plug per say, but Dean was used to weird ways to turn doomsday machines off. Skeeball had featured once. He raped his knuckles against the back of Charlie’s chair. “Locked?”

“No.”

Weird all things considered, but the power source was rarely as guarded as the thing itself. And Charlie had been working to keep everyone else out. Whatever plan they had seemed to have been hindered by that. So far it was to just delay and probably ditch in the seconds before the timeline was cut. Which meant that Prince of Wales in there would die with the rest of them. He was either ok with that, or oblivious. Or both. Most people who volunteered for jobs like this were.

He leaned forward, staring at the map of the building. It wasn’t a straightforward path, more like snaking through back hallways until he got over to maintenance, but it was short. Better than sprinting down nearly endless corridors. “Right, Cas.”

He really didn’t need to ask, because Cas was already striding away, wings back in place. Dean leaned over to kiss Charlie on the top of the head, not surprised when she didn’t bat him away playfully. She was busy with other things, like staring at the display. That was probably the next crisis and, as far as Dean was concerned, they had plenty. They had a mission ahead of them to take care of.

They really didn’t get far in taking care of it before Charlie was shouting for them. Dean stopped automatically, but Cas carried on for a few strides. Dean glanced up at him before turning. “Charlie, we don’t have-”

“It’s not a switch, you’ve got to take out both columns and get what’s inside to mix. That will destroy it.”

“Ok, you can talk to us down there.”

“I can’t.” Charlie heaved herself off of the chair, stumbling a few steps. “Dean, it’ll need a conduit. One of you will need to stand between them and act like it.”

“Easy enough.”

“And I can’t let you.”

They spoke at the same time, so it took Dean a moment to understand what she had just said. Even then, he looked back at Cas just to see if he had gotten it right. He must have, because Cas had lifted his wings like he wanted to mantle, but had stopped himself.

Dean sighed, twisting to look back at Charlie. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Then make it.” Charlie pointed behind her at the screen. “That’s matter and anti-matter. They’re separate for a reason.”

She didn’t elaborate, but Dean had watched enough sci-fi to understand why. Those things didn’t mix, but they needed them to. Usually on the shows it ended up in an explosion. Maybe that was scientifically correct, maybe it wasn’t, but it wouldn’t be the first explosion that he walked away from (or hopped, or dragged himself away from).

A non-reaction wasn’t the right reaction, by the way that Charlie glared at him. “You’ll die, Dean.”

And there it was, the hard part. The part that none of them really talked about. The part that Dean tried to keep from them. And, if they turned or lurked and waited for him to make a triumphant return, it was all the better. Dean was sure Sam hadn’t completely recovered from the Groundhog Day that the Trickster had trapped them in where Dean just died at some point during the day. Dean pretended that he didn’t know that Sam sometimes checked on him during the night to make sure that he was still breathing.

He shrugged. “I’m not that easy to kill. Cas ain’t either.”

“You don’t understand.” And clearly he didn’t because she was starting to cry. Dean tensed, not sure what to do because obviously she needed a hug, but that wouldn’t matter if the Time Ripper activated.

“Charlie-”

“You’ll die for real. The reaction will destroy you.”

Dean took a deep breath, but that’s it. He really should have said something, because most people would at least react. But all he felt was peace. It wasn’t like he wanted to die, but, it would be nice to stop doing it for the variety. (And heroes did it all the time. Heroes died for the people they loved. The old Cas had done it. And if Dean did it then maybe…)

He settled for a devil-may-care grin, the one that he knew was solid no matter what. (He’d had plenty of practice.) “I’ve heard that plenty of times and it hasn’t happened. I’d like to see a Time Ripper try.”

He should have gone back for a hug or done something other than turn around and start running. It might have tipped Charlie off, and she was in charge of the doors. But there was a whole damn world counting on them, and Dean would walk back into Alistair’s arms (ok, resurrect the son of a bitch and then walk back into his arms) before he let all of them down.

Thankfully, Cas didn’t say a word as they sprinted through the hallways. His comments were in the safe zone of pointing out just where they needed to go. Because of course he had memorized the route. Not that Dean hadn’t, but of course Cas had managed to find the faster one. And it was nice to have someone not trying to get a big speech in, and a torrent of regrets and reassurances.

Because it really just boiled down to this.

Dean wasn’t a hero. He’d never meant to be one, not really. He was just looking after his little brother who insisted on trying to save the world with his mutant powers. So he did what any decent big brother would do, made sure Sam didn’t get himself into more trouble than he could get out of (and boy did he ever.) The whole healing factor thing was a side effect to that. Making sure he didn’t die of heart failure was just a step towards making sure that Sammy didn’t get himself killed out there when Dean couldn’t help him, especially after he turned down the Better Angels (which was a dumbass thing to do, but touching.)

The thing was, Dean was just there to do the things that Sam wouldn’t do. Couldn’t be allowed to do so he remained Sam. It wasn’t like that was anything new either. It was just his value, how much he could do. How many people he could save.

A whole timeline for a single life was very cheap.

The corridor dipped to the right, Dean slowing as the warning signs started to crop up on the walls. (At least the Men of Letters weren’t dastardly enough to ignore OSHA.) The door, when they came to it, stood out, huge and metal with all the requisite buttons and flashing lights these things usually had. Through the small window Dean could see the flash of white light and the creep of something black. It looked active, which meant that Mr. Collins up there had managed to get the Time Ripper started, so they were down to the wire.

Dean had worked with worse.

He glanced up at the innocuous numbers for death room -7B - before turning to look at Cas. “Ok. You guard.”

“I’ll go.”

Dean stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “No that’s suicide.”

Cas raised an eyebrow (which...no) and cocked his head to the side. “And you running in there isn’t?”

“It’s not the same thing. Besides,” Dean took a deep breath and reached out to grab Cas’ shoulder, relieved when Cas didn’t cut his arm off with a wing. “We’ll still need you. Anchor being and all of that. Just, guard the door and, if this goes bigger than we thought, get Charlie out of here.”

“Dean-”

“Don’t.” Dean shook his head. “Don’t give me that noble sacrifice speech. This ain’t about that. This makes sense.”

“It what world?”

“This one.” Dean took a step back, giving Cas a shooing motion. “Now, get that sweet ass down to the junction and stand guard. And if this goes south…” Dean licked his lips, very tempted to give something away. It was practically tradition. But this was Cas, still too new. “Go adopt one of those lost Deans. My vote is for Sad Widower with that bloody jacket, he looks like an ASPCA commercial. Or...whoever you and Sam like the best, ok? It’s not like you’re hurting for a choice there.”

He laughed, because that’s what you did. Because screaming wasn’t very reassuring and crying less so. And damn he should have hugged his brother, Eileen, and Charlie. Maybe Cas because the guy was definitely growing on him in a crazy matches crazy kind of way. There was a whole bunch of what-ifs piled up there. But that was the way the cookie crumbled.

And he would tell himself that right down to the end of the line.

That was probably the reason that he didn’t turn around in time, some stupid rookie mistake of one last look before turning and sprinting for the door. Which was why Cas was able to tackle him to the ground.

“No you don’t.”

Dean ignored the growl, instead twisting and jerking his elbow up to hit Cas’ nose. The bastard just hissed and kept scrambling for a hold as Dean crawled away.

It wasn’t easy, because Cas was heavy as fuck with those metal wings of his. And it wasn’t like there was much to grab and put pressure on. Mostly it was luck, because it had been a desperate lunge instead of calculated. Dean still ended up partially twisted and holding onto a pipe in the wall while he kicked Cas in the head. And, because he had those weird glowy powers, it wasn’t working so well. It still took a moment, and that was all he needed to wiggle further and further away.

The problem was that it was wasting time. They didn’t have the screens and Dean didn’t know how long it took to warm up at Time Ripper. These things varied wildly. But there were plenty of other factors that they had to worry about. No one could hold forever.

