Chapter Text
Time moved differently on the road. It was hard to be sure, but Dean thought it had been a week since he left the world of John Winchester and Mary Campbell, the Akrida defeated and the world saved. He missed that universe – it was comforting to know that, somewhere out there, there was a place where his parents could be happy. Where Mary could live and she and John could work through the issues they had when she was alive. It gave him hope.
After he had left and watched his parents and their world vanish, Dean found himself once again standing next to the Impala on a long, deserted road. He turned toward Jack, who was watching him, head tilted. He really is Cas’ son, Dean couldn’t help but think, fondness warring with longing. “So,” he said aloud. “Am I on Heavenly lockdown? No more hitchin’ my way ‘round the multiverse?”
Jack frowned at him, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “You’re not happy.”
Dean glanced at Bobby before looking back at Jack. “I just don’t think I’m one for peace, kid. I need to have a mission, something to do. I need…” He hesitated before continuing. “I need the hunt.”
“The hunt,” Jack repeated.
“I’m just not done, Jack,” Dean said, shrugging. “I’ve got more in me. I can’t just settle down, not yet. I haven’t found…” He trailed off. He had already given away too much. “I’ll find peace when I’m good and ready,” he amended.
Jack regarded him curiously, his head still tilted.
The Nephil’s ever-present air of innocence had been ground down to a mere spark under the burdens of his new godhood. Dean wondered what Cas thought of what had happened to Jack, how he had changed since taking Chuck’s powers. He’s too young for this.
“I can’t keep protecting you, Dean,” Jack finally said, regret in his eyes. “If you keep going, you’re on your own. Heaven can’t make exceptions to the natural order anymore. If I continue to interfere, I’m no better than Chuck was. I’m sorry, Dean, but not even you are exempt from the rules, not anymore.”
“I get that,” Dean said, reminded that Jack was just a kid, who had taken on far, far too much, and was just doing the best with what he had. “I’ll be good, I swear. I just need to keep going.”
“Alright,” Jack nodded. “Heaven will be waiting for you when you find what you’re looking for.”
And then he was gone, leaving Dean and Bobby alone on the road. The old man sighed. “Sorry for getting you in trouble, boy, but there weren’t many options.”
“I get it. Everything worked out in the end, at least,” Dean said. He sighed and leaned back against the Impala, turning to look up at the blue sky decorated with perfect, fluffy little clouds. “Do you want to come?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“I think this might be the end of the road for me,” Bobby said. “I’ve got my own peace to be getting back to. I hope you find yours, Dean.”
When Dean turned, Bobby was gone. He was all alone now, on his own road.
He drove, getting lost in the purr of the Impala’s engine and the Led Zeppelin blaring through her speakers. The same songs played over and over as he drove down the road, his window open and the wind ruffling through his hair, brushing through the longer strands. He had started growing it out recently, finally free of the rigid rules he had followed all his life regarding his appearance. He could almost believe that this was truly paradise.
Worlds flew by his wing mirrors, appearing for a brief second before then vanishing. Some looked ordinary, others wild and outlandish. Dean didn’t stop in any of them. They weren’t what he was looking for.
It wasn’t until he saw a brief flash of tan that he jerked the wheel, spinning the car towards the new universe. Suddenly, he was somewhere else. The sun was gone, a half-moon in its place and a forest replaced the smooth field next to the deserted road.
An angel stood on the side of the road, his trenchcoat flapping in the wind. Dean felt his breath catch in his throat, for a second almost fooled that he had found what he was looking for. But there were differences. This Cas was younger, more like how he had been years ago, when Dean had first met him. Lines from both joy and failure had yet to be carved into his face.
Of course, the biggest giveaway that the Cas standing in front of him wasn’t his Cas was the trembling human standing in front of him. The other Dean was younger as well, and shaking like a leaf. Dark blood was smeared around his mouth.
“Cas,” the younger him croaked. “Cas, man, you gotta help me. I don’t… I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“Dean…” Cas looked unsure for a second before his face went blank again, his angelic mask slotting into place. “I know it’s hard for you to understand now, but this is God’s plan. I promise, this is righteous.”
The other Dean chuckled, swaying where he stood. “Yeah, righteous, right. I’m not the righteous one, Cas, remember? That’s Sam, your precious golden boy. I’m just,” he laughed bitterly again, “‘the boy with the demon blood’. I’m tainted, and you know it.”
