(Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the plot as always.)
Summary: AU. Dean had just thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again.
Prologue: This Ain't a Trip to Funky Town
. . . .
He would have sold his soul again and again for his baby brother; he would have done anything in his power to prevent Sam from ever being in this position. He was the frigging Devil's condom, and the older Winchester brother hated it. It had happened, just like Lucifer said, in Detroit. Sam had said "yes," and it wasn't the most heartfelt yes like an "I do" was supposed to be, not by a long shot. He just couldn't wrap his head around exactly why his brother would say that - why he said yes to Lucifer - why he agreed to let one of those dicks with wings inside his head. It was beyond him. Dean himself had refused to be used as an angel's vessel on multiple occasions.
Hell, he knew Sam told them no, too, even if Zachariah was slowly killing both of them once, but low and behold Cass* comes barging in and crisis averted, only temporarily though. His thoughts paused at the mentioning of the second angel's name. So much for "guardian angels," his mind growled at him as he swirled the remaining alcohol in his bottle. Yeah, the angel, who was in a place no one knew where, was at as much fault as Dean was.
He had told Cass how many times to look after Sam and to be there when he called, and what happens? There's no angel, just the Devil in a new Sammy suit. Fan-frigging-tastic. And Dean can't do shit; he just stares at Sam - no Lucifer- and he's as helpless as ever. He couldn't save or protect his little brother anymore, and even when he tried to, it didn't amount to anything. No one would make a deal that was connected to Sam, or any Winchester for that matter, not even a demon. Dean looked, believe him he looked for any demon that could help him, but he turned up with nothing - absolutely nothing. They just tucked their tails between their legs and skedaddled away, much faster than that toon character could ever go. Okay, so maybe he was exaggerating their speed and imagining the tails, but it sure in hell felt like they were racing when they found it was Dean Winchester, especially when he carved his way through so many demons. He had went through almost every demon out there, and each of them left him with the same feeling. Every time one of them left him, it was the same coldness creeping into his skin, gathering together in the same spot - his heart- where it continued to grow.
He wanted, more than anything, for his brother back, but with each demon turning its back and walking away, the hope faded with them. Even ganking the bastards who laughed in his face served him neither pleasure or pride. There was no longer the familiar rise when on a hunt, not like before everything went to even worse crap. Even when things were at their worst back then, it didn't seem to matter because the Winchester brothers would always make it out somehow. Not now… There was nothing for the oldest brother to do other than accept the other archangel into his head, but he definitely didn't want something swarming inside his head making him do things; it was just creepy. Also, there's the fact that he and Sammy had to literally fight to the death, and of course this wasn't tv, so no one would get that fairy tale ending. When he finally realized in order to end both humanity's and Sam's torture that he had to accept the major dick's proposal, the archangel had already upped and left Earth, leaving the survivors as the clean up crew. The survivors were abandoned, forced to clean up Heaven's mess. However, this project seemed to be really demanding, and it was currently stalled on their side of the fight, maybe favoring Lucifer more often than not.
Nonetheless, Dean didn't want to admit defeat. That just wasn't him, but he was so close in throwing in the towel since the fighting didn't seemed to amount to anything. He was beginning to not care too much anymore, and he was about to not care that he was devoid of that feeling. Soon, he wouldn't care at all, which was sadly a fact of life nowadays. A few of the survivors were on the verge of giving up, but most were just sitting back and waiting for Lucifer to strike them down, already resigning to their fates, and Lucifer was gladly doing just that. He was working to make the world free of humanity, and Dean's almost sure he heard the Devil say he was protecting God's Creations once. He could have laughed at that. The Devil was carving away humanity until there was nothing but the Earth left behind. All man-made things were destroyed, which included every single living human, which in turn included men, women, and even children.
