A/N: So, I've always wanted to bring Endverse Cas (from Zachariah's Croatoan alternate universe) into the main universe, and what better time than when his body is being used as a meatsuit for Lucifer! I'm cruel, I know.
There will be a prequel coming soon about 2009 Dean's visit to 2014 and his history with Camp Chitaqua's Cas.
Pairings: Endverse!Cas/Dean, Castiel/Dean, possible threesome, past Endverse!Cas/Endverse!Dean
Triggers: substance abuse, suicide attempt
Dean is just getting over the wave of nausea caused by being zapped from one room to another by God himself (it packs more of a punch than Angel Airways) when there's a knock at the door.
"Who the hell could that be?" he asks Sam, who merely shrugs. "Let's not all rush up and get it at once," Dean snarks at his brother's lack of movement, even though he's still sitting on his ass as well.
Sam groans and pulls Ruby's knife out of his jacket and Dean grabs his favorite Colt from the back of his jeans.
"You got holy water on you?" Dean asks. Sam just gives him this "no shit, Sherlock" look he's so good at.
They wobble a little on their way to the front door, still slightly disoriented, but nothing beats the head rush Dean gets when Sam swings the door open.
"What the hell?" Sam breathes out. The man outside sways on his feet, a lowered rifle in his hands and a beat up duffel bag hung over one shoulder. Dean's duffel bag. "Cas?"
Except Castiel is downstairs, playing host to the devil himself who's working out his daddy issues. And he sure as hell doesn't look like this. Skinny and dirty and disheveled with several shades of purple under his eyes. Dean has only seen Cas like this once. That version of him being here, now, is impossible.
The man outside blinks his bloodshot eyes blearily. Sam seems to get a grip (something Dean has yet to acquire), and splashes holy water in Maybe-Cas's face. The guy doesn't even seem to notice. Not a demon.
The man (Cas?) smiles crookedly and mumbles, "It actually worked," before his eyes roll back and he falls to the ground.