“What would you have me do?” Cas said, his shoulders stiffening. “Betray my brothers? Betray God? ”
“Cas…” the other Dean was shaking even more. “You need to kill me.”
Cas’ eyes widened. Clearly, this was not what he had expected the other Dean to ask of him. “Dean…”
“Please, just…” The other Dean looked down at his shaking hands. “Everything feels wrong. I knew… I knew that Ruby was using me, that I couldn’t trust her, but Sam was gone, and I needed to do something. I shouldn’t have done it, and now I feel wrong, Cas. I’m going bad, I know it.”
Dean opened the door of the Impala and stepped out onto the road, safe in the knowledge that neither one would be able to see him. Unless he interfered in a universe, as he had done before in John and Mary’s, he was invisible. He could simply observe.
“Dean,” Cas said, his composure breaking again. “No.”
“I’m a monster, Cas,” the other Dean pleaded. “You gotta get rid of me before I do something bad. C’mon, man, you know there’s something wrong here. Heaven, Hell, they’ve got a plan, and it involves me. And I…” The other Dean swallowed audibly. “I don’t wanna hurt anyone, Cas. Please.”
Dean didn’t know the full story between this version of himself and the angel. There was a whole different history, one that was only partially revealed through this brief, intimate moment – a small fraction of an iceberg peaking above the surface of the water, the rest hidden in the depths. But the way they looked at each other, the pain, hopelessness and longing in their eyes, spoke volumes about what they had been through and what they meant to each other. He could remember looking at his Cas like that, never realising the angel’s true feelings for him. Now, watching these two, Dean wondered how he could ever have been so blind.
Cas raised a hand, reaching for the other Dean, who closed his eyes, his mouth opening to release a sigh. Dean’s heart caught in his throat as he watched Cas cup his other self’s face gently. The other Dean’s eyes slowly fluttered open, his brow furrowed with confusion.
The angel caressed his cheek tenderly. Dean touched the side of his own face, trying to remember the warmth of Cas’ large, gentle hands against his skin. He had always forced himself not to lean into the touch, not wanting to appear desperate. What he wouldn’t give now to redo all those moments where he had pulled away from Cas.
“I’m so sorry, Dean,” the angel said softly. “You’re right, Heaven has a plan, and I… I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore, but I do know that I can’t let you get hurt.”
The other Dean looked confused, his mouth opening as if to speak. Then he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
Cas caught him before he could fall and held him, close and safe against his chest before heaving him into his arms. The other Dean’s head lolled back against Cas’ shoulder as the angel held him. Dean couldn’t help but think of how the position resembled countless cheesy romance novel covers of swooning women being held up by strong, heroic and often shirtless men. He wondered if his Cas had held him like that when he dragged him out of Hell.
Now that Dean was dead, he had the ability to see things that he couldn’t while he was alive. His breath caught as he watched Cas’ wings unfurl, whole and powerful, to stretch across the night. At first, the feathers looked dark, almost black, but as they grew larger, Dean could make out a beautiful array of iridescent colours sparkling across the angel’s plumage like glittering stars against a dark sky. A single flap of those enormous, beautiful wings and they were gone, leaving Dean alone on the side of the road.
Dean stood there until the sun rose, bathing him in reds and oranges. He turned his face towards the horizon, feeling the warmth on his face, and closed his eyes. He wanted to pray, but the words wouldn’t come, unable to break through the weight of his emotions and fears.
He had prayed on Earth, at first. Stood outside and called out for Cas, asking for him to come back, screaming his pain to the open sky. He had whispered his name at night in the darkness of his room between his waking and sleeping minds. He had knelt in the dungeon, clasped his hands together and begged for his angel to return to him. Afterwards, always, he waited with bated breath. Minutes slowly turned into hours. The tears dried against his skin. His body became stiff and aching as he waited in vain for something, anything.
After a while, he had given up. Part of Dean had accepted that he would never see Cas again, that he was still in the Empty, unable to be retrieved, even by the likes of the new God.
Hearing that he had been up there, all that time, hit Dean harder than he wanted to admit.
The loneliness of the abandoned road was starting to ache. Dean had felt this before when he had travelled by himself. He remembered the three weeks after his Dad left him, before he picked Sam up from Stanford. He’d wrapped up the case he was working on in New Orleans fairly quickly and then he had been by himself, filling his time with booze and women.