This madness was bound to reach their small camp sooner or later. Apparently, it was sooner rather than later. It was possible the Devil was going to pay them a visit in a matter of days, perhaps a week if they were lucky. He knew this from Chuck, who reported a sighting of Lucifer nearby, and as always, Dean was to decide the next move. He had taken a moment to think. His first thoughts were that he couldn't keep running, and he had to try to end this. In the next second, though, he almost told everyone that they had to remain and fight, but instead he told them to leave if they weren't going to stand and take on the Devil. Most of them stayed in the camp, willing to rise and face Lucifer, while a few ran off in the middle of the night.
Dean wasn't angry… Okay, he was pissed at the cowardice because he understood that Lucifer would catch up to them and tear them apart anyway, it was just a matter of when, so why run? Dean merely narrowed his eyes at the blade hanging in his hands as Chuck gave him the names of the ones that left. He took his foot off the chair and placed it next to his other one on the ground, straightening to his full height. "Did they leave the guns," he asked after all the names had been said, and he received a quick response.
"Yes they did, Dean, just as you told them to." Chuck replied, but then he paused and questioned. "Do you think we have any chance in beating him?"
"There's no way in hell." At least he was being honest with himself, and since he knew everyone had the same answer, he didn't bother to sugarcoat it, something he never really did. Sam had always been the one that was involved with his feelings, while Dean just shoved it all down. Everyone knew death was around the corner, and the outcome of this battle would be death on their side since no one had an angel blade or anything to kill that son of a bitch, and Dean wasn't too keen on decapitating his own brother just yet. He was still in between the transition of not caring about not caring and caring that this whole apocalypse business was slowly wearing him down.
In a few weeks, Dean guessed he would be able to do anything to end this torture in the most severe way, such as killing his younger sibling. He had a feeling that he could end all the death and destruction for humanity and any other people that made it out alive, except angels of course. There has been a rumor that every angel had a hand in the apocalypse from the beginning, which would mean so had Cass, also leading to the understanding that the angel had lied. Well, he had been the one to tell the angel that humans lie when they really want something, but in Dean's book (which would have to have pictures because Sam was the one that loved reading those long ass paragraphs, not like Dean, who liked ones with more pictures than words), Cass wasn't classified as human. He was more like the enemy than anything else. That would explain why Cass disappeared as soon as Lucifer got ahold of Sam.
Presently, Dean shook his head with an irritated expression on his face. Tonight was going to be long, and since the hunter stayed up all night, it was definitely one of the most tedious things ever to just sit and wait. Then, the sleepless night was followed by no sleep the following day, and when night arrived another time, he still refused to sleep. He just knew that mighty Luci was making her way to their front door, and he understood that if he drifted even a little bit, he wouldn't go out fighting like he wanted to or if he took a nap, he might wake up and tell the world, "fuck it, solve your own problems for once."
The next day came finally, and Dean's first thought was about Mother Nature. Whatever people say about Mother Nature didn't compare to Dean's version. He was pretty sure she was the greediest and most unpredictable bitch ever because she withheld precious water for four days, and now she decides that white crap was needed, accompanied with a cold that could give you frostbite if you didn't wear at least three or four jackets.
Man, this day was going to suck, Dean was certain even before it was 12:02 in the morning. He would have known precisely at midnight, but he wanted to doublecheck before he labeled the day as Doomsday All Over Again. Once he fixed his green jacket, he walked outside into the white blizzard that somehow formed in the blink of an eye, and he raised a brow at the weather, which could very well be the death of all of them if Lucifer didn't reach them or left them for another time.
Some may wonder why they chose to set up camp in a place like this. Well this place rarely sees snow, and if it does, usually it's a light dusting, so if this crazy weather was anything to go by, this marked their final stand. Dean was going to make this unforgettable, so he retrieved his blade from its holder, holding it in a firm, steady hand that was used to handling weapons from a young age. He looked over his gun, mentally adding it to the list of weapons that he had, even though it was pretty useless and only had three bullets. He just felt better with a spare weapon to fend off Lucifer, even though he knew none of what he had could kill him.
