Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

The Impala’s engine was loud as Dean drove, once again aimless with no destination in mind other than the vague goal he’d had since the beginning. The scenery passed at a leisurely pace as he cruised along, his arm resting on the open window, his music turned up so he could hear it over the howling wind rushing past him.

After what felt like a few million miles, he noticed a forest in the distance, rapidly getting closer. Smoke curled up above the branches, slowly dancing in loops and whorls.

Once Baby made it into the trees, Dean had to roll his window up, the cold suddenly too overwhelming for him. He turned on the heater, letting it fill the car with warmth.

It didn’t take long before Dean was driving into a clearing and parking next to another version of his Baby. He got out, running a hand across the hood of the second car as he passed. There was a third car next to it as well — an old, run-down red one that Dean was almost certain was stolen.

He could see the bright glow of a fire just through the trees. He could smell something burning and hear the crackle of the fire consuming wood.

He hesitated, some kind of sixth sense telling him that he was about to walk into something he didn’t want to see. Unfortunately, Dean wasn’t that good at following his own instructions. His breath misted in front of him as he walked towards the fire.

The first thing he saw after he crossed through the line of trees was two familiar figures, their backs to Dean, silhouetted against the fire. The second thing he saw was the pyre, burning away, smoke wafting up into the air.

Dean walked forwards slowly, his eyes focused on the pyre. Somehow, he just knew who was being given a hunter's funeral. He could remember a similar scene in his own world after Cas had died at the hands of Lucifer. He had insisted he prepared Cas for his funeral by himself, not wanting anyone but him to touch the corpse of his best friend. Cas’ expression had been so serene, reminding Dean of the statues of angels he had seen in churches, their wings folded demurely as sightless eyes stared out from blank, holy faces.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. The taller of the figures reached out to the other one.

“Dean—”

“Leave me alone, Sam,” the second man snapped, raising a hand to ward off his brother. “I’m fine, I just… I don’t want to talk, okay, man?”

Dean tore his eyes away from the pyre and turned, his back to the burning heat. This version of Sam looked almost exactly like the one he had left behind on Earth. Dean didn’t realise how much he’d missed having his brother at his side until now. While Sam looked a few years younger than he had been on Dean’s Earth, the other version of Dean looked, if anything, older. There were dark circles under his bloodshot green eyes, and his face looked thin and pale.

Dean could remember the pain he had felt when he had burned Cas’ body years ago. Watching the fire slowly consuming the corpse had been like having a limb slowly hacked off.

The cold became harder to ignore as the day slowly turned into night. Dean, fortunately, was less affected by the cold now, but he could see Sam shivering, cold despite the warmth of the still blazing fire.

“Dean,” Sam tried again. “Dean, we should go.”

“No.” The single word was spoken so quietly that Dean almost missed it.

“Dean?”

“No!” the other Dean yelled, turning to his brother, his hands balled into fists.

Sam backed away, his hands raised. “Dean—”

“Leave!” the other Dean screamed, advancing on Sam. “Fuck off if it’s so important to you! Get out of here and leave me alone!”

The younger Winchester’s eyes darted between the other Dean and the pyre, unsure. The other Dean glared at his brother for a few seconds longer, his breaths coming out in harsh pants from his sudden outburst, before he turned back to the fire.

“Just… leave me alone,” he said, his anger gone and defeat in its place.

Sam hesitated before turning and tramping away through the trees, the frozen earth crunching under his shoes. Dean stayed with his alternate self, both of them watching the blaze.

“Cas…” Dean glanced towards his other self. The man’s eyes were closed, and his head was tilted downwards. “I know you probably can’t hear me, but on the off chance that you can… I need you to come back, buddy. I can’t do this anymore, not without you. There’s so much… So much, I never got to do with you. Never got to tell you.” Dean swallowed, trying to tamp down his rising emotions as he listened to the desperate prayer. “Please, Cas. Please.”

The other Dean took a deep, slightly shaking breath. He exhaled, and then he opened his eyes slowly, as if he were waiting for a miracle to happen. But, of course, Cas wasn’t there. The only ghost present was the second version of Dean, silent at his side.

Dean followed as the other Dean left the pyre and walked back toward the cars, his steps slow and laboured as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Or maybe just the dead weight of his world.

When they made it through the trees, the third car was gone, leaving only the two Impalas behind. The other Dean didn’t even glance at the second Impala that had appeared next to his as he began fishing around in his pockets, visibly becoming more and more frustrated the longer the car keys evaded him.

“Fuck!” He smashed his fist against the hood of the car. “God fucking dammit!” He hit the car again and then followed it up with a kick to one of the tires.

Dean could remember how it felt as the anger bubbled up, begging to be released. How good it felt, if only for a moment, to drive his fist into something, anything, anyone. Afterward, it was always like waking up from a night of getting black-out drunk. The brief high, the violent release of emotions, they weren’t worth the fallout.

The Impala’s window shattered, bringing Dean abruptly out of his thoughts. “Son of a bitch!” The other Dean cradled his hand against his chest as he collapsed onto the ground, his back resting against the Impala. He brought his knees up to his chest and pressed his free hand over his eyes as pained, sobbing sounds escaped from him. Dean felt tears threaten to spill from his own eyes as he was forced to recall the times he had lost Cas, seemingly forever.

He stood over his other self, huddled against the car, and felt a sudden strong urge to scream, to tell Cas to drop whatever cosmic bullshit had him so occupied and get his feathered ass down so that he and Dean could talk, face to face.

Dean sighed and was just about to walk away when his other self suddenly looked up. “Cas?” The other Dean pushed himself upright and into Dean’s personal space, bringing the two of them nose-to-nose. Dean could feel his alternate counterpart’s warm breaths as he looked around desperately. “Cas? Buddy, is that you?”

Dean managed to sidestep out of the way before the other Dean began walking forward, still calling out for Cas. He didn’t wait around once the other him had disappeared into the trees and instead went back to his undamaged car. In a flash, he was back on the road, racing away from the last world and into another.

This time, the street was lined with modern houses, all painted cheerful colours with neat lawns — the picture-perfect suburbia.

Though Dean would never admit it, he had dreamed of living in a place like this since he was a kid. When he was a boy, he had imagined having his beautiful, loving mother, alive and well, cooking dinners, taking him to sports practices, and tucking him into bed at night. As he grew older, the dream changed. Mary had been replaced with a perfect wife who would kiss him before he went to work and watch fondly as he played catch in their white picket-fenced yard with their two-point-five kids.

And then, slowly, the beautiful woman in his fantasies was replaced with a thick, masculine body wearing a stupid, glorious trenchcoat, a face with a stubbled jaw and blue eyes, and a voice like gravel.

Among the picturesque houses, there was one that stuck out, a weed among pristine roses. The lawn was overgrown, there were bottles dotted among the yellowing grass, and all the curtains were closed. A little girl with long, messy blond hair was sitting on the steps that led up to the open front door, huddled in an oversized leather jacket. She looked vaguely familiar, but Dean couldn’t place her. He was already slowing the car when he noticed another Impala in the open garage.

He parked Baby on the side of the street and had just entered the yard when the little girl stood up and walked inside. Dean managed to slip into the house just before she shut the door and walked down the hall after her. The inside of the house was dim and there was a strong smell of nicotine and alcohol.

At the end of the hall, there was a slightly ajar door that the little girl pushed open. Dean could hear the sound of someone snoring lightly as he followed her inside.

The room was better lit than most of the house by a TV quietly playing some random show. A man was draped across a couch facing the TV, his face buried in a stained cushion and an arm trailing on the floor, fingers still loosely wrapped around the neck of an empty bottle. A low table between the TV and the couch was covered in bottles, plates of half-eaten food, and open packets of chips and other snacks. A chipped glass ashtray containing several cigarette butts and a lot of ash rested precariously on a corner of the table.

“Daddy?” the little girl said, her voice hushed. The man on the couch stirred and then let out a low groan. The kid took a step forward. “Dad?”

The man turned, blinking his eyes open slowly. “Hey, baby girl,” the other Dean said, his voice almost as rough as Cas’. “Sorry, did I oversleep again?”

“Yeah,” the girl said gently. “It’s 4:00.”

“Dammit, really?” The other Dean gingerly pushed himself into a seated position, squinting his eyes against the almost non-existent light. “Sorry, kid.”

“It’s alright,” the girl said, fidgeting with the large jacket (which Dean now recognised as one of his), her eyes on the floor.

This version of Dean looked terrible. His hair was longer than Dean’s, distinctly unkempt and shiny with grease. His growing beard was scruffy and uneven, and his eyes were dull and bloodshot. Even from where he stood, across the room, Dean could smell the stench of sweat and alcohol coming from him.

The girl turned to leave the room.

“Claire,” the other Dean called out before she could make it to the door. “Come here. Please.”

Dean did a double-take at the name. He was surprised he hadn’t recognised her but, then again, the last time he had seen his world’s Claire Novak, she was almost two decades older, wearing far too much eyeliner and dressed in ripped jeans with a t-shirt full of holes and a short leather jacket.

Claire hesitated before turning and walking towards the man, stopping right in front of him. The other Dean enfolded her in his arms, pulling her head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Claire.”

“I know, Daddy,” Claire said, her voice muffled by the other Dean’s shirt.

“It’s gonna get better, kid, I promise,” the other Dean said. “I know it’s been hard since…” Dean saw his counterpart’s throat bob as he swallowed down his emotions. “It’s been a hard few months, but I promise, it’s going to be… I’m going to be better.”

Dean could remember empty promises like that being made to him by his own father when he was very young, before John’s grief had fully morphed into anger. His father would disappear for hours, occasionally even an entire day, leaving five-year-old Dean to look after his infant brother and when he returned, drunk and often in tears, he would beg for Dean’s forgiveness, promising that things would be different soon.

Over the years, as John had hardened, as Sam had become less Dean’s brother and more his responsibility, the apologies and tears had stopped. Instead, it was more likely that John would point out all of the mistakes Dean had made, admonishing him for not looking after Sam properly and correcting his behaviour, sometimes with the aid of his fists. Years later, Dean had vowed never to be a father like that. He had broken that promise with Jack, and now he was watching another version of him breaking that promise with Claire.

“Okay, Dad,” Claire murmured, looking resigned as she pulled away. “Can we get pepperoni?”

“Sure, kid.” The other Dean ruffled her hair. “I’ll order it now.”

Claire left the room, leaving the other Dean alone on the couch. The other Dean rubbed a hand over his face before looking down at the coffee table. He shoved some of the packets onto the floor, fishing around the plates, bottles and half-eaten food until he pulled out a phone with a badly cracked screen. Dean looked around the room as the other him called up some pizza place and mumbled out the order.

The walls were bare, but there were some hooks where pictures had presumably been. In the back of the room, behind the couch, was a tall bookshelf. Most of the shelves were filled with books, but two were stocked with DVDs and one with cassette tapes. Most of them were familiar, albums that Dean owned, but there were a couple of custom ones, their labels written out in Dean’s handwriting. One said Claire’s Top Traxx, and had a little heart dotted out next to it in a different coloured pen.

Dean almost missed the one tucked away in a corner, the name mostly hidden. For Cas, love from Dean. The word love was crossed out but still readable. Dean pulled the case out before flipping it open. Tucked inside, in front of the tape, was a photo. Dean and Cas, their arms wrapped around each other, both in matching tuxedos. In the photo, Dean’s left hand rested on Cas’ chest, showing off a gold ring on his fourth finger.

“Fuck.” Dean turned towards his other self, who was hunched over, his head buried in his hands. His voice was strained, like he was holding back a sob. “I can’t do this.”

Dean waited, but his other self didn’t say anything else. Dean didn’t need him to talk again anyway. He knew enough to put the pieces together to form the terrible reality of this world. A world where he had the balls to go after Cas, only to lose him.

He walked through the house, silent as a ghost, and got back into his Impala. Another world beckoned him onward.

It took him a few minutes to recognise the ruined city he was driving through. An old memory brought itself to his attention — Dean, walking through the streets with a gun slung over his shoulder alongside a future version of himself, leading a rag-tag group that had included a hedonistic junkie version of Cas on a suicide mission to kill the Devil wearing his brother’s body. He hadn’t thought about the apocalyptic version of 2014 in years. It was uncomfortable, recalling watching that other version of him getting his neck snapped by a creature that looked like his brother, and it was downright painful to see what had become of Cas.

Despite not really wanting to see his own corpse, he found himself driving in that direction, more from lack of options than anything else. The Impala shouldn’t have been able to fit through the increasingly small gaps between the buildings, but he drove on without any trouble.

When he got there, Lucifer was gone, but there was still a fallen angel in the small garden where his other self had died.

Cas’ alternate self from this nightmare timeline knelt beside the other Dean’s corpse, his back to the Impala. A gun lay abandoned at his side. The light filtering down on him gave the impression of a halo around his head. Cas had always looked angelic to Dean, maybe because he knew Cas’ true nature.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he sat in the Impala, watching the fallen angel, neither of them moving. It was almost peaceful.

And then, Cas’ head shot around. He stood up, reaching into his waistband for a second, smaller handgun and fitting it into his hands as he rose. Dean had forgotten how rugged this Cas looked, with his hair curled over his forehead and the extra stubble across his face. At first, he thought that Cas was looking directly at him, that he had somehow sensed him, but then the fallen angel was turning away, swinging his gun around with him.

“Who’s there?” he called, his voice seeming to echo through the empty garden. “Show yourself!”

There was a chuckle and then Lucifer, still wearing Sam, appeared. Cas immediately turned to face him, his hands steady as he aimed directly at Lucifer’s heart.

“Hello, brother,” the devil purred. He began to slowly circle Cas, stepping across the other Dean’s corpse to do so. Cas’ jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes were dark with rage and grief. “It’s been a while.”

“Lucifer,” Cas growled.

“In the flesh.” Lucifer chuckled again, looking down at himself before meeting Cas’ eyes again. “Or, rather, Sam’s flesh.” Lucifer’s lips fell into a pout, though his eyes still sparkled with malicious glee. “Oh, little brother, look what you’ve become. It’s rather sad. You’re human now, and a pathetic human at that.” A smirk pulled at the Devil’s lips again as he prowled slowly around Cas, debris crushing under his shoes. “Don’t think I don’t know. You, trailing after Dean Winchester like a pitiful little dog, then turning to hedonism when you learnt that he wasn’t capable of love.”

“Dean Winchester is the most loving, caring human in this whole damned universe!” Cas shouted, his voice trembling slightly.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at Cas’ outburst.

“Okay,” he said. “Maybe he was. Maybe he just wasn’t capable of loving you. And, I mean, can you really blame him? Look at what you are now. I can see the weakness inside you, and I bet he could see it too.”

Cas stared at Lucifer, his posture stiff, more like the angel he had been than the human he was now. “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with,” he said.

Lucifer laughed. “That desperate for death, are you? Do you think you’d make it to Heaven to be with your human? You think he’d want to spend eternity with you? That is, if you can even get past the gates. The angels might just hurl you down to Hell. Then we’d have all the time in the universe for family bonding. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Cas swallowed, but his resolve didn’t waver. Lucifer began to advance, and that was when Dean acted, pressing his foot down on the accelerator. Lucifer had time to look around before the Impala ploughed into him, knocking him down. Apparently, interdimensional power did trump archangel, if only temporarily.

Dean shoved the passenger door open. Cas was staring, open-mouthed, the gun now lowered as he stared at the black car in front of him.

“Get in!” Dean yelled at him. The order seemed to be enough to get Cas moving. The fallen angel dashed forward and climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind him.

Lucifer’s body was sprawled across the ground, but Dean could see him pushing himself to his feet, his eyes glowing red. His wings spread behind him threateningly, most of his feathers either absent or burnt and blackened. The few that remained undamaged were bone-white. He spun the wheel, turning the Impala, and sped off as fast as he could. He could feel Cas staring at him, but he couldn’t explain, not yet, not until Lucifer was far behind them and they were safe. Until Cas was safe.

“How—”

“I’ll explain soon,” Dean said, sparing Cas a glance before focusing on where he was going again. “For now, we got the Devil on our tail.”

Once they got out of the ravaged city and onto the open road, Dean slowed down, but only slightly, as he processed what he had done. Jack had warned him, no more interference. But, come on. Did the kid really just expect him to sit there while Cas died? He couldn’t do that. Not again.

Now that he had Cas in the car, he wouldn’t be able to get back to the road in Heaven. He was stuck in this world with his extra passenger.

They had been going for almost half an hour when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned towards Cas, who was still staring at him.

“Explain. Now,” the fallen angel demanded. “You’re… You are Dean, but you’re not my Dean or the other one. And…” Cas reached out slowly as if he thought that Dean might bat his hand away, to touch the side of his face, running a gentle finger across the lines forming around Dean’s eyes. Dean suppressed a whimper at the touch before looking back at the road, Cas’ fingers still warm against his face. He could feel the fallen angel examining him. “You’ve aged.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, his voice tight as he tried to hold it together. “It’s been, what? ‘Bout fifteen years since I came here last.” He glanced at Cas nervously. “Things went… differently, in my world.”

Cas nodded. “I can see that.” He squinted, looking, for a second, just like Dean’s Cas. “There’s something different about you. You don’t exactly seem… completely human anymore.”

“Probably because I’m dead,” Dean said.

He almost expected a mournful response, especially since this Cas’ Dean had just died. But, instead, Cas just raised an eyebrow. “It hasn’t stopped you,” he observed.

The blunt response startled a laugh out of Dean. “Yeah, well, you know me, Cas. Death doesn’t really stick.”

Cas regarded him for a few more seconds before he turned back to the road.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me everything.”

So Dean told him. He told him how he and Sam and his Cas had beaten the first apocalypse, he told him about Raphael and the Leviathan and Crowley, he told him about the fall of the angels, he told him of the Mark of Cain and the Darkness. He told him about Jack, and then Chuck. He told him about the Empty, and the deal he hadn’t known about until it was too late. Finally, he told him about his last death, and his ride through the multiverse.

He didn’t tell him about the other Cas. About what he had said that qualified as his ‘moment of true happiness’ or how he hadn’t seen him since. He didn’t think he had to.

Cas didn’t interrupt once. Even when Dean finished, he was quiet.

Finally, he said, “Wow. And I thought this world was crazy.” He took a flask out of a pocket in his jeans and took a sip. “Want some?” He held it out to Dean.

“I’m good,” Dean replied, eyeing the offered flask with trepidation.

Cas shrugged before tipping it back again, taking another long drink. When he finally lowered it, he met Dean’s eyes and grinned, that harsh, jagged grin that Dean had seen from him last time. “Been nearly sober for too long. Feeling too many feelings, and all that. One thing Dean…” The grin only faltered for a second but, during that brief window, Dean caught sight of the pain in his eyes. “One thing he taught me was how to repress your feelings, the Winchester way.”

In his last few years on Earth, Dean had tried to cut down on drinking. Living up to who Cas had thought he was had become one of his main motivators. He tried to be loving, he tried to see himself as more than a weapon, he tried to care rather than just numbing himself with sex and booze. Without Cas, it was a hard, painful journey, but Dean couldn’t let Cas’ death mean nothing.

“Your Cas,” Cas said to Dean after a few minutes of driving in silence. “He wasn’t like me, I assume?”

“No,” Dean said quietly, not looking at the warped image of his angel sitting next to him.

Cas snorted. “Figures. Did he ever get that stick out of his ass?”

“He loosened up a bit, yeah,” Dean said reluctantly, not liking the direction the conversation seemed to be taking.

“Did you two ever fuck?”

Dean nearly drove the car into a tree. He looked up sharply when he had gotten the Impala back under control. Cas was grinning widely, looking triumphant at the reaction he had startled out of Dean.

“Really, dude?”

“I take it you haven’t,” the fallen angel said. “That’s a shame. I learn fast. And I’m eager to please.”

“Fucking hell, Cas,” Dean blurted.

“If he’s me, he wanted you,” Cas continued as if Dean hadn’t spoken. “He’s always wanted you, ever since he first touched your soul. You should’ve taken advantage. My Dean did.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not him,” Dean snapped.

Cas didn’t answer. They drove on in silence. After a few hours, as the sun began to set, Dean looked over to see Cas’ eyes fluttering open and shut as he tried to stay awake.

“You okay?”

Cas yawned, shaking his head to try and wake himself up. “I used the last of my amphetamines. I don’t suppose you have anything?”

“Believe it or not, man, I don’t carry around drugs in my car,” Dean responded dryly.

“Shame.”

Another hour and Cas was asleep, his head resting against Dean’s shoulder. Dean found a place on the side of the road to pull over, parking the car just on the edge of a thicket of trees, then gently shook Cas awake.

“Hmm?” The fallen angel’s blue eyes opened, no longer misted over but instead clear, like a cloudless sky. Those blue, blue eyes focused on Dean’s lips.

“I thought…” Dean swallowed, his breath catching in his throat as Cas’ eyes followed the movement. “I thought you might want to lay down.”

“Ah,” Cas said, smiling sleepily. “The good old back seat. My third time was in the back seat of the Impala.”

“Third?” Dean asked, reluctantly curious.

“First was in some shitty motel. I had been acting as backup on a hunt for you, and it went sideways. You were miserable and, when I tried to comfort you, you kissed me. We didn’t do much, just grinded against each other for a bit. You were…” The blank, detached way Cas had been talking faltered for a second. “You were crying. And then you fell asleep on me, and I stayed up all night, watching you.” Cas swallowed before managing to affix a sultry smile over his brief display of emotion. “And then, second time, it was in an alleyway. Quick and dirty. You gave me my first blowjob and then taught me the tricks of the trade. Then, of course, your beloved Baby. My first time inside you.”

“Sounds nice,” Dean muttered.

“It was, actually,” Cas said. He looked downwards, away from Dean, his short, dark eyelashes fluttering against his skin. “One of the few times you weren’t pissed at me was when we were fucking. Seeing you allow yourself to be open and vulnerable was amazing. You were so, so beautiful. And even the hate fucks were… nice, in a way. After my powers drained, it was one of the only times I really felt useful to you.”

Dean hesitantly reached towards Cas’ face, tilting his chin up. Cas’ bright eyes met his again.

“You’re more than just your powers, Cas,” Dean said. “And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like… like you’re just a weapon. Like I don’t want you if you lose the halo and the wings.”

Cas stared at him. Dean didn’t think he was even breathing. And then he moved forward, kissing Dean forcefully, rough and assertive, just like Dean liked in a guy. Dean, taken by surprise, didn’t manage to respond before Cas pulled away, removed his jacket and climbed into his lap, his body pressed close to Dean’s by the steering wheel. He dipped his head, Dean lifting his own to meet Cas’ lips again in a deeper, slower kiss. Cas grinded down against Dean’s growing erection, forcing a long moan out of Dean.