Dean got back into the Impala and started up the engine again. His beloved car roared to life, the wheel vibrating under his hands as he pulled back onto the road and sped off, heading into the sunset.
This time, he selected a world at random, not looking for anything in particular. He found himself cruising down an urban street, tall buildings on either side of a road clogged with other cars that the Impala passed with supernatural ease.
One particular building that towered over Dean caught his eye. At first, he wasn’t sure why – it was pretty much the same as all of the others, tall and rectangular, windows glittering in the sunlight. Then he read the huge letters emblazoned on the side.
“Hunter Corp,” Dean murmured to himself. “Huh.”
He could remember meeting the snooty versions of himself and Sam from this universe, where John had started a hunting company. Apparently, their world had been restored and they’d presumably been sent home.
Curious and maybe a bit eager to see a world where his father was spoken of so highly, Dean parked Baby outside the Hunter Corp building and entered through the revolving doors. He could make out sigils carved into the glass and a devil’s trap on the floor before he finally emerged into a large room with a high ceiling. Men and women, all in neat suits, strolled back and forth while either talking or looking at their phones. There were a few people in more casual clothes that Dean thought might be hunters, but even they dressed far fancier than hunters in Dean’s world did.
He drifted through the crowd, weaving through the masses with ease. He soon noticed another person making their way through the crowd, though this person lacked the grace that Dean now had. He almost crashed into a tall woman talking rapidly on a phone and dropped the stack of papers he had pressed against his chest.
“S-sorry!” he stuttered. Dean recognised his voice and found himself staring as Kevin Tran dropped to the floor to gather up the scattered papers. He straightened, nervously adjusting the wire-framed glasses perched on his nose before hurrying off again. Dean followed him.
Kevin left the first room and passed into a long, deserted hallway, his pace quickening now that there were fewer obstacles. Dean kept following as the hallway twisted and turned, taking note of the sigils drawn on the walls, some of them a mystery to him while others he recognised from his own hunting days.
Finally, Kevin paused outside of a door, taking a second to try and flatten his erratic hair and make himself look presentable before opening it
“—don’t want to!” Dean recognised the voice of his Hunter Corp doppelganger, the higher-class edge dulled by the anger in his tone.
Kevin stopped in the doorway and Dean looked over his shoulder. The Hunter Corp versions of Dean and John were sitting in a rectangular room around a large wooden oval table. Windows framed one side of the room, letting in bright sunlight. John was clean-shaven and his mostly grey hair was cut short. The charcoal suit he wore looked expensive but still somewhat casual and was far nicer than anything Dean had seen his father wear. The other version of Dean was dressed similarly to how he had been when Dean had met him. The biggest difference was the scowl on his face.
“This isn’t about what you want to do, Dean, this is about what’s best for the company!” John’s voice was pretty much the same, rough-edged and authoritative. “And, like it or not, you’re the only person he’s willing to work with!”
“So? Just make him work with someone else! We shouldn’t be trying to suck up to those–”
Kevin cleared his throat, making both men pause in their argument and look up. “Erm…” Kevin trailed off nervously before stepping into the room, clearly trying to force some confidence. “He’s here.”
Apparently, no elaboration was needed about exactly who he was. Hunter Corp Dean’s scowl deepened, while John sat up straighter, his eyes dark and calculating.
“Where is he?” the older man asked.
“Waiting,” Kevin said. “He said he’d come when Dean called.”
The other Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes. John turned to glare at his son. “Whatever he is, he saved your life, Dean. Multiple times.”
“I had it handled!” the other Dean snapped. “I don’t need some stupid angel swooping in and screwing around on my hunts!”
John sighed, shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is our only in with Heaven. I need you to make this work, son.”
Hunter Corp Dean shifted uncomfortably, appearing to be caught off balance by his father’s sudden sincerity. Dean could remember two or three similar moments from his childhood when his father had shown him some vulnerability, making Dean cave to whatever his demands had been.
“Fine,” the other Dean finally said unhappily. “Kevin, can you go tell Castiel that we’re ready—”
“Hello, Dean.”
Everyone in the room except Dean, who was well used to the suddenness of an angel’s arrival, startled. The two hunters reached for their sides where Dean was sure they had weapons hidden, while Kevin simply shrank back, clutching his papers protectively.
Everyone was staring at something behind Dean, so he turned.
