A/N: This damn story didn't really turn out to be what I wanted it to be - somehow I couldn't put the pieces together, which means it's probably a bit incoherent, but I have been working on it for such a long time that I'm completely blind to it by now. Comments would be welcome, maybe advice on how to make it better. I guess basing a fanfic on a dream is a bad idea, but I just needed to get it out there. I'll gladly accept any criticism!
I, of course, do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.
No matter how many times you die, you never get used to it. That was something Dean had learned. He thought he might expect it by now, but it was still a shock when it happened, right out of the blue like that. He saw the Leviathan turning on its game face, and he heard Sam screaming somewhere behind him, and then it all just disappeared.
He had been to Hell. He had been to Heaven. He didn't know where he would go in the end, when he bit it for good, but he didn't think either one of those sides wanted him anymore. He didn't know if there was a place in the afterlife where he deserved to go, and he hardly cared anymore. But whatever would be, he had not expected it to be like this. When he opened his eyes, what he saw was neither Heaven nor Hell. It didn't look to be anything at all, actually. It was just emptiness.
Slowly, he stood up. He looked down on himself, trying to find any signs of the attack – he had seen, unfortunately, what a Leviathan did to its victims. There were none. He looked as whole as ever, for what that was worth.
So one of those things got me after all, he thought. Well, isn't that just great. He should feel something, but all he felt was a numb acceptance. He was dead, and that was it. Then he thought about Sam, still up there, and felt slight regret at leaving him like this. He could never rest in peace, if that had ever been an option for him, as long as Sam was in danger, and he sure as hell was now. As long as those ink-bleeding sons of bitches were still around, everyone was in danger. And when they were gone, there were still demons and ghosts and all the other evil things that crowded the ground floor. No, Sam would never be safe. But he couldn't do much good from here. He had to find a way out. Somehow.
He looked around, trying to get some sort of grip of where he was. It really did look like nothing. It seemed to go on forever in every direction. But there was something under his feet, ground or a floor, and a quiet mist barely reaching above his knees.
"Hello?" he called.
Only silence answered. There wasn't even an echo. Perhaps that meant it really did go on forever.
"Curiouser and fucking curioser," he muttered.
He had two options, it seemed. Either stay here and hope for something to change, or move and hope that he could find… something, some sort of clue of where he was. Neither of them felt very appealing right now. Eventually, he decided to move. At least then it would feel like he did something productive.
Walking made him feel queasy. The world didn't change, the mist didn't even move. But when he had started walking, he just couldn't stop. Because if he stopped, that would mean he had to come up with some other solution.
He could have walked for an hour or a year when he spotted something up ahead. It looked like a human shape, hardly visible in the mist.
"Hello?" he shouted again, and again got no answer. He narrowed his eyes, thinking that maybe he was imagining the person in front of him. He or she didn't make a move. "What is this?" he said out loud. "Twilight Zone?" He couldn't remember if something like this had ever happened there.
When he got closer, he deduced that the shape in question was most certainly human, and male. He had his back to Dean and sat on the floor, staring at something far away that Dean couldn't see. He wore a trenchcoat. A very familiar trenchcoat.
"Cas?" His voice sounded shaken. No freaking wonder. Maybe he wasn't dead at all. Maybe he was having some seriously messed up nightmare. Dean didn't know what happened to angels when they died. They didn't go to Heaven, that was for sure. He had always figured they just stopped existing, or somehow ascended to a higher plane of existence. Why would Cas be here now, trenchcoat and all?
"Castiel?" It was him. There was no mistaking that nerdy hair or unmade tie or the way he had his back hunched. Dean stopped to stand beside him. Castiel didn't react. He just stared off into the distance, his head slightly cocked, the way it always was when there was something he didn't understand or something that worried him. He didn't breathe or blink, but then again, Dean had never been sure that Cas ever did any of those things.
"Cas, what the hell is going on?"