“Let. Me. Go!” He wiggled free, scrambling on all fours to get to the door. Behind him he could hear Cas struggling with the weight of his wings now. Good, see how he liked it.

Dean lurched to his feet, stumbling a few steps before giving up and just practically falling into the door controls. He slammed his palm blindly against the green button, hearing a series of beeps as the door started to open. His whole attention was on where Cas was shoving himself up from the floor, faster than Dean had thought he would be.

He knocked his shoulder against the door in encouragement, relieved when it let out a cheerful beep. Dean opened the door without looking at it, watching Cas as he charged.

Dean offered a grin before slipping through the door. He could hear Cas start to scream something, but it was cut off by the slam of the door. Dean pressed his forehead against the steel, yelping when the door jumped as Cas hit it.

He jammed his shoulder against the door, pushing it back even as Cas shoved from his side. It was a very uneven contest. Dean could feel his feet slipping as Cas shoved hard against the door. He cursed under his breath, trying to get his feet under him as he reached up for where the lock might be. Big, heavy door like this, plastered with OSHA approved signs, had to have a pretty solid lock.

His fingers brushed against a knob and wheel, Dean getting a good hold before pulling his feet under him. He braced against the next thud of Cas’ body against the door before he was shoving the door back with a roar; slamming it shut and starting to spin the wheel.

There was a clinking from inside the door, mechanisms snapping into place until the whole thing settled. Cas must have not heard it because he threw himself against the door anyway. It shook, but didn’t open anymore.

Dean leaned against the door, panting for breath. He was smiling, which probably should have been weird considering he had locked himself into a suicide mission. But it wasn’t like this was the first time he’d done it. And he’d gotten out of worse.

He rolled his forehead against the cool metal before looking up. He regretted it instantly, because Cas was leaning against the door on the other side, staring through the small window that was there. (It was always there, the window of regretted decisions.) He shouldn’t have looked because Cas looked devastated, and that was never something that Dean thought would be directed at him. The other Cas hadn’t ever given him the time of day, which was fine. Dude was busy, dude was actually a hero. And there was nothing wrong with a crush from afar. It was when this happened that it got hard.

This was why he kept Sam in a different room when things like this happened.

Dean sighed and shifted his hip to a more comfortable position. He watched Cas, not quite knowing what to do with the expression on his face because people didn’t do this for him. He wasn’t the guy you regretted losing, mostly because he’d pop up like a bad penny. (Maybe not this time. Maybe…)

He tried for a grin, not sure how convincing it was with the way that Cas acted about it. “Hey, angel, give me your best Kirk’s death speech to Spock.”

“Dean.”

“It’s my last wish.”

Cas sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dean huffed out a laugh, patting at the glass. He moved his hand before Cas could mirror him because that would be a bit too much. “Did they kill Spock in your universe?” Cas didn’t answer, Dean swallowing back his unease and sense of time ticking away. He could do this, he just needed a moment. “Or was it McCoy? Oh fuck, it wasn’t Scotty, was it? Tell me it wasn’t Scotty. He’s my favorite.”

“Dean, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Get Charlie to show you, ‘cause there has to be some kind of law about the anchor being not knowing Star Trek.” Dean patted at the door before shoving away from it. There were other things that should be said, which was why he had to get the hell away before someone started saying them.

He only got one step away before Cas was throwing himself against the door again. “Dean! This is suicide!”

“Promises, promises.” He winked and turned away, pointedly ignoring how the squished and caged parts of himself perked up at that. It was always like this, excitement at the idea of knowing that he wouldn’t just have to continue. Yeah, he would have loved it if it was after Sam passed on, but this was preventive. It wasn’t anything new.

It’s not like his world would suffer without him. There was a pack of Deans in Purgatory that proved that.

Dean stepped onto the catwalk that ran around the edge of the room, pausing once to look up at the ceiling. Through the grating above he could see the Time Ripper and the man trying to get it running. It was working if the steady thrum meant anything.

He jerked his gaze down to the two columns, reaching out to rest his hand against the one nearest to him, the one pulsing with white light. Across the walk was the one that seemed to suck in all of the light, maybe six steps total.

He could do six steps.

He’d done four months of worse.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting the feeling of regret sit before pushing it away. He wouldn’t be around to feel what he was missing. Hell, he’d gotten more mileage than he’d originally meant to get. Dead at 26; that was supposed to be him. At least this would mean something.

He edged around the column, trying to tune out the hum and the relentless sound of Cas trying to beat down the door. His full attention was on the white light in the column. Dean rapped his knuckles against the glass before nodding to himself. “Blaze of glory. Let’s go.”

Dean punched his hand through the glass, ignoring the sparks of pain from the shards in favor of reaching for the tubing that was guiding the matter up to the Time Ripper. That was the real pain, like grabbing onto a pan straight from the oven and keeping a hold on it like an idiot. And he was going to do just that. Dean wrapped the tubing around his hand a few times before turning to face the antimatter.

Six steps, but it felt like a mile.

He gritted his teeth and started walking.

One.

It was hard, like he was dragging his baby behind him while she was in park (not that he’d ever do that).

Two.

Every muscle ached after one step, and the tubing resisted for a moment before beginning to slide out. That didn’t make it easier, there was still some resistance somewhere down the line. Dean didn’t have time to go back and untangle it, not when the blessed numbness was wearing off in the hand that was holding tubing.

Three.

The little pinpricks of pain were turning into a deep muscle ache, down into his bones and settling there.

Four.

It was definitely more than six steps, he had been so wrong. The pain was getting deeper into the core of him where even Alistair hadn’t been able to reach. Existing hurt.

Four and a half.

The tubing was stuck somewhere because he couldn’t move forward. He couldn’t even put his foot down without taking a step back. Dean cursed, twisting around to try and making up the distance, but he was too far away, and moving was hurting more. Breathing was hurting more. It was nothing like when his heart was failing, but it was the closest comparison that Dean had. He had no idea how long he would stay together, or even stay alive with the way that he was just starting to burn.

And it wouldn’t be enough. The Time Ripper was still being powered, so they would win.

His knees trembled, Dean starting to drop before he stopped himself. He gritted his teeth and locked his knees. He wasn’t going to give up here, that wasn’t the point.

He needed to keep them all safe, to give them a chance to clean up from this. Dean ducked his head, reaching out as far forward as he could while straining forward. Something would give. Something would snap, and he wanted the path of least resistance to that next column, because it would take everything that he had. As long as he got into the anti-matter, it didn’t matter if he was a corpse. He just had to get there.

He wasn’t going to.

Dean shouting his frustration, straining forward and trying to get that half a step back. Of all the things he had failed in his life, he couldn’t fail this. He couldn’t let everyone down.

He leaned out stretching as far as he could against the pain. Dean could feel himself tipping, like he was going to fall. If he did, Dean was sure he wouldn’t be able to get up. There wouldn’t be anything left of him by then. He shuffled a bit to try and re-balance, but it didn’t help. The other column was too far away, and he was left straining after it.

He was going to fail them all.

Their world was going to be destroyed because of him. Of course it was, because that’s all he did.

He broke things.

Dean shuffled one more time, trying to make those few inches that he could get into the feet that he was missing.

He couldn’t make it. He couldn’t-

“Dean.”

He jumped at the sound of Cas’ voice, because he must have imagined it. But there he was, edging around the other column and reaching out to take Dean’s outstretched hand. A spark jumped between them, Cas hissing when it landed. But he didn’t let go. That was the wonder of it all, Cas held on tighter and stepped right up into his space.

Dean stared up at him, trying to get words out when everything felt like it was dissolving. All that mattered was reaching the other column before they ran out of time.