This Cas looked more comfortable in his human vessel than the last one, similar to Dean’s own version of the angel. His clothes were different as well, the oversized trenchcoat missing and, while he still wore his sky blue tie with the same loosened knot, it was tucked into a snug black waistcoat which he wore instead of an ill-fitting suit jacket. The dark grey shirt he wore underneath was rolled up to his elbows, showing off his muscled forearms.
Dean licked his lips as he noticed that Cas’ blue eyes were framed with dark eyeliner, making the cerulean colour appear even more deep and soulful. His hair was messy, like Dean’s Cas, but it appeared more purposeful and less like he had just rolled out of bed or had some wild sex. Tattooed on one of his exposed forearms was a long angel blade, the hilt disappearing under his sleeve while the tip of the blade rested in the centre of his palm. The other arm was decorated with a black cross covered in blue flowers and green vines, and his open collar revealed a hint of a third tattoo peeking out. It looked like the edge of a blue-tinted feather. His nails were manicured and painted a dark, shiny blue colour that appeared almost black.
The other Dean recovered first from Cas’ unexpected arrival, his eyes hardening into a glare. “What have I told you about sneaking up on people? We could’ve shot you!”
Cas tilted his head slightly. While his expression didn’t change much, Dean was pretty sure he saw the corner of the angel’s mouth quirk upwards briefly in a small smirk.
“Your weapons won’t harm me,” he said. “Why should I be afraid?”
The other Dean glowered but, before he could say anything else, John stood up and offered his hand to Cas.
“John Winchester,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to work with you, I’m so glad that Heaven is finally open to negotiations.”
Cas looked down at John’s hand neutrally but made no move to take it.
“My superiors are unlikely to send anyone else to work with you,” the angel said, meeting John’s eyes unblinkingly again. “They don’t like humans, and they don’t trust your corporation.”
John lowered his hand and took a step back, disarmed by Cas’ bluntness.
“Then why have they agreed to let you work with us?” he asked.
“They didn’t.” Cas didn’t elaborate any further before sitting down at the table, his intense gaze focusing on the other Dean. “I would like to discuss my partnership with Dean.”
“Of course—”
“Alone,” Cas added, speaking over John, all without taking his eyes off the other Dean.
John clenched his fists, looking annoyed at being dismissed, before he marched out of the room, followed by a nervous-looking Kevin. No sooner had the door slammed behind them that the other Dean was on his feet, striding angrily towards Cas, who didn’t so much as flinch at the man’s obvious anger.
“What are you playing at?” the man hissed, folding his arms. “You’re not an emissary from Heaven!”
“I never said I was,” Cas replied, staring evenly at Dean.
“Then why does my father—”
“He made an assumption that I didn’t see the need to correct,” Cas explained calmly.
“Pft. Right.” The other Dean began pacing back and forth across the floor, clearly agitated. Cas watched him, looking mildly amused. “I supposed you didn’t see the need to tell him that you were thrown out of Heaven.”
“No, I didn’t see the relevance,” Cas said. “Especially since, apparently, you never told him.”
A hint of a flush crept its way up the other Dean’s collar. “Yeah, well,” he muttered. “It’s not anyone else’s business.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Cas stood up and walked (well, prowled might be more accurate, with the way his powerful shoulders moved and the predatory look in his eyes) towards the other Dean, who had stopped pacing and was now standing against a wall, watching Cas approach. “Now, we get to work together on a more official basis.”
“I kinda liked being unofficial,” the other Dean muttered, pinned under Cas’ gaze.
Cas placed one of his hands against the wall beside the other Dean’s head while the other trailed across the man’s arm. Dean couldn’t see the angel’s face, but he did see the other Dean swallow, eyeing Cas with apprehensive lust.
“Cas…” He licked his lips before closing his eyes, taking a second to gather himself. He pushed past Cas and walked back towards the table. He didn’t turn back. “Look, before… that was a one-time thing, okay, man? We do this, it is a purely professional relationship.” The other Dean glanced over his shoulder, still not quite looking at Cas. “I don’t hook up with colleagues. Especially not…” He gestured vaguely towards Cas. “Creatures. Or men.”
The blank look in Cas’ eyes made Dean’s chest feel suddenly hollow, as if someone had torn out his insides, leaving him empty and aching.
“Of course, Dean,” Cas said, any inflexions that had been in his voice gone now and replaced with angelic stiffness. “I apologise for overstepping.”
“Yeah, well…” The other Dean was looking down at the table in front of him now, his arms crossed again. “Just so we’re clear. It’s nothing personal.”