No response. This was getting scarier by the minute. If he got a response, who would it be making it? The old Castiel, the one who had been panicking at the mere prospect of getting laid? Or the new, improved, freaking terrifying psycho God Cas? Or someone else, someone new?
"This is getting too David Lynch for me," Dean said. "Cas? Look at me, man. Please?"
Dammit, he thought. I'm imagining things, that's all. He's not here, he's dead, and I'm about to get a major freakout if I don't wake up soon. This has got to be a dream. A very stupid, very real dream.
He sat down in front of the angel, or the ex-angel – whatever – and snapped his fingers in front of his face. And if this doesn't work, I'm out of here. Somehow. "Earth to Castiel, do you copy?"
Suddenly, the angel shuddered, and then his eyes fixed on Dean.
"Dean?" he said. His voice was rough, even rougher than before, if that was possible.
Dean felt a rush of relief. Anything else might still be crazy as fuck, but at least this was the Cas he knew. "Thank God. Eh, I mean…" He had to pause, and breathe in. "Never mind that. What the hell is going on here, Cas? Where are we? Why are you here?"
Castiel kept on staring at him.
"Are you real?"
"Huh? What are you talking about? Of course I'm real. I'm the realest thing you've ever known, what-" Cas raised his hand and touched his face. "Hey, stop that," Dean said. "I am real, I told you."
The angel shook himself, and abruptly, realization filled his eyes. He frowned, looking confused, his default facial expression.
"You should not be here," he said.
"I figured as much," Dean said. "I don't even know what this place is, but I don't have time for this. I have to get back. There are Leviathan I need to kill."
Cas winced. "It's my fault," he said, almost a whisper. "I let them out. It's my fault. I'm sorry, Dean."
"Yeah, well, done is done," Dean said. His voice sounded harsh, and he swallowed. "If you're done with the god-moding, you should come back with me. We could need you right now."
He never used to hurt from lying before.
"There's no way out," Cas said.
"There has to be a way out," Dean said. "If we got in, we can get out. What is this place, anyway?"
"I don't know."
"Is this where angels go when they die?"
"I don't know, Dean," Cas said.
"What do you mean, you don't know? You're an angel, aren't you? Who else would know?"
"No one knows what happens when we die," Cas said. "We don't generally do that very often."
"Well, whatever, we have to go. If we try, we can-"
"Dean," Castiel said. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I should have listened to you."
"Yes, you should," Dean said, uncomfortable at hearing his own thoughts thrown back at him like that. He remembered when he had last seen Cas, bleeding black Leviathan blood all over the place. That image had been burned into the insides of his skull. He could not unsee it, no matter how hard he tried. "Look, we could've helped you. We should have, I know. We should've tried. But we didn't know. I-" His voice cracked, and he took a deep breath and tried again. "I don't get it. Why didn't you just tell us earlier? We could have done something to stop this from happening. You should have told us what was going on."
Castiel didn't say anything, but he smiled one of his rare, inward smiles.
"I miss you," Dean said. Then he froze. That was something he had never thought he would say out loud. But it was true. He still had Sam, and he didn't need anything else in the world; he never had. But after spending all this time around Cas, he had grown used to having him there, and now that he was gone, it felt as if there was something missing. An angel-shaped hole.
The silence stretched. He desperately tried to think up something that would make this moment less awkward, but his head seemed as empty as this place.
"Why are you in your meat suit?" he asked, just to say something. "I thought it was destroyed in the… the Leviathan thing."
Castiel frowned at him. "I am?" he mumbled. "I didn't even notice…"
"What's wrong, Cas?" Dean asked. "Seriously, what's the matter with you? Why are you just sitting here? You should try to find a way out. This place is freaky, you know that?"
"There's no way out."
"You said that. I'm not just gonna take your word for it. You know me, I never do what you tell me to." He was surprised at the tone in his voice. When had he ever sounded like that? Sam was the one doing the emotional crap and that worked fine by him, thank-you-very-much.