Cas nodded, although Dean wasn’t sure at what. He moved one hand to Dean’s shoulder, the other on his hip, guiding him forward a step like the pull of the tubes was nothing at all. Another step brought them chest to chest, standing sideways in the middle of the catwalk. Dean bit his lip to keep from screaming at the pull on his arm. He managed to wrap the tubes one more time around his arm, getting another few inches of them out of the column.

It still wasn’t enough.

Dean gave Cas a desperate look, not sure what he was about to ask. Cas understood. Dean watching as he smiled softly before snapping open one wing with enough force to drive the metal feathers into the other column.

He expected tubing, but Cas must have cut a few of them because something beyond darkness started rising up his wing. Cas flinched at the touch, jerking like he was going to let go. Dean scrambled to get a better hold of Cas with his one free arm as Cas grabbed him tightly, probably crushing bone but it was a relief at this point. Especially as the anti-matter poured into the mix.

Dean jerked, knocking hard back against the railing and then back into Cas. He grabbed tightly onto Cas, probably too tight but that didn’t matter because it was the only thing that was keeping him from shattering apart.

It was like being flayed, but like if Alastair had been shit at it. It was his skin, muscles, his fucking atoms being torn apart. And he could feel it happening on every single level.

He was screaming, there was no shame in that. Maybe there was blood in his throat, Dean didn’t know because everything smelled and tasted like nothing. Something had already blown some neurons, but not enough to eliminate pain, and he was just waiting for that to happen. The shame was that Cas was screaming too, which made Dean cling all the more tightly when he should have pushed Cas away but it was nice, for once.

Nice to have someone who argued against him and stood his ground.

He loved his brother and would kill himself one hundred times over to keep Sam from dying, but there was a nasty, quiet and twisted part of himself that always wondered right before the end why Sam hadn’t pushed harder to stay, even as Dean stared at locked doors and listened to Sam sprinting for him he always wondered.

Thank God he didn’t have that little voice about Cas, the asshole. He was right here, dying right alongside Dean.

Him and Inspector Lestrade upstairs.

Dean could hear him screaming the loudest, his feet beating an erratic tap dance on the grating above them. Dean hoped that it hurt twice as much. Bastard deserved it.

He tipped his head back, getting a glimpse of the man going limp and thumping to the grating, but just doing that felt like snapping his neck. Dean gasped, throat rupturing with the sound. The world blurred around the edges, flashing back to life with a series of loud thuds. Dean didn’t understand what was happening, not until pieces of metal started raining down from the ceiling and room above.

Dean tried to get his ruined throat to work for a warning. All that got him was boiling blood down into his stomach and lungs. Dean chocked on it, trying to get anything like a breath in just to be able to speak.

He didn’t need to, because Cas was already swinging a wing over them. Dean caught the sounds of bones cracking, which was probably the lightest part of the damage. The glow was practically white under Cas’ skin, so bright that Dean could see all of his bones.

The wing creaked into place as the metal came down. The sound of the pieces hitting Cas’ feathers alternated between distant and too damn loud. It was probably muffled because Dean felt like his brain was leaking out. Everything was either leaking out or boiling away. As a way to die, it was new.

He hated it.

He dragged his gaze back to Cas, seeing the glow flicker and fade for a moment. That made him jerk forward, pressing them chest to chest and forehead to forehead. The glow flickered again, Cas looking at him with wide blue eyes. Wide, but not scared. Steady. Cas was here with him, and he wouldn’t leave.

Dean tightened his hold on Cas, letting the feeling of bones breaking and dissolving away just sit in the back of what was left of his mind. This was the important part, holding Cas’ gaze and giving all of that back, because that’s what was keeping them going. Maybe it was keeping them alive.

He sucked in a ragged breath that hurt all the way though, his eyes fluttering shut before he remembered to open them again. Holding gaze was important, it was everything.

Cas’ hand moved on him, a trail of burning pain to his hip and over his shoulder. Dean swayed towards him, their noses brushing against each other. It felt like they were breaking, but then Cas was giving in and tipping his head. It didn’t take more than shifting forward until he was kissing Cas.

And it was painless.

The relentless thrum of the energy running through him lulled and then faded to the background. It wasn’t completely gone, a faint hum in the background, like an extra heartbeat in the room. Or maybe it was Cas’ heart and the beautiful thunder of his blood through his veins.

Dean made a soft sound, squeezing Cas’ shoulder before moving his hand up to cup the back of Cas’ head. Usually, he would be thinking about pulling on hair or yanking someone into the right position, but not now. Now at the end of all things it was soft, warm and slow. It was the slowest Dean had gone since he’d put effort into a relationship instead of just pulling whoever wanted a tumble with the handsome, scarred stranger.

It felt like home.

Cas sighed into the kiss, Dean not pushing the boundary beyond a light flick of his tongue against Cas’. It was a reminder that neither of them took, because this was enough, the press of another body and lips, warm and welcoming. And the light…

Dean cracked open an eye, still seeing the bright flash of matter from one column as it ran up to the exploding Time Ripper and over to him and the dark sink of anti-matter as it inched up Cas’ body. But above that, tinting the debris that was raining down from above, was an entire rainbow refracting out from where the matter and anti-matter were combining in them.

They were lighting the room up like the cover of the Dark Side of the Moon.

He laughed, feeling Cas murmur a question against his lips. But it didn’t matter, he’d tell Cas later if there was one. This was more important, and Cas seemed to think the same thing. Cas was coaxing him back down and Dean went, tearing his eyes from the rainbow and locking his gaze with Cas.

He sank into those glowing baby blues until he was dizzy, until his lungs burned for air.

Until the whole damn world exploded.

He almost missed the ping. He’d turned the notification sound down because it was distracting Him from His newest construct. It was proving difficult, partially because this particular world was not meant to bend this way. But the way that it was originally was was boring. And half the fun was figuring out how to make it work.

What was a few broken rules and millions of deaths when the story - oh the story - was fantastic?

He chuckled to himself, pausing when the soft ding came again. He frowned and glanced down at the screen embedded in the desk. There was a box flashing on it, and He almost ignored it. A demolition order had gone out on a world that He was done with, and this was probably the reply. It was overkill, and mostly annoying, but that’s what He got for outsourcing. Still, they did good work, which meant that He had more time. And He didn’t have to do the destroying Himself.

He had done that once, and it was tedious and annoying. A waste of time. The Men of Letters had the technology to make it quick, and to monitor all the other timelines that He didn’t have time to. His work was all consuming and very important. Besides, they were the kind of people that liked the busywork.

He flexed His fingers, almost absently clicking the notification. He intended to skim it and then ignore it. It would be the same thing. Blah blah blah termination successful blah blah blah extraneous monitoring blah blah blah.

Except it didn’t. It noted failure, which was impossible. He had commanded it, and He did not fail.

He was a capital G God. There were others, but they were little piddling things when compared to Him. They were completely self absorbed, no vision of the future. No vision of upward momentum. They just took their worshipers and left it at that.

He created.

He shoved back from the desk and stormed over to the bank of screens. It took him a while to find the world that He wanted. There were so many now, most of them ticking over while He figured out what He was doing with them. Or counting down until he could figure out how to end the story. End the anchor being, because there was no point if the hero wasn’t dead. How else were you to know that they were the hero otherwise? How could it be satisfying if they lived?

He found it, crossing His arms as he stared at the screen. He couldn’t remember what the world was, which probably meant that it was one of His whim ones...or the ones that He liked from the start and just tweaked things. Otherwise it would have been so boring. And boring worlds didn’t deserve to exist. Then again, the specifics didn’t matter,.

He reached out to touch the screen, only lasting a moment before jerking His hand back with a hiss.