“Of course,” Cas repeated. He looked stiffer now, more like the inhuman angel Dean had first met.
Dean backed out of the room, not wanting to see any more. Had he ever said or done anything to make Cas shut down like that? Had he just not noticed how it affected the angel? What kind of person did that make him?
He made his way back down the winding hallways, blindly searching for the way out. He wasn’t sure how he made it back to the Impala but, once he did, he got in and sat down with his eyes closed, breathing in the familiar scent. Fuckin’ Cas, the same in every world, always choosing Dean, even when Dean wouldn’t choose him back. Even when he was discarded, berated, and degraded for his loyalty.
When Dean opened his eyes again, he was back on the endless road between the worlds. He knew he could turn back and not see any more, not risk any more worlds where he had failed. He could go to Heaven and wait for Sam. He could have a beer with Bobby. He could reunite with his parents. He could give up his fruitless, heartbreaking search and try to find peace some other way.
“You don’t make it easy, do you, buddy?” Dean muttered to himself as he started the car and kept going. “I’m coming.”
The road got bumpier as he kept driving, concrete replaced with gravel. Dean parked the Impala next to a row of trailers and got out. He followed the distant voices he could hear somewhere past the trailers and emerged onto a large field. A crowd of people were milling around, many of them holding expensive, complicated-looking camera equipment.
“Okay, places, everyone!” called a guy with a black cap pulled low over his face to keep the sun out of his eyes. “Dean, Cas, back to your marks — we’re going to go from the healing.”
Another one of Dean’s doppelgangers emerged from the crowd and positioned himself carefully on the field, ducking his head to look at something down by his feet before standing up straight again. Another version of Cas joined him. The two men spoke to each other quietly, sharing a smile.
“Okay, Cas, put your hand on Dean’s face.” Cas followed the instruction, cradling the alternate Dean’s face tenderly. “Good, that’s good. Dean, hands on Cas’ waist.” The other Dean laughed awkwardly as he gently gripped Cas’ waist. “Okay, Mike’s just been healed by Sariel. We’re gonna go from, ‘You’re my family.’ Got it, boys?”
“Yep,” the other Dean said while Cas nodded before focusing on Dean again, eyes blazing with intensity.
“Okay. Ready? And… action. ”
Dean saw the other him take a deep breath, wholly focused on Cas.
“You’re my family, Sar,” he said, his voice deeper, choked with emotion. “I… I really care about you.”
The smile that Cas gave the other Dean in return was horribly reminiscent of Cas’ rapturous expression before the Empty had taken him away.
“Michael,” Cas said, stroking his thumb across the other Dean’s cheek. “More than anything, I want to stay with you, but I have duties. Heaven needs me—”
“Come on, man, I need you!” the other Dean burst, pulling Cas closer against him, their faces mere inches apart. Cas’ eyes flickered down to the other Dean’s mouth, his tongue emerging to moisten his own lips.
“Michael…” Cas trailed off, waiting for something.
The other Dean hesitated, frozen for a second before finally pressing in and kissing Cas. Dean couldn’t breathe as he watched another version of himself locking lips with an alternate version of his angel, kissing with a ferocity and intensity that Dean had never seen before.
“And, cut!” The other Dean froze again before taking a quick step back and wiping his mouth against the back of his hand. Cas blinked, looking dazed. “That was great, Dean, now we’re gonna need to get some close-ups. Get back to your mark.”
Dean watched from afar as the director aimed the camera at his uncomfortable other self and Cas and took shot after shot of the two of them kissing, talking or simply embracing. Watching Cas kiss another version of himself, over and over, alternating from gentle to rough, loving to fierce, brought Dean’s desires to the surface again. He had never gotten to kiss or hold Cas as this Dean was. Any touch they had shared was fleeting — Dean had never allowed himself to linger.
He had missed out on so much, and because of what? Protecting his masculinity? Not disappointing his long-dead father?
“Okay, Dean, Cas, take five!” the director called out.
Dean followed his other self and Cas as they walked back towards the trailers. The other Dean paused outside of one, prompting Cas to stop as well, waiting and watching the other Dean expectantly.
“You wanna…” The other Dean cleared his throat, his eyes darting downwards before meeting Cas’ again. “You wanna come in and hang out? Just until they need us again?”
Cas smiled at him. “Sure.”