He realized after a moment of entering the rigid cold that he had been the first one outside, and he took no time in getting even more ready. His body tensed a bit, green eyes locked onto the horizon, waiting for movement that would signal the Devil's approach. His brows drew together as he attempted to squint through the gusts of wind that blew snow straight into his face. Next, the sun started to peek around the clouds; it was enough to cause Dean to shield his eyes with his arm for a second and grunt in annoyance, closing one eye that was closest to the sun's light. Now he couldn't see anything at all. First the snow, then the sun, what next? He wondered if the day could get any worse, and soon he was answered, just not by what he expected though.
Instead, it was a deep voice that sounded off to his right. "It's about to get a lot worse, Dean," stated the voice, and Dean knew exactly who it belonged to, and he swirled his head to face the stoic one beside him.
"What the hell are you doing here, Cass?" He snapped, glaring at the angel, who didn't look over at him.
He just replied, staring ahead, "I'm here to help." He tilted his head, eyes squinting. "Are you positive that you would do anything to get your brother back?"
He effectively cut off what Dean had intended to say, which would have been, "oh yeah? Where were you when Sam needed help? That was a real awesome job you did back there, really took one for the team, thanks ya dick." Dean thought for some time over his question before he responded. Of course he would do anything, he would swap shoes with Sammy if he had to. He wouldn't admit aloud how desperate he had got trying to save Sam and how it almost made him go nuts. His gaze turned suspicious, unsure of why Cass was suddenly bringing it up now. His stomach tightened faintly, anticipating a very bad reason.
"Would you still sell your soul, Dean?"
Dean blinked a bit at the blue-eyed angel, who waited patiently for Dean's brain to process his words since he was too focused on another topic. "... What?" His brow raised up some more.
"For Sam, would you do it, sell your own soul? Even if you had to 'walk hand and hand' with Lucifer or Michael later on?" Finally, the blue eyes slid over to reach the intense green-eyed gaze, which was becoming increasingly suspicious. "Before you ask, I discovered that phrase from you…" He paused, tilting his head, gaze going a little to the left of Dean, as he thought. "I don't really understand why you chose that one, though-"
"I've never said that, Cass." Dean's gaze flickered to the horizon real fast then back at the angel at his side, who actually looked back in his direction when he began to speak.
"You didn't have to." His eyes turned away again just as Dean opened his mouth to say something, which always annoyed the man, especially like this instance, when he was trying to talk to the angel, and he was looking this way and that. It bothered him quite a lot actually. Cass added like it was an afterthought, "It was all over your thoughts."
"Cass, get out of my head!" He commanded the angel. "You don't just go snooping in someone's head."
The angel looked over. "Yes, I guess you could consider that similar to your 'personal space,' am I correct?"
Dean made a face that said it all. Well duh. "Yeah, that's as personal as it gets, Cass."
"I guess I haven't had a chance to learn that yet."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
The angel's blue eyes searched his face as he stated, simple and flat out, yet it was in a way that made Dean almost feel stupid. "I'm not from this time; I'm from the past."
Dean's face would have been priceless to anyone else, just not Cass. "I'm not an idiot, man."
The other's brows drew together in confusion. "I did not say that you were…"
Dean's one eyebrow remained raised. "Then what are you saying? That I just have to believe that you're from the past?"
"Yes. Why is this a concern, Dean? I'm not lying."
"How do I know that," questioned Dean, crossing his arms and cautiously keeping the knife away from Cass. "You could be lying just like before. Everyone does that."
"I don't understand why." He appeared like he wanted to continue, but instead, his gaze turned much more serious. "You have ten seconds to choose whether I'm lying or telling the truth."
Dean shrugged a shoulder. "You're lying." At that, Cass' expression darkened in anger. A smirk tilted up his lips, only to fade in the next second. "You haven't done anything to show me that I can trust you. It's just that simple, no proof, no trust. You better learn that."
"I was the one that raised you-"
"Yeah, you brought me back from Hell into an even bigger Hell, congratulations, let's give him a prize." He stated; it was laced with obvious sarcasm, which undoubtedly went over the angel's head, who did the weird squinting followed by the head tilt. "If you don't notice, this future is complete crap, so it isn't much of an improvement from the actual 'Hell.'"