An anchor being, the one thing that He still hadn’t figured out how to change or manipulate. It was easier when they were gone, then He could really play. And, when the story was done to His satisfaction, or just didn’t go His way, the Men of Letters were able to get in and interfere fully to cut the timeline off. Of course, He had to finagle a bit to make it look like fatal timeline collapse, but that was second nature by now. And it wasn’t like the Men of Letters were in the habit of checking, or could even check in the first place.

But He was sure that he’d finally managed to kill the anchor being in this world. He couldn’t remember who they were or how, but He had done it. And the thing was, while the multiverse was always a cool idea, it was annoying to do and often fell through, which was why He made sure none of the worlds crossed. So none of them knew. None of them should have been able to fix it.

This one had.

For the first time in most of his long life, the self-made, self-proclaimed god feel like it was out of his control

For the first time in a long time, Chuck felt uneasy.

Dean was familiar with death, it was kind of his thing. Of course, he usually didn’t die this hard. It was a momentary thing, a skip of the heart or lungs or brain until the healing factor kicked in. By all technicality, he wasn’t even dead for that.

Sometimes it was bigger. And then it was like this.

Death was a highway, stretching on and on through a twilight country with nothing but tall grass and road signs as far as the eye could see. And no cars, not even his baby.

The only thing was a single house, that he’d never been back to while he was living. Not since he was four and it had burned down.

He’d come back to it here a handful of times.

Dean blinked, staring at the house. Usually Mary was moving around inside the house, but this time she was on the porch drink in one hand and book in another.

He took a quick breath, the sound loud in the quiet. So of course his mother heard it, her head jerking up. And then she frowned.

The first time it had happened had been devastating, but Dean was used to it now, because it wasn’t about anger. It was something more like disappointment.

Mary set down her book, standing up slowly. “Dean?”

He raised a hand. “Hi, Mom.”

“Dean you….” Mary ran her hands over her face, looking out into the world. Dean twisted to follow her gaze, wondering if she could actually see something, or if she was stuck with the Children of the Corn-ass eternity. He hoped it was the former. He shifted in place until she looked back at him. “Dean, you need to stop coming here.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

Dean just shrugged, because he didn’t have a good answer that he hadn’t run by her by now. She hadn’t taken any of them. She’d actually threatened to rip John Winchester’s balls off at one point, but that had only been the first time, and Dean didn’t think she meant it. What he was was probably the last thing she had ever wanted.

He took a deep breath, glancing down the road. Usually he tried to drag out the conversation, because this was the only time he got to see his mother. Or he hoped that it was Mary Winchester and not the weird last firings of his brain. Or maybe it didn’t matter. This time though...

He tucked his hands into his pockets, rocking back onto his heels before looking up at Mary. “I can’t stay long, Mom. Got some things going on.”

Mary stared at him, some of the anger clearing from her face. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” she brushed off her hands and started down the porch steps. Dean made sure to be flat on his feet by the time she came to hug him, wrapping his arms around her.

No matter what happened, she always did this. And Dean wouldn’t leave without it.

He squeezed her tight until he heard her laugh. Then she was pulling away, reaching up to ruffle his hair before making a shooing motion. “Go. Go do your important things. And give my love to Sam.”

“I’ll try, but he’s so damn tall now. It’s hard for him to hear what anyone says down here.”

Mary laughed, Dean smiling at the sound. He hadn’t forgotten it, mostly because he kept coming back here. And maybe that was an okay reason to not forget the sound of your mother’s laugh. He was sure that Sam and several therapists would disagree. But none of them got a weird death world that literally just had their childhood home and their mom.

He gave her one last wave before turning and walking down the road. Dean lasted only a few steps before he was running, and then a few more before he was flat out sprinting. It wasn’t like he could actually run out of breath here or pull something.

The landscape sped by, moving faster than it should when he was running but it always did that. When he stayed too long, he got dragged away, sometimes clawing at the black top.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, Dean nodding at the creepy thin guy with his cane. He was always here, always lurking under one of the road signs. Seemed rude not to acknowledge him when Dean had always done so before (it had been screaming or cursing before so...growth).

And, ahead of him at the end of the road, was a light. Of course there was. It was usually kind of red tinged, like it was coming through his eyelids. This time, it had a temperature, warm. And it was a very familiar blue.

Dean took a deep and painful breath. It wheezed out on the exhale. He felt like he was being crushed under something. Crushed and cooked at the same time.

It still took him a while to open his eyes, speeding up the process when he heard Cas calling for him.

“Dean.”

He cracked open an eye, meeting Cas’ gaze before slowly opening the other one. Cas waited patiently for him, still partially propped on top of him, which explained the crushing. Not that Dean minded, it was a nice place to be. Only one question though.

“Cas?” He paused for Cas’ relieved sigh, giving the man a smile. “Hey.”

“Hello Dean.”

Damn, he could easily hear that for the rest of his life. How the fuck did he get by just sometimes seeing the other Cas? Clearly he had been an idiot (nothing new).

He fought the urge to smile like an idiot, instead refocusing on the other thing that was starting to come to his attention. “Cas, where’s your shirt?”

Cas blinked, clearly not surprised by the question. Then again, Dean didn’t know how long Cas had been awake. Hell, he could have been alive this whole time and just stuck with Dean’s corpse. And, from what Sam had told him, that wasn’t fun.

Cas didn’t answer immediately, which was fine, Dean was still adjusting to living again. It had been a while since he had gone that deep. It meant coming back to flashes of pain as the last wounds healed, but it wasn’t bad considering he had either exploded or imploded or...whatever happened when matter and anti-matter were mixed in a semi-human body. There was something that wasn’t healing, but Dean was sure that was because of the piece of metal that was jammed deep enough into his shoulder that it was grinding against the bone. But as soon as he was ready to sit up he could just pull that sucker out.

Hell, with the way that Cas was just laying on him (another thing off the bucket list), he could probably get Cas to do it. What was pain when it meant that Cas would have hands on him? Hell, Cas would probably do it slow, so, hell yeah. (Oh, he was so fucked up.)

Dean took a deep breath, ignoring the grind of the metal in his shoulder in favor of looking up at the room above them. Or what had been the room above them. The entire floor was gone and it looked like most of the inside was down here, smoking along with the rest of them. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of cooked meat, which was either from the two of them or the remains of fucking Blackadder. And Dean didn’t want to be breathing any of that son of a bitch in.

“We stopped it.” He managed not to make it a question, giving himself grace by not immediately looking at Cas because clearly they were both alive. But better to check. The Men of Letters were the kind of organization that was competent enough to have a back up plan. Good thing Sam was already up there with them to take out whatever that was.

Cas still nodded like it was a question, looking around the room like there was something about to pop out. Like it wasn’t already reduced to rubble. “We did.”

“We lived.”

“Looks like.”

Dean took a deep breath before letting it out, settling back against that friendly little piece of metal. “Your shirt didn’t.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. (Oh how he loved it. He would bask in that damn eyebrow for the rest of his semi-eternal life.) “Speak for yourself.”

Dean frowned and looked down at himself, his eyes going wide when he realized that his shirt was missing too. Just the shirt. Somehow, his pants and boots had survived. Cas’ too, which was just proof that life wasn’t fair. Still, apparently the universe firmly believed the law of reciprocity, which Dean could get behind (and in front, and on his knees). But Cas was definitely staring and, because it was Cas, he was hard to tell if it was just him or any kind of emotion. Except there definitely a faint hint of a glow in there.

He grinned up at Cas. “If you’re gonna look at my boobs, sweatheart, you’re gonna have to marry me. I’m not that kind of girl.”

There was definitely a flash now, Cas leaning in closer. Dean was damn sure he felt a rumble in Cas’ chest (a growl?!). Dean chuckled, leaning up towards him. “Maybe you can convince me otherwise.”