Dean followed the two of them into the trailer, slipping in just before Dean shut the door behind him. The interior greatly resembled the trailer Dean had been inside in the alternate universe where he and Sam were fictional characters and Cas was played by some guy called Misha (And really? Misha? ), but all of the photos were quite clearly of him, Dean, and not Jensen — or whatever the actor’s name had been.
“I thought that went really well,” Cas said, sitting down on a comfy-looking couch. The other Dean hesitated before sitting next to him, a bit too close to Cas. “You really seemed to disappear into Michael there.”
“Yeah,” the other Dean said, scratching the back of his neck. “You did really good. Really brought Sar to life and all.” He chuckled awkwardly.
“I think it’s such a big step as well,” Cas said, his eyes glowing with enthusiasm. “Confirming that Michael and Sariel really do have romantic feelings for each other.”
“Yeah…”
“I’m glad I’ll finally have a good answer for fans who ask me. After the episode airs, of course,” Cas added with a mischievous grin.
“Yeah,” the other Dean repeated again, still looking uncomfortable.
Cas finally seemed to notice, his brow furrowing as he looked over at the man. “Dean? Is something wrong?”
“You’re not worried?” the other Dean asked. “About how people are going to see this?”
“I don’t understand,” Cas told him.
The other Dean groaned in frustration, burying his head in his hands momentarily before bursting out, “Us, Cas! How people are going to see us now? You’re not concerned at all?”
“Dean, I’m still not sure what—”
“You know I’m not gay, right?” The words exploded out of Dean like water from a breaking dam.
Cas’ face smoothed out, but there was something in his eyes, a look that Dean was beginning to grow very familiar with.
“I know, Dean,” he said, his tone guarded.
“What we do on screen, it’s not real. I’m not… I’m not like that, man.”
“I know,” Cas said again.
“Yeah. Good. So…” The other Dean trailed off, caught in Cas’ gaze. “Cas…”
Dean knew that look, of course he did. Why, in every universe, did he do this to himself? Why did he try to pretend to be something he wasn’t, hiding his true feelings behind a mask of toxic masculinity?
“Cas,” the other Dean said again, softer this time. “Cas, I—”
He was interrupted by a knock on the trailer door. “Dean? The boss wants you back, he’s got a couple more shots he wants to do.”
“We’ll be right out!” the other Dean shouted back after a second.
Cas stood up first. The other Dean rose a few seconds later, reaching out tentatively.
“You, er…” The other Dean glanced down at Cas’ hand before looking back up into his blue eyes. “You okay, buddy?”
“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas said. He smiled again, but this time it looked stiff and forced. “We should get going.”
“Yeah…” The other Dean looked as if he wanted to say more, but then Cas turned away and walked towards the door, pulling it open before glancing back at the other Dean.
“Coming?” he asked.
The other Dean swallowed and then nodded before following Cas out and shutting the door.
Dean didn’t linger long in the trailer before making his way back to the Impala. In every world, they seemed to be doomed. Cas would choose him, and then Dean would screw up. Or, perhaps worse, they were doomed to never talk to each other about how they really felt. Maybe, in his own world, if Cas had never made that deal, they would have gone on like that as well, with neither being able to express how much they cared for the other.
He got into the Impala yet again and pulled away from the row of trailers and back onto the main road, glancing back in his rear-view mirror to watch as the film set slowly faded like a mirage in a desert. Dean was more than happy to leave that world and that cowardly version of himself in the dust.
The road quickly turned from concrete to dirt and the grass in the lush green field became yellowing and scraggly. The wheels of the car kicked dust up around the Impala as she sped down the road. It wasn’t long before Dean found himself in a small town.
“Oh, no way…” He parked the Impala and got out, feeling giddy as he took in his surroundings.
There were no other cars on the road, just horses and horse-drawn carts. The women wore long, old-fashioned dresses, while the men were dressed in rugged coats, old boots and wide-brimmed hats.
He was in the old west.
He found himself grinning as he walked around, looking at the rough houses and the old-style saloons, content to just observe for now. The people went about their daily business, bartering and gossiping with each other.
Dean was still strolling leisurely when he heard someone yell, “There! Get him!”
Someone sprinted past Dean, barreling through the street haphazardly, a long coat flapping behind him. Two more people ran after him. Dean turned, watching as the man ran away from his pursuers, recognising the familiar gait and figure. He had found another one of his alternate selves.