"I can't leave, Dean," Cas said. "I have to stay here. I told you I would find a way to redeem myself. This is my punishment. I deserve to be here."
"No, you don't," Dean said, probably not sounding very convincing, but he tried to pretend that he was. "C'mon, don't you know who you sound like? You sound like me. That's never a good thing." He stood up, pulling the angel along with him. Castiel was a bit unsteady at first, and Dean found himself wondering just how long he had been sitting here, staring off into space. Could drive a man insane, this place. Maybe it was too late to worry about that in Castiel's case, though. "Let's go that way," Dean said, vaguely pointing ahead. "I have a good feeling about that way. It looks like a good way to go, don't you think?"
He felt something touch his shoulder and stiffened, but it was just Cas, resting his hand above where his handprint was hidden behind Dean's shirt. He frowned, as if he was wondering what it was.
"Look, Cas, this is not the right time to act all crazy, you know? That can wait until we're back in the real world."
"Do you want me to go with you?" the angel asked.
"Well, I'm not gonna leave you here. We could really need you up there, or down there, wherever it is. I… we need you. We're cleaning up your mess now. That's just inconsiderate, man, leaving others to clean up after you." He tried to make his voice stop shaking. He really did.
"I'm sorry," Cas said.
Dean wished he would stop saying that. It put his teeth on edge and filled him with guilt. None of this was his fault, not really, but he couldn't help thinking of ways he could have helped him, stopped all this from going down. Castiel had been a friend, hell, almost a brother, and when friends needed help, you were supposed to help them. No matter what they had done or were about to do.
That was the way it was supposed to be. He couldn't think about that now. All the other things – matters of who was guilty of what and somesuch – would have to wait.
"Let's go," he said.
"Dean, wait." The almost pleading tone in the angel's voice stopped him. He turned around.
"What is it?" he asked, trying but failing to get the impatience out of his voice. If he was dead, he had no idea how long he had been down here, and the world sure as hell would not just wait for him to come back. If he could get back.
"I cannot go back with you," Castiel said. "You have to leave me here."
"Stop that. There'll be no leaving anyone. Not on my watch."
Cas looked down, almost embarrassed. "You should not have come here," he said.
"Well, believe me, this isn't my idea of a summer vacation either, but I didn't get to read the brochure."
"No. I mean, you should not be here," Cas said, and he looked up, looking fervent. "This is not where you are supposed to go."
"How do you know that?" Dean asked.
"I think I made this," Cas said. "I created it. Out of nothing. I have been sitting here for a long time, just thinking, trying to understand. I am here for a reason, but until I find out the reason, I have to stay here. But you, you're not supposed to be here."
"I died," Dean said. "I think. I don't get to choose where I go afterwards."
"You died?" Cas said. "Oh. I didn't know that. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well, I have no intention to stay dead. I plan to go down fighting, not just getting my head bit off by some eldritch abomination wearing a tax accountant."
Castiel just looked at him blankly.
"Or whatever happened. Details are a little fuzzy at the moment." He turned away, feeling awkward, which he hated. And he was scared, and that was something he hated even more. He knew he would have to die some time, and stay dead. Not that his life had ever been much to celebrate, and the path he had chosen usually didn't lead to a long and happy retirement, but as long as there were evil things to fight… as long as Sam was there, there was something worth going back to. He had been telling himself that for years, until it became a mantra.
He looked at Castiel, and the angel met his eyes with his own, large, lost ones. Then Cas looked away.
"I have been alone for a very long time," he said.
"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.
"Time here is… different. But it's been so long."
"Cut the crazy, Cas – what are you talking about?"
"My world, Dean. My little universe. I used to be God. This is all that is left from that." He smiled sadly. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I just wanted you to know that. I wanted… I wanted you to be proud of me. I didn't want you to hate me, but you were right. I… fucked up. Is that the right expression, fucked up?"