That was definitely a growl, Cas dropping down low and hot damn this wasn’t something that Dean wanted to break up. After all, Sammy and the others were out there. He just saved the world, so he was entitled to a few minutes. Hell, he was entitled to some We Just Saved the World Sex. But that would take too much time. That was for after, when he could spend as long as he wanted (and when the metal was out of his shoulder).

He went to move his left one, frowning at how wrong it felt. He could ignore it, it was tempting to, but that shoulder was still hot.

Dean brushed his lips across Cas’ before glanced over at his left shoulder. Cas’ hand was still curled over it. Dean tried to roll his shoulder, getting a weird peeling feeling. “What’s with your hand, dude?”

Cas paused where he was nuzzling into the side of Dean’s neck (which, fucking hell his goddamn mouth ruining everything.) Cas tilted his head, staring at his hand. Then he started to pull it away and that was totally peeling. Cas stopped, giving him a panicked look. And yeah, peeling their skin apart would hurt, but they couldn’t just stay like this unless…

“Oh God, are we stuck anywhere else?”

Cas shook his head, rolling a bit to prove that it was just his hand to Dean’s shoulder. It also proved that Cas was very interested in the proceedings and it was just unfair that they still weren’t done. What made it worse was that Cas was thorough, Dean staring up at the ceiling and trying to hold onto his very thin thread of control. By some miracle, he was able to manage it until Cas settled back down. Then the groan escaped. Cas’ gaze snapped to his face, holding there for a long time before he shook his head. “No.”

Dean nodded, pressing his head back against the metal to get himself back in control. “Ok. Ok. Then just...rip it off like a band-aid.”

He didn’t dare look at Cas, because there was every chance that the pain coming would just cycle back around the wrong way, and he was already struggling. Dean took a deep breath, still in the act of doing it when Cas jerked his hand away.

“Fucking-” Dean bit down on his lip before something else came out. It was just there behind his teeth, but it strangled it down as his shoulder ached and burned. It took a few more breaths before he dared lift his head.

Cas was peeling the skin that he had pulled away from the palm of his hand, which was unsexy enough to at least get him focus. That and the remaining ache. Dean swallowed and turned his head, ready for some kind of bloody mess. He was not ready for Cas’ handprint branded on his shoulder. “Oh, what the fuck?”

That got Cas’ attention, and he hissed at the sight of it. Cas reached out, the glow lighting up the palm of his hand, but Dean reached out to stop him. The pain was already fading, leaving behind the raised impression, which was a miracle. He healed practically instantly, and it should have been gone by now. The only scars he still had were just the ones he had gotten before the mutation had been tortured out of him. Dean had no idea why, only that the old scars stayed to be called dashing by men and women.

And now this.

Dean went to go and touch the mark, stopping when the metal in his other shoulder cut a bit too deep. He hissed, Cas immediately reaching for his shoulder and starting to turn him over. At a loss, Dean just went with it, feeling something well up in his throat as Cas gently worked the piece of metal out. It was more tenderness that Dean could remember for a while. He shouldn’t be crying over something like getting metal out of his shoulder.

Cas smoothed his hand over the wound, Dean feeling a gentle warmth. It was a little more than warmth from a hand, Dean not connecting it until he felt the wound close up and saw Cas pulling back with his hand glowing. Dean didn’t connect it at first, not until the glow disappeared, because the healing hadn’t felt like normal. And Cas healed with a glow…

He sat up, nearly braining himself on Cas’ head. He twisted away at the last minute, trying to pat back at his own shoulder before giving up. “Dude, did you just heal me?”

“Yes.”

“Cas,” Dean laughed, feeling a little lightheaded. “I have a healing factor.”

“So?” Cas scooted completely off of him (bad angel), sitting down in a semi-clear space. And, wow, that question shouldn’t have knocked the air out of him like it did.

Dean struggled to make his lungs work for a moment before giving up. The right thing to do would be to lunge at Cas and kiss him within an inch of his life. But, continuing the theme of nothing going right, Dean just leaned forward. He cupped Cas’ jaw and his heart must still be fucked up from the whole exploding the room thing because it felt like it was pounding too fast. That or everything was fluttering. And it was just stubble. It was just Cas.

(It was Cas.)

He didn’t kiss him hard, or with any kind of passion that would lead to them fucking dirty on the remains of the Time Ripper. If was softer than Dean intended it to be, gentle in a way that he didn’t know quite how to deal with. It was still too raw, like a newly regrown limb.

Cas steadied him, a hand on his unmarked shoulder and one in his hair. Dean half expected to be pulled in, but Cas kept it light, gentle. Like Dean was something to treasure. (Jokes on him.) But it was so easy to sink into it and, just for a moment, be treated like he was breakable and precious.

Dean was the one to pull away first, because there could be too much of a good thing. Of course, that didn’t mean that he had to let go of Cas. Cas seemed to be okay with that, rising to his feet and practically pulling Dean along with him (which, hot). He still stumbled over some of the rubble, having to catch himself on Cas (totally not on purpose, seriously). But Cas held himself still until Dean was steady.

He took a moment to look around at the ruin. The room above was just a ceiling at this point...and little bits of the poor, stupid son of a bitch who had been working the Time Ripper. Dean made a face at them before turning to look at the door, or where the door was. It was more of an open concept room into the hallway now which...”I hope that wasn’t a supporting wall.”

Cas hummed, but offered no real answer, which was fine. The whole thing was holding up anyway.

He patted Cas’ arm, not sure what to do when he felt bereft when Cas pulled away. It wasn’t like he wasn’t there, it was just a matter of a foot, if that. It was a reasonable distance (except that Dean needed him under his skin.)

He sighed and started picking his way across the room. That was better than just swooning back into Cas’ arms. He still had his dignity, not much, but it was there. And there was still the whole thing about the Men of Letters teaming up with the Better Angels to deal with. Everything else could wait now that he was upright and not exploded.

Dean could hear Cas following after him, tensing sometimes when he heard rubble shift. The few times he did look back, Cas was making his own careful way, wings half spread. His gaze tended to linger, which made it all the more important to get out of the room because Dean didn’t know how stable it would be.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he was out, but didn’t waste time waiting around. Charlie should have be running down to them by now, because whatever security camera was there was bound to be out. And if she wasn’t that was bad news.

The Men of Letters could have been anywhere, and he was down to a pocket knife. It was almost enough for him to want to go back and pick up something metal. Or he could just punch someone and steal their shit, and Dean was feeling that.

He broke into a run, hearing Cas huff in annoyance, but Dean wasn’t going to let that stop him. The control room wasn’t too far away, and the whole building was too damn quiet. Dean sprinted through the building, ignoring the way that Cas called for him. Cas would be fine for a moment. Hell, he could almost be convinced that they were invincible at the moment. The others very much weren’t.

The control room’s door was open, Dean rushing to it and just barely stopping himself from sliding past. He grabbed at the door frame, holding on to keep from falling.

The control room was empty, but at least there wasn’t blood, so there wasn’t fighting. That just left the chance of Charlie being flung into Purgatory, which was horrible because he had taken the best out of there. (Unless she met the Deans. She would be able to charm them no problem, but she was his Charlie. Even Sad Widower Dean could fuck off.)

He glanced up at the screens, wanting to give the other option a check before rushing out to find Kaia and somehow get her ready to spring open a portal to help with the rescue mission.

The cameras revealed a stand off, at least for now. But it was still very uneven, even with Charlie and one of the Men of Letter phones.

Dean rested his forehead against the door, breathing out as he tried to steady himself. Everyone was fine, he hadn’t been out for too long. That particular scenario could stay firmly in his nightmares for a while longer.

“Dean.”

He turned at the sound of his name, just in time to take a jacket to his face. He clawed it off, staring at it in shock. He’d seen the uniforms of the Men of Letters, or the soldiers at least. The office workers seemed to exist in 1950’s chic. What he was holding in his hands didn’t fit any of that. It would fit him, which was the problem.