This version, from what little Dean could make out, was dressed like his ideal of a cowboy; a long coat made of brown leather, tall boots and of course, a cowboy hat, which he was currently holding onto his head with one hand as he jumped over a fence.
One of the men trying to pursue him attempted to vault over the fence as well but tripped and fell to the ground. The other cowboy version of Dean turned briefly at the sound of the body hitting the dirt, letting out a laugh.
“Clumsy, huh, chuckles?”
The other Dean’s taunts, unfortunately, gave his second pursuer enough time to catch up and tackle him to the ground.
Dean walked over and joined the crowd watching the other Dean get arrested. The two men, who Dean recognised as Uriel and Ishim, shoved the other Dean’s face roughly into the ground and forced handcuffs made out of some kind of black metal onto his wrists.
“Not so cocky now, Winchester,” Ishim snarked as he hauled Dean upright.
“What’s going on?” a familiar deep voice called. The crowd immediately parted as if commanded by a divine force, and Dean watched, his mouth dry, as Cas emerged.
This Castiel wore a long, tan coat over a neat cream-white shirt with a dark brown vest. The brim of his brown hat was pulled low over his eyes, casting his face into shadow, but Dean knew it was him. He’d know Cas anywhere, in any world, in any form.
Heat curled deep inside Dean’s belly. It felt similar to the time he had forced Cas to wear a cheap cowboy hat on the case in Dodge City, right after the angel had been resurrected, but magnified tenfold. His throat bobbed as Cas strode past him, his blue eyes focused on the alternate version of Dean at his feet.
The other Dean managed a grin, falling back on a defence mechanism that Dean had used for years in his own world. His hat had fallen off and his face was now covered in dirt but, somehow, he still managed to feign confidence and act as if he was in control of the situation.
“Heya, sheriff,” he drawled, winking. “Come to throw me in jail?”
“Dean?” Cas’ brow furrowed. “What—”
“Winchester broke into Mayor Adler’s house, Sheriff,” Uriel said, eyes gleaming with subtle glee.
“Yeah,” Ishim said. “Adler told us to bring ‘im in.”
“That’s right!” Another man shoved his way to the front of the crowd, this one dressed in a neat black suit and a bowler hat. Dean recognised Zachariah as he came to a stop in front of Cas, a smug sneer fixed on his face. “Sheriff Milton, you are to take that man in. He’s the one who’s been robbing all the fine folk comin’ into our good town. He’s the one who killed Miss Milton!”
Shocked murmurs followed Zachariah’s accusations.
“Now wait a minute—” the other Dean started to say, cut off when Uriel delivered a vicious kick to the back of his leg, forcing him down onto his knees.
Zachariah approached and grabbed the other Dean’s chin, forcing the man in chains to look up at him. “You’ve always been nothin’ but a petty thief with delusions of grandeur. And now you’re gonna be put down like the filthy dog that you are.” He spat on the other Dean’s face before looking up at Uriel and Ishim. “Take him away!” he said, raising his voice so that everyone else could hear. “In the morning, he’ll hang!”
Several people gasped, and a couple of voices rose in protest and anger.
“I didn’t—!” The other Dean tried to yell, only to have Zachariah backhand him across the face.
“Get this scum out of my sight!” Zachariah yelled. He turned towards Cas, who hadn’t yet moved. The shadow Cas’ hat cast over his face made his expression unreadable. “Milton, do your job, or I’ll find someone else to do it for you.”
Cas stayed silent and still for a few seconds more before nodding stiffly. He approached the other Dean, waving off Ishim and Uriel when they tried to help. He grabbed the other Dean’s arm roughly and pulled him up to his feet before leading him away.
“Cas—” the other Dean said.
“Quiet,” Cas said, shooting the man a glare. “No talking.”
Dean followed after them, noticing a couple of other people trying to do the same before being forcefully turned away by Uriel and Ishim. The other Dean was taken to a small, rundown jailhouse. The black metal of the handcuffs clinked as Cas removed them before shoving the other Dean into a cell.
“Cas, c’mon, you gotta believe me!” the other Dean pleaded, his hands wrapped around the bars as Cas locked the cell. “I never killed anyone!”
Cas sat down in a rickety chair just out of reach of the bars. He had taken his coat off, revealing a badge on his belt, shining dully in the dim light. He removed his hat and placed it on the back of his chair before running a hand through his dark hair, messing it up even more.
“But,” he said, his tone controlled and precise, “you have been robbing people.”
