Chapter Text
Castiel doesn’t know where he is and that fact alone is more than confusing. His face is pressed into cold dark ground. Everything is silent, just a quiet buzzing radiates from somewhere. And everything hurts. Why does everything hurt?
He blinks his eyes open slowly and groans, when a sharp pain shoots through his forehead. That is ridiculous. He shouldn’t feel this amount of pain. It shouldn’t be possible.
Slowly Castiel pushes himself up and takes a look around to check his surroundings. The room is windowless, the walls covered in red bricks. Shelves are lined up in front of him. In the middle of the room, right next to where he woke up, stands a chair and lines on the ground form a devil's trap.
He doesn’t recognize this place. Was he captured? The last thing he remembers is that he left a frozen Dean Winchester in a dark kitchen, but after that… He was supposed to return to heaven, to prepare another mission and prevent more seals from being broken.
The pain isn’t fading from his head and Castiel feels something warm and wet running down to his lips. He touches it and discovers his fingers drenched in blood. Did he get into a fight? He can’t remember a fight. But something must have been able to get to him, to hurt him and...drag him away? Get him into this room? Frustration rushes through Castiel while he tries to clean the blood away and it makes his head hurt even more. Why can’t he remember a thing?
He makes a few careful steps forward. The room starts to spin and he has to grab the chair to keep his balance. His grace hums under his skin, trying to fix the issues this vessel is currently experiencing, but something stops it from doing its work. Castiel groans in frustration and his knuckles turn white from the hard grip around the rest of the chair. His eyes move towards the door in front of him and he wonders if it’s locked. And even if it is, if he would have enough power to tear it down. A lock shouldn’t be able to hold him back, but in this condition…
Castiel stumbles forward, catches himself on the shelves while he moves towards the door. There is blood on the dark wood of it, a sigil, but it looks older and has been destroyed there...wherever there was anyways. He stretches out his hand towards the door knob and twists it.
The door opens without any difficulties and Castiel feels a rush of relief. Well, that would make things a little bit easier. Apparently he’s not locked on purpose inside that strange room. Or maybe someone thought he was a demon and the devils trap would be enough to keep him in.
Behind the door is a long, illuminated hallway that curves in the distance. Dark wooden doors with golden letters and numbers are on each side of it. The one Castiel left right now is named “7B”. In a far distance he can make out muffled voices. Castiel thinks about his possibilities. He’s in no position for a fight, especially not when he doesn't know what to expect. Whatever it is, it must’ve been strong enough to weaken an angel and bring him into this foreign place.
On the other hand, if this someone wants him dead, it would’ve killed him already. It is possible that he would find some answers from the voices in the distance.
Castiel steadies himself with one hand at the wall and moves towards the noise. The closer he gets, the clearer the words become. Castiel can make out two males voices, apparently arguing about something. He has to pause a few feet away from the room where the voices come from and leans against the cool wall. His head throbs painfully with every step and Castiel really doesn’t like the way this body feels. He isn’t used to be this weak.
The voices grow louder and more aggressive. “...you think I'm just gonna watch you drown yourself in alcohol again? We’ve been there the last time, Dean! You can’t...I know how hard this is, but you can’t just give up ! Not after everything we’ve been through!”
Castiel hasn’t even realized that he’d closed his eyes until they snap open again.
Dean?
A bitter laugh answers the words of the unknown man and yes, now Castiel is sure that he’s listening to Dean Winchester.
“Watch me”, the rough voice of the man he pulled out of hell just a few days ago answers. Castiel pushes himself away from the wall and makes two more steps towards the room.
“Dean, please.”, the other man begs more desperately now, “Please, do you think that would be what he wanted for you? You can’t just throw away that sacrifice…”
“Shut up!” Dean’s voice grows louder and the other man falls silent, “Don’t tell me what he wanted for me. Don’t you
dare
telling me that. He told me exactly what he wanted and I...you weren’t there, Sam, you…” He draws in a shattered breath.
Sam. So Sam Winchester is there too.
Castiel is confused. Did Dean do this to him? Or his brother? This shouldn’t be possible. Just a few days ago Dean didn’t even know that angels existed and he still doesn’t really believe Castiel. How could they find a way to weaken him so fast?
“I know”, Sam says now, “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened there. And I understand that you’re not ready to talk about it even if I wanted to know. He was my friend too, you know.”
Dean snorts. “It’s not the same and you know that.”
“Dean, come on…”
“Just...leave it, Sammy. I’m gonna...I’m done.”
Steps come closer and Castiel tries to straighten himself up again. His vision fades and he blinks rapidly against the black dots forming in front of his eyes. Everything is fading and becoming sharp again.