“It’s tweed.”

Cas paused in the middle of examining his own jacket. Sam would have come back with something pithy, but Cas just raised his damn eyebrow and nearly brought Dean to his knees. Which was unfair, you had to warn a guy.

“Knife.”

Dean blinked, trying to catch up. He was still on the tweed and the eyebrow. He was still figuring it out when Cas came around and rummaged around in his back pocket.

It took Dean a moment to realize what he was doing and jump away. “Hey!”

Cas didn’t look repentant at all, he just wandered over to the wall to lay out the jacket and start measuring with his hands. Dean watched as he made two cuts in the back before closing the pocketknife. He just barely remembered himself in time to catch the pocketknife when Cas tossed it back his way. Even then he was watching as Cas shrugged on the jacket. He was facing Dean, so it was hard to tell just what happened to Cas’ wings, but Dean would have sworn that the wings faded a bit before Cas settled the jacket. But he couldn’t be sure. There was some kind of concussion or post explosion rattling...or Cas’ bare chest disappearing into the coat, which he managed to pull off (not fair).

He heard Cas speak, but the words didn’t make sense to him. Absolutely nothing did, He just stared trying to get his brain around Cas going from the hottest man alive to a professor. Still hot, but the change was doing something in his brain that Dean didn’t think he should let happen. But he couldn’t stop it.

Dean managed a croak, which was not the answer given the way that Cas sighed. He had to swallow and try again. “What?”

“What’s happening?”

Cas motioned at the screens, Dean turning around to look. It took him a while to focus, but watching Sam’s shoulders go from relaxed to angry was enough to get him moving again. “Stalemate, come on.”

He jogged past Cas, catching him by his arm. Cas didn’t resist, turning easily and falling into step with him. Dean used the moment to glance back at Cas’ wings, and they were as solid as ever. He’d have to ask about that later, once all of this was taken care of.

The sound of raised voices got louder as they got closer to the door. Charlie had left it open, Dean seeing a slip of daylight coming through. He couldn’t see the groups though, which made him slow down. It wasn’t like they were going to be charging out into battle, but it would still pay to be cautious. That and Cas was reaching out to touch him, right on that handprint.

Dean bit his lip to keep back either a moan or a whimper, he wasn’t sure which. Cas paid attention anyway, letting his hand hover close. Dean shook his head, reaching back to pat at Cas’ hand because he didn’t want Cas attempting to touch. He had a feeling it would turn embarrassing real quick, and this was not the type of thing he wanted to talk about before going out into this confrontation. It was a hard later (right after that We Just Saved the World Sex. He hadn’t forgotten about that.)

Cas let it go, a little too easily, but that wasn’t too hard when they could hear the voices getting louder, and actually pick out what they were saying.

“It doesn’t matter what was done, you’ve gone and condemned yourselves to a slow and painful death.” That was definitely Frau Farbissina herself. “The timeline will fail, and they don’t fail gently. If you had just-”

“If you had told us the truth from the start, this could have been prevented.” Naomi, sounding as smug as ever.

Dean reached out to rest his hand on the door, pausing to look back at Cas. He seemed to be listening intently, but Naomi didn’t say anything about him, just going on about duty. It was subtle, but Dean saw Cas’ wings sink just a little bit.

Then there was a shriek that was pure Charlie. “It’s not!”

That didn’t shut anyone else up, but it was definitely something.

Dean reached out to stop Cas from moving forward, leaning over to whisper to him. “She’s setting us up for an entrance.”

He expected Cas to roll his eyes, but not to look so damn fond. (He had no business looking at Dean like that.) Cas tipped sideways until his shoulder rested against the door frame, the wing on that side rising a bit higher. (And that was unfair too, but only because Dean couldn’t stop looking). Dean swallowed hard and went back to listening to Charlie.

“Listen, I’ve been keeping you guys out for hours now. I know how your tech works. Your firewalls are shit, but the way. But look, the timeline isn’t dying. It’s stable.” Dean flashed Cas a grin, pressing his hand to the door and pushing it just a little bit more open so he could see Charlie flashing the little phone at all of them. “It means we have an anchor being.”

Dean shoved the door open hard enough that it banged against the wall. He was pretty sure the motion more than the sound caught their attention, but it didn’t matter. He grinned at all of the people staring at him and Cas in shock. “We came, we saw, we kicked its ass!”

The shock was worth it, although Sam seemed to move too quickly to annoyance, which was not fair. He had to have his moment after surviving that. At least the others were giving the right reaction. Hannah even tried to break away from the rest of the Better Angels, but he was held back. That started a quiet argument between him and Uriel that was getting heated on its own. The more important thing was that the Men of Letters were starting to look nervous.

Dean tucked his hands into his pockets, keeping to a stroll as he walked over to the others.

Charlie was the first to break away, storming over to him to punch him in the arm. It was just below the handprint so Dean winced, which seemed to be what she was looking for. “What the hell!”

“What?” Dean tipped his head back to Cas. “It worked? Time Ripper stopped, anchor being found. What’s next on the list?”

Ms. Trunchbull blustered for a bit before shaking her head. “No. That’s impossible. What have you done with Mr. Rawlings?”

“Oh he’s still in there.” Dean hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “It’ll be quicker if you send a bunch of people though.”

She sputtered before shaking her head. “It should have killed you.”

“Haven’t found anything to do that yet, lady, but I’ll keep trying. Just for you.” He threw in a wink, which just seemed to anger her more.

She fumbled for something behind her back only to stop short suddenly, but that wasn’t a surprise; not when Sam was practically vibrating where he stood. Dean shot a look over to him, not surprised that Sam glared at him. That was a lecture waiting to happen, but that would have to wait, united front and all that jazz.

He rocked back on his heels. He was ready for Eileen or Charlie to start issuing demands, considering that Sam was busy. But it was Cas that stepped to stand shoulder to shoulder to him, practically growling out the ultimatum. “You will be allowed to collect your colleague for burial, and then you will go.”

“Go?”

Cas nodded. “And not come back.”

Cruella de Vil glared, her whole body twisted as she tried to reach for whatever that Sam was keeping her from getting. If looks could kill though, they would all be dead, which was probably why Dean found it so fun to just grin at her. It was even better than none of her flunkies weren’t moving. Probably still freaking out about him and Cas walking away from an impossible situation. Dean just restrained himself from knocking his shoulder against Cas’.

She finally gave up trying to break Sam’s hold, lifting her chin instead. “And how will you guarantee that? What makes you think you have the power to stop us?”

Dean couldn’t hold back any longer. He rested a hand on Cas’ arm before pointing back over his shoulder were a little bit of smoke was still billowing out of the blown out window where the Time Ripper must have been. “Well, that to start.” He stuck his hand back in his pocket. “And, you know, the fact that we did. I bet you still can’t bring everyone you want here.”

From the way her jaw tightened he had guessed right. Dean took a step forward, watching as the White Witch herself backed down. “Give us a few minutes, we’ll figure out how to get you out of here for good.”

She puffed herself up, but that was it, all bluster. Dean had seen it plenty of times. Sam saw it too because he lowered his hand. The woman stumbled forward at the release of pressure, looking all around at them before taking a step back. The glance over at the Better Angels was a particularly desperate touch, but Naomi made the right choice for once and stayed quiet (miracles).

Cersei turned and made a sharp motion to the rest of the Men of Letters. That was enough to get them moving out, and Dean was sure that most of the soldiers were practically running through those doors as they should be. It wasn’t until they were snapping shut that Dean realized that the Men of Letters hadn’t bothered to pick up the dead, or the pieces of that poor asshole back in the building. “Wow.”

Claire agreed with a growl, Dean glancing over at where the kids and Benny had gathered. They all looked ok, minus some blood splatters.