"Forget it, Cas," Dean said. That uncomfortable feeling was back, stronger than ever.
"I'll make it right", Cas said. "I just need to find out how."
"Can't you do it somewhere else? Like, in the real world?"
"This is my world now. I can't leave."
"Great," Dean said. "Great. First Sam goes all schizo on me, and now you, too. This is just what I needed."
Castiel frowned. "I don't understand that reference," he said, sounding more like his old self than ever.
"It means I'm sick and tired of this," Dean said. "If you won't come back with me, could you at least do your zapping thing and get me away? Or are your batteries dead again?"
"I can try," Cas said. "They took it all. The Leviathan. They were very strong. Much stronger than me."
"You telling me," Dean said. "I'm the one who has been fighting them ever since."
"It's my fault they are free. I didn't know that would happen. I… wasn't thinking clearly. I… Fucked it up."
"Dude, stop channelling me," Dean said. "It's unnerving."
"Sorry."
"It's okay. Just stop mentioning it all the time, will you."
"I'm not sure this is going to work," Castiel said.
"It better will. I'm not staying here."
"Are you starting to have faith in my… angelic mojo again?" Cas said. Dean just stared at him. The words sounded so completely out of place coming out of Castiel's mouth. The angel was not smiling, but he could have sworn he had been just moments ago.
"Well, you know me," Dean said, flashing him a smile that would not really come out, "ever the faithful servant."
"I'm glad you came," Castiel said. He lifted his hand and Dean felt his cool fingers softly touching his forehead. "I hope you will… forgive me for what I've done."
Dean felt a lump in his throat – what was with him these days? He looked up, to face the angel's eyes, and the look in them was that one that he had tried so hard to remember after the Purgatory chaos. Before Cas went off the deep end. The look that was Castiel, pure and undistilled nerd angel.
"Cas, look…" he said. "I'll find a way to get you out of here, okay? We'll fix this. Don't worry."
"I don't," Castiel said. "I trust you."
Then Dean felt a surge of power and the former angel and his world was gone.
He was floating in nothing for a while or an eternity, and he almost wished he could just stay there, in nothing, unthinking, unafraid. But, as always, the world came rushing back. The real world.
There was no pain, not a single scratch on him, even though he could remember the damn thing's teeth in his flesh. It had too many friggin' teeth. He looked down, dazed, trying to get a hold of things again – it felt as if he had been gone forever. But he heard Sam calling his name, and he saw the Leviathan twisting on the floor, having been hit in the face with the full content of one of the spray cans he and Sam had been taking to carry with them, as borax-based detergent seemed to be the only thing that worked on the fucking things. The Leviathan was screeching at the top of whatever these creatures had for lungs. Dean stared at it, blinking.
Sam knelt down beside him, looking worried.
"Thank God! I thought it killed you!" He frowned. "I was sure that it… bit you." His voice had an undertone, completely understandably. Leviathan didn't bite unless they wanted to rip your limbs off, and Dean's limbs were all still in place. Not even a scratch.
"I'm fine," Dean said. He was fine, he realized. All things considered. Meaning he was alive. "The damn thing knocked me out cold. Son of a bitch!" he added, for emphasis.
"You're losing your touch, man," Sam said as he helped him to his feet.
"You really think they'll get rid of me that easily?"
He was fine. But he hadn't been, and he knew that. He had felt the teeth. He had, no use in trying to deny it. The thing had killed him.
Damn it, Cas, you need to stop bringing me back from the dead.
"Dean?" Sam said, looking at his face. "Are you okay?"
He could remember the soft touch of Castiel's hand on his forehead. A strange tickling sensation in the handprint on his shoulder. He had been dead, and Castiel had saved him. Again. Even after his death, he still acted as Dean's self-proclaimed guardian angel.
Dean wasn't sure he really wanted him to, anymore.
"Yeah," he said, voice unsteady. "I'm okay."
Meaning he was alive. Again.