The steps come to an abrupt halt and something shatters on the ground.
Castiel’s vision clears up, enough for him to recognize Dean Winchester himself, standing just a few feet away from him, frozen like a statue and glass shards surrounding his feet. He looks at Castiel like he can’t believe his eyes, like he expected anything but him in this hallway.
Mhm. So maybe he’s not the reason Castiel is there.
“What...“, Dean crooks out, staring at Castiel without even blinking, “How…?”
“Dean? What happened?” Another man comes around the corner of a room and he freezes too when he sees Castiel, “Cas?!”
Castiel blinks, irritated by that name. Dean still doesn’t move, staring at Castiel like he’s...like he is…
It happens so fast that Castiel isn’t even able to move. One second Dean is standing there, the next he launches himself at Castiel and throws his body against his. Castiel isn’t even able to summon his blade in time before Dean’s arms wrap around him and pull him...closer?
Dean doesn’t attack him.
He’s embracing him.
“Fuck”, Dean hisses, close to Castiels ear, “You stupid son of a bitch. How could you...don’t ever do this again, you hear me?”
Castiel can’t answer. His body stiffens when Dean pulls him even closer to his chest, one arm pressed around his back, one hand buried in the hair on the back of Castiel's head. Something wet touches his skin right there where Dean’s cheek presses into his neck. Is he bleeding again?
Finally Dean lets him go and Castiel touches his neck. No, there is no new blood on his fingers. He raises his head towards Dean, whose hands are still on Castiel's shoulders. Dean’s eyes are very bloodshot and his cheeks wet. But he smiles, wide and open and so...so…
Castiel doesn’t know what to make out of the look on Dean’s face. It’s warm and relieved and so different from the look Dean had given him just hours ago in that dark kitchen. There is no distrust, no discomfort anymore. Dean lets out a breathless chuckle and his hands raise, cupping Castiel's cheeks and stroking lightly over the stubble on his jaw.
“I thought...you…”
Dean blinks. Blinks again. Another tear falls from his eyes and rolls down his cheek.
“You…”
The smile fades. The warm hands drop from Castiel's face. Dean’s eyes widen. He takes a step back. Castiel hears Sam Winchester drawing in a sharp breath. He comes closer and puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, pulling him back from Castiel. And then both Winchesters just stare at him.
Castiel doesn’t know what to do. If he would be at full strength he would probably just fly away and go back to his mission. The mission that is far more important than Dean Winchester staring at him like he did something wrong, like Castiel hurt him in every single possible way.
Sam clears his throat and Castiel turns his eyes towards the younger Winchester. They haven’t officially met yet, but of course he knows the stories about Sam. The boy with the demon blood. Dean’s brother is on a dangerous path. But something about him is wrong too, different from what Castiel expected.
Castiel frowns and turns his eyes towards Dean again. There is nothing left from the warm look on his face anymore. Dean’s jaw is locked and his hands ball to fists. Yes, that is much closer to the angry man he talked to in the dark kitchen earlier this evening. Green eyes bore into his like Dean demands an answer for an unspoken question. Castiel knows these eyes. He knows every single cell of this body and every color of this soul.
Castiel has seen a lot of souls in his existence. Some bright and warm, some corrupted and shredded. He has expected a soul like that when he fought his way through hell, something broken and twisted. Dean’s soul was nothing like that. It has drawn him through the pits of hell, brighter than the explosion of a supernova. And when Castiel had laid his hands on it, he was surprised how warm it was. How willingly it went with him. How it clinged onto him and begged for forgiveness, like Castiel was the one who could give that to him. He had just grabbed it tighter.
There is something different about Dean’s soul now. It’s still brighter than any soul Castiel ever laid his eyes on, but it also wears more history. More loss. More love.
“What year?”
Sam breaks the silence in the hallway and draws Castiel's attention back to him. His body is also tense, but he doesn’t radiate the same anger and hurt like Dean does. Even without looking at him Castiel can feel the heat of Dean’s soul reaching out for him.
Castiel frowns at this question.
“I don’t understand.”, he says slowly and even speaking hurts. The throbbing pain in his head increases and Castiel flinches as a response to that. If it would just stop hurting !
“You’re not...you’re not our Cas, right?” Sam clears his throat again, “You look different than him. Not much, but still...So, I guess time travel? What year are you from?”
Time travel. That actually makes sense. It would also explain why his grace feels so weak, why his body aches so much. But Castiel can’t remember traveling through time. He wouldn’t do that without a reason, right?
The Winchesters are still looking at him, waiting for an answer.
“2008.”, Castiel answers and his eyes wander to Dean again, “September 2008.”
Dean draws in a sharp breath.
“Son of a bitch”, he hisses.