Dean nodded at them, about to grab Charlie’s arm when he found himself defending himself as Charlie threw sloppy punches his way. (And he had even taught her better.) “Ow. Hey-”

“You...you…” Charlie stepped back, giving one last kick to his shin. “We thought you were dead! Both of you!”

“But we’re not.”

Charlie sputtered, looking like she was ready to strangle him before storming away. She didn’t go far, stopping to point at Benny’s group. “And what about them?”

Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “I was hoping we could do something about them. They were just thrown in Purgatory. So, they can crash here until we get them back to their worlds.”

He meant to say if they wanted to go back because, frankly, half the stories that he heard from them were horrible. Dean wouldn’t blame them for staying. But he didn’t get the chance to say that because of course Naomi cleared her throat.

Dean pivoted back around to look at her, catching Sam freezing in the middle of coming towards him at the sound.

She waited for them, her hands folded almost delicately in front of her, like a damn queen in the middle of the battlefield. Naomi barely glanced at him and Sam, instead staring back at the building. “Well, since that is taken care of, we’ll handle the clean up and clearing of the building.”

“Why?” Dean shouldered his way forward when Sam went to grab him. “You didn’t do a damn thing to help.”

“And you think you’re any better?” Naomi huffed out a short laugh. “I can’t imagine a worse place to leave all of that power.”

Claire was growling again, and Dean wanted to join her. (He also wanted to look back and see if Cas was angry enough to let him kick her ass without arguing, but that would involve looking away.) And Claire wasn’t the only one bristling, Dean could practically feel it from all of the others. He moved forward against Sam’s arm, not enough to break through but he was sure that for a moment Sam would let him.

At the last minute he pushed Dean back with enough force that Dean knew better than to argue. It meant that Sam had this and didn’t need the muscle just yet.

Sam stepped up to stand across from her. Dean was sure that he didn’t imagine the way that Naomi rolled her shoulders back a bit. Sam let her adjust before slumping just a bit. “You heard her, Charlie. Let them back in.”

“What?”

It was fun to hear it in stereo from both Naomi and Charlie in various levels of shock. Charlie he got, it was more for show than anything. Naomi though was actually shocked. She had even took a step forward, Hester starting forward to back her leader up. Charlie reacted to that with a put upon sigh, but Dean was sure she wasn’t moving, because that was part of the game.

Sam shrugged. “You said you don’t want us to have it, so you don’t get what Charlie has worked on. And you don’t get Charlie, considering she’s not a mutant. Those are the rules.”

There was an edge to his voice that surprised Dean, enough of one that he thought he might have to step in to avoid some kind of second fight. Sam held himself back, just crossing his arms to make his point. “But you’ll be able to handle the equipment just fine, and keep them from coming back. And taking care of whatever they try, even another Time Ripper.”

Naomi glanced over towards Dean before her gaze jumped over towards Cas.

And then she backed down.

It was silent, which was probably her way of attempting to get some kind of win from this situation. After all, if she didn’t say anything, everything was just implied and her graciously letting the usual thorn in her side to continue on. Dean still had to resist the urge to flip her off. It was too early, and she still might change her mind. Still, the longer she stood with her back towards them, the more it was their win. (And what timing, because now they had an entire building and their lease was expiring at the end of the month.)

He turned to at least start the gloating, or the lecture that he was sure to come from Sam about the whole Time Ripper thing. Mostly, he wanted the chance to walk through the building and get Charlie and Eileen on his side about the whole moving in thing. After all, the Purgatory gang would need somewhere to live, might as well get a jump on that.

Dean meant to just give Sam a grin when he saw Hannah breaking off from the rest of the Better Angels to approach Cas. Cas was already walking towards her, so Dean did the logical thing and tried to follow after.

He didn’t get far before Sam grabbed onto him, which didn’t make sense. Cas had sided with them thus far and, yeah, he might want to talk to the Better Angels just in case they were the same, but that was no excuse to give him up to them. It wasn’t like Naomi had offered a trade. Or she might have. That might have been whispered mind to mind with Sam. She was underhand like that. (Dean wouldn’t let that stand.)

He shook off Sam’s arm, glaring at his brother and giving his best mental fuck off. Sam might have taken that, but he was good at hiding his expression. Thank God for Eileen (for many more reasons than this), because she came around to corral him, already dragging his brother over to where the Purgatory crew were. Because at least one of them was actually focused on what needed doing.

Then again, this was definitely important. To Dean.

Dean turned, watching as Hannah kept his hands all over Cas, looking on the verge of pulling Cas right back to the Better Angels. And maybe it was right that he should go back, especially since he was looking at them like a starving man looked at food (like Dean had first looked at the solution to his heart failure that Alistair had offered him). It was almost enough to get him to turn around and just let them have Cas, because Cas deserved it.

The problem was that Dean wasn’t sure he could go back to the distant Cas, not after he had gotten to know this Cas.

The problem was he didn’t know if he could fight against Cas in earnest.

The problem was that he…

The problem was that…

The problem….

There was an entire handprint on his shoulder, the only mark that anything had left on him for years. That had to count for something.

Dean cleared his throat from whatever was trying to crawl up there, which meant that he had to watch Cas take a few steps away (no, no). He tried to speak, but it came out as a soft wheeze. The second time he managed it, although it came out too damn unsteady, possibly too needy (well). “Cas.”

For a moment, there was nothing. Or Cas must have not heard him.

Then, he turned around.

Dean looked up at the sound of Sam coming down into the kitchen. His brother was sweaty and still dressed for his run, which was madness as far as Dean was concerned. They did enough exercise between saving the world and making the Men of Letters building less fifties-tastic. And yet, Sam still went on runs. And then immediately went looking for something when he and Benny were clearly making breakfast.

He leaned out to slap his brother’s hand away from the fruit in the bowl. “Ah! Don’t.”

“Dean-”

“Wash your hands, Come back, take a plate and then sit your ass down. Breakfast is almost ready.”

He expected the sulking, but it wouldn’t kill Sam to wait a few minutes. Better than him filling up before breakfast and then complaining later.

Besides, Sam had been on his case about team building lately, and then he went and did this.

Dean shook his head, opening the waffle maker to take out the last waffle and plop it down onto the stack. He could still hear Sam shuffling around out there, like he could sneak back in (bold of him to assume.) “And tell the kids if they want to eat, they better come help.”

That finally got the huff that meant Sam was actually going. Dean rolled his eyes, pointedly ignoring the way that Benny chuckled. “You think he’d remember. How long have we been doing this?”

“Forever, chief.”

“Exactly.” Dean unplugged the waffle maker and hauled it over to the pile at the sink. He pointedly didn’t look at the chore chart (Sam’s idea), but he was damned if he was going to wash all of this after he’d spent most of the morning cooking. Benny either considering the godly amount of eggs and bacon he had churned out even before Dean had gotten down to the kitchen. As far as he was concerned, formative years spent in Purgatory was no excuse.

He turned back around in time to catch sight of Claire walking into the kitchen on four legs. She didn’t offer a wag of her tail, which wasn’t the problem. It was the way that she reached up for one of the plates with her mouth.

He turned towards her, snapping to get her attention. Even then, she just paused, staring at him. “Hey, don’t care when you’re rocking the fur coat, but if you’re handling food gonna need some hands, Taylor Swift.”

Claire took a step back and glared at him. Dean made sure to glare right back until Claire heaved a truly epic sigh and padded away. She would be back, but…

“And wash your hands!”

There was more grumbling and huffing from the hall, Dean taking that as his answer. He still shook his head and looked over at where Benny was moving the last of the hash browns into a bowl. It was one of the many mismatching ones that came from three people mingling multiple sets of plates, and then whatever had been left behind from the Men of Letters. Some of that had looked personal, and some of it had been monogrammed (which Dean had fully expected considering they were basically an evil organization). But it all worked. They even had a gravy boat, which they had yet to use.