“God…”

“Don’t bring that son of a bitch into this,” Cas said, nipping at Dean’s lower lip as he withdrew. Dean helped him pull his shirt over his head, his breath catching in his throat at the smooth, tanned skin it revealed. Scars littered the newly exposed flesh, and his ribs showed clearly, but he was still beautiful. Still Cas. “Back seat?” Cas suggested.

Dean nodded, dazed. Cas kissed him again before climbing off him and opening the passenger door. Dean followed him out, closing the door behind him before shucking off his jacket, his arousal protecting him against the cold. Cas shot him a wry smile before gesturing to the door. “Please. You first.”

Dean crawled into the seat gingerly before laying down on his back, his dick straining against his jeans. When Cas joined him, he had already pulled off his worn jeans, leaving him only in his boxers. Once the door was shut behind him and he was straddling Dean, he immediately began slowly undoing his belt, grinning at Dean’s needy moans.

“Tease,” Dean accused.

“I learnt from the best.” Cas finally undid Dean’s belt, slowly unzipped his pants and pulled Dean’s cock out.

Dean bucked when Cas suddenly wrapped his hand tightly around Dean’s dick.

“Son of a—!”

“Hello, old friend,” Cas murmured, stroking Dean’s cock lovingly, using his precome to slick the way.

“You two want some time alone?” Dean asked in a strangled voice.

“I don’t mind sharing the love,” Cas said with a wicked grin. He leaned forward to kiss Dean again before his hands found their way down to the bottom of Dean’s shirt. Dean had just enough brainpower left to lift his arms to allow Cas to pull his shirt over his head, leaving his torso bare.

Cas eyed the newly exposed skin hungrily before returning his hand to Dean’s dick. Dean closed his eyes, whimpering at the delicious pressure around his cock. He gasped as he felt Cas’ mouth, tongue hot and wet against his chest, curving tantalisingly around one of his nipples. Of course Cas knew he was sensitive there.

“Stop teasing, Cas,” Dean whined, opening his eyes to glare at the fallen angel.

Cas’ eyes narrowed and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Where’s the fun in that?” He continued kissing Dean’s chest, sucking marks into his skin, while he slowly worked Dean’s dick. “I like it when you’re at my mercy.” He had worked his way back up to Dean’s throat, nipping gently at his skin.

Dean let out a groan of disappointment as Cas stopped his ministrations and began rifling around in the footwell. He grabbed his jeans and fished around in the pockets, a triumphant grin spreading across his face as he pulled out a few packets of lube. Dean’s mouth went dry as he watched Cas pull his boxers off, slick up his fingers and then press them back against his rim. Cas smiled coyly as two of his fingers slipped inside his ass.

“Cas…”

Cas shut Dean up with another kiss, his tongue licking its way into Dean’s mouth, his body pressing Dean back into the seat. He was lighter than Dean’s Cas was, years of malnutrition and heavy substance abuse probably stripping any extra padding he used to have. On top of that, Dean’s Cas had beefed up in his last couple of years on Earth. Dean didn’t want to admit how many times he had thought about having those thick thighs or strong arms wrapped around him.

It was easy to tell the differences between this version of Cas and Dean’s version, even with the alternate one on top of him and doing his best to kill Dean through excessive horniness. But, at the same time, it was still Cas. Every version he had seen so far still had that essential Cas-ness, those inherent qualities that somehow made Cas the unpredictable, kind, and infuriatingly selfless and stubborn angel that he was. Every version of Cas was important to Dean, no matter what world they came from.

He tried to chase Cas’ mouth when he pulled away, a needy whine escaping from his lips as Cas held him down with a firm hand. “Ah, ah, ah. Patience, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Or tried to, at least. He was mid-roll when Cas’ free hand, slick with lube, closed around his cock. Cas grinned as Dean let out an involuntary moan at the sudden contact.

“Please, Cas,” he begged. “Please, I want you.”

A strange look crossed Cas’ face, his expression becoming pinched and sad for a second before he grinned again, leaning close so that his face was hovering above Dean’s, giving him a good view of Cas’ lust-blown eyes and chapped lips.

“You have me,” he said. “I’m yours, Dean.”

This time, Cas didn’t stop Dean when he kissed him, their lips sliding together messily and their teeth clashing. Dean fumbled clumsily before managing to get a grip on Cas’ hair and holding him close as he deepened the desperate kiss. Cas made a small sound against his mouth, not quite a moan and not quite a whimper. He pulled away, avoiding eye contact as he continued to slick up Dean’s dick.

“You don’t have—” Dean gasped as Cas twisted his hand sharply. “Condom?” he managed to finally ask.

Cas chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Well, let’s recount. You’re dead, and I’m a former angel who doesn’t catch human diseases easily. And, there’s only one person I’ve ever let fuck me bareback.” The fallen angel paused, a frown on his face. “Of course, you slept around quite a bit, so I suppose I could have caught something off you—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Dean said, not wanting to hear about his other self’s transgressions. “But, for the record, I don’t think I would’ve fucked anyone else without protection.”

“Aww.” Cas patted his face in a gesture of mock affection. “Sweet.”

“Cas—” Dean tried to say but was cut off by a moan as Cas squeezed his hand around his cock.

“Shh,” Cas quietened him. “No more talking, Dean.”

Dean groaned as Cas moved back and positioned his ass above Dean’s cock before slowly lowering himself down, engulfing Dean down to the hilt. Both of them were panting as Cas stilled, fully seated in Dean’s lap.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean said, grabbing at Cas’ thighs, needing the contact between them to ground him.

“That’s the idea,” Cas said, grinning as he rocked slightly, making Dean whine with need.

“What are you waiting for, then?” Dean asked, eyes narrowed. “C’mon. Show me what you’ve got, angel.”

Cas’ grin widened. “That’s more like it.” He rose painfully slowly, almost letting Dean’s cock slip out of him before he slammed back down, punching a gasp out of Dean. “Tell me how much you like having your cock inside me, Dean. C’mon, I wanna hear you.”

“I-I…” Dean gasped as Cas began to fuck himself up and down on his cock, thrusting his hips up as best he could to meet Cas. “It’s good, Cas, really good, sweetheart.”

Dean could feel the muscles in Cas’ thighs working as he moved, propelling him up and down. He wondered what those thighs would feel like wrapped around his waist as he fucked Cas, or on either side of his head as he licked into Cas’ ass. He wondered what it would be like to feel those thighs tremble around him as Cas came. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily as Cas moved above him.

“No.” A hand grabbed Dean’s hair, tilting his head up. Dean opened his eyes again and his vision was filled with Cas’s dark, wild eyes. “Eyes open. Look at me.”

Dean didn’t answer, too caught up in how gorgeous Cas looked, eyes blazing with angelic wrath and hair a fucked up mess. The grip on his hair tightened, just edging on painful and making Dean gasp. “Y-yeah, sorry, I’m looking, I’m looking.”

Cas’ grip loosened and he carded his fingers through Dean’s hair gently. “Good,” he said, his voice soft.

Then he pressed their lips together, and it was slow, and gentle, and perfect. He felt Cas’ fingers around his wrist, guiding his hand down to his cock, trapped between their bodies, hard and leaking. Cas moaned as Dean wrapped his hand around him and pressed his face against Dean’s throat as he began to stroke along the shaft.

“D-Dean,” Cas stuttered, his breath hot and lips moist against Dean’s skin. When he finally came, it was with a quiet whimper, the fire and fury gone. 

Dean followed Cas over the edge, crying out as Cas clenched around his cock and his come covered his stomach in thick ropes. Dean’s softening dick slipped out of Cas’ ass as he curled up on top of Dean, one hand still in his hair while the other trailed off the seat in the footwell.

“Love you,” Cas whispered.

Dean went still, suddenly unable to breathe as the words lodged themselves in his throat, glass shards shredding his oesophagus. Darkness filled his vision as he suddenly found himself back in that dungeon, watching Cas being taken, his last words still hanging between them, unanswered.

I love you. Goodbye, Dean

The solid weight of the other Cas shifted against Dean’s chest and a hand pressed against his face. He looked up into blue eyes that weren’t swimming in tears but instead were blank, any emotion in them long dead.

“You’re upset,” Cas said, voice flat.

“It’s not…” Dean couldn’t finish his sentence, because it was a lie. It was Cas, but probably not in the way the fallen angel thought it was. “I’m sorry.” That, at least, was the truth but, again, he didn’t think Cas understood.

The sharp smile was back, cutting into Dean’s soft innards like a knife. “It’s fine,” Cas said. “I don’t care.” His voice wobbled, the mistruth obvious.

“Cas, sweetheart-”

“Don’t call me that,” Cas snapped. He grabbed his shirt out of the footwell and wiped the come off his stomach and then Dean’s. “I’m not your sweetheart. I’m not anyone’s sweetheart. And I don’t need your… your fucking pity!” He laughed, the sound just bordering on hysterical. “I should have kept my mouth shut, I knew it, I always know. Don’t ruin the mood.” He sat up, his bare ass on Dean’s stomach, still dripping with Dean’s release. Dean reached for him, only to freeze at the withering look Cas sent him. “Don’t,” he said, voice breaking on the word. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Cas gathered his clothes and then he was out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Dean cursed before quickly tugging on first his boxers, then his pants. When he got outside, Cas was stalking away into the night, his jeans hanging low on his hips and his bare feet pale against the dirt.

“Cas, come on!” Dean said, jogging after him. “It’s freezing out here!”

“So go!” Cas yelled, not pausing as he continued away from Dean.

“Not without you!” Dean finally reached Cas and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. Cas still refused to look at him. “Cas, come on, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m just… I’ve got… You know, stuff.”

“Stuff,” Cas repeated, scoffing. He turned to glare at Dean. “My Dean had stuff too. Stuff that meant he spent his last night on Earth with someone else. That meant that he would only fuck me in secret because god forbid anyone find out their fearless leader likes taking a cock up his ass, or has a thing for some useless junkie slut!”

“Well, I’m not him!” Dean yelled back, his face flushed red from both the cold and rising anger. It wasn’t Cas he was angry with, but he was who was there and maybe, just maybe, he could use the anger to get Cas to listen to him. To come back to the car, to let Dean take him somewhere he would be safe. “I’m not that asshole, and I’m not ashamed of you, Cas!”

Cas just stared at him, expression blank. “Dean, let go of me,” he said, his tone just as empty of emotion as his face.

“No,” Dean said, his fingers tightening around Cas’ arm. “Come back with me. Please.”

Cas shook his head and tried to tug his arm out of Dean’s grip. Dean refused to let go and instead wrapped his arms around Cas, holding on even as the fallen angel stiffened.

“I’m not leaving here without you,” he said, repeating words he had said to another Cas a lifetime ago. “Understand?”

“You’re guilty,” Cas said. He pulled away sharply, looking at Dean with shrewd eyes. “What happened? You let down your Castiel? And now, now you get to play the martyr and rescue poor little me?” He laughed. “Not happening. I’ve already had one Dean try to rescue me, I don’t need another.”

“I’m not…” Dean paused, taking a deep breath and resisting the urge to knock the stubborn angel on his ass and drag him back to the car, kicking and screaming. “Maybe I just really do care about you, Cas, you ever think of that?”

“Honestly? The thought never crossed my mind.”

“For fuck’s sake, Cas, I—”

Dean didn’t finish his sentence before he was flung back, his body spinning through the air before he landed flat on his back on the ground, the air knocked out of his lungs. He was about to try and push himself back up when a shoe pressed against his neck.

“Well, isn’t this familiar,” a voice said. Dean couldn’t look up, but he didn’t need to. He knew who it was.

“Lucifer,” Cas said. Dean could see him, standing tall, glaring at the Devil.

“We were in the middle of something, little brother. I don’t appreciate being interrupted.”

“Get off him,” Cas growled.

“Who? Oh, him?” Lucifer pressed down on Dean’s throat, making him gasp as his air was constricted. Cas flinched. “Where’d you find yourself another Dean, huh, little brother? Looks like you already had your fun with him. Mind if I take care of him?” The pressure increased against Dean’s neck.

“Don’t…” Cas’ voice broke on the word. “Please, leave him alone. Do whatever you want with me, just don’t hurt him. Please, Lucifer.”

“Aw,” Lucifer cooed. “Can’t take me killing another version of your precious boyfriend?” He removed his foot from Dean’s throat, giving him a second’s reprieve before he kicked him sharply in the chest. “I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to. This one stinks of Heaven. He’s little more than a ghost in a flesh suit.” Lucifer kicked Dean again, hard enough to break a few of his ribs. Dean grunted, pain burning in his chest. “You, on the other hand, Castiel…” He looked up as he heard Lucifer move, walking forward and grabbing Cas by the throat. “I can kill you.”

“No!” Dean yelled as the archangel’s hand ripped right through Cas’ chest, blood spraying out of the wound as he pulled his fist back. Cas’ mouth fell open in a silent cry of pain as Lucifer shoved him down to the ground.

The Devil looked down at Dean with a grin that looked wrong on his little brother’s face. “Enjoy your afterlife.” And then he was gone.

Dean scrambled upright, ignoring the pain when he moved, and lurched over to Cas. He dropped to his knees next to the fallen angel’s body and pulled him into his arms.

“Cas…” He pushed back some of Cas’ hair with a shaky hand, the tears gathering in his eyes making everything blurry. “Oh, god…”

“Thought I told you not to mention that deadbeat.” Cas’ eyes fluttered open and Dean nearly sobbed in relief.

“Fuck, Cas, I thought you were—”

“Dead?” Cas smiled painfully. “Give it a few minutes, I’ll get there.”

“No, no, we’ll fix you up, good as new,” Dean insisted, pressing a hand to the side of Cas’ face. “You’re gonna be fine, buddy.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Dean, but—” Cas stopped talking to cough, his spit flecked with the blood that was starting to drip from his lips. “But I’m pretty sure there’s a fucking hole in my chest.”

“So what?” Dean held Cas tighter as his eyes shut. “Oh no you don’t, you son of a bitch. Look at me. C’mon, Cas, look at me!”

“Stop yelling,” Cas said, his voice quiet, weak. He was fading fast, face getting paler and paler as blood drained from his wound. “Least, this way, I might see my Dean again.” He opened his eyes, staring sightlessly at the sky. “Can you hold me? Just… Please?”

And Dean couldn’t deny him. He held Cas close, running his fingers through his hair as the life drained out of him.

Chapter Text

Dean left Cas’ body on the spot where he died. He didn’t know what else he could do. At least he looked peaceful after Dean had set him down and covered the ugly wound with the jacket Cas had left in the Impala. Dean could almost convince himself that Cas was only sleeping as he took one last look. Maybe in just a few seconds, his eyes would flutter open and he would turn toward Dean, his face bathed in the light of the moon and stars, alive and alert.

He drove blindly, not caring where he ended up, as long as it was away from the world where Cas lay dead. He tried not to look at the back seat, unable to remember Cas back there, on top of him, looking so beautiful and powerful as he fucked himself on Dean’s cock, without remembering Cas storming out of the car and then getting murdered by Lucifer.

The road seemed to go on forever, but Dean couldn’t find it within himself to care. A hundred years could have passed as he drove and Dean doubted it would have really registered. He didn’t even notice he was in a new world until he had almost driven into what looked like an airport.

He stopped (it didn’t matter if he was blocking the road, it was like Lucifer had said, he was “little more than a ghost in a flesh suit.”) and sat outside in the car, looking blankly out the window at the myriad of people passing by — the couples, the happy families, big and small, the friends and the siblings. Seeing the laughter, the happiness, the closeness that these people shared felt like someone was hammering nails through his chest.

He didn’t bother moving the Impala to a proper parking spot before getting out. He couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when it didn’t really matter. He entered the airport through the glass doors, walking through the crowds easily. For all he knew, he could have been incorporeal, like a real ghost, one of the ones he had hunted back when he had been truly alive. Maybe, this emptiness, this hole at his core, hollowing out his insides and leaving him with nothing but a gaping void, was what going vengeful felt like.

The hubbub around him quietened to a dull roar when Dean spotted Cas. The other people around meant nothing as Dean focused on this new, alive, alternate version, feeling like his black-and-white world was suddenly full of colour again. It didn’t quite erase the pain left from the other Cas’ death, but it helped, like a bandage wrapped around a fresh wound.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

This version looked good, healthy. He stood straight, his posture perfect, clad in army fatigues and with a bag slung over one shoulder. His hair was short, similar to how Dean had worn his for years, and mostly hidden underneath a cap. A soldier, Dean thought, feeling a flicker of amusement at the idea. Angels are warriors of God, Cas had told him, powerful and commanding as he stared Dean down. I’m a soldier.

Dean wished he had asked Cas more about the Heavenly battles he had been a part of. He wished he had asked Cas more, period.

Cas’s blue eyes were never still as he scanned the crowd, looking for someone particular among the many faces. Dean, meanwhile, only had eyes for Cas. He didn’t need to memorise his features, he had done that already. He was instead just content to drink him in, going over the lines he remembered, like reciting a familiar passage from a favoured book. There were some differences, of course. This Cas still looked world-weary, but the exhaustion that Dean’s Cas had carried around for years was absent.

Then Cas’ face lit up, his blue eyes sparkling and a wide smile gracing his features. Dean’s breath caught in his throat at how radiant Cas looked when he was happy. Dean should have made him happier, given him more reason to smile, to laugh.

He followed as Cas began striding forward, his arms held out.

“Papa!” a child’s voice squealed, and then there was a small, blonde girl throwing herself into Cas’ arms.

Cas lifted her up, laughing, deep and gravelly, as he held her close. “Hello, Emma,” he said.

Emma. Dean remembered her, of course he did. His daughter, who he had failed. And now here she was, in another universe, with Cas. The few times he had let himself think about it, he had been sure that Cas would have understood her. He had, after all, defended Jack against every threat, even Dean, always insisting there was good in the kid. Maybe he would have done the same for Dean’s daughter.

It took Dean a second to realise that there was another man standing in front of Cas, watching him with a fond grin, his eyes looking slightly misty. Another version of Dean. When Cas noticed him, his smile turned soft.

“Dean,” he said, reaching out his free hand.

The other Dean’s smile wobbled for a second, and then he was engulfing both Cas and Emma in a hug. “Heya, sunshine,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Missed you.”

He pulled back slightly, cupping Cas’ cheek before pressing in to kiss him. Dean watched, suddenly feeling a bit teary himself as he observed the couple. The kiss was chaste and innocent, but still conveyed so much love between the two of them.

Dean now knew what it was like to kiss a version of Cas. It had been mind-blowing, world-changing, but at the same time, while it certainly hadn’t been devoid of feelings, too many of those emotions had been negative ones — sadness, regret, even anger. The kiss playing out in front of him was soft and domestic, the kiss from the apple pie life Dean had dreamed of.

“I missed you too, Dean,” Cas said once the kiss had ended. “Both of you,” he added, looking at Emma.

The other Dean smiled and wrapped an arm around Cas’ shoulders, leading him towards the door. Dean couldn’t help but notice how perfectly the two of them seemed to slot together, with the other Dean’s arm keeping Cas close while Cas’ hand rested on the small of the other Dean’s back. The little girl, still in Cas’ arms, grinning happily at her two fathers only served to complete the picture. A happy family, one Dean had always thought wasn’t for him, no matter how hard he had wished for it.

“C’mon,” the other Dean said. “We better head home. Everyone’s so excited to see you. Right, Em?”

“Yeah!” the little girl said. “Uncle Sam’s gonna bring burgers!”

“Really?” Cas asked, an eyebrow raised. “Sam? Bringing burgers? With real meat?”

“Yeah, real beef, real fries, loads of real grease, fat, and sodium! He musta missed you, if he’s getting off my back on the healthy eating thing for the night,” the other Dean said cheerfully. “He said he wanted to give you a good welcome home meal, but that next time we go to his place for dinner, we’re having some kinda weird vegan shi- stuff.”

“Ew!” Emma said, her nose wrinkling in disgust, making both Cas and the other Dean laugh.

“We’re never going to eat dinner with him,” the other Dean whispered conspiratorially to Emma, making the little girl giggle.

“Dean,” Cas reprimanded softly, no real heat behind his words. “Eating well is part of a healthy lifestyle.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the other Dean replied, rolling his eyes. “You and Sam should start a club or something. Rabbit Food Eaters Anonymous.” He winked at Emma, making the little girl laugh loudly.

Cas glanced at the other Dean when the man was looking away, eyes glittering with soft laughter and fond amusement. Dean could remember catching his Cas looking at him like that and then feeling a blush colouring his cheeks as he looked away, never realising the full significance. It wasn’t just fondness that he had seen in Cas’ ageless eyes, which had seen the birth and death of civilisations, which had observed the evolution of humanity, probably with the same wide-eyed, curious look Dean had seen too many times to count.

They’re works of art, Cas had once described humans as. Every one of them.

That beautiful, quiet, contemplative stare had always made Dean want to fall to his knees, to worship this mighty being that spent his time down on Earth, watching normal people going about their normal lives with wonder, like it was something special. He had looked at Dean like that as well.

At last, a world where they had worked out, Dean thought as he watched the small family walk towards another black Impala. He had found what he was looking for, a universe where they had a shot at a happy ending. So why did he still feel so restless, so hollow? Why did he still feel like there was more to be done?

Dean, of course, knew why, but he had always been good at lying, especially to himself. It was time to move on.

He got back behind his Baby’s wheel. Between one blink and the next, he was back on the road. The transition between the road and the next world was just as instantaneous.

The building his car stopped outside of stirred distant memories of a separate life that had been implanted in his mind years ago. He looked up and sighed at the sign on the top of the tall building.

“Sandover,” he muttered to himself, crossing his arms as he recalled the few weeks he had spent under Zachariah’s spell, trapped in neat suits, hearing about and being actually interested in freaking juice cleanses, and only eating rabbit food. The indignity of it all still stung.

All the same, while he had been stuck in his life, he had gotten the impression that Dean Smith had been… happy, somehow.

It hadn’t occurred to him that Smith might be a real alternate version of Dean and not just something made up by Zachariah in order to manipulate him.

Curious to see how this alternate universe matched up to the few memories Dean still had from his time as Dean Smith, he entered the building. Dodging through crowds of other workers, finding the elevator and pressing the button to send him up to Smith’s office was easy, a distant muscle memory taking over his body the further he got into the familiar building. He had to stop himself from greeting some of the men and women he vaguely recognised as he passed.

He stopped outside the closed door, reading the familiar writing. Dean Smith, Director, Sales and Marketing. He could already hear Smith’s voice, sounding higher and more cheerful than Dean could ever remember speaking (except, of course, when he had been him).

He lingered outside, lost in the memories of being Smith. Dean could hardly believe that he and the guy had anything in common other than their name or their face. The pretentious son of a bitch had been obsessed with working out, didn’t drink, and liked rabbit food and juice cleanses more than any sane person should (and yes, Sam was included in that). The guy was so strait-laced, Dean doubted he had ever gotten so much as a parking ticket.

How he’d gotten through a hunt as Smith without either him or Sam getting killed, Dean didn’t know. Maybe they’d just gotten lucky, maybe there had been something of Dean Winchester left inside Dean Smith.