The other Dean swallowed before glancing away from him.
“Yeah,” he finally said. “But they were Adler’s people! Cas, he’s been stealing from the town! I only took from people he’d been doing business with, and I gave it all away! C’mon, you know me!”
“You lied to me.” Cas crossed his arms before looking down at the floor. “I don’t know you, Dean, not really. You didn’t trust me.”
“I did this for you!” the other Dean said, desperation leaking into his voice. “The town was dying, Cas, you said it yourself! Zachariah was bleeding us dry, and there wasn’t a thing you could do, so I did it for you! And I wanted to tell you, but you’re the sheriff! You’re the law!”
“And what about Anna?” Cas said, looking up at the other Dean again.
“You know I’d never hurt Anna,” the other Dean said, his tone softer. “You and her, you were always like siblings to me ‘n Sammy.”
Cas snorted. “She was a sister to you? After what you and she did?” The colour from the other Dean’s face drained. Cas thrust out his chin, clearly trying to hold on to his anger, but his eyes betrayed the hurt he felt. “She told me, Dean. That you and she were intimate.”
“Cas…” The other Dean blinked, his eyes suspiciously shiny. “It was a mistake. We both agreed. I didn’t know you knew…”
“How did she die?” Cas asked, his eyes steely again. “If you didn’t kill her, what did?”
“Adler,” Dean said. “She was helping us, and he found out.”
“You trusted her,” Cas said hollowly.
“Cas, I—”
“Who else? Who else was helping you?” Dean heard the unspoken question underneath Cas’ words. Who else did you trust over me? “Sam, of course. And who else? Benny? Charlie? Crowley?”
The other Dean seemed to get guiltier with each name spoken.
“Crowley was supplying us. He’s probably playing some kinda angle, my guess is that he wants to be mayor—”
“And yet you trusted him,” Cas snapped. He stood up and fitted his hat on his head again. “Goodbye, Dean.”
“Cas, they’re gonna kill me!” the other Dean yelled after Cas’ retreating back. “C’mon, I know you’re angry, but you can’t just—” The decrepit wooden door slammed audibly. “Dammit!” The other Dean slammed his hands against the bars.
Dean sat down in the chair Cas had vacated and watched as his alternate self paced back and forth, muttering to himself and occasionally driving his fist into the wall in a brief fit of fury.
It had been a long time since Dean had slept. Back on Earth, if he had fallen asleep in a chair, he would have woken up with his back screaming. One of the perks of being dead was not having to worry about an ageing human body. The light began to dim, night setting in, as Dean drifted off.
He was woken hours later by the sound of footsteps. He cracked open an eye. It was dark, but he could just make out a figure in front of the cell as well as his other self, who was pushing himself to his feet. His eyes were wide and, from what Dean could see of his expression, he looked surprised.
“Cas?” he whispered. The figure shushed him. There was a jingle of keys, and then the cell door swung open. The other Dean walked out slowly, never taking his eyes off the man in front of him. “What—”
“Quiet,” Cas ordered. The lamp in his hand was held low, but Dean could just make out the determined set of Cas’ jaw and the deep furrow between his eyebrows. “I’m getting you out of here. Come on.”
Dean stood up and followed the other two out of the old jailhouse. Cas led them through a dark alleyway and then out onto yet another dirt road.
Two horses, one pitch black and the other a lighter brown, were tied to a building. The other Dean, upon seeing them, immediately dashed over to the black one.
“Hey, Baby,” he cooed, patting her nose. “How’s my girl?” The horse whinnied, nuzzling at his hand.
“We should get going,” Cas said. “At first light, Uriel will arrive to fetch you from your cell.”
The other Dean turned back towards Cas. Dean’s eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness for him to make out the sheepish expression on the other Dean’s face.
“I’m—”
“There’s no time, Dean,” Cas said briskly, extinguishing the lamp before striding past Dean towards the other horse, which he mounted gracefully after securing the lamp to its saddle and untying the rope securing it. “We have to go, now.”
The other Dean looked as if he wanted to argue but, after a few seconds, he sighed and complied, swinging himself up into the black horse's saddle.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, and it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. You’re the person I trust most in the world, Cas. We’re brothers. I hope you know that.”
Cas ducked his head, hiding his expression. When he answered, his voice was flat, emotionless. “I know, Dean.”
Both men were silent as they rode off, disappearing into the night, leaving the little town and Dean in the dust behind them.