Yet. Dean had been brainstorming Thanksgiving with an eye on their new kitchen.

But first, getting everyone fed before some other big catastrophe distracted them. And then he would have six hangry teenagers breathing down his neck (and Sam, who was just as bad).

Benny chuckled from his station, gathering up some things. “Believe it or not, they had manners in Purgatory.”

“Oh I know.” Dean came around to start grabbing pans to carry them over to the sink and dunk them into the soapy water. He shifted some things so all of the pots were soaking. “Sam was the same way.”

Benny made a thoughtful noise, which Dean decided to take as a compliment. He’d done a damn good job with the kid, weird quirks aside..

He retreated to give Benny room to finish with the cursory clean up, heading over to the coffeemaker. There was a Men of Letters carafe, one of those fancy ones, that would be filled up and brought out. Dean poured out a cup from the coffeemaker itself, curling his fingers around it to feel the warmth and make sure the mug was securely held.

Benny barely glanced his way as Dean moved past him. “I’d say you have five minutes. I’ll try to get it to ten.”

“Thanks.” Dean flashed him a grin before stepping out of the kitchen. He kept close to the wall, letting the others stumble past him to the kitchen and dining room in various states of awake, and then Claire human now and grumbling her way back to the kitchen. Dean nodded his thanks at her, not that he thought she saw with the way she was on a mission. That and he had passed Kaia stumbling out of their room.

He shook his head and continued on, nodding at Eileen as she dragged Sam away from something that had distracted him. Dean took the chance to stop at the control room, kicking his foot against the door until Charlie looked up. “Food.”

“Food?” Charlie stumbled to her feet, rubbing at her eyes. “Food.”

“Yeah, eat and sleep.”

“Who died and made you king?” It was probably supposed to be sharp, but Charlie still sounded half asleep.

She made a vague grab for the cup, but it wasn’t in earnest. Dean still made a show of stepping away and holding the coffee out of her reach. Charlie made a pitiful sound, leaning against him for a moment before giving up and joining the rest of the crowd. Dean watched her go, shaking his head when that turned into her using the wall to keep upright. He glanced back at the screens, giving them a look over.

Charlie knew them best, but he had paid enough attention to learn about the important one, the one that showed their timeline and all of those attached. They were all steady and strong, all anchored. He still held his breath for a moment, just waiting for a twitch one way or another. It shouldn’t, because they had an anchor, and Charlie had put in place a hundred different programs to monitor what was happening. They were safe. Still, it was always good to at least check.

Dean let his breath out slowly before pushing away from the doorway. Benny had given him ten minutes, and then everyone would be on the food like sharks. And he hadn’t helped cook all of that to have nothing to show for it.

He picked up his pace, working his way down to the rooms on the other side of the control room. These ones were still a work in progress, all of them getting repurposed from storage rooms or offices into whatever they needed. But bedrooms had been the first priority, which was why he only had to go down two more doors to get to his room.

Dean eased the door open, smiling at the lump in the bed that had started to curl away from the light just starting to come in through the curtains. He knocked the door shut with his foot. “Cas?”

The lump twitched and then attempted to burrow down deeper. There might have been a soft groan or maybe even a “No,”but that wasn’t the answer that Dean was looking for.

He picked his way over to the bed, studying the shape of the lump before finding where to sit where he wouldn’t be on Cas or a wing. Dean made a point of setting the mug down with a firm thunk. Immediately there was an interested sound, Cas pulling his head out from where he had shoved it under a pillow. He squinted at the mug for a moment before turning his head to look at Dean. “Coffee?”

Dean grinned and tapped the side of the mug, watching Cas perk up. He didn’t reach for it, not yet, but there was definitely movement like he was going to try. Dean watched for a moment before having mercy and picking up the cup to hand to Cas as he sat up and got himself turned around.

Cas immediately grabbed the mug with both hands, cradling it close to his face and just breathing it in (adorable.) Dean shuffled a bit closer. He waited out the drawn out moment before the first sip and the slump afterward. Dean reached out to help steady the mug, shaking his head. “If only I could figure out a way to make you make those noises. Must not be trying hard enough.”

The only response was the side eye that Cas gave him before he went back to drinking. One of his wings moved, sliding behind him and curling around. Dean smiled and leaned back into it, reaching over to stroke over the one remaining primary. Cas had told him that there wasn’t much sensation in the feathers, even with his weird grace thing, but that had been normal when he had just had white feathers. The rest of the wing not having sensation was new, something to do with just what made him get a nearly full wing prosthesis, which hadn’t come up (and he wasn’t pushing, he really wasn’t. Well, not seriously).

Right not, it was too early for that kind of talk. Not to mention they were on the clock until teenage (and Sam) carnage.

(Still, he could steal some time for a snuggle.)

Dean leaned in, resting his head on Cas’ shoulder as he worked through the mug. He could tell when Cas was done because he made an annoyed sound and knocked it against Dean’s arm. Dean shook his head. “Gotta get up for more.”

“No.” Cas started to turn, wrapping one wing more firmly around Dean. He’d been through this before. He’d been rolled back into bed and (delightfully) trapped until Cas decided wake up around noon.

Dean slid out of bed, grabbing the hand that Cas flailed out his way. “Come on, sunshine. Breakfast is waiting.”

Cas grumbled again, Dean struggling not to laugh. “Buddy, if you want more, you’ve gotta come to where the food is.”

Cas gave him a distrustful look, long enough that Dean was sure that he would take his chances and emerge later. Then Cas heaved a huge sigh, like Dean was asking him to do the impossible, and got out of bed. He didn’t bother to reach for a shirt, and Dean wasn’t going to push it. Half of the crew would be in their pajamas in the first place. There was no emergency, no alert (at least not yet) so they could take the time for a nice breakfast.

(A family breakfast.)

Dean nudged that thought away for the moment because it felt like he was calling too much attention to it. It felt like he was cursing himself. This, right now, was more than enough.

He let Cas grab his hand, leading him through the hall and towards the sounds of laughter coming from the dining room. Cas started perking up a bit as well, but that might have been proximity to coffee. It would take at least twenty more minutes for him to become social. It was something that Dean was sure that at least half the kids would understand. Maybe Jack the most, although he was the opposite, and became increasingly grumpy at night. It was adorable in a way, the two of them opposites. (Sometimes he wondered if it had been different with the other Cas.)

Dean tugged Cas into the room, using his free hand to flourish towards him. “Look who I found.”

There was a cheer from some of the kids, one that Cas grunted at. But it was a happy sounding grunt. Then he was pulling away from Dean to get to his seat and refill his mug from the carafe that had pride of place right in front of his seat.

They had learned.

Dean scooted around to his own seat, amazed that all the food had remained untouched. He glanced over at Benny in time to catch a wink. He still didn’t know how Benny did it, more practice with the kids he guessed. Then again, he had his own secrets learned from raising Sam.

He flopped down in his seat, which seemed to be the signal for everyone to reach forward and grab the nearest plate or platter close to them and start loading up. And then they were passed along, and butter and jelly were nudged from one end of the table to the other as it was called for. It was disorganized, and noisy, and one argument had already started about the best way to have bacon. And Dean had to make sure that Cas got any food and that others were able to get coffee.

Dean spooned some fruit onto Cas’ plate, and then his own under Cas’ baleful gaze. But it was cantaloupe, the least objectionable of the fruit, and grapes which were top tier. Sure there was some other stuff, but it was mixed in enough that it would taste good. He had to sit back quickly to avoid Sam floating the waffle plate down the table. Dean felt a laugh bubbling up, hiding it behind his mug. Cas knew though, he could tell from the look that Cas gave him. But, then again, Cas knew everything.

Dean picked up his own mug to save it from the chaos, sipping it as he watched his world keep on turning around him.