Or, maybe, it had all been Chuck, forcing them through, making sure they lived so he could continue his machinations. After all, what sort of an ending would one of ‘em dying on a routine hunt be…

Dean was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the woman approaching until she was almost upon him. He sprang backwards, getting out of her way at the same time as he got a good look at her face. His eyes widened in shock as he recognised Meg in her second, dark-haired vessel.

She looked far more put together than she ever had before. Her hair was pulled back in a neat-ish ponytail and she wore a white blouse, a black blazer and a matching black pencil skirt. Even her make-up was plain and conservative but, despite all that, her smile was still sharp, like a cat eyeing up an injured bird, and her eyes were dark with barely suppressed malevolence.

Meg pushed open the door, revealing the bland corporate office Dean remembered. Dean Smith was leaning against his desk, his stupid suspenders, flamboyantly patterned tie and shirt displayed in all of their dumbass glory. Dean didn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

The man glanced up at Meg before wrapping up his phone call.

“Okay, I gotta run. Email me, and don’t forget to include the information for that yoga studio, I gotta try that,” he said, pausing for a second as he listened before laughing. “Awesome, bye!” His sunny smile slid off his face once whoever it was hung up and he turned his full attention onto Meg. “What, Masters?”

“Nice to see you too, Smith,” Meg retorted, her lip rising to reveal a hint of teeth. “Adler wants you to work late again tonight, he said something about having some things he wanted to look over with you.”

Smith sighed. “No can do, I’ve got a date.”

“Yeah, I know, your hotter half was jabbering on about it yesterday to anyone who would listen. Seemed pretty excited.”

Dean Smith looked down at the floor, a slight blush colouring his face at the same time as his lips tilted upwards in a small, private smile.

“Yeah?” he said, shy and nervous.

“Yup, it was nauseating,” Meg said, faking a gag. “So I’ll tell Adler that you won’t be staying late? You know he’s not gonna just accept that, right?”

“Which is why I’m leaving early,” Smith said, glancing down at his watch. “Right about… now.”

The two of them paused, waiting for something. Meg was opening her mouth, a sneer on her face, when they heard rapid footsteps in the hallway outside. Cas burst into the office, apparently not noticing Meg, his eyes focusing on Dean Smith, a bright smile spreading across his face.

“Hello, Dean,” he said softly.

Everything about this Cas seemed soft and warm, like a comforting blanket draped over a weary body at the end of a long day. He was wearing a dark blue sweater over a light blue shirt and had a blue tie patterned with tiny golden bees knotted messily around his throat. A pair of black glasses framed his blue eyes and there was a satchel slung over one of his shoulders. His hair, as usual, was tousled, the dark ruffled strands making Dean’s hand twitch with the need to run his fingers through it.

There was nothing of the angelic warrior Dean knew in this Cas. It was like all of Cas’ sharp corners and hard edges had been sanded down, leaving behind only Cas’ warm, gentler qualities.

Dean Smith lit up. The way the two of them looked at each other, their gazes locked intensely, it was like there was no one else but them in the room. He pushed himself off the edge of his desk, making it across the room in only a few strides before he was reeling Cas in for a kiss. Smith caressed Cas’ cheek lightly while his other hand cupped the back of his neck, fingers curled lightly in Cas’ short, dark hair. Cas’ hands, meanwhile, fitted perfectly at Smith’s waist.

When Smith finally pulled away, he was grinning, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright.

“Hey,” he said, breathless.

And, once again, they were locked in each other’s eyes. Nothing else seemed to matter outside of each other. Dean hadn’t realised how much time he and Cas must have spent staring at each other, or how awkward it must have been for other people as the seconds slowly lengthened.

It was Meg who finally interrupted, snapping the two of them out of it. “So,” she said, her stiletto heels clacking across the floor and she walked forward and then leaned against Cas’ arm. “What brings you here, Clarence?”

Cas tore his eyes away from Dean Smith to give her one of his confused, squinty looks. “I told you yesterday. It’s our anniversary, Dean’s taking me out for dinner.”

“Really?” Meg drawled, one of her eyebrows raised. “Huh. This is the first I’m hearing about this.”

Cas’ frown deepened. “No, I—”

“She’s teasing you, Cas,” Smith said, shooting Meg a glare. “Scram, Masters.”

“Sure, I’ll just go back to Adler and tell him that you’re refusing to work tonight.”

She was halfway out of the office before Smith called, “Wait, Meg, just…” He trailed off, biting his lip in frustration.

The woman turned back, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. “Well?”

Smith sighed. “Please, Meg, could you please, please just give us fifteen minutes to get out of the building before you send Adler after me?” he begged, clasping his hands in front of him.

Meg tapped a finger against her chin, humming as she paused in mock thought. “Okay,” she finally said. “You got ten minutes—”

“Fifteen—”

“ Ten, ” she said. “Starting now, so you better hurry.”

She sauntered out of the room, leaving Smith, Cas and Dean frozen behind her. The other Dean exchanged a look with Cas before he scrambled back towards his desk, grabbing a black satchel from under the desk and shoving papers and the laptop from on top of his desk into it. He was done in less than a minute and practically sprinting back across the room towards Cas.

“Sweetheart?” He held his arm out, sharing a smile with Cas as he grasped it before pulling him towards the door.

Dean followed them as they sped through the hall (passing by Meg, who was leaning against a wall, staring down at her phone) and into the elevator. Dean managed to slip inside just before the doors closed.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Smith was crowding Cas against a wood-panelled wall.

“So,” he said, smirking as Cas’ eyes travelled down to his lips. “Masters told me you’ve been distracting others with personal stuff during work time. I should report to your head of department.”

Cas scoffed. “Dean, I am the head of the accountancy department.”

“And that should excuse a poor work ethic?” Smith tutted. “Maybe I should punish you.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, shocked that sensible, rule-abiding Dean Smith even knew what dirty talk was. Cas seemed much less surprised. Instead, he lowered his eyes submissively, looking up at Smith through his dark lashes.

“I’m sorry, Mr Smith,” he said, deep voice grating deliciously. Dean swallowed, torn between averting his eyes to save himself some dignity and staying focused on how beautiful Cas looked. The spark that he had thought absent from this Cas was right there, softened from lack of use but still present, the determination, intensity and calculation that made Cas such a terrifying adversary. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Dean glanced at his counterpart and was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one affected. A light flush had risen in Smith’s cheeks and his eyes were blown wide with lust.

Both Deans jumped when the elevator doors dinged. Smith’s blush grew, reaching the tips of his ears as the doors slid open. He focused on the ground, fiddling with his tie. Dean, meanwhile, couldn’t stop looking at Cas, who was watching Smith with a small, smug smile, obviously pleased with himself. Dean remembered being on the receiving end of that smile a lifetime ago, after he had plunged his knife into the chest of an impossible, unknown creature, only to have Cas look up at him with that same smirk, the same amusement glimmering in his eyes. The amusement of someone who knows not only the amount of power they wield but also how best to apply it.

“Dean!” Both Deans looked up as Sam entered the elevator, grinning. He was wearing that yellow shirt Dean remembered, proclaiming him as the Tech Support for Sandover. “Hey, man, how are you? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Smith ran an anxious hand through his hair and chuckled self-consciously. “H-hey, Sam. Yeah, it’s been a while, haven’t really needed any help from you guys recently. How have you been?”

“Oh, really good,” Sam said, all puppy-like enthusiasm. He finally noticed Cas and his smile grew. “Hey, Cas. Oh, is this the big anniversary dinner I’ve been hearing about?” He shrugged in answer to the questioning looks he received. “Becky told me.”

“Ah,” Smith said, smirking. “Is she still tryna get you to go out with her?”

It was Sam’s turn to blush. “Yeah. She’s very… determined.”

“That’s one word for it,” Smith said, laughing.

The elevator doors opened again on the main lobby.

“Well, guess this is where I leave you,” Sam said, waving goodbye as he backed out of the elevator. “Have fun, you guys!”

Cas glanced over at Smith once the doors were closed again. “I still think he has a crush on you.”

“Sam?” Smith said, gesturing towards the now-closed doors, both of them oblivious to Dean choking on air beside them. “Nah, I’m pretty sure he’s straight. He told me a few weeks ago that he’s getting back together with his ex-girlfriend, Madison.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t still have a crush on you. I have known many people, including you, who ‘kicks for both teams’,” Cas said.

Smith chuckled affectionately. “It’s ‘bats for both teams’, baby.”

“And,” Cas added, giving Smith a slow, pointed once over with his eyes, “have you looked in the mirror recently, Dean? You’re beautiful. Anybody would be lucky to have you as I do.”

Both Deans went red again. Calling another man, calling Dean, beautiful, was such a Cas thing to do, no matter what world he was from. Dean was pretty sure that if his Cas had called him beautiful, he would have laughed it off, would have a hundred excuses ready for why he was wrong. He would never, not in a million years, have just taken the compliment. He didn’t think he’d be capable of it.

This Dean, Dean Smith, vanilla corporate lackey, who had probably never so much as held a gun or run a red light before, smiled, looking down at the floor for a second before meeting Cas’ eyes. Neither of them paid any attention to the elevator door opening again as Smith pulled Cas close and kissed him.

“Love you too, baby,” he whispered against Cas’ lips. His words were so quiet Dean almost missed them, and they were said easily, no hesitation or uncertainty.

He stared after them as they headed out, their arms wrapped around each other. Dean lost sight of them as the doors closed again, leaving him alone. He waited around, lost in thought, as the elevator went up and down, summoned by various people in the office, a few he recognised, some he didn’t. None of them noticed him.

Finally, he stepped off into the lobby and headed back towards the Impala. A new universe beckoned the second he was back in the driver’s seat.

It wasn’t long before the environment around him became less urban and transformed back into the now very familiar road. This time, the path ahead of him curved suddenly, forcing him to make a turn. His surroundings changed, different but still familiar. A place that had been more of a home to him than anywhere except for the car he was driving.

There were several cars parked outside of the entrance to the bunker. Dean recognised a few of them from friends and family members like Jody, Donna, Garth, and Claire. Dean stopped the Impala, parking it behind the rest of the cars, before stepping out onto the grass, looking around and breathing in the comforting familiarity of it all.

He knew where he needed to be, somehow, so he started walking, crushing fallen leaves and twigs under his boots. He could just hear the strains of familiar music, getting steadily louder as he got closer. Eventually, he came to a familiar clearing, it was only about five minutes walk from the bunker. He could remember finding Cas standing a few times, head tilted towards the sky, taking Dean’s breath away with his ethereal beauty. 

Sometimes, the two of them would stand or sit in silence together. Cas would watch the wildlife around them, his eyes darting after squirrels, following the paths of bees or just staring at the trees like he could read the answer to the universe in the crisp leaves. Dean had sometimes followed Cas’ eyes to whatever had caught his attention but, most of the time, he had just looked at Cas out of the corner of his eye, enjoying the chance to watch Cas in quiet, peaceful tranquillity.

Of course, Dean relished the chance to observe Cas in any setting, whether it was seeing him going full holy, righteous, age-old warrior on anyone that threatened his friends and family, or watching Cas drink his morning coffee, somehow still not a morning person despite not actually needing sleep.

Before, Dean had never seen anyone except Cas in the clearing, but now it was full. Mismatched chairs were arranged in semi-neat rows with a clear path down the middle and every single one of them was occupied. Dean stood in the centre of the aisle between the seats, looking at the people assembled around him.

Eileen was sitting at the front, laughing and talking with Donna and Kaia, while Jody, sitting on the other side of the aisle next to Alex, had turned in her seat to talk to Ellen and Bobby behind her. Jo, Charlie and Kevin were looking at something on a phone between them while next to them, Benny was talking animatedly to Garth while Garth’s daughter, Gertie, giggled in delight at something Bess was saying. Meg reclined somewhere in the middle of one of the rows, pointedly ignoring everyone around her, and Rowena and Crowley sat right at the back, looking out of place. Everyone was dressed in outfits that weren’t exactly formal, but still nicer than the usual clothes people wore while hunting. Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen so much of his family in one place.

Dean found himself smiling as he looked at everyone. He appreciated all of these people more than he would ever be able to adequately describe. Family, his family, didn’t end or start in blood.

Suddenly, Ramble On started playing and the chatter died down, leaving a low hum of whispers and murmurs in its wake. Dean turned as everyone else did and felt his mouth fall open as the breath was stolen from his lungs.

Cas, looking beautiful and practically glowing with happiness, was walking slowly towards him, Claire at his side. The angel was wearing a suit, but not the ill-fitting one he normally had on. This one was perfectly contoured to his form, showing off his broad shoulders and thick muscles. He looked a few years older than Dean’s Cas, but the lines at the corners of his eyes and the greying black hair at his temples suited him. The suit he was wearing was black and his usual blue tie had been replaced with a blue bow tie, the colour matching both his eyes and the blue rose pinned to his suit jacket.

Claire looked pretty as well in the knee-length black dress she was wearing, her normally unruly hair neat and flowing over her shoulders, a rose matching Cas’ tucked behind her ear.

Dean took a step back, getting out of their way as they walked down the aisle. They came to a stop in front of the seats and Claire moved to stand at Cas’ side after giving him a brief but tight hug. Cas turned back towards everyone and, for a second, Dean thought he was looking right at him. Finally, he realised that everyone was looking at someone behind him, and he turned to see another version of him approaching, dressed identically to Cas, except he had on a blue tie that looked like it might be Cas’. Dean didn’t think he’d ever seen himself smiling so widely, looking so happy. Dean almost didn’t notice Sam beside his alternate self, leading him towards Cas.

When they got to the front, Sam pulled the other Dean in for a hug, thumping him on the back before saying something quietly to his brother, making him laugh. The other Dean shoved Sam playfully.

“Yeah, right. Bitch,” he said, his voice just loud enough to carry across the audience, making everyone laugh.

“Jerk,” Sam replied, rolling his eyes affectionately.

“Alright, we gonna get this show on the road?” Half the hunters in the audience were drawing their weapons at the loud, unexpected voice.

Gabriel waved from where he had suddenly appeared behind Cas. The suit he wore was white, covered in shiny sequins, and, without a doubt, one of the most ridiculous outfits Dean had ever seen. Dean got a glimpse of the archangel’s wings before he folded them away. They were massive, easily twice as big as Cas’, and the feathers had none of the kaleidoscopic colours of Cas’ wings either. Instead, each one of them was a fine, rich gold colour.

“Fucking hell, Gabe!” the other Dean said, lowering the demon blade that had materialised in his hand. “Don’t do that!”

Gabe raised his eyebrows. “Do what? Oh, I’m sorry, would you like me to leave?”

“No, Gabriel,” Cas said, giving the other Dean a resigned look. “And yes, we can ‘get this show on the road’, can’t we, Dean?”

The other Dean huffed, looking disgruntled, before nodding. He and Cas turned towards each other, their expressions softening as they locked eyes again. Sam and Claire took up their positions behind the other Dean and Cas respectively, while Gabe positioned himself between them in his stupidly flamboyant suit.

“You all know this story, right?” Gabe said, gesturing to the man and the angel in front of him. “A dumbass human gets himself condemned to Hell, a dumbass angel is sent to get him out, they fall in love, blah blah blah.”

“ Gabriel, ” Cas hissed.

“Of course, there have been challenges,” Gabe continued, ignoring Cas. “Dean’s alleged straightness, the huge stick up Cassie’s ass—”

“I swear to our Father, Gabriel, I will-”

“But they have endured. Their love has survived Heaven, Hell and pretty much everything in between.” Gabe smiled genuinely as he looked between the two men. “The grooms have written their own vows. Dean-o?”

The other Dean shot Gabe a glare before looking at Cas, his eyes softening minutely. He reached out, holding Cas’ hands in his.

“Cas,” he said. “The first time I saw you, after you’d ‘gripped me tight and raised me from perdition’, I was terrified. And not just ‘cause of the whole powerful angel who could kill me with a look thing, either. You… You’d only known me for a few minutes on Earth, and already, you could see right through me. And you still do it. You know me better than anyone else. You always know what I need to hear. You never hesitate to call me out on my shit. You’ve seen me at my best and at my worst and, for some goddamn reason, you still love me. And I really love you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, you’re the love of my life, and I want to spend the rest of my existence with you.”

Dean watched with bated breath as his other self cleared his throat and looked down at his feet, his thumb rubbing back and forth across the back of Cas’ hand. Finally, he met Cas’ eyes again and pulled one of his hands back. Sam, looking like he was going to start crying any second, fumbled around in his pockets until he pulled out a pair of silver rings and placed them in Gabe’s hand. The other Dean took one of them, his hand shaking slightly as he slipped the ring onto Cas’ finger.

“I don’t know how much I can give you,” the other Dean said, his voice shaking. “But I promise, Cas, that I will give you everything I have. I will be there for you, in sickness and in health, through the good and the bad and the truly fucking crazy, and we already know that not even death can part us.”

Cas was smiling, that painful, beatific smile that haunted Dean’s dreams. Just like back in the dungeon, Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away, even as he felt his stomach clench and his heart began beating faster.

“Dean,” he said. “You, your love, was the first thing I ever wanted.”

The one thing I want…

“And, for the longest time, I believed I couldn’t have you, not the ways I desired.”

It’s something I know I can’t have.

“And I thought I was content with that, with loving you from afar, that happiness wasn’t in the having, but in just being, even if I never got to say it.”

Happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.

Suddenly, Dean was back in the dungeon, helpless to do anything but listen. Dread settled inside him, blood pounded in his ears, draining out every other sound except for Cas, the usually deep voice losing some of its gravel as emotion took over.

“But now, having you, it’s the best thing to ever happen to me. You mean everything to me, Dean Winchester. You changed me. Because you cared, I cared, about you, about our friends and family. I cared about the whole world because of you. You make me better, Dean.”

Cas didn’t take his eyes off the other Dean, not for a moment, as Gabe handed him the ring and he slid it onto Dean’s finger.

“I promise I will be there, as long as you will have me. As long as…” Cas paused, a flicker of nervousness in his blue eyes as he looked at the other Dean. “As long as you still want me, I will be there, Dean. Through everything.”

And the other Dean was smiling back, leaning forward to touch his forehead to Cas’ and whisper something that made the angel chuckle quietly. Gabe cleared his throat, and the two reluctantly moved apart again so that only their hands were joined.

“By the power invested in me by, ya know, me, I now pronounce you husband and husband.”

The other Dean didn’t wait another second before pulling Cas close and kissing him. His hands rested on Cas’ waist while Cas rested one of his palms against Dean’s cheek gently.

Dean slowly became conscious of cheers and applause around him. Cas and the alternate version of Dean standing before Gabe didn’t even seem to notice the celebration, too absorbed in each other, their making out just starting to edge on being indecent. It took Sam shaking the other Dean’s shoulder roughly for them to realise that they had an audience. The other Dean didn’t even look embarrassed. Instead, he just shot Sam a glare over his shoulder before grabbing Cas’ hand and planting an exaggerated kiss on his palm.

Both of them looked so happy, but all Dean could see was darkness slowly filling his vision.

He needed a drink.

Chapter Text

At least Baby seemed to know what he needed. He was only on the road for a few minutes before he was pulling up outside an old dive bar. The sun was just beginning to set as Dean stepped out of the car and onto the gravel. A few other vehicles, most of them old and pretty decrepit, were parked around haphazardly. There were no other buildings in sight.

Dean walked inside and found himself in a place that looked like every other shitty dive bar he had ever gone to with the purpose of getting drunk and picking up chicks. A few patrons were sitting at the bar, drinking in silence, while others were dotted around at various tables. Most seemed to be alone. Other than the music playing (some country shit that Dean didn’t recognise) the only real sound was coming from an old pool table. A couple of men were crowded around, watching another man who looked at least a decade older than Dean lean across the table and hit the last red ball on the table into the top left pocket.

The men around him whooped and cheered and the guy turned around with a smug smile, facing a woman who was leaning against a wall, watching with a blank expression.

The woman looked vaguely familiar, Dean thought, but he couldn’t place her. Her dark blonde hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, her eyes were a vivid green colour and her full lips were downturned in a frown. She was wearing tight skinny jeans, a black tank and an oversized flannel shirt. She also had several necklaces, bracelets and piercings, some of which looked like occult symbols Dean thought he might recognise. So a hunter, maybe?

“Well, guess you gotta pay up now, sweetheart,” the man slurred, clearly already pretty drunk.

He leaned close to her, eyeing her body appreciatively. The flash of disgust in the woman’s expression was quickly hidden behind a flirtatious smile. She fluttered her eyelashes coyly and bit her bottom lip.

“Can you give me a chance to earn back my money? How about double or nothing?”

Dean recognised a scam when he saw it — he had done it enough times. When he had been young, he had used his soft, feminine face to his advantage, batting his eyes at older men, losing a couple of times and then taking them for everything they had. As he got older and his body had filled out, compensating for his pretty features, he had started to play up the drunkard angle. He had to respect the girl for trying to screw over the creepy guy blatantly checking out her ass as she cued up her ball.

Turning toward the bar, Dean got the attention of the bartender (he couldn’t bring himself to care about breaking Jack’s rules over such a stupid reason) and ordered a shot of whiskey. He downed it the moment it was set in front of him and ordered another.

He spent the next half hour drinking steadily. Thanks to the effects of a lifetime of alcohol abuse and being dead, it took that long to even get a decent buzz. He had just knocked back another shot when he heard an enraged shout.

“The little bitch scammed me!”

Dean turned in his seat in time to see the creep take a clumsy, drunken swing at the woman, who moved out of the way easily before slamming the guy into the pool table. Some of his friends moved to help him but suddenly, the woman had a gun in her hand and was pressing the muzzle against the back of the creep’s head.

The weapon caught the light, and Dean recognised it immediately. He had carried an identical handgun since he was sixteen.

Now that he was looking, really looking, the similarities were obvious. The green eyes, the light freckles scattered across her cheeks, the shape of her face, all features that Dean saw every time he looked in the mirror, except more feminine. Even her expression, aggressive with a side of anger, was deeply familiar.

“Now, I am not in a mood to be messed with,” the female Dean snarled. “So why don’t you give me my money, and I can be on my way?”

She backed off, giving the man enough room to rifle through his pockets, pulling out his wallet and grumpily counting out the money. The girl Dean snatched the cash out of his hand and looked through it briefly herself, before tucking her gun into her waistband.

“Well, I would say it’s been a pleasure, but then I’d be lying.” She threw a couple of bills down on the bar before disappearing out the door, letting it swing shut behind her.

Dean stood up and reached into one of his pockets to grab some money. He paid the bartender before following after the female version of him, his curiosity peaked. He stepped out into the darkness, looking around as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. The sun was gone and a couple of stars shone in the sky around the half-moon. Dean walked further into the makeshift parking lot outside of the bar, looking for Dean’s female counterpart, or possibly even another Impala.

Unfortunately, Dean hadn’t thought about the fact that he was now no longer invisible. He was peering in between two cars when he suddenly heard a click behind him.

“Are you following me?” a familiarly accented female voice said.

“Er… No?”

“Turn around. Slowly.”

Dean complied, quickly coming face-to-face with the other, woman version of Dean. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him.

“Do I know you? You look…”

“Familiar?” Dean said. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Just have one of those faces.”

“I saw you watching me in the bar,” the woman said, unrelenting. “And then, you followed me out. Why? Garden variety creep?”

“What? No!” Dean protested.

“Deanna.” The woman didn’t flinch, but Dean did, jerking around to find himself confronted, yet again, by another Cas.

Unlike with his own female counterpart, Dean didn’t have a second of doubt about the woman in front of him being Castiel. Her piercing blue eyes, the dark brown hair done up in a messy knot behind her head, the stiff way she held herself, the black suit, tan trenchcoat and blue tie were all unmistakable.

“Hey, Cas,” the female Dean (Deanna?) said. “Nice of you to turn up. I’m not wrong, right? There’s something off about this guy.”

Cas tilted her head, the motion uncannily familiar. “Yes, you’re correct, Deanna.”

“So, what is he? Demon? Shapeshifter? Vampire?”

“He’s you.”

There was a long pause. And then: “I’m sorry, what?”

Well, Dean had already fucked with two universes. He may as well keep the streak going. He turned back towards Deanna, keeping his movements slow, not wanting to give her a reason to shoot him.

“My name is Dean Winchester. I’m from another universe,” he said.

A myriad of expressions passed across Deanna’s face before she settled on disbelief. She looked over Dean’s shoulder, focusing on Cas.

“You can’t be serious,” she said. “There can’t be some frickin' bizarro world out there where I’m a dude.”

“I am very serious, Deanna,” Cas said solemnly. “From what I can tell, he is genetically identical to you, except for your gender and your universes of origin. There’s also…” Dean could picture Cas squinting at him, staring straight into his soul. “There’s something else…”

“Yeah, I’m dead.” Dean kept his eyes on Deanna, watching as her eyebrows raised. “Got bored sitting around in Heaven, so I decided to take a drive.”

“That does sound like me,” Deanna conceded.

The three of them stood in silence, which was only broken when Dean gestured towards Deanna’s gun.

“Could you maybe put that down?”

“Huh?” Deanna looked down at the gun like she’d forgotten it was there. She tucked it into her jeans before looking back at Dean. “Okay. So, what do we do now?”

Dean paused, taking a second to think. “I could probably use a drink.”

Cas winged them back to a motel room before leaving to go and get them burgers (Deanna’s request) and alcohol (Dean’s). The two of them eyed each other awkwardly once the angel had vanished again. Deanna sat down on the single queen bed in the room, never once taking her eyes off Dean.

“Does Sam exist in this world?” Dean finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, she does,” Deanna said. “She still a girl in your world?”

“Nope, guy,” Dean told her. “Is your Sam stupidly tall with ridiculous hair?”

Deanna smirked. “Yup. Keep telling her to get it cut, but she’s always been stubborn.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Sam,” Dean said, chuckling.

The two grinned at each other, both feeling safer on the common ground they had found.

“Is your Sam still alive?” Deanna asked. “Or did she, sorry, he die as well?”

“Nah, Sammy’s still kicking,” Dean said. “Before I died, I made him promise to keep going without me. He doesn’t need me anymore anyway, not really. Not for a long time.”

Deanna’s smile faded and she looked down at the ground.

“Yeah,” she said. “My Sam doesn’t need me, either. That’s why it’s just me and Cas now.” Deanna glanced towards the spot where Cas had vanished before looking back at Dean. “Do you have a Cas in your world?”

“Er, yeah,” Dean said. “But my one’s a guy.”

“Oh.” Deanna looked surprised. “Well, my Cas said they don’t really do human genders. They say that their true form is beyond all that or something. Your Cas is an angel too, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed. “He pulled me out of Hell.”

“Same,” Deanna said. “So, the only real difference between our worlds is that you’re a guy and, apparently, dead?”

“I guess so,” Dean said, shrugging.

There was another question Dean wanted to ask, regarding the differences between his world and this one, but asking it felt weird. He didn’t know how he was supposed to ask Deanna if she was in love with her Cas and, if the answer was yes, if she had gotten up the courage to tell the angel.

Dean didn’t have time to think of a way to phrase the question before Cas appeared again, a six-pack of beer in one hand and a white paper bag in the other, the former of which he handed to Dean before sitting down on the bed next to Deanna, their bodies pressed together. The woman slung an arm around the angel’s shoulders before using her free hand to reach inside the bag, pull out a handful of fries and stuff them into her mouth.

“Thanks, Cas,” she said once she had swallowed her first mouthful, shooting Cas a wide grin.

“My pleasure,” the angel replied, smiling in return.

Dean clutched the beer as he watched the interaction, feeling suddenly as if he was, once again, invisible. Despite their clear closeness, he still wasn’t sure whether or not they were in a romantic relationship.

His Cas had always stood and sat close to him and at first, Dean had foolishly preached on about needing personal space, too scared to admit that he actually liked it when he was close enough to share Cas’ body heat or pick out each individual shade of blue in his eyes. Eventually, Dean had stopped fighting and allowed himself that small comfort of having Cas close. The last few years before Cas had been taken, he had even experimented with initiating contact himself, whether it be sitting close to Cas during a movie night or letting his fingers linger when he patted Cas’ shoulder.

Dean cracked open one of the bottles of beer and downed half of it at once. After finishing the bottle, he placed it on the floor at his feet before reaching for another. That was when he noticed blue eyes focused on him. He looked up to see Cas staring at him, their stare uncannily similar to his Cas, despite the clear differences between the two angels.

“Why are you here?” the angel asked once they had gotten his attention. “What brought you to this universe?”

It took Dean a second to register the question, and even longer to properly formulate an answer.

“I guess I was curious,” he settled on saying. “I’ve been visiting a bunch of different universes, mostly at random. Seen a bunch of different versions of people I knew. Revisited some universes I got a glimpse of when I was alive as well.”

“You visited other universes when you were alive?” Deanna leaned forward, looking interested.

“Yeah. You haven’t?”

Deanna shook her head. “Never.”

“It would take more power than I have,” Cas supplied. “More power than even an archangel is capable of.”

“Well, I’ve taken on some pretty powerful shit in my universe,” Dean said, shrugging.

“Oh, yeah?” Deanna smirked, raising her eyebrows in a challenge. “Like what?”

“God,” Dean said, letting himself enjoy the way Deanna’s mouth fell open. “His sister, too. She had a bit of a thing for me. Oh, and I killed Death one time.”

“You’re kidding,” Deanna said.

Kinda wish I was, Dean didn’t say. Maybe without Chuck screwing around with his stupid books, he could have had a normal life. Of course, then he might never have met Cas.

Deanna started telling a story about a pair of cursed ballet slippers that sounded eerily similar to a hunt Dean remembered doing with Sam many years ago. He found himself watching Cas out of the corner of his eye, examining how the angel reacted to Deanna, the way they smiled at her. Whenever Cas would laugh, Deanna would look at them with a pleased smile before going back to her story.

Dean could remember his Cas looking at him like that, and he could also remember the surge of satisfaction he had felt whenever he had managed to make Cas laugh. He couldn’t help but wonder how he could never have realised what either of those things meant, why he couldn’t have figured out what he felt for Cas while they were both alive and on Earth.

All Dean could do was keep drinking, trying to wash down his feelings, his pain. He had taken too long to accept what he felt and now he may never find Cas, his Cas. Instead, he’d be stuck walking through worlds with others who were almost, but not quite, the person he was looking for.

Sometime later, Dean found himself jerking awake after dreaming of Cas’ demise yet again. He must have passed out at some point, he realised. His head hurt and the corners of his eyes were crusted with sleep. The room was dark, and he could just make out a softly snoring lump on the other bed that he figured must be Deanna. Cas was sitting with their legs crossed at the woman’s feet, watching Dean.

He couldn’t make out their expression in the dark, but the tilt of their head gave away their curiosity.

Dean was tempted to point out that it was creepy to watch people while they slept, but the words died on his tongue as he remembered shaming his Cas in a similar manner.

“Hey,” he said instead.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replied. “What were you dreaming about?”

Dean swallowed, recalling another dark motel room and another Cas, asking him about his dreams. Back then, he had dreamed of Hell. Now, his dreams were of a different, but no less painful, kind of torture.

“You,” he replied honestly. “My you.”

“You seemed upset,” Cas observed. “Was it a nightmare?”

“Um… Yeah, Cas. In my universe, before I died, I lost you.”

“Oh,” Cas said. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dean said.

It was easier to talk about Cas’ death in the dark. Dean was reminded of back when he had to confess to a priest for a case, the comfort of laying out his problems to be absolved. He had always felt a similar kind of comfort when he had relayed his problems to Cas and then listened to the angel comfort and advise him. Even when he hadn’t told Cas what he was feeling, most of the time, Cas had seen through him anyway — seen right to what the heart of the issue was and helped him through it.

“You blame yourself.”

Apparently, Dean thought as he stared at the dark shadow sitting across from him, knowing him better than he knew himself wasn’t a trait unique to his Cas.

“I… I don’t…” Dean shook his head, feeling tears pool in his eyes. “I don’t know. I… I know I didn’t kill him, but… it was my fault we were in the… situation he died in. And there was stuff I… I should have told him. He died thinking…” He couldn’t say it.

“Your Cas died to save you,” Cas surmised. The angel stood up before crossing the space between the two beds and sitting down. Dean stiffened when he felt the angel’s hand press against his shoulder, right over the mark his Cas had left when he had pulled Dean out of Hell. Dean wondered if this Cas had left a similar mark on Deanna. “You know, I’ve died to save Deanna several times. Every time, she’s blamed herself. But those deaths, they were my choice. I know she’d do the same for me in a heartbeat.”

But, the thing was, Dean’s Cas hadn’t known that Dean would have died in his place if he could. He hadn’t known the extent of Dean’s feelings, had died thinking that the most he would ever be to Dean was a brother, a best friend. Dean was sure that, from the way this Cas and Deanna interacted, they were each aware of how the other felt. At the very least, this Cas knew that Deanna’s feelings went beyond what you’d feel for a sibling or a friend. This Cas knew how far Deanna was willing to go for them.

Deanna hadn’t failed Cas, not like Dean had in his world. That, he would say, is the biggest difference between the two universes.

When Dean turned to look at Cas, he could just make out the curve of the angel’s frown in the darkness. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” they said.

Dean tried to smile, wanting to reassure Cas that everything was alright, even if he knew that the angel would see right through him.

“Again,” he said, “it’s not your fault, Cas.”

“Whatever you’re blaming yourself for probably isn’t yours, either,” Cas said earnestly. “And, even if it is, you’ll fix it. I have faith in you, Dean. You’re a good man, I can tell.”

The sound Dean made in response to Cas was something between a chuckle and a sob.

“Thanks,” he said. “Could you, er, take me back to my car? I should probably get going. Don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

In the blink of an eye, they were in the car park outside the bar again, beside Dean’s Impala. Dean caught a glimpse of this Cas’ wings, iridescent feathers gleaming briefly before Cas folded them away again.

Dean stuck his hands in his pocket to protect them against the cold. It was still dark, but there was some light on the horizon, indicating that the sun was likely to be rising soon.

“Good luck, Dean,” Cas said. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Thank you,” Dean said. “You… You take care of yourself, Cas. Don’t die again.”

Cas smiled at him. “I’ll try not to.”

Dean turned away and got into the car. When he looked back, Cas was gone.

Getting back onto the road was easy enough, as was navigating his way to the next world.  Time seemed to rewind as he drove into the new universe, the sun backing rapidly down the horizon before disappearing as the moon began to rise. It didn’t stop until it hung high in the sky, a cluster of stars glittering around it.

Dean kept driving until he heard the crack of gunshots echoing in a distant field. He turned the car towards the sound, following it. The first thing he caught a glimpse of was a pair of wings, flared out protectively. Dean knew, somehow, that this angel wasn’t using the ethereal appendages to fly but to fight. He also knew that those wings didn’t belong to any version of Cas. They were the right size, but a different shape, sharper, with each feather looking almost sword-like. On top of that, the colour was wrong. There was no iridescence, they were instead a gleaming green colour.

When Dean got close enough, he could make out the person the wings were attached to. They appeared to be fighting, something sharp —  presumably an angel blade —  gripped in their hand as they weaved between several other figures. All of the other people except for one, who stayed near the angel’s side, had hazy outlines, almost as if they were comprised of smoke. They were demons, Dean was sure of it.

The fight was happening some way away, in the centre of a field. Dean parked the Impala on the edge of the road before he got out and began running towards the fight. One of the demons suddenly glowed brightly, shrieking as it died. The angel had smote it. Dean could see the way its grace pulsed, flowing from the angel’s vessel to the demon, burning the unholiness from it.

Dean stopped when he finally got close enough to see more than vague outlines, immediately recognising the angel. He looked younger, definitely, but the vessel was identical to Dean. His clothes, however, were different from the ones Dean had worn when he was alive, more like the FBI suits he had occasionally used to fool witnesses and law enforcement. The tie was green, matching his eyes

The angel (Dean wasn’t sure if it was another otherworldly version of him or just an angel possessing one of his alternate selves) dropped the body of the demon he had been smiting onto the ground before turning to confront yet another one of the creatures.

“Dean!”

Dean turned towards the voice, coming face to face with Cas. It took him a few seconds to register that it wasn’t his Cas, but a different one. This version of Cas was dressed like a hunter in a black shirt and a blue checkered flannel over it. A silver anti-possession symbol hung on a black string around his neck and he was holding an angel blade. Like the angel-Dean, he looked younger than Cas had, his body slimmer and fewer lines marking his face.

“Behind you!” Cas yelled to the angel, who turned just in time to run the demon who had been sneaking up on him through with his angel blade.

The angel looked over at Cas with a grin. “Thanks!” he called to him before swerving away to fight another demon.

Dean turned to watch Cas as he took on two demons at once. The way this version of his angel fought was different than Dean’s Cas, less like an ancient warrior who had seen and participated in more battles than Dean could imagine and more like a hunter who had faced down beings with superior strength daily and therefore had learnt how to fight dirty to make up the difference.

When one of the demons grabbed Cas from behind and the other came at him with a long, deadly-looking knife, Cas used the demon holding him as leverage to kick out at the other demon, shoving it back to give him time to unbalanced the first so he could jerk out of its grip. He landed on the ground with one hand thrust out to keep his balance while the other plunged the angel blade in his hand up through the second demon’s stomach.

Dean watched as the black, smoky outline flashed brightly before dispersing as the demon died, leaving only the corpse of the guy the demon had been possessing. The body dropped, taking Cas’ blade with it. The other demon took the sudden advantage and leapt on Cas, knocking him on his back. The demon straddled his chest and punched him before wrapping its hands around his throat. Cas struggled, trying to unseat the demon and get air back into his lungs, but the grip on his neck was too strong. The monster grinned, its eyes going black.

Dean couldn’t let another Cas die.

He yanked Cas’ angel blade from the corpse before ramming it through the demon’s throat. The body tensed as the demon died and then slackened, collapsing forward. Dean heard Cas coughing and gulping down air as he pulled the dead demon off him. He kept the bloodied blade in one hand while he offered the other to Cas, who stared up at him like he was a ghost.

“C’mon,” Dean said, stepping closer.

Finally, Cas grasped his hand and let Dean pull him to his feet.

“What are you?” he asked. His voice was even more gravelly than normal, probably from the suffocation. There were red fingerprints around his neck and Dean was sure he was going to have a fine ring of bruises in a few days.

“No time.” He handed the blade back to Cas. “You okay to fight?”

Cas nodded before diving back into the fight, this time with Dean watching his back. There weren’t many demons left, most of them had been taken out by the angel, who was in the middle of smiting another, his teeth gritted as holy light flooded the damned creature. Another demon tried to attack him while he was occupied, but Cas took care of it with a quick and efficient stab to the chest. The last demon tried to run at Cas, but Dean managed to grab it, holding it still so that Cas could slit its throat.

The angel threw aside the body of the demon it had killed and let its wings vanish before turning to look at Dean. Its eyes glowed briefly as it looked him up and down before it raised an eyebrow.

“Well, aren’t you a handsome devil.”

“Takes one to know one,” Dean said. “You definitely chose the right meatsuit. Let me guess, you got Dean Winchester in there?”

“Dean Smith, actually,” the angel corrected. “He’s not in here anymore, it’s just me. I take it you’re Dean Winchester?”

“Yup,” Dean said. “What should I call you then?”

“Dean.” The angel shrugged. “I was fond of the name, it’s better than my real one.” He walked slowly around Dean, eyeing him curiously before he came to a stop at Cas’ side. “You’re not from ‘round here, are you?”

Dean shook his head. “No.”

“Huh,” the angel said. “So, you’re from another universe, and I guess you’re ‘spose to be me—”

“Wait, what?” Cas asked, looking between the two Deans. “He’s you? Is he an angel as well?”

“Not unless he’s a fallen one.”

“I’m not,” Dean said. “Just a human, always have been. In my world, you,” he nodded to Cas, “are the angel.”

“Me?” Cas said.

The angel Dean elbowed Cas’ side playfully. “Didn’t I always say you’d be a better angel than me? Not that that means much, but still.”

Cas rolled his eyes before looking over at Dean.

“How did you meet me in your world?” There was a haunted look in his eyes that Dean recognised, a reflection of hellfire deep in the darkness of his pupils. Dean had seen the same look in the mirror years ago, back when he had woken up with the memory of a blade in his hands and screams ringing in his ears.

“He pulled me out of Hell.”

The understanding in Cas’ eyes was different from the way his Cas had understood his torment. His Cas may have descended into the pit and seen what he had become and the horrors he had both endured and inflicted, but this Cas had gone through it all. He had been tortured and broken, just like Dean, and then he had picked up the knife offered to him and done that and worse to any other souls who had been put in front of him.

“So, your world is the reverse of ours?” the other Dean said.

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean said.

“Huh. Well, that’s kinda weird.”

It was far from the weirdest world he had seen, but Dean decided not to mention that.

“Why’d you pull Cas out of Hell?” Dean asked instead, curious about how closely these worlds mirrored each other. “Heaven want him to be Michael’s meatsuit?”

“Er, yeah,” the other Dean said. “So I guess you’re the Michael Sword in your world. And your Cas rebelled for you?” Dean nodded and the angel grinned, reaching over to wrap an arm around Cas’ shoulders. “You’re a natural-born rebel in every world, buddy.”

“Did you guys manage to stop the apocalypse?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, couple of years ago,” the angel said. “There hasn’t been much to do since, just some routine hunts here and there.”

Cas nodded while trying to stifle a yawn behind in hand. In an instant, the other Dean had turned towards him, eyes wide with concern.

“Oh, buddy, I’m sorry, I forget humans need sleep and shit. I’ll take you home.”

“Dean—”

“Nope.” The angel shook his head. “C’mon, sleepyhead, bedtime.” He glanced over at Dean. “You, er, you coming?”

“Sure,” Dean said, not quite ready to leave this version of Cas yet.

Between one second and the next, the three of them moved from the field to a dark room. The other Dean snapped his fingers and the lights turned on, revealing a small living room with a TV in one corner, a raggedy-looking couch pushed back against a wall and an equally raggedy chair positioned directly across from the TV.

Dean turned slowly, looking around the room, taking in the lace curtains covering the windows, the old red carpet spread across the floor, and the tall bookshelf stuffed with books, boxes, and a couple of CDs.

“You live here?” he asked.

“Cas does,” the other Dean said.

“My Uncle Akobel and Aunt Lily left this house to me,” Cas explained. “I moved in after we stopped Lucifer and Michael.”

“It needed a whole load of work,” the other Dean said. “Lucky for Cas, I’ve always been willing to get my hands dirty.”

“It’s not much,” Cas said, sounding embarrassed.

“No, no,” Dean said. “Trust me, this is much better than where we lived in my world.”

The other Dean looked as if he wanted to ask Dean to elaborate but, apparently, decided better of it. Instead, he turned to Cas, giving him a soft smile.

“I better get back to Heaven. You’ll pray if you need anything?”

“Of course.” Cas smiled back at the angel. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean recognised the disappointment on the angel’s face as he turned away from Cas before unfolding his wings and vanishing.

Cas seemed to slump once the other Dean was gone, looking tired and sad. It took him a second to remember that Dean was even there. He looked over at him, forcing a blank look onto his face that didn’t fool Dean for a moment.

“If you’re tired, I can set the spare room for you,” he said. “Otherwise, you’re welcome to get yourself some food or watch TV.”

“Er, I wouldn’t mind some food,” Dean said.

Cas nodded. “Okay. The kitchen’s through there,” he pointed at a door. “My room’s the last door on the right down the hall if you need something.”

“Cool. Thanks, Cas.”

“Thank you for saving me,” Cas said. He turned to walk down the hallway he had indicated before pausing and looking back at Dean over his shoulder. His mouth opened as if he wanted to speak before he sealed his lips and shook his head. “Thank you, Dean,” he said again before walking away.

The kitchen was small but well-stocked. Dean ended up just making himself a sandwich, not really feeling up to eating anything more substantial. He wandered back through to the living room, grabbed a book at random off the bookshelf and then sat down on the couch, which turned out to be surprisingly comfortable.

He recognised the book once he began to leaf through the pages; it was an old tome on rare kinds of ghosts that Bobby had owned. He flicked through the pages carefully, feeling a bout of nostalgia for the old salvage yard in Sioux Falls. He put the book down gently on the floor before he began to slowly eat his sandwich. Once he was done, he pulled the book onto his lap and began reading, trying to recall all the incidents where he had faced these types of ghosts.

He must have been reading for about an hour when he came to a ghost that appeared in the form of black smoke. It should have been innocuous enough, but the illustration next to the entry was eerily similar to how the Empty had looked when it had formed in the dungeon before stretching out its sinuous tendrils to take first Billie, and then Cas.

Dean stood up, dropping the book onto the couch beside him before walking down the hallway Cas had indicated. The last door on the right was closed. Dean turned the handle slowly, not wanting to disturb Cas but at the same time, desperately needing to remind himself that this one, at least, was safe. The door creaked open, and Dean was just able to make out a lump curled up under blankets on the bed before the body moved, one of the hands shooting out from under the pillow to point a gun at Dean’s head.

“Woah, woah, Cas, it’s just me!” Dean held up his hands, trying to calm Cas.

His night vision was good enough that he made out Cas blinking before lowering the gun.

“Dean?” he asked, voice still laden with sleep. “What are you doing?”

“I was…” Dean trailed off, feeling kind of embarrassed at what he now saw was just a paranoid overreaction. There was no reason for the Empty to try and take this Cas, not unless he had also made some kind of deal. “I was just checking you were okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Cas squinted at him.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Um… Do you want to come in?”

Despite knowing that his fears were unfounded, Dean didn’t want to leave this Cas yet, so he nodded. Cas turned on a lamp beside his bed as Dean walked slowly into the room before sitting down on the bed.

This Cas, apparently, slept shirtless. Dean tried not to let his eyes linger on the tanned, muscled torso or the trail of dark hairs leading down his body before disappearing into his sleep pants. Like the last Cas Dean had seen shirtless (he tried not to blush as he remembered that Cas moaning as he rode Dean’s cock) this Cas’ body was littered with scars but unlike the other Cas, this one was at least a healthy weight, even if he was nowhere near as meaty as Dean’s Cas.

Cas rubbed his eyes, shielding them briefly against the sudden light before he turned to look at Dean.

“Are you okay, Dean?”

“Yeah, fine,” Dean said. There wasn’t a lot of space between him and Cas, but it still felt like too much. He wanted to be closer. He wanted to run his hands across Cas’ chest, he wanted to grab those still-thick thighs, he wanted to cup Cas’ face, he just wanted so badly it hurt. “I was just worried. It’s stupid—”

“I’m sure it’s not,” Cas said gently. Dean stiffened when the man placed a hand on his thigh. He glanced down at it before looking up at Cas again, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Cas looked down at Dean’s mouth and swallowed. “You can… I know I’m not your Castiel, but you can tell me.”

Dean saw Cas’ eyes widen in surprise as he picked his hand up off his leg and weaved their fingers together. He didn’t look up at Cas, instead examining the hand he was now holding.

“I lost you,” he said. “My you. And, before he died, he told me something.”

Cas’ breath hitched. “What did he tell you?” he asked.

Dean looked up at Cas again before placing his free hand on the side of Cas’ face. Blue eyes widened as they stared at Dean, disbelief and hope warring in their depths.

“Dean,” Cas said, his voice shaking.

Both of them leaned in at the same time, gravitating towards each other. Cas’ nose bumped against Dean’s as their faces gradually slotted together. Dean felt Cas’ warm breath on his lips as the two of them paused, both savouring the moment. Dean closed the gap between them first, his lips brushing against Cas’ gently, nothing like the hard, desperate kisses he had shared with the other Cas in the alternate 2014.

The second kiss they shared was longer, but no less gentle. Dean opened his mouth when he felt Cas’ tongue probing at his lips, a moan vibrating through him as their tongues twined together. Dean felt Cas’ hand grasping the back of his neck, his palm warm and rough with callouses as he guided Dean closer.

Cas gasped when Dean fitted his hand over his left shoulder. He pulled back, his eyes closed as he breathed heavily. Dean shifted his palm and made out a red mark. The handprint on Cas’ shoulder was a near exact replica of the one burned onto Dean after he had been pulled out of Hell. The mirror imagery of this world was starting to make Dean’s head spin.

“Is that…” Dean asked, gesturing to the burn mark.

“Dean left it,” Cas said, covering the mark with his own hand, “when he pulled me out of Hell.”

Cas turned to look at Dean again as he began pulling off his jacket and then his shirt before he turned his left shoulder towards Cas, revealing the handprint his angel had left behind after he had rescued him from Hell. On Earth, the mark had vanished years ago but after he had died and begun driving through Heaven, he had discovered that it had returned.

“Oh.” Cas reached out, fitting his palm against the handprint. Dean shut his eyes, taking a deep breath as he felt something inside him flicker towards the man, reaching out to him. “This is from your Cas.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, his voice strained.

“Wow,” Cas said, awed. “I can’t imagine being that powerful. I sometimes wondered what it must have been like to fly down into Hell, and to think that, in another universe, I’m the angel, not you… It’s unbelievable.”

“Well, believe it,” Dean said, laughing. “From what I’ve seen, in most universes, if one of us is an angel, it’s generally you. And then there are other worlds where we’re both humans. And, you know, in my world, you’re the best of those feathery asshats. If there’s anyone who’s lived up to the name, it’s you.”

Cas eyed him doubtfully. “If your world is anything like mine, you know the kinds of things I’ve done, Dean.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said. “I did them too, remember? And my Cas, he made mistakes too. He hurt people, me included, but he was still good. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t perfect.” Not to me, Dean thought, remembering all the dumbass things Cas had done that Dean would have killed almost anyone else for. “He always tried to do the right thing, even if he got a bit confused about what that was sometimes.”

Cas still looked as if he didn’t believe him. Instead of trying to argue, Dean kissed him again. This time, it was Cas who moved his hand to Dean’s shoulder, both of them moaning at the contact. They pressed against each other as their kiss deepened and Dean fisted a hand in Cas’ hair, the strands soft against his fingers in a way that made Dean think of feathers.

The two of them fell back onto the bed without breaking their kiss. Dean whined when Cas pulled away so that he could get on top of Dean, rolling his hips to get some friction against their cocks. Dean moaned before reaching up to grab Cas and yank him back down for another kiss. His mouth was hot when Dean licked his way inside, hungry for every part of Cas he could get.

When Dean felt a hand slip down his chest and then begin working at his belt, he pressed his hips up and groaned into the kiss. Cas responded to his wordless urges by breaking the kiss and moving down his body, pausing to kiss his hard nipples and swirl his tongue around his navel. For a second, Dean thought he had abandoned his belt, but then a hand pressed down hard against the front of his jeans.

“Fuck!” Dean pressed himself up into Cas’ palm, his whole body trembling. He looked down at Cas, who was staring at him with wide, dark eyes, his tongue flicking out to wet his mouth as he watched Dean. “God, sweetheart, that’s good.”

The way Cas smiled up at him was soft, nothing like the dark lust in his eyes. Dean wanted to kiss him again, he wanted to feel that smile against his lips. However, when Cas moved down and began mouthing at Dean through his jeans, he found that he didn’t mind that much that his desire to kiss Cas wasn’t fulfilled.

Cas’ hands worked at Dean’s belt again before moving on to the button and then the zipper. Cas’ mouth through his jeans was quickly replaced by his hand, slipping down Dean’s pants to wrap around his cock. The dry friction burned slightly, but it still felt good enough to make Dean moan with pleasure.

Cas indulged Dean for a few more seconds, running his hand up and down his shaft and using his thumb to smear the precome beading at the tip, before he took his hand away and knelt above Dean, his bare torso and the bulge in his pants on full display. Dean watched hungrily as Cas began hastily undoing his pants and then peeling them down his tanned legs. He left them halfway down his thighs before pulling his boxers down as well, his thick, reddening cock springing forth once no longer confined, beads of pearly white leaking down onto Dean’s stomach.

Both of them separated briefly to properly divest themselves of the rest of their clothes, dropping them into a tangled pile on the floor. Dean tackled Cas onto the bed as soon as he had finished with his clothes, playfully pinning his hands above his head and bracketing him with his legs. The way Cas stared up at him with his eyes wide and his mouth parted was the most heady power trip Dean had ever ridden.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Dean said, using one of his hands to push a curl of Cas’ hair back from his face.

The blush that stained Cas’ cheeks and the way he began to stammer protests was so fucking cute that Dean had no choice but to kiss him breathless. He let his hands wander down as they kissed, exploring Cas’ body, creeping slowly across his shoulders and strong arms, flicking gently at Cas’ nipples (the moan that was forced from Cas’ lips in response was particularly sinful and went right to Dean’s cock) before he let one palm rest on Cas’ toned stomach, feeling it rise and fall in time with his rapid breaths.

Both of them broke away from each other as their cocks grinded together. Dean braced a hand on the bed as he panted into Cas’ mouth, needing more friction but waiting for Cas to make the first move.

“Dean,” Cas gasped, closing his eyes as he pressed his head hard against the bed before thrusting up, seeking the contact that Dean needed.

“D’you have any lube?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded. “Bottom drawer,” he rasped.

It only took a few seconds of fumbling around in the drawer to find the half-full bottle. He crawled back to Cas and laid on his side, facing him, as he clicked open the lid and began slicking up his hand. Cas watched with hungry eyes, his tongue swiping across his lips. He breathed in deeply when Dean finally ran his hand across Cas’ cock, keeping his touch teasingly light. It was hard not to squeeze harder when he slicked up his own cock, but thinking about finding his release with Cas, feeling their lengths sliding together while he examined every beautiful expression that crossed Cas’ face, held him back from getting quicker but ultimately less satisfying gratification.

It was well worth the slight wait when Dean finally wrapped his hand around both of their dicks, creating a tight space for them to fuck into. Cas moaned as Dean began moving his hips, his cock sliding against Cas’. Both of them were quick to settle into a steady rhythm as they slowly fucked into Dean’s hand. Dean closed his eyes when Cas’ nose bumped against his as he nuzzled their faces together, his wet, reddened lips resting against Dean’s cheek. One of his hands came to rest on Dean’s hip, caressing the bone lightly.

They kissed again, but this time it was sloppy, uncoordinated, as they both drew closer and closer to release.

Cas got to the edge first. His breathing had quickened to rapid little puffs against Dean’s skin and his grip on Dean’s hip tightened.

“Dean,” he whimpered. “Dean, Dean, Dean!”

“You close, sweetheart?” Dean asked, feeling Cas shiver against him as his breath ghosted across his skin.

Cas nodded against him. His whole body shook as Dean pressed his lips to his stubbled jaw, kissing across his cheek until he made it to his lips. He felt Cas’ thrusts into his hand stop at the same time as the man gasped against him, his muscles constricting as he came, his release coating Dean’s hand and cock.

Dean’s hand sped up on his dick, the very thought of jerking off using Cas’ come enough to send him over the brink only a few seconds later. Cas watched him, clearly spent but still alert, as he came, their spend mixing together between them. Dean crashed their lips together as he rode the high of his orgasm, letting Cas swallow his enthusiastic moans and cries.

They came down from their highs pressed together, come cooling on their skin as they exchanged kisses that slowly transitioned from frantic to slow and gradual.

Dean whined when Cas pulled away and left the bed, his legs still slightly shaky as he stumbled out of the room. He returned a short time later with his skin clean and a wet cloth in his hands. Dean turned onto his back and watched as Cas cleaned him gently, his strong hands moving the cloth carefully over his soft cock, lower stomach and then his hand.

Once he was done, he tossed the cloth carelessly onto the ground before climbing back into the bed with Dean and snuggling up next to him. Dean pressed his face against the hollow of Cas’ throat and closed his eyes as he felt Cas’ arms wind around him.

It didn’t take long for Cas’ breathing to even out as he fell asleep, his naked body relaxing in Dean’s arms. Dean could feel his pulse beating against his cheek, lulling him into a light doze.

Dean was startled fully awake again when he heard wings. He sat up and turned, coming face to face with green eyes blazing with holy, angelic wrath.

A hand wrapped around Dean’s wrist and, suddenly, they were back in the field they’d fought the demons in and Dean found himself fully clothed again.

The fist that collided with Dean’s jaw knocked him on his ass. The angel stood over him, his wings spread behind his shoulders in an aggressive display. The other Dean’s jaw clenched and the way he stared Dean down, his green eyes dark and menacing, reminded Dean of Michael.

“Hey,” Dean said, trying to hide his nervousness, despite knowing that the effort would be futile. Even with their differences, the angel standing over Dean was him. “You, er, you doing okay, pal?”

“Fuck you,” the angel snarled. He crouched down on the ground, his eyes glowing with power. “So what, you end up in another universe, and you think, hey, why not take Cas for a ride? Huh?”

“Well, you weren’t gonna do it, so—”

The angel Dean grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt and hoisted him to his feet.

“You don’t fucking deserve him, you asshole. He’s the best human, fuck, the best being I’ve ever known. I don’t care who you are, what you’ve done, he deserves better than—”

“Better than you, right?” Dean interrupted. “You don’t think you deserve him. You’re probably right, to be fair. I didn’t deserve my Cas. It didn’t stop him from wanting me.”

The angel’s expression went from wrathful to guarded. He dropped his grip on Dean, who stumbled but managed to stay upright, and turned away, his wings disappearing as he hunched over, his arms folded defensively.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Dean watched the other version of him. “I’m you, remember? Doesn’t matter that you’ve got a halo up your ass and I don’t. I know how you feel about him, I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. And he feels the same.”

The angel turned his head slightly, giving Dean a good look at his profile. He still wasn’t looking at Dean.

“Cas deserves—”

“Cas is an idiot.” The speed at which the other Dean turned likely would have been impossible for someone human. Dean smiled slightly at the renewed anger on his other self’s face, the way his first instinct was to come to Cas’ defence. “He deserves better, yeah. But he wants us. In every world I’ve seen, we’re what he wants. The places I’ve seen him happiest have been the ones where he was with us.”

The other Dean’s anger cooled, but the look in his eyes was still wary.

“Were you with your Cas?” he asked.

Dean shook his head. “I didn’t realise how I felt or how he felt until he was gone.”

The image of Cas’ tear-stained face as he was swallowed up by the Empty lingered in Dean’s mind as his other self processed the new information. He didn’t ask what had happened to Cas in Dean’s world, maybe sensing that it wasn’t a story Dean was going to tell. He’d never told anyone before, and he wasn’t going to start now just because this guy was, in some ways, him.

“Why’d you even come back, anyway?” Dean asked when it became clear that the angel wasn’t going to say anything.

The other Dean swallowed and his cheeks flushed pink. He avoided Dean’s eyes, looking more like a nervous teenager caught surfing the internet for porn than a celestial being.

“I heard him,” he said, voice hushed and his eyes still trained on the ground rather than meeting Dean’s. “He was calling out for me. I thought he was having a nightmare again. I came down to Earth to settle his mind and send him into a dreamless sleep, and…”

The angel didn’t continue, but Dean could fill in the blanks.

“Then you know,” he said, “it’s not me he wants, it’s you. You really gonna waste that?”

The other Dean looked up at him again.

“What would you do?” he asked, his anxiety gone and a calculating expression replacing it. “If you saw your Cas again?”

It was futile to hide the waves of emotions that the question sent washing over him. Dean didn’t even fight to keep his voice steady when he answered.

“I’d tell him that I’m sorry I ever let him think that he was just like a brother to me,” he said. “And I’d tell him that I feel the same as he does.”

The other Dean nodded slowly. “I hope you find him,” he said.

The angel vanished before Dean had a chance to reply.

Chapter Text

Once Dean was alone, he was quick to get back behind the wheel of the Impala and drive toward the next world. He sort of wished that he could have said goodbye to Cas before leaving, but he doubted his angel self would be too happy with that. Dean could only imagine how jealous he’d feel if another version of him had managed to snag Cas before he did.

The next world was just as dark as the last one, the moon high and full in the sky. Dean found himself driving through the streets of a small town, navigating his way on instinct until he came to a bar on the edge of a forest.

From the outside, it looked like yet another classic roadhouse, but Dean could see bright, multicoloured lights flashing in the windows and young men and women lining up outside and stumbling out arm in arm with their friends. A girl who looked barely out of her teens in a sequined top and skinny jeans drunkenly walked right past the Impala as Dean lingered on the side of the road, waving at someone coming out of the bar.

Dean parked Baby before standing up and heading over to the bar. He didn’t bother going towards the door and instead waited outside, something telling him that what he was looking for would eventually come to him. He wasn’t disappointed.

He had lost track of time when a familiar dark-haired figure lurched out of the exit, supported by a tall, muscular man who appeared a few years older than most of the bar’s other clientele. He had a skeevy, greasy look about him that immediately put Dean’s guard up.

This version of Cas was noticeably slighter than many of the others but, unlike the Cas from the alternate 2014 universe, he didn’t look underfed. He was wearing a black v-neck t-shirt and black skinny jeans, and there was a cross on a chain around his neck. Dean began walking after the two of them, noting how pale Cas’ skin was as the big man began leading him into the forest behind the bar. They stumbled through the trees until the lights of the bar had faded somewhat, leaving only the glow of the moon to guide them.

The burly man Cas was with suddenly stopped, his head whipping around. Dean was concerned for a second, wondering if he’d somehow been spotted, but then he heard it, a rustling sound, like something was moving around somewhere deep in the trees.

“You hear that?” the man asked, his words slightly slurred.

“Heard what?” Cas asked dismissively before grabbing the man’s arm and shoving him up against a thick tree. Dean saw one of his hands go down to palm the guy through his pants and watched the way the man’s throat moved and how his eyes darkened noticeably.

Dean moved closer, seriously considering intervening just to get Cas’ hands off the creep as he began kissing along his neck, pausing when Cas got to the man’s pulse to lick a long strip along the hammering vein. The man gasped and pressed his head back against the tree, his eyes clenched shut.

Cas grinned and tilted his head backwards, his skin appearing to glow in the light cast down from the moon. Dean froze, shocked, when an extra set of teeth dropped from his gums, glinting dangerously. Cas was a vampire.

The man (Cas’ victim, Dean realised) didn’t get any warning before Cas’ sharp incisors were sinking into his throat. The guy shrieked and began to struggle, lashing out with arms and legs thick with muscle, but Cas, despite being smaller, was clearly stronger, easily keeping the man pinned as he sucked greedily at his neck. Slowly, the man’s yells and attempts to push the vampire off him became weaker until he was slumping back against the tree, unable to do anything as he was sucked dry.

Cas only spent about a minute drinking from the man before he pulled off him and dropped his limp body onto the ground. At first, Dean assumed that the man must be dead, but then he let out a weak moan. Cas crouched down and stroked the top of his head, making a shushing noise.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his deep voice soothing even as blood dried on the lower half of his face, standing out starkly against his pale skin. “It’ll all be over soon.”

Dean heard a growl behind him. He turned slowly and was confronted with a werewolf that, other than the wild hair and beard, fangs, claws, and unnaturally glowing green eyes, looked exactly like him. He was wearing a torn pair of jeans and the scraps of a black t-shirt and red flannel hung off his muscular torso.

The creature prowled forward slowly, eyes fixed on the dying man at Cas’ feet. Cas didn’t look at all perturbed by the appearance of the other supernatural creature. Instead, he was smiling, soft and fond. He held out his hand once the werewolf was close enough and brushed back the hair on his head, his smile widening when the monster nuzzled against his palm.

“Hello, my love,” he said softly. “There’s plenty left for you. Go on, eat.”

Dean had to turn away when the werewolf version of him began to devour his meal. The man’s screams echoed through the forest before they were abruptly cut off. All of his carefully cultivated hunter instincts were screaming at him that there was a human that needed to be saved that was being devoured by two monsters but, at the same time, he knew that this was another world and he wasn’t supposed to interfere. On top of that, one of the creatures was Cas. One of the last things he would ever want to do was harm him, any version of him, in any way.

Eventually, the sounds of the werewolf breaking open the man’s chest and then feasting on his heart trailed off. When Dean turned back, the other version of him had laid his head in Cas’ lap. Both of them were covered in blood, Dean could smell the familiar metallic tang from where he stood, rooted to the spot, but neither seemed bothered.

The werewolf’s animalistic features slowly faded until he looked more human, save for the blood soaking into his clothes, staining his skin and matting his wild hair. He looked up at Cas and smiled through bloodied teeth.

“That really hit the spot. Thanks, sweetheart.”

Cas chuckled before leaning down.

“Anything for you, my love.” The vampire kissed the werewolf with a gentleness that Dean would never have expected from a monster that had just committed such a brutal killing.

Dean began to back away as the kissing grew more heated. The werewolf version of Dean climbed into Cas’ lap and began grinding against him while Cas moved towards his neck, biting at sucking at his skin teasingly. The animalistic growl that the other Dean let out as Cas let his vampire teeth drop and scraped them across his throat made the hair on the back of Dean’s neck rise.

He could remember times when he had been a monster. The unquenchable thirst that came with vampirism and the way his inhibitions and conscience had fallen away when he had succumbed to the Mark of Cain and transformed into a demon weren’t experiences that he would ever forget in a hurry.

The idea that there were worlds where he wasn’t a hunter or just a normal human, but a creature, a monster with no qualms about taking lives to sustain himself sat unpleasantly in the back of Dean’s mind as he made his way back to the Impala. He comforted himself by remembering that at least these two versions of himself and Cas were together and happy, in their own way.

All the same, once he was inside his Baby, he hightailed it out of that world like the Devil was on his tail. The image of Cas covered in blood, hauntingly similar to how he had looked when he had come to Dean and Sam for help after his brief stint as God had led to the murder of innocent people, didn’t leave Dean as he drove down the road.

This time, when Dean changed worlds, he found himself driving among trees, the road beneath his car gone and rough, uneven ground replacing it. On earth, he never would have dared drive Baby on anything but a proper road, but like him, Heaven had made her more resilient.

It wasn’t just the surroundings that had changed. It looked as if all the colour had been sucked out of the world, leaving everything grey and bleak.

Dean didn’t recognise the exact location, but he knew where he was from the colour distortion and the general feeling that was slowly ingraining itself in his bones — the savage, primal instincts trying to rise to the surface. He was in Purgatory.

He could still remember his desperate prayer from the last time he had been here. He had lost Cas here once and then, for a short but still agonising time, he had thought that he’d lost Cas all over again without even getting the chance to make things right.

In a way, that extra push that had forced Dean to apologise had been a blessing. At least Cas hadn’t died thinking that Dean still hated him.

Dean didn’t stay in the Impala for long. Even aware of her extra hardiness, he wasn’t comfortable driving her around, paranoid that somehow she would still end up damaged.

He began walking, easing his way through the trees, keeping his steps slow and steady. It may have been a while, but his Purgatory-honed instincts were still there, guiding him.

Despite being the ‘land of monsters’, Purgatory had often been quite sparse of life. When Dean had been trapped here, he could go days without seeing another being other than Cas or Benny. He wasn’t shocked when he wandered, aimless and alone, for hours before finally hearing the quiet murmur of voices.

He hesitated briefly before following the sound, listening as it became louder the closer he got. Finally, he came to a small campsite. A man and a woman, both dirty and rough looking, huddled around a fire, the man scanning the trees around them while the woman focused on roasting a small creature that Dean didn’t recognise over the flames. Occasionally, a few words would pass between the two but for the most part, they stayed silent.

Dean waited next to a tree, watching over the two of them. It was half an hour later when the relative peace was finally disturbed.

At this point, seeing one of his doubles didn’t weird Dean out that much in of itself. This one, unlike most of the others, looked like he could be around the age Dean had been when he had died, maybe even a little older. His hair was fairly long, greasy strands falling down his face, and his beard was rough and unkempt. The jeans he was wearing were coated in dirt and one leg of them had been roughly hacked off at the knee. His jacket wasn’t faring much better, the holey material probably offering little protection from the chill of Purgatory.

The man by the fire froze when he spotted Dean, his eyes widening with fear.

“Run!” he yelled, already halfway to his feet. He didn’t even have a chance.

The other Dean was fast, getting to the man before he had even fully risen. He had a long scythe, just like the one Dean had used in Purgatory, and used it to slice the man’s head off neatly. The decapitated body slumped to the ground as the head rolled away before stopping near Dean, the man’s mouth half open in a permanent expression of shock.

The woman’s eyes glowed and claws grew from her hands. She lept on the other Dean while he was distracted with the man’s body, slashing at him with her claws. Dean was so focused on the werewolf trying to eviscerate his other self that he didn’t see the third person until he had grabbed the woman, yanking her away.

This version of Cas was older-looking, just like the other Dean. A torn, dirty trenchcoat hung off his thick frame, his hair matted and dirty with a wild look in his eyes. One of his hands, filthy with dirt and dried blood, was wrapped around the woman’s throat. He held her off the ground, unflinching even as she howled and scratched at his arm, and stared at her with glowing blue eyes. She shrieked, thrashing as the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

When Cas finally dropped the werewolf’s body, her eyes had been burned out and there was a ring of blackened marks around her neck. Dean tore his eyes away from the carnage when his other self stood up and clapped Cas on the back.

“Thanks, man,” he said. He pressed a hand to his cheek, wincing briefly when it came away bloody. The werewolf’s claws had left a long scratch down the side of his face. “You mind?” he asked Cas.

The angel nodded before cupping the side of the other Dean’s face, the gentleness he handled this version of Dean with a startling contrast to the brutality he had used to dispatch the woman. When Cas removed his hand, the other Dean’s face was healed.

The way the alternate version of Dean smiled was ridiculously sweet, especially with the evidence of his own casual display of violence lying headless at his feet.

“What would I do without you, sweetheart?” he said. The angel merely shrugged in response, making the other Dean laugh before he leaned in to kiss Cas.

The display of affection was brief. After it was over, the other Dean was all business. He crouched down beside the dead man, fishing around in his pockets and making a disappointed sound when his search came up with nothing.

“She have anything good on her?” he asked Cas, who was searching the woman. He sighed when the angel shook his head. “Figures,” he muttered before looking critically at the cargo pants the man was wearing. “Those look about my size, right?” He didn’t bother waiting for an answer before he began to undo the pants and then work them down the man’s legs.

Once the other Dean had the pants, he stood up again and walked over to the fire. The meat the woman had been cooking was still there but must have fallen in the fire when he had sprung up in response to the man’s cry. The other Dean sighed as he picked up the spit and examined it before dropping it on the ground.

“Guess we’ll have to find something else for dinner,” he said. He picked the pants up off the ground before taking off his heavy boots and then shucking his old jeans. Cas watched the other Dean unblinkingly as his legs, covered in gold hairs, were exposed. The other Dean glanced over at the angel, winking and wiggling his hips slightly. “See something you like, baby?” He chuckled when Cas responded with a nod. “You’re not too bad yourself, you know.”

He walked forward, moving to stand boldly in front of Cas. Dean saw one of his other self’s hands move down by his waist but he couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, Cas’ trenchcoat was in the way. Still, from the growl that Cas let out, it wasn’t hard to guess.

The other Dean brought his lips to Cas’ ear, stopping just shy of making contact. Dean moved forward slightly and managed to catch the whispered words.

“Don’t worry, angel,” the other Dean murmured. “We’ll take care of that later.”

Cas’ eyes darkened dangerously and, for a second, he thought that the angel might shove his other self against a tree and take what he was clearly straining for.

Then the other Dean stepped back and Cas let him go. He watched as Dean’s alternate self pulled on the cargo pants, grabbing a belt from his wrecked jeans to keep them from falling down, before bending over to pick up the scythe from where it had fallen.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get outta here.”

Dean watched the two walk away. Briefly, he considered following them before deciding against it. He’d seen enough of this world already.

Finding his way back to the Impala was easy and, as soon as he slid behind the wheel, he found himself back on the road. This time, as he drove, the change was gradual. Dean didn’t even notice the sky darkening and his surroundings changing until it had already happened.

Even protected by the car, Dean could feel the heat. Sweat soaked through his clothes, forcing Dean to remove his jacket and leaving him in only his t-shirt. A familiar smell permeated the vehicle, making Dean’s eyes water with its intensity. The smoky burn of hellfire, the metallic scent of blood, and the tang of sweat and misery all dragged up unpleasant memories from where they had been buried in his mind.

Outside the Impala, there was no road. Instead, Dean appeared to be driving along the bottom of a deep, wide cavern. Above him, the sky was black with tinges of red and around him, walls of blood-coloured rock rose infinitely. Chains were strung everywhere, keeping screaming human souls suspended high off the ground, hooks digging into flesh as the captives squirmed and howled.

Dean only realised that his breathing had sped up when he felt his chest begin to tighten and tears start to blur his vision. He forced himself to take a few deep, slow breaths, breathing in the familiar leathery scent of Baby’s seats.

He knew that he could just leave but, despite the panic he felt, he wanted to keep going. There was something important that he needed to see, he was sure of it. The Impala had taken him to this world for a reason.

He kept driving until, ahead of him, a dais made of the blood-red stone appeared. On top of the dais was a throne of dark, withered wood, the branches stretching up, pointing at the sky, which, above the throne, was clear of human prisoners.

Dean knew who he’d see lounging on the throne before he even got close enough to make out the human features that the demon still retained.

This version of him had a permanent set of black eyes and the short hair that he’d had when he had been alive. His clothes were deceptively normal, a black shirt, jeans and a red flannel. But there were darker stains on them that Dean recognised as blood.

Despite the chaos and misery around him, his other self still looked bored. There was a knife, a black blade that curved cruelly, in his hands which he was using to clean his nails.

Then, suddenly, his expression changed. Something flared in his eyes and he tilted his head upward. Dean got out of the Impala (ignoring the way his skin crawled as his boots hit the cold, hard ground) and looked up as well. At first, there was nothing. Then Dean managed to make out a speck of light among the darkness, growing bigger and brighter.

Wings. Those were the first parts he made out. Big and burned black from hellfire, feathers wilting away, exposing sinuous bone, and the colours that Dean had gotten used to seeing were dulled but still gleamed under the layer of taint that coated the wings.

Cas, this version looking nigh identical to Dean’s except for the black trenchcoat he wore, landed hard in front of the throne, his coat flapping around him as he took a second to regain his balance before striding over to the other Dean.

The demonic version of Dean tilted his head and his lips curved into a smile.

“Hey, babe,” he said as the angel strode over to him.

“They are coming,” Cas said urgently.

The demon stretched and then yawned, unaffected by the angel’s franticness.

“I know,” he said. “Take a seat, Cas.” He patted his knee, spreading his legs to make space for Cas.

“Dean, they have orders—”

“To kill me? Yeah, shocker.” The other Dean reached out suddenly, grabbing Cas’ wrist and tugging him forward until he was sitting in his lap. “They’ll have to get to me first. And, while the armies of Hell may not have Heaven’s power, we have the numbers. Angels, they’re a limited-time offer, but more demons join our ranks every day.” He gestured towards the chained humans before kissing Cas’ cheek. “So just relax, okay? Sit back and enjoy the show.”

“Dean, please,” Cas said. “I’ve never seen Michael this angry. And he knows that there’s a… a traitor, reporting to you.”

Instantly, the demon looked more alert, his eyes flashing dangerously as he looked at Cas.

“He threaten you, babe?” he asked. The question would have sounded casual if not for the way he gripped the hilt of his knife.

Cas shook his head. “He suspects all that failed in the siege of Hell, not me specifically. But, sooner or later…”

“There’s an easy solution to that,” the other Dean said, slumping back against the throne and curling a protective, possessive hand around Cas’ waist. “Don’t go back. I don’t really have much need for a spy anymore.” He leaned up and kissed Cas’ cheek again before grabbing the angel’s chin and turning his head so that he could press a kiss to Cas’ lips. The angel’s eyes fluttered shut and some of the tension left him as he relaxed against Dean. “Stay here, with me. You’ll be my consort. We’ll lead the armies of Hell to Earth together, after we take care of Michael.”

Cas hesitated before nodding.

“Okay, Dean,” he said.

The angel curled up against the other Dean’s chest, constricting himself so that the demon could keep an arm wrapped around his waist. The other Dean kissed the top of Cas’ head tenderly before he sat up straighter and suddenly began to scream.

All at once, Dean found himself surrounded by demons, millions of them crowding around the throne, all of them armed, armoured and ready to kill.

The other Dean grinned before leaning close to Cas and whispering something to him. Then he stood up, Cas rising with him and standing by his side as he moved to address the army around him.

“My loyal subjects!” he called across the masses, his voice echoing loudly. “I have received word that Heaven is going to strike against us.” The demons snarled and howled, screaming out their disapproval. The other Dean laughed before raising a hand, making all the demons fall silent. “They underestimate us. They think that their holy, self-righteous bullshit will protect them. They think that, because their Daddy built Earth, they get to rule it. Well, I say, to hell with it. We were all human once, we deserve to take back what’s ours. What do you say, wanna cut the wings off some angels?”

The answering cry was deafening. The humans overhead shrieked and sobbed in response, and Dean had to cover his ears, overwhelmed by the noise.

The demon version of Dean looked unfazed by the screams, but Cas shifted a little, his wings folding and unfolding behind his back before he forced himself to be still.

The battle cries continued until the other Dean raised his hand, pointing his knife at the sky. The demons fell silent as they turned their gazes upward.

If Dean hadn’t known better, he would have thought that the small, bright lights raining down were shooting stars.

Angels began to land, their wings flared and their blades already drawn, scattering demons as they touched down with a burst of grace. Demons swarmed towards them, their shrieks deafening as they attacked, hacking, tearing, punching, and biting the angels, who fought back just as viciously.

Dean was frozen in place until one of the angels crashed next to him, the impact making a crater in the ground and throwing him backwards. He landed on his chest hard enough to at least bruise a few ribs. He caught himself with his hands, wincing as pain shot up through his palms. He only got a moment’s reprieve before demons began surging towards the angel like flies blanketing a corpse. Dean was in the way, and they couldn’t see him.

He cried out as feet stomped on him and claws stabbed at his skin. Blindly, he lashed out, kicking at the legs around him which, he realised a moment too late, was a big mistake.

The demons probably didn’t pause to consider why a man identical to their leader had appeared in their midst. Some of them kept going, determined to destroy the nearby angel, but about three or so stayed behind.

Dean tried to get to his feet, suppressing a groan as the movement sent a lightning bolt of pain through his broken body.

The thing about demons was, deep down, every one of them remembered the pain inflicted on them to corrupt their souls, and every one of them resented the torture they had undergone. But their torturers were often far out of reach. So, like a kid that had been knocked around at home and therefore chose to pick on smaller children on the playground, the demons found weak, defenceless victims they could take out their anger on.

At first, they just battered him with fists and feet, breaking bones and bruising skin with the sheer force of their blows. And then, one of them pulled out a knife.

Dean wasn’t sure how far they would have gone if another angel hadn’t landed right next to him, tossing Dean and the demons across the battlefield. Through some stroke of luck or divine intervention, Dean landed in a clear space, giving him time to get to his feet without being assaulted on all sides. One of his legs dragged painfully, the bones likely broken, and every breath felt like he was inhaling glass shards, but Dean was used to pain.

He needed to get to the Impala. He needed to get out of here.

Moving through a battlefield was far from easy. Dean had to swerve to avoid demons and angels as he continued doggedly forward, knowing that his only chance was to get in his Baby and leave this Hellhole (and he meant that very literally) in the dust.

Suddenly something, a body, maybe alive or maybe dead, fell onto Dean, shoving him back. He stumbled, stepping backwards to try and regain his footing.

He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, maybe the sword of an angel, maybe the knife of a demon. Whatever it had been, whatever creature had been wielding it, it didn’t really matter, it went right through Dean’s stomach just the same before being yanked back out.

The pain was a familiar one, the same sensation that he had left Earth feeling. Dean wanted to stay on his feet, he knew he needed to keep going, but his knees buckled under him and he fell back onto the ground, his lungs deflating as the air was knocked out of him by both the force of the impact and the pain of the wound.

Not again, he thought. The memory of the nail piercing his back was still painfully fresh, but at least then he’d gotten to die on his feet with his brother holding him and telling him that it was okay. Now, he was bleeding out on the ground, all alone.

Blood was puddling underneath him, soaking into his clothes and filling his nose with the sickening metallic scent that he had been far too familiar with for almost his entire existence. He could taste it as well, the slightest hint of iron on his tongue, making him gag and splutter.

Briefly, he wondered how long it would take before he just died, but then he remembered, he was already dead. Just like when he had been trapped in the place between worlds the Akrida had thrown him into, he was now trapped with no escape, not even death.

“H-help…” Everything hurt. Dean wanted to scream and shout, to express all of the pain tormenting him, but it was a struggle even to form the quietest words. “C-c-c…” Dean coughed, blood filling his mouth, choking him. He tried to speak again, but all he could manage was a weak gurgle.

Hell surrounded him, engulfing him as if he’d never left. His eyes fluttered shut, the lids half closed, blocking out most of the chaos around him. For a second, he thought he might be on the rack, Alastair standing over him, that the life he had lived had all been some kind of dream, hallucination or maybe even a trick. After all, when, in Dean’s experience, did good things ever happen?

An angel, fighting its way down to the pit to rescue him was unlikely. An angel choosing to rebel, to forsake God and Heaven, all for the sake of its love for one man? Impossible. Too good to be true, especially for someone like Dean.

A brief glimpse of dark hair, blue eyes and a soft smile flashed behind Dean’s eyelids. Castiel, he thought. Cas.

I need you.

He focused on the thought, trying not to feel like he was calling for something that didn’t even exist. Memories strengthened the three words, memories of a dirty angel crouched next to a river in a land filled with monsters, of a bloodied face, a stone tablet and a blade dropping to the ground before a hand pressed to his cheek.

An explosion of light, bright enough that Dean could see the glow through his eyelids, filled the battlefield. This was no brief flash of a dying demon or angel, it was something else.

Dean’s eyes flickered underneath their lids. He gasped as he felt a burning hot hand touch his shoulder, and then something flowed through him, something warm and familiar. He felt his chest closing back up, damaged tissue being repaired before the familiar feeling moved on to his other injuries, slowly fixing him. Dean gasped in a deep breath once whatever had been causing the pain in his lungs was healed.

And then, he was being carefully lifted, two strong arms carrying his inert body, his legs hanging limply over one arm and his back supported by another. His head lolled backwards until it was nudged against a solid shoulder, rough material cradling the side of his face. He opened his eyes, and his vision was filled with tan.

He felt it as the strong body holding him began to walk, steps slow and precise, arms keeping Dean steady to avoid jostling his still-weak body too much. The noise of the battle was dulled around him, as if he and the powerful being lifting him from Hell were in a protective bubble, keeping them safe from the chaos.

Dean heard the sound of a car door opening, and then he was being lowered onto a familiar leather seat. He grasped weakly at the tan material as the carrier tried to pull away. Forming words was still beyond him, so he just shook his head, a wordless moan filling his throat.

“It’s okay,” a rough voice told him. “I’m not leaving you, Dean, I promise. I’m taking you home.”

The sleeve was pulled from Dean’s grasp and Baby’s door closed firmly. He was only alone in the car for a few seconds before one of the other doors to the Impala opened and someone was getting into the driver’s seat, hesitating before grasping the wheel.

Dean let himself collapse against the driver as they began to move, leaving the Hell-world behind. His eyes fell shut and he let out a sigh as he felt himself being engulfed in safety from both his Baby and his saviour. They couldn’t have been on the road for more than a few minutes when Dean’s mind began to drift slowly but surely towards sleep. He could rest now, truly rest.

He had found what he was looking for. Now all he needed to do was figure out how to keep it.

Chapter Text

Dean opened his eyes slowly, terrified that he’d find himself back on that battlefield, unable to just succumb to his wounds and die. He had to squint against the sunlight as his eyes adjusted after the darkness of Hell. A blurry face suddenly blocked out the light, hovering over him. He felt fingers touching his cheek gently, grace filling him up and targeting any remaining wounds.

He knew who it was before the face finally became clear enough to see and, this time, he was sure that it was him. It was the Cas, Dean’s Cas, the one who had pulled him from Hell the first time, who had spent twelve years by his side, loving him silently, without any expectation that Dean would ever reciprocate his feelings.

Dean tried to sit up, but the sudden movement only resulted in his vision blurring again and nausea filling him. He turned over onto his front, weak arms holding him up as he retched, his undead body trying to expel the non-existent contents of his stomach.

A large hand rubbed his back soothingly and a rough, gravelly voice said vague, calming words. When Dean’s brain finally seemed to get the message that there was nothing for him to throw up, he collapsed onto the ground again, panting, his head spinning.

When he tried sitting up again, he did so slowly. Strong arms helped him up, one of them wrapping around him securely to keep him from falling again. Dean felt muscles tense as he leaned into the solid body the arms were attached to with a soft sigh.

“Dean, are you—”

“Shhh,” Dean quieted Cas. His whole body felt heavy, and he was so, so goddamn tired. The two of them had a lot to discuss, but Dean needed to recover a bit first.

Slowly, Cas relaxed, his arm tightening around Dean as the man rested against him, his eyes closed as he breathed in the scent of Cas’ old trenchcoat.

When Dean felt a bit steadier, he opened his eyes again and looked up at Cas, taking in his familiar face, noting the differences and similarities between the other versions he had met. Cas stared back at him, his eyes flickering around Dean’s face, lingering on the deepening lines around his eyes and mouth, the longer hair swept back behind his ears and the rough stubble across his jaw.

Their sides were pressed together and Cas’ arm was still around Dean, but the space between them was still too much. Dean ached for more contact. Cas made a choked, surprised sound when Dean pressed himself against the angel’s chest and wrapped him in a hug, and his body tensed in shock before melting into the embrace.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said quietly. “I’ve been looking for you. We need to talk about that goodbye.”

Cas stiffened again, but Dean just held on tighter. He could remember back in the early days when Cas had just winged off whenever he had felt like it. He wasn’t going to let that happen, not this time.

“Dean, I—”

“How’d you find me?” Dean asked, deciding on easing them both into the more difficult topics.

There was a pause, and then Cas said, “I heard you, Dean. You prayed to me, and I always come when you call.”

The bitter laugh that escaped Dean made Cas flinch. Dean probably would have missed the almost imperceivable movement if they hadn’t been pressed together.

“I prayed to you on Earth. You never showed up then.”

“Jack wouldn’t allow it,” Cas said. “We’re not supposed to interfere anymore.”

“You could have found a way around it,” Dean challenged. He pulled back so he could see Cas’ face, examining his expression carefully. “If you’d really wanted to, you could have come.”

Cas’ throat bobbed as he swallowed and his eyes darted away from Dean’s for a brief second before he met his gaze again.

“I wanted to respect Jack’s decision,” Cas said. “He thought it would be better for everyone, including you, if there was no more celestial meddling in your lives.”

“I’m sure you heard how that turned out,” Dean said sharply. He could still remember how it had felt when the nail had pierced his back.

Cas looked away from him again.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he said. “I should have… You should have lived a full, happy life. That’s all I wanted for you, and I should have done more to ensure—”

“Wouldn’t have been a full, happy life without you, buddy,” Dean said. “Fuck, Cas, do you have any idea how much… Without you, I was just going through the motions. I sure as hell wasn’t happy. I thought you were gone forever, and, all along, you were up here.”

“I should have let you know I was alive,” Cas said. “I didn’t mean to cause you any guilt, Dean—”

“Fuck guilt!” Dean snapped. “I was guilty, sure, but that’s not why I needed you, Cas! Fuck, you really have no idea, do you?”

The glare that Cas focused on him would probably have been enough to make almost anyone else fall to their knees in fear of divine wrath, but Dean just glared back, anger boiling under his skin.

“I am sorry, Dean, but I couldn’t just come back,” Cas hissed. “My sacrifice, that was supposed to be final. I was supposed to reside in the Empty for eternity after I saved you, but then Jack brought me back. How was I supposed to face you, Dean? I couldn’t let myself and my feelings be a burden to you.”

“Fuck, Cas, don’t say that!” Dean shook his head, the fury mixing with misery and guilt. He could still remember the version of Cas from the nightmare 2014 timeline and the way he had thought his only use to Dean had been as a warm body to fuck when it was convenient. “You’re not a burden, okay? You’ve never been a burden, and I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you think that.”

Cas stared at him with an unreadable look in his eyes before he gently pushed Dean off him and stood up. It was only then that Dean took in their surroundings. They appeared to be in some kind of grove filled with tall, flourishing trees, most of which were well spaced out, letting the sun shine down on the dewy grass.

A flash of movement caught Dean’s eye and he followed it, watching as a pair of squirrels ran across a branch before both coming to a stop, looking down at Dean curiously. One of them was slightly bigger than the other, and had darker, sleeker fur, while the other was lighter, smaller and looked rougher. The tall one darted away, vanishing into a hole in the tree, but the other one stayed, watching Dean with dark, intelligent eyes.

Suddenly, a bird landed on the branch next to the squirrel, causing it to start before it turned and began angrily chattering at the bird. The bird chittered back at it. It was unnervingly like the two of them were sharing a conversation.

The bird was small and most of its feathers were grey, except for the black feathers in its tail, along the edges of its wings and masking its eyes. Dean was sure he had seen the bird before, but he didn’t think he had ever known its name.

“Cas, where are we?” he asked as he slowly got to his feet. Cas was standing a few feet from Dean, watching the squirrel as it interacted with the bird.

“Another universe,” Cas said. “I can bring you to your home in Heaven if you wish, but this was closer.” Cas held his hand up to the squirrel and, after barely a second’s hesitation, the small creature climbed onto Cas’ arm and then up onto his shoulder. The bird watched, looking ready to take flight the moment the squirrel was threatened. “There are no humans or monsters in this world,” Cas explained. “I discovered it after Jack rebuilt the worlds Chuck destroyed. I find it very peaceful.”

A world where it’s all just squirrels. Something about it was familiar. Sam, a few years ago, relaying what Chuck had told him of the other universes he had created.

“Huh.” Dean looked around, trying to take in everything. His mind was filled with questions, some more urgent than others. He started with, “Chuck said that you were the only version of, well, you, that rebelled for me.”

“Yes,” Cas said, infuriatingly vague. He wasn’t looking at Dean, instead his eyes were focused on the bird, which watched him with equal intensity.

“But… Most universes I’ve seen, you and I…” Dean licked his lips, remembering all the worlds where they had been together. Even in the ones where they weren’t, they had wanted to be, he knew it. “He was lying; you rebelled for me in other worlds. I’ve seen it.”

“I don’t know what the worlds consisted of before,” Cas said. “When Chuck destroyed them, for the most part, he was thorough. Some pieces of all of them remained, but there were… gaps, as I understand it. Jack filled them as best he could with pieces from our world. Every version of me is now, truly, a version of me. They no longer only share my face and my name, but there are parts of me within them. The same is true of every version of you. Before, they were simply pale copies, created for Chuck’s amusement and then discarded when they were no longer needed, but now all of them, in some way or another, are really you. ”

Dean allowed the new information to absorb, remembering every one of his and Cas’ counterparts that he had met. Vaguely, he wondered what the universes had been like before Jack rebuilt them. What had been added to those Deans to make them him? What parts of Dean were so essential that, without them, his counterparts were just other people with his face and name?

He knew what those essential parts of Cas were, of course. He had seen them, in every version of Cas he had watched and met. His kindness, his resolve, his weirdness, his stubbornness, his bravery, his loyalty, his desire to do good, his refusal to conform and his seemingly endless capacity for love were all huge parts of what made Dean’s Cas Cas along with loads of other things, little and big. In each of Cas’ alternate selves, at least a few of those essential traits had been present. Even in the worlds where those good, beautiful characteristics had been twisted into something malicious and ugly, they had still been there.

All of those versions of them where they had been happy together, all the ones that were still finding their way to each other and the others who had loved and lost. What would they be, Dean wondered, without each other? What would each version of Dean be without having a version, a real version, of Cas? What had Dean been without Cas? Without having the unconditional, all-encompassing love that the angel had given to him?

“Wow,” was all Dean could say to even begin to sum up his feelings. 

“It’s certainly interesting,” Cas said. He held up his arm again, letting the squirrel scamper back up to the tree to perch beside the bird. “I’ve been too busy to explore all the worlds yet but, as I understand it, you’ve already seen quite a few of them.”

“Yeah, I have,” Dean said. “I needed some time before settling down in Heaven.”

Cas nodded. “I understand. Peace can be a hard thing to adjust to when you’re not used to it.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean said with a shrug. “And my Heaven wasn’t really Heaven for me yet.”

“Sam.” Cas gave Dean a sympathetic look. “He’ll be along eventually, Dean.”

Dean laughed before running a hand through his hair.

“I miss Sam,” he said. “But he’s not who I’ve been looking for since I died.”

Cas tilted his head. “I don’t understand.”

Dean closed the space between them slowly, watching as Cas’ expression morphed from confusion to wariness. He stopped when he was close enough to reach out and touch Cas if he wanted to. The angel eyed him nervously but didn’t back away or vanish.

“I was looking for you,” Dean told him. “There’s no peace for me, in Heaven or on Earth, if you’re not there.”

Cas’ eyes widened slightly but, otherwise, he was perfectly still. Dean reached up, fitting his palm against the angel’s cheek, and heard Cas’ breath stutter out of him at the contact. His dark eyelashes fluttered as blue eyes glanced downwards towards Dean’s lips at the same time as Dean looked down at Cas’.

They were basically the same height and, currently, both standing close enough that if Dean moved his head slightly, their noses would brush. It would be so easy to lean forward and steal a kiss, to feel those plush lips against his own, Dean thought as his face began to drift towards Cas.

The angel reeled back just before their lips met, his chest heaving as he breathed like he had just run a marathon. He shook his head, taking another step back, away from Dean.

“No,” he said. “No, I… No, Dean.”

For a few seconds, Dean feared that he’d made a horrible mistake and misunderstood Cas’ feelings. Then he remembered the way the angel had confessed, the look on his face as he had told Dean that he loved him and, before that, that the only thing he wanted, the only thing that he thought could make him truly happy, was the one thing that he couldn’t have. He remembered every other version of Cas, he remembered the way they had looked at their Deans, the way they had looked at him.

If he’s me, the Cas from the alternate Croatoan timeline had told him, he wanted you.

“I thought this was what you wanted?” Dean said, trying not to let the doubt creep into his voice.

Cas shook his head again as he schooled his expression, forcing himself to appear calm and unaffected.

“Not like this, Dean,” he said softly. “I don’t need your pity.”

That startled a laugh of disbelief out of Dean.

“You think this is about me feeling sorry for you?” he asked. “You think I drove around the fucking multiverse looking for you for a pity fuck?”

Cas flinched slightly, his eyes darting away from Dean’s for a moment before he met his gaze again, his expression blank.

“You tend to feel responsible for the people around you. You try to become what people need. You did it for your father, your brother, your friends. But I… I have never needed anything from you, Dean,” Cas said, still infuriatingly calm.

“So?” Dean glared, unable to hide his frustration. “That doesn’t mean you can’t want things! And I know, you think you can’t have what you want, or whatever bullshit you were saying back in the dungeon, but Cas, you can, I’m telling you, you can have it! You can have me!”

Cas’ lower lip trembled slightly as he sealed his mouth in a straight line, his eyebrows curved low in that devastatingly sad look that Dean had seen far too often, on both his Cas and now a myriad of other versions.

“Dean,” Cas said, his voice carefully steady, as if he was one second away from losing his usually-unbreakable composure. “You don’t owe me anything. I— I don’t want you to try to be with me in the…” The angel swallowed before averting his eyes, focusing on the stretch of grass between them. “The ways I desire,” he continued haltingly, “if you are only doing it out of guilt, or obligation. If you don’t want me—”

“Oh, for—” Inwardly, Dean swore to every god out there still listening, every son of a bitch angel and asshole demon, every cosmic entity that still gave a damn, to please, please just let Cas understand. “Of course I want you, you dumbass! Of fucking course I love you, you stupid fucking idiot!”

Cas’ face went slack with shock, his mouth falling open as if he were about to protest. But, right now? Fuck him, for thinking he could tell Dean how he felt. It was Dean’s turn to lay his cards on the table, to put a decade’s worth of pining into words.

“Of course I love you, Cas!” Dean repeated, not giving Cas a chance to protest. “I love you!” Now that he’d said it, he couldn’t stop. The words felt so good, so right, as he threw them at the stunned angel staring at him with those stupid, beautiful blue eyes, impaling him again and again with the force of all this goddamn love he had, stuck inside for so long —  too long.

A blade, plunged into the heart of an unsuspecting angel. Only this time it would not be so easily withdrawn.

“How could I not love you, Cas?” Dean had asked himself that question dozens, hundreds of times. “How could I not love the guy that pulled me outta Hell? How could I not love the angel who was brave enough to rebel because I asked him to? How could I not love the dumb bastard who followed me through Purgatory? What about the guy who believed in me, even when I was dark and demonic from the Mark of Cain? The guy who rose from the dead when I had stopped believing and gave me hope again? The guy who came back, even when I was an asshole, even when I deserved to be left in the dust? The… The son of a bitch who told me he loved me, that I was a good person, that I was more than a weapon, and then died before I could say anything back?”

Dean blinked the tears out of his eyes, not wanting to miss all the expressions crossing Cas’ face. The hope, flickering in and out of existence like a candle blown by the wind. The fear, lingering in the depths of his eyes. The longing, a perfect match to Dean’s own, two long-lost puzzle pieces finally fitting together, completing each other. He took a step forward, hearing the way Cas’ breath hitched as he closed the distance between them again.

Personal space , Dean had told Cas years ago. Now, it was he who was disregarding his own rule. It had been a stupid rule, anyway, a rule to protect Dean’s heart from someone who might, given the chance, have the power to break it. Now he knew it didn’t need protection, not from Cas, who had given Dean his own heart, beating and bloody, and expected nothing in return. He hadn’t asked, hadn’t expected Dean to willingly crack his ribcage open, to offer his darkened, scarred soul for inspection, to see if it held up to Cas’ light.

His voice softened as he continued, “I love you, because you’re brave and strong, you’re kind, you always try to do the right thing, you’re stubborn, and so fucking beautiful. I love you because you care, more than anyone else I’ve ever known, so much that it almost breaks you. I love you because you’ve put yourself back together, again and again. I love how you don’t realise how incredible that, all of that, makes you but, at the same time, I fucking wish you could see it, that you could see…” It was Dean’s turn for his breath to hitch, overcome with sudden emotion. “That you could see what I see when I look at you.

“I love you,” he said again (he’d say it as many times as it took, he’d say it until the end of time, he’d sing it to the world, if it would only get Cas to believe it), “because you’re Cas. Because you’re…” Dean shook his head, unable to express the magnitude of his feelings with mere words. “I travelled the multiverse, looking for you. I saw other versions of you, I met other versions of you, and I loved them, all of them, because each of them, in some way, were you. But they weren’t… They aren’t my Cas to love. But you are. You’re the one who I fell for. So, you want me, Cas? I’m yours. And you… You’re mine. My Cas.” He lifted his hands, pressing both of them hard into Cas’ shoulders. What the hell? May as well say it one more time, just to make it clear. “I love you. I love you so damn much, Cas.” Okay, he lied about just saying it once more. But it was what humans did, when they wanted something really, really badly.

Cas just stared at him, his lips still slightly parted. A tear fell down his face, and Dean automatically reached up, wiping it gently away with his thumb before resting his hand on the side of Cas’ face again, staring deep into his eyes. Cas’ skin was warm. Dean could feel the roughness of stubble against his palm and the crease of laughter lines under his fingers. The angel was perfectly still, he might not even have been breathing. Dean wasn’t sure he was, either. The tension stretched between them, already broken but still lingering.

“You… You love me?” Cas finally croaked, his voice even rougher than usual.

Dean felt tears of his own trickle down his face as a laugh bubbled up through him. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘course I love you, dumbass.” He squeezed Cas’ shoulder before pressing his forehead to Cas’, relishing the extra point of contact. “I love you, Cas,” he repeated once again, his voice breaking on the angel’s name.

For a second, the only sound was the wind rustling through the leaves and then, Cas choked out, “I love you too, Dean.”

Wrapping his arms around Cas, pulling him close, leaving no space between their bodies, all of it was the most natural thing in the world. He gripped the back of Cas’ coat and let himself smile when he felt the angel relax in his arms.

“You said something about going home before, right?” Dean asked. “Will you be there too?”

Cas withdrew just enough so they could look at each other again, an amused glint in his eyes and a shy smile on his face.

“Do you want me to be?”

Dean laughed, tears gathering in his eyes again as he replied, “Yeah Cas, of course. I want you to stay.” He licked his suddenly dry lips. “Do you, er, will you…”

“Nothing would bring me greater joy,” Cas said, eyes sparkling with radiant happiness.

“Setting the bar a bit low there, aren’t you?” Dean chuckled. He fully intended on bringing Cas greater joy. Every day, he would work to create as many happy moments as possible, because Cas deserved all that and more.

Cas shrugged. “Your house is waiting for you,” he told Dean. “We can go, whenever you want. Are you ready?”

Dean took one of Cas’ hands, enclosing it in both of his own. “I’m ready,” he assured him. “Let’s go home.” He led Cas over to the Impala and opened the passenger side door for him. Dean kept holding his hand as the angel climbed into the car and didn’t let go until he was seated.

Once Dean had gotten behind the wheel and they were sitting side by side, Cas took Dean’s hand, their fingers fitting together perfectly. Dean drove with one hand on the wheel, taking them back onto the road. The sun was beginning to set, bathing both of them in golden light. The road curved and got smaller and smaller until Dean was driving up a small hill, towards a house.

Something about the outside reminded Dean of his childhood home with its white walls and brick chimney, but unlike the old house in Lawrence, it was smaller, and there was a large garage built into one side. The garage was already open and a space big enough for the Impala had been cleared out. Dean could make out a couple of workbenches and various supplies inside as well. The windows of the house were wide, welcoming and let in plenty of light. Pretty green vines with tiny blue flowers grew across the walls and more flowers and plants were spread out on the grass in front. A row of well-kept bushes surrounded the driveway leading up to the garage.

“Woah,” Dean said, stopping the Impala in the driveway so he could just take a look at the house.

“Do you like it?” Cas asked. “If there’s anything you’d like to change—”

“No, I love it,” Dean reassured him, placing a hand on the angel’s shoulder. Cas looked up at him and Dean felt a smile tugging at his lips. “Hell, I’m easy to please. Do you know how happy I was when we found the bunker?”

“Dean, when you found the bunker, you hadn’t had a real home outside of the Impala since you were four years old,” Cas said, looking at Dean sadly. “You deserve to have a real home, Dean. A home like the one you’ve been dreaming about all your life.”

Dean looked out the windshield, thinking about the old wishes he used to have about his perfect white-picket-fenced house, his beautiful wife and his two-point-five kids. Cas was a world away from the wife of his old dreams, but that didn’t matter. Dean didn’t care what Cas looked like, whether he was a human, an angel or a monster. He was still Cas, and Dean would still love him.

He squeezed Cas’ shoulder before turning to look at him.

“You ready to go home, Cas?” he asked.

Cas smiled back at Dean. “Of course. As long as you’re by my side, I’d go anywhere.”

“Sap,” Dean teased before he began driving the Impala up to the garage.

Dean parked the Impala neatly inside the garage, leaving plenty of space on either side for him and Cas to get out. Somehow, Dean just knew where the door to the house was. Cas followed him silently into the foyer before pausing to pull off his trenchcoat and hanging it on a coat rack that sat beside the front door. Dean followed his lead and hung his jacket up over the tan coat.

The foyer was well lit and there was a staircase against one wall. Pictures lined the walls, some that Dean remembered taking or seeing when he was alive, some completely new. Dean smiled at a photo of Cas in the cowboy hat Dean had made him wear when they were in Dodge City.

“You know, you make a hot cowboy,” Dean said, thinking back to the Old West Sheriff version of Cas.

Cas squinted at him. “Thank you?”

“You’re very welcome,” Dean said, turning to grin at the angel. “You know how much I love cowboys, right?”

“I am well aware of your attraction to them, yes,” Cas said, grinning at him, his eyes glinting.

“Hey, nothing wrong with some perfectly innocent kinks,” Dean said, already wondering if Cas would be open to a bit of roleplay in the bedroom. He wouldn’t mind getting him into a cowboy hat again in some sexier circumstances.

Dean turned away from the wall after he’d finished examining the pictures and suddenly came face-to-face with Cas. His breath caught in his throat from both surprise and then lust.

“Anyone ever told you about personal space, buddy?” Dean asked, his eyes focused on Cas’ lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cas said, taking a step forward and backing Dean up into the wall. Dean couldn’t even breathe, all he could think about was the way Cas’ lips looked as they formed the low, growling words. “Am I too close, Dean?”

Dean had no choice but to grab the front of Cas’ shirt and yank him forward, their lips meeting messily. Cas groaned, pressing Dean back against the wall as they kissed, teeth clashing and noses knocking against each other until they finally slowed down, some of the desperation leaving them as they both realised that, yes, they could have this, yes, they were together and they never had to be parted again. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, holding him against him, while Cas cradled Dean’s face, guiding him as they kissed.

Their bodies were pressed together leaving no space between the two of them. At first, Dean was satisfied with the weight of Cas’ body and the wet heat of his swollen lips pressed to his but soon, he was craving more. He grabbed at Cas’ suit jacket and tried to shove it off his shoulders without breaking the kiss. The angel quickly caught on to what he was doing and lifted his arms, allowing Dean to shove his jacket to the floor before beginning to work on his shirt buttons.

“Too many… goddamn… clothes!” Dean said between quick pecks to Cas’ mouth.

Cas huffed a laugh and then the hallway around them was abruptly replaced with a good-sized room with cheerful honey-yellow walls. Dean felt smooth wood under his suddenly-bare feet before he was being shoved back onto something soft. Cas, now completely naked, loomed over him, hungry eyes taking in every inch of skin that was now on show. Dean felt himself flushing under the intense scrutiny but tried to play it off with a cocky grin.

“Getting impatient, sweetheart?” he asked. “You see something you like?” He spread his legs a bit wider, making his straining erection even more obvious. “How long have you been wanting to get me like this?”

“Too long,” Cas growled.

Dean let his eyes trail up and down his body, taking in the broad torso, thick muscles and the thin trail of dark hair leading down to his hard cock.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he said, trying to ignore the way tears stung his eyes.

Cas saw right through him, his eyes softening before he bent down, brushing his lips against Dean’s gently. A sob escaped Dean as Cas began peppering light kisses across his face and then down his neck.

“It’s okay, my love,” he whispered against Dean’s skin. “I’m here.” He paused, his face hovering above Dean’s. “Do you want to stop?”

“No!” Dean said, shaking his head.

Cas smiled gently. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean. If you can’t do this right now—”

“I can,” Dean assured him. He sat up and pulled Cas down so that he was sitting next to him, their bare legs pressed together. “It’s all just… It’s been a lot, all of this, and now you’re finally here, with me. I guess I feel a little overwhelmed. But I do want this, Cas. I want you.”

Cas cradled his cheek before kissing him again. “We’ll go slow,” he said.

Dean laughed before crawling into Cas’ lap, watching the lust return to the angel’s face as he straddled him. “I’m not the blushing virgin here.”

The flush of red that immediately coloured Cas’ cheeks and the way he averted his eyes from Dean was ridiculously adorable.

“I’m not a virgin,” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, the reaper bitch.” Dean pushed Cas back onto the bed, reversing their positions from before as he began kissing Cas’ throat, feeling his vocal cords vibrate as the angel moaned and whimpered. “Sweetheart, I promise, this is gonna be so much better. I mean, for one thing, I’m not gonna kill you afterwards.”

“I had no idea that you were such a considerate partner, Dean,” Cas responded drily.

The banter went a long way towards making Dean more comfortable. Exchanging quips with Cas was familiar territory, even if the kisses and touches their words were now punctuated with were new.

“Full disclosure,” Dean said as they moved towards the middle of the bed, Cas now on top. “I’ve sort of done this before.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Done this before?”

“I fucked two of the other yous,” Dean said.

Cas stared down at him for a few seconds before laughing, a glimmer of amusement shining in his eyes.

“I hope I live up to whatever expectations they set,” he said before kissing each of Dean’s flaming cheeks. “Were they good, my love?”

Dean gasped as Cas teased the head of his cock.

“ Fuck, Cas, yeah, they were, fuck, good,” he said between deep, heaving breaths.

Cas paused in his ministrations and Dean whined with disappointment and need before looking up and seeing the doubt in Cas’ face.

“I don’t want to disappoint you, Dean. I know I lack experience—”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean said gently, seeing the self-doubt building up in Cas’ eyes. “I don’t care about all that. Did I have fun with those other versions of you? Yeah. But nothing I ever share with them will ever come close to what you and I have. So what if you ‘lack experience’? That just means I get to teach you.” Dean grinned up at Cas before reaching down to grab his hip, fingers just brushing the curve of Cas’ plump ass. “I’m gonna show you exactly what I like, and I’m gonna find out exactly what you like. And, if we don’t get it right the first go? Doesn’t matter. We have all the time in the world to figure it out.”

The kiss they shared in the aftermath of Dean’s words was gentle and slow as they both savoured the new freedom they both had with each other. Dean felt giddy from the reminder he had given both of them that they had time. This wasn’t some roll in the hay preceding the next apocalypse or a desperate fuck for their last night on Earth. There wasn’t a ticking timer counting down to the next time one of them would have to sacrifice themselves to save the other or the world.

“Cas,” Dean said, cradling the angel’s face between his hands. “I want you to fuck me.”

Cas’ eyes darkened and Dean was pretty sure that the angel stopped breathing altogether. Dean chuckled at the open want in Cas’ face before leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“You want that too, sweetheart?” he whispered against Cas’ skin.

Cas growled and, suddenly, Dean found himself flipped onto his stomach. He barely had time to recover from the sudden move before he felt hot air puff against his ass. He stilled, muscles tensing in anticipation as he felt Cas’ big hands against his cheeks, pushing them apart. The only warning he got was an approving hum before the angel’s tongue was spearing inside him.

Dean grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and buried his face in it, using it to cover up the desperate sounds that came out of his mouth as Cas’ tongue pressed inside him. Dean knew that Cas wasn’t as experienced as he was, but what he lacked in technique he more than made up for in enthusiasm.

Dean gasped as he felt another sensation, something warm and pleasant and slick, coating and filling his ass. He turned his head, trying to get a look at the angel currently between his spread legs.

“ Fuck, Cas, what—” Dean cut himself off with a groan, his hips bucking involuntarily.

Cas’ head appeared over the curve of Dean’s ass, but Dean could still feel something spreading him open, getting him slick and ready for Cas’ cock.

“My grace,” Cas said. “I’m using it to prepare you. If you would prefer normal lubrication instead—”

Dean gasped as something (Cas’ freaking grace, oh fuck) brushed against his prostate. He shook his head rapidly before spluttering, “No, no, that’s good, keep going!”

Cas smiled at him, looking far too cute considering that he had just had his face buried in Dean’s ass, before he disappeared again between Dean’s legs. Dean stifled a wail as his tongue probed at his rim again and let his head drop back onto the pillow.

The angel didn’t wait long before adding a finger alongside his tongue and grace. Dean had half a mind to just demand that Cas take him now but, at the same time, he didn’t want to rush Cas and potentially make him uncomfortable or unsure. Besides, there was something kind of endearing about Cas taking his time to explore.

Dean whined when Cas finally withdrew and his grace faded as well, leaving Dean loose, lubed and aching to be filled again. He looked around when Cas failed to line himself up with him.

“Cas, what—”

“Can I…” Cas paused, his eyes trained on the sheets beneath him. Somehow, he managed to look both adorable and desperately aroused. “I want to see you. Your face. When we…”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Dean said before flipping himself onto his back. If his brain had been working a bit better, he would have suggested the change in position himself. He didn’t want to miss out on a second of observing Cas’ pleasure. He grinned at the angel before holding out a hand, beckoning him closer. “C’mon, sweetheart. Time to show me what you’ve got.”

Cas’ face looked noticeably pink as he crawled over Dean until their faces were aligned. Dean pressed upwards to kiss Cas while one of his hands wandered downwards, searching, until he found Cas’ cock and grabbed it, startling a yelp out of the angel. Dean pumped the shaft a few times, the slide dry at first before the same feeling from his ass spread across his palm. He looked down towards his hand and saw that it was coated with something that looked a bit like lube, except that it glowed blue. Cas’ cock twitched when Dean wrapped his hand around it again and began to slick it up using his grace.

“You like that, babe?” Dean goaded, his hand creeping down the shaft before running over Cas’ balls. The angel’s loud moan was answer enough. He stared down at Dean with wild eyes, his lips parted as he breathed heavily. “You think that feels good, wait ‘til you're inside me.”

“ Yes, ” Cas groaned, his forehead dropping to rest on Dean’s shoulder while his arms, which were planted on either side of Dean’s head, trembled. “Yes, Dean, please, please, beloved . ”

Dean blinked as he took in the anachronistic endearment before a smile spread across his face. Beloved. Cas’ beloved. He liked that, he liked it a lot.

“Love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Cas’ hair as he guided his cock until the head was nudging against his hole.

Cas lifted his head slowly, blinking a few times before moving his hips experimentally, pushing the head of his swollen cock against Dean’s rim. Dean moaned and spread his legs more, trying to encourage Cas to go faster without pressuring him.

Finally, Cas slowly began to push inside, the head of his dick popping past the tight ring of muscle and into Dean’s ass. The slow slide of Cas into Dean, filling him, felt agonisingly good. A part of Dean wanted to tell him to shove right in, but he also enjoyed the way Cas was taking things slow, his eyes focused on Dean’s face, watching his reactions. Dean looked back at Cas just as intently.

Cas stayed remarkably calm until he finally bottomed out, his balls smacking lightly against Dean’s ass. The angel’s mouth fell open as the deep, measured breaths he had been taking as he slid inside took on a more desperate edge. Sweat beaded across his forehead and he began blinking rapidly, his muscles tensed as he fought to control himself.

“Dean, that… You feel… Dean, I don’t–”

“Shhh,” Dean hushed him, moving his hands to Cas’ sides and rubbing them up and down soothingly. “Take a sec, Cas.”

Cas nodded, looking determined as he bit his swollen, reddened lip. Dean lowered his hand down to Cas’ waist, squeezing his hip bone. The two of them stared at each other and Dean felt the world around him falling away as his universe narrowed down to just him and Cas.

“Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart,” he said breathlessly.

Cas nodded before he released all the air in his lungs slowly, his lashes fluttering slightly as he looked away from Dean for the briefest second before meeting his eyes. The intensity in his gaze made Dean’s heart skip a beat and his breathing stutter to a sudden halt. That was when Cas started to move.

He kept the pace slow, his muscles flexing above Dean as he rolled his hips. Dean curled his legs around the back of Cas’ thighs, encouraging him to go deeper, to take more. He moaned as Cas pushed into him again and he felt his strong thighs working.

“Fuck, Cas.” He dragged the angel’s face down, joining their lips again. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as Cas whimpered against his mouth, his thrusts beginning to gradually speed up, his cock pounding into Dean.

Dean’s vision whited out suddenly when Cas nailed his prostate. His head fell back onto the pillow and he clenched his eyes shut as waves of pleasure washed over him. His hands, resting on either side of the angel’s face, fingers just brushing the hair at his nape, tightened as he felt Cas’ mouth move downwards to kiss and bite at his neck, leaving marks across the hollow of Dean’s throat.

“You are— fuck— too fucking good at this,” Dean gasped, moving one of his hands to the back of Cas’ head, fingers grabbing at his dark hair, as the other one fell onto the bed beside him and fisted the sheets.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” Cas said, his voice lowered beyond his normal deep register.

When Cas’ hand wrapped around Dean’s previously neglected dick, Dean knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he could tell from the way Cas’ thrusts were starting to lose their rhythm that he was getting close as well. In a way, he was disappointed that the finish line was approaching so rapidly, but he also knew that it wasn’t really the end. He and Cas had eternity for exploring each other, sexually or otherwise.

Dean pulled Cas from his throat as his movements began to get more desperate, looking up into his beautiful eyes

“You close, babe?” he asked, voice as rough as Cas’. Cas nodded, a whine escaping his mouth as he thrust into Dean. “Okay,” Dean murmured, stroking his hand through Cas’ hair. “Love you, Cas.”

Cas cried out, his thrusts losing their gentleness as he fucked Dean, ruthlessly hitting Dean’s prostate with every stroke while his hand worked at Dean’s cock. The sight of Cas, panting desperately while staring down at Dean with such awe and love, was what finally pushed Dean over the brink.

Come spurted from his dick, coating his and Cas’ stomachs as he wailed, clenching down around Cas’ cock. He felt the movement of Cas’ hips stuttering and managed to focus back on Cas’ face just before the angel came inside him.

Cas’ eyes glowed and his mouth opened in a soundless cry. Except, Dean realised, it wasn’t soundless — he could hear something, a high-pitched hum, vibrating throughout the room. It was similar to the sound he had heard in the gas station and the motel after Cas had pulled him out of Hell, except this time, it wasn’t accompanied by ear-splitting pain.

It was Cas’ true voice, he realised. He was hearing Cas’ true voice and his head hadn’t exploded. He looked behind Cas instinctively and felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of Cas’ wings, flared out behind his back. His hand was shaky as he reached up, brushing against the translucent feathers. They were surprisingly soft, like Cas’ hair, and, as Dean ran his hand over them, he felt something like static electricity leap across his fingers. Cas’ true voice grew in volume and in pitch but it still wasn’t painful.

“Dean!” Cas rasped in his regular voice, except even that contained powerful thrumming cadences.

Dean’s hand travelled across the expanse of the wing until he came to the point where it connected to Cas’ back, his fingers curling around the wing bone where it fused to Cas’ skin.

It was like he had completed a circuit. Energy thrummed through him, filling him with blinding pleasure. Above him, he could hear Cas’ human voice crying out in ecstasy while his angelic voice shrieked around them.

Dean wasn’t sure how long they remained connected before the wing in Dean’s hand vanished and the angel collapsed onto him, breathing heavily against Dean’s neck. Dean was panting as well, the memory of being connected to Cas still fresh in his mind. The hand that had been clutching onto Cas’ wing moved to his broad back, rubbing circles into his sweaty skin. Cas made a humming, almost purr-like sound before looking up at Dean. His eyes were half-lidded and no longer glowing and he looked fucked-out and sated.

“Dean,” Cas said, traces of his true voice still present under the single word. “Are you…?”

“I’m good.” Dean grinned. “Hell, I’m fucking awesome. Not bad for our first time together.”

Cas chuckled, shaking his head affectionately before sobering, concern replacing the fondness in his eyes.

“My grace, I lost control—”

“Don’t sweat it,” Dean said, lazily carding his fingers through his angel’s hair. “That was fucking awesome. And you certainly seemed to enjoy it.”

The blush that stained Cas’ cheeks made Dean laugh. He guided the angel up gently before pressing their lips together. Cas melted against him, one of his hands pressing against the side of Dean’s face as they made out lazily while come cooled on their skin.

“I love you,” Cas murmured.

The first time Cas had spoken those words to him, Dean’s entire world had shattered. Now, he could feel the pieces slotting back together, patching up all the dark, broken places that had existed inside him for so, so long.

“I love you too,” he said.

The way Cas smiled at him sealed his world back together.

Chapter Text

Dean woke up and he just knew. He could feel something, a familiar tug at his soul, alerting him to an important presence.

He turned over and came face to face with Cas, who, unusually for this time of the morning, was wide awake, looking back at Dean with soft blue eyes.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” he said.

Dean nodded. “Sam’s gonna be here soon.”

His brother was far from the first of his family on Earth to join him in Heaven after he’d died.

Jody had arrived soon after Dean had gotten back from his search through the multiverse, passing away peacefully in her nineties surrounded by all the wayward girls she had taken in. She had smacked Dean around the head when he had first seen him, scolding him for being careless and getting himself killed so young. Then she had hugged him, and told him how much everyone had missed him on Earth. Donna had followed shortly later and had skipped the reprimands and instead gone straight in for a hug. Garth and his wife had gone within days of each other and had regaled Dean and Cas with stories of the exploits of their children. Claire and the rest of the girls were still alive and kicking. Dean couldn’t wait to see them all again when their time came, but he also wanted them to live long, happy lives on Earth first.

Eileen hadn’t been in Heaven long. Her death had probably only been a few years before Sam’s on Earth. She, like Jody, had been upset with Dean over his death, but her anger had quickly given way to relief at seeing him again and at seeing him happy. She had been unsurprised when Dean had told her about him and Cas, telling him that, “it was about time.” She came over every other night to have dinner and hang out at Dean and Cas’ house. She and Cas were truly chaotic together, often laughing over private jokes and making fun of the Winchester brothers. Dean didn’t mind any jokes at his expense, not when he got to see the way Cas’ face would light up when he smiled and laughed.

Dean knew that Sam had, for the most part, retired from hunting to live a quiet life with Eileen and their son, but that he also occasionally still assisted other hunters with advice or information. He knew that Sam’s life had, for the most part, been happy, but that he had missed Dean as much as Dean had missed him. And now, he would join him in Heaven soon.

“I’m not sure what I’ll say to him,” Dean said to Cas.

The two of them had moved out of bed a while ago and begun to make breakfast. Dean had been delighted to find out that Cas could taste food properly now, despite being fully powered up, and had made it his mission to figure out all of Cas’ favourite foods, every dish that had him moan in delight or grin at Dean with his mouth still full.

Dean was at the stove, cooking bacon and eggs for the two of them. Cas, apparently done with his task of making coffee for them, came up behind Dean, wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to his bare back. Neither of them bothered with any clothes beyond boxers in the mornings when it was just them.

“You’ll know,” he said, resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder. “I don’t think you’ll need to say much, anyhow. Sam will just be happy to see you again.”

“I left him,” Dean said without taking his eyes from the bacon sizzling in the pan. “I just gave up, Cas.”

“He’ll understand.” Cas began peppering soft kisses across Dean’s back and against his neck. Dean sighed and leaned back, letting himself be comforted by the angel’s presence and contact. “And, even if he doesn’t when he first sees you, he will eventually. He won’t stay mad at you, Dean.” Cas left one last kiss on Dean’s shoulder, right where he had left his mark when he had pulled Dean from Hell, before withdrawing.

Both of them went back to their tasks without exchanging any more words. They didn’t need to talk; being around each other was more than enough. They did exchange casual touches constantly, a hand on a waist or a brush of fingers against an arm. Dean hadn’t realised how starved for touch he had been without Cas providing constant, loving contact.

They ate outside on the patio overlooking the flourishing garden Cas kept. Occasionally, a honeybee would fly past them and Dean would watch as Cas turned to follow it with his eyes until it darted out of sight again.

The rising sun gave Cas’ tanned skin an almost golden hue and made his eyes shine with the reflected light. It was times like this (Oh, who was Dean kidding? It was all the time.) that Dean was reminded of how lucky he was to have this with his beautiful, loving angel. The way Cas looked at him, warm and happy, told Dean that he was thinking about his fortune at the love they shared as well.

Once they had both finished, Dean grabbed their plates, kissing Cas briefly as he passed. The angel stood up and followed him to the kitchen, watching as Dean cleared any excess food off the dishes before putting them into the dishwasher.

When Dean turned, Cas crowded him against the counter, one of his thick thighs fitting into the space between Dean’s legs. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut as the angel kissed him, slow and lazy, as if they had all the time in the universe. They do, Dean reminded himself as he wrapped an arm around Cas’ waist, pulling him even closer. They had eternity for long, lazy kisses and exploring the full extent of their love for each other.

I love you, Dean prayed. Cas answered by moaning into Dean’s mouth.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas as he felt the angel’s hands move downwards to grip his legs before lifting Dean smoothly and depositing him on the counter without once breaking the kiss. Dean wrapped his legs around Cas’ waist, keeping him close as Cas moved his hands up to Dean’s hips, big hands gentle as they gripped him. Dean finally broke away from Cas’ mouth with a strangled moan.

“Cas—”

“Tell me what you need,” Cas said.

“You,” Dean told him. “Just you, sweetheart.”

Cas smiled at him, looking at Dean with naked affection and wonder. “You always have me, my love.”

Dean could feel his hard cock pressing against Cas through his boxers, precome creating a wet patch in the material.

He whimpered as Cas picked him up, holding Dean’s weight easily as he walked from the kitchen to the living room. The angel sat down on their couch with Dean in his lap before claiming his mouth again, growling as Dean bit gently at his lower lip. Dean could feel Cas’ arousal pressing against his ass as their kisses became more desperate and charged.

“Want you inside me, babe,” Dean said, grinding back against Cas’ dick, grinning as Cas’ eyes darkened.

“Dean,” Cas growled, one of his hands slipping down the back of Dean’s boxers to grab Dean’s ass.

“C’mon, Cas.” Dean kept gyrating in Cas’ lap, his own cock getting inexplicably harder at the hungry look on Cas’ face. “I need you, you sexy bastard. I need you to wreck me.”

Dean suddenly found himself flipped onto his back. His boxers vanished, leaving his cock bare and aching with the need to be touched. Cas hovered over him, his hard length now exposed as well. The angel’s pupils were blown wide, almost fully blocking out his irises, but Dean could just make out the way Cas’ blue eyes had started to glow. He grinned, pleased with his ability to make this all-powerful being lose control.

He was about to say something cocky and cheeky when Cas’ hand suddenly wrapped around his cock. Dean moaned, trying to buck into the angel’s grip, but Cas held him down with a hand against his waist. The angel removed his hand from around Dean’s aching length and then plunged three of his fingers into Dean’s mouth to stifle his whine of disappointment.

“Suck,” he instructed, sitting back lazily, a king atop his throne.

Dean wrapped his lips around Cas’ fingers, moaning as they pressed against his tongue. His eyes slid shut as Cas began to gently fuck the digits into his mouth, soaking them in Dean’s saliva.

“You have no idea how beautiful you look like this, beloved,” Cas said. “All laid out before me, desperate for whatever I will give you. Every part of you, mine to pleasure.”

Dean whimpered pitifully, already feeling overwhelmed, Cas’ words taking him apart slowly but surely. He almost choked on the fingers slowly thrusting into his mouth as he felt Cas nuzzle against his neck, lips dragging against his collarbone before they began sucking at his pulse.

“Breathe, love,” Cas reminded him gently, withdrawing his fingers for a second to give Dean a chance to catch his breath. Cas rested his thumb against Dean’s lower lip as the man panted. “Are you okay, Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean assured him once he was ready. He looked up at Cas. “Please, keep going.”

“Okay, Dean,” Cas said. He kissed Dean before making his way down Dean’s body, lips brushing against his skin tantalisingly. “I’m going to take such good care of you, beloved.”

Cas paused to suck at one of Dean’s nipples, making Dean squirm and writhe. He gasped as he felt a saliva-slickened finger slip teasing his rim briefly before sliding into his ass. The twin sensations of Cas’ lips, tongue and occasionally his teeth against his hard nipple and his finger crooking inside him had Dean panting again, both overwhelmed by all the contact and, at the same time, desperately craving more.

“Fuck, Cas,” he groaned as Cas scraped his teeth across his oversensitized nipple. “Fuck, babe, that’s good.”

Cas looked up at him with a smirk. He tongued at his nipple one last time before continuing his journey downward, pausing at Dean’s hip to suck a bruise into his skin while also pressing a second finger inside him.

One of Dean’s hands flew to Cas’ head as the angel moved even lower and licked up the length of his cock. He curled his fingers into Cas’ hair, not guiding him, just holding on. Cas paused at the head of Dean’s dick, lapping away the precome beading at the tip. His free hand pressed against Dean’s hip when he tried to thrust up into Cas’ mouth, keeping him down.

“Caaaaass,” Dean whined as the angel pulled away from his cock entirely.

“Patience, Dean,” Cas chided.

“Ain’t one of my virtues,” Dean muttered, biting his lip when Cas thrust his fingers deep inside him, searching until…

“There,” Cas said, smiling in satisfaction as Dean gasped, his eyes sliding shut. “Does that feel good, my love?”

“You… You bastard, ” Dean whimpered. “You know it does.”

Cas laughed and then Dean felt lips grazing softly against his own.

“This body,” he reminded Dean, trailing his lips across Dean’s chest again as he pressed his fingers against his prostate, making the man see stars, “only exists now because I rebuilt it, atom by atom, so that your beautiful soul would, once again, have a home. I’m proud of the results. Nothing can match the beauty of your soul, Dean, but this form comes close.”

Dean whined when Cas withdrew his fingers, his eyes fluttering open to meet the angel’s blue eyes. He groaned when Cas pressed three fingers into his own mouth, sucking on them while maintaining eye contact with Dean. When he withdrew them, they glowed blue with grace. Dean licked his lips, already anticipating how the grace would feel inside him as Cas spread him open.

“Ah!” Dean gasped as Cas pushed his two fingers back into Dean’s ass and began to scissor them slowly apart, using his grace to open Dean up. He bit his lip to keep himself from crying out as he felt the pleasant sensation of Cas’ grace spreading inside him, getting him ready to take the angel.

“Dean,” Cas said warningly. “I want to hear you.” Dean couldn’t suppress an embarrassingly loud moan as Cas pushed a third finger inside him. Cas smiled down at him as he fucked the fingers slowly in and out of Dean. “Good, beloved.”

Cas brushed against Dean’s prostate again and Dean whined. “Babe,” he gasped. “C’mon, I’m ready, I need you now!”

The angel chuckled before pulling his fingers out. Dean propped himself up on his elbows so that he could watch as Cas ran his grace-covered fingers over his dick, getting himself ready for Dean.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Dean said as Cas’ eyes fell shut as he squeezed his fingers around his thick cock.

Cas’ eyes opened again as Dean sat up and pushed himself off the couch and then reseated himself in Cas’ lap. The angel’s lips parted in a soft gasp as Dean placed his hands on Cas’ shoulders and pushed him back against the cushions.

“Dean, what—”

“Shhh, sunshine,” Dean said, pushing himself up on his knees so that he could properly straddle his angel, positioning himself so that his ass was right above Cas’ weeping cock, ready to slide down and impale himself. Dean leaned forward and brought their lips together again, the gentle kiss contrasting the desperation they both felt. “I love you,” he said.

Cas’ pupils were still blown wide with lust when Dean pulled back, but there was softness in his eyes as well. “I love you too,” he said.

Dean grinned before replying with, “I know.” Then he began lowering himself down onto Cas, not giving the angel a chance to reply.

Cas’ head fell back against the couch cushions as Dean slid down, his grace-slick ass taking Cas’ cock teasingly slowly. Cas moaned once he was fully inside Dean, his breath coming out in short gasps. His eyes were half-lidded, but Dean could still make out the blue light that was filling his irises. Dean’s grip on Cas’ shoulders tightened as he got used to the feeling of being stuffed full, of having Cas inside him, pressing tantalisingly against his inner walls.

“Dean, you feel…” Cas shook his head, moving his hands to rest on Dean’s hips. He opened his eyes fully and looked at Dean, his face filled with awe, like Dean was the one worthy of worship. “Dean, oh, Dean. ” He said Dean’s name in the same way other people said, “Oh, God.”

“Fuck, Cas.” Dean shifted forward, getting another moan out of Cas, and began peppering the angel’s face with kisses. “I love this, I love you, so fucking much, sweetheart.”

Cas moaned, his hips jerking upwards slightly. Dean pressed one last lingering kiss to Cas’ mouth, swallowing the angel’s desperate sounds, before he began to move. The two of them settled into a steady, slow rhythm, Dean rolling his hips and Cas thrusting up to meet him. Their eyes stayed locked together, both of them feeding off the open lust and love in the other’s gaze.

Dean pulled Cas down for a long, sloppy kiss as he felt himself getting close. He wrapped his hand around his leaking cock, jerking it in time with Cas’ thrusts.

Cas came first, gasping into Dean’s mouth as he buried himself in Dean, his release spilling deep inside him. He fell back against the couch, his eyelids fluttering shut, his expression filled with pure bliss. Seeing him like that was enough to send Dean over the edge, his cock pulsing as he came all over Cas’ chest.

He collapsed on top of Cas, his head coming to rest against the angel’s shoulder, his lips brushing against his throat. He could feel Cas panting against him, his chest rising and falling and his breaths ruffling Dean’s hair.

“Love you,” Dean murmured, his lips brushing against Cas’ collarbone as he spoke.

“Mmm,” Cas hummed. “Me too, Dean.”

They both stayed pressed against each other as they came down from the high of their orgasms, their breathing and heart rates slowly settling into a synchronised rhythm.

When Dean finally moved, trying to get into a more comfortable position, he winced when he felt Cas’ come sliding out of his ass.

“Babe, could you…?”

Cas shifted underneath him, one of his hands pressing clumsily to Dean’s face, and, a second later, they were both clean of come and grace. The slight ache in Dean’s ass remained, however. Both he and Cas enjoyed having that little reminder after the other had fucked them, and Dean had more than once caught Cas admiring the way his bow-legged swagger became more pronounced after he’d been well-fucked.

Dean kissed the side of Cas’ throat before pushing himself onto the couch beside Cas and laying his head on his lap, humming contentedly when he felt Cas’ fingers carding through his hair.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said. As much as Dean wanted to stay with Cas and bathe in the afterglow, he could still feel that pull to his soul. He sat up with a sigh and pressed a kiss to Cas’ temple. “I gotta go, Cas.”

Cas turned to look at him with solemn, understanding eyes. “It’ll be okay, Dean.” He kissed him gently, cupping Dean’s face. Cas kept holding him, even after their lips parted. “Say hello to Sam for me.”

Dean managed to nod without dislodging Cas’ hands. “I mean, we’ll probably work our way back here pretty soon.” His lips tilted up into a smile. “I gotta introduce Sam to the love of my life.” Cas rolled his eyes and shook his head while Dean chuckled. “Seriously though, Cas,” he said, “Sam missed you too. He’ll want to see you. You two can catch up then.”

“Okay,” Cas said, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled at Dean.

The two of them exchanged a few more soft, lingering kisses before Dean stood up.

“Do you want me to get dinner ready?” Cas asked.

Usually, Dean preferred to be the one making dinner for them and any guests they had, but Cas was a passable cook as well, mainly thanks to Dean’s guidance.

“Yeah, babe, that’d be great,” Dean said. “Make enough for four, I’m sure Eileen will want to come as well.”

“Okay, Dean.” Cas leaned up at the same time as Dean leaned down for one last kiss. It was far too chaste for Dean’s liking, but there was always time for more in the future. “I’ll see you soon, my love.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I love you, Cas.”

“I love you too,” Cas replied.

Dean went back to their bedroom to get dressed and, by the time he returned, Cas was gone from the living room. Dean could hear sounds coming from the kitchen, so presumably Cas was either fixing himself a snack or making a start on dinner. He thought about calling out to Cas before he left, but ultimately decided that it was unnecessary — he wouldn’t be gone long, and Cas knew where he was going.

The Impala was waiting for him outside and Dean wasted no time getting behind the wheel again, easing her down the driveway and onto the highway through Heaven. He fiddled with the radio a bit until a familiar song started playing.

“Carry on my wayward son–”

“They’ll be peace when you are done!” Dean sang along at the top of his lungs, grinning as his Baby cruised along.

Tall pine trees edged the road and the sun beat down overhead, casting a golden glow onto the road. Dean drove on, tapping his fingers in time to the music while he sang. Sure, it wasn’t Ramble On , but Kansas was still a great band, and the song he was howling along to was a classic.

The road wound on and on until Dean finally came to a bridge. Something told him to stop there, so he drove the Impala to the middle and parked her.

The sun was pleasantly warm against his skin as he stepped out of the car. He ran his knuckles over the Impala’s hood briefly as he walked around her, feeling the soothing touch of her against his skin. For years and years, she had been his true home, and he would always be grateful to his Baby for that, and for carrying him to the home he was now making with Cas.

He walked slowly to the railing and braced his hands against it as he looked around him. From now on, he knew, whatever happened, he would be okay. He had his family, he had his home, his Baby, and, of course, he had Cas. And, very soon, he would have his brother.

Dean wasn’t sure exactly how to describe the feeling that rose in his bones, warming him more than the sun ever would. A smile spread across his face.

The words he had been struggling with were suddenly easy.

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean said.