"I… apologize for whatever I did, but I'm here to bring you back to another time, so you can fix this. You can stop this from happening if you let me send you back."
"Once again, I don't think you're telling the truth." It was his turn to turn his head slightly to the side, eyes locking onto the other's. "So stick it up your ass." He went to turn and walk away, but an angel blocked his path, bringing up his fingers. Before Dean could react, the fingers poked him in the forehead, and everything swam in his vision.
Dean disappeared from the angel's view, and the angel shook his head once. It was an awkward motion for him, so he stopped it. Instead, he mumbled to himself. "Dean doesn't seem to get better with age like some have. In fact, he might have gotten worse to deal with." He squinted into the distance with a frown as he saw movement heading his way. He should probably leave himself now.
. . . .
He watched from afar as the blade cut the angel open, and the blade sharply came up, and everything exploded in blinding white, startling the human awake, eyes snapping open for a second then closed in the next as the pain in his head increased. He groaned softly. Man was his head killing him. He couldn't remember the last time it felt like this, probably when he had the great idea to party all night, way back when. That was awesome, just not the morning that followed.
He stretched on the bed before getting more comfortable, pressing his face into the sheets. It was surprisingly soft and didn't smell over used. It smelled fairly new actually, and it felt like heaven, minus the angels because that could make anyone sick to their stomachs. He made a face, thinking back to his dream, but soon waved it off, opting to sink into the amazing bed. It has been forever since his bed felt this good; he concluded that he must have been really tired to feel this great or he must have done something last night, if you get what he means. It was probably the latter.
He felt a small nudge in his brain, telling him he had something important to do, but he shoved it away. He didn't want to think; he didn't wish to move. He just wanted to remain where he was, surrounded in warmth and peace that never seemed to reside in him or it was quickly squashed by the survivors knocking on his door and telling him Lucifer annihilated yet another city. He decided to soak up all he could get, and when it persisted, he was glad if only for a moment. Unfortunately his brain had other plans.
It drifted back to his weird dream another time. Why would he dream about that, and why would he care? He turned his head to rest his opposite cheek on the bed. It would be impossible anyway, and also, he'd be glad if that happened. One less angel to deal with in the world. He shrugged it off, relaxing more into the bed. There was the feeling that he had something to do again, but he wasn't sure exactly what it was. He was about to drift when something reached his ears, and he nearly had a heart attack.
"Dean, I think I found a case," the voice called. Dean's eyes flashed open, staying still for a few moments, and he listened to a bag's rustling, a smell invading his noise. He suddenly realized that Lucifer was heading their way, and he froze in the bed, expecting Sam's body to crash through the door and take him out for the last time, but nothing happened, so green eyes scanned the room, brain slowly collecting its findings. Then, he blinked. Did Cass actually send him to the past? He hesitated, glancing the room over again, growing confused. If this was the past, then why didn't he recognize anything around him?
He was suspicious again, wondering if the angel had lied to him about this too. He rolled onto his back, maneuvering his body so his feet rested on the floor, and he raised his upper body, hands running through his hair. Alright, you can do this Dean, just get to your feet. He coaxed himself, but he didn't move, except for his head rising and turning so he could survey the room again. He saw his green jacket discarded on the chair, and that was when he checked himself over. He was wearing the same clothing as before, so it was definitely his body. A sickening feeling rose up in his throat. He felt bare when he realized he didn't have his weapons, but after searching for a bit, he found them resting on top of a bed table. He snatched them up and both them on his person, feeling a hundred times better now that he had them close.
You couldn't be caught with your pants down because you might end up with a knife in your back. It was appalling that the survivors were turning on one another, you'd think they'd be better than demons and angels, especially those angels. Dean gritted his teeth and finally reached his feet. He took two steps toward the door when it opened, and he automatically tensed, eyes on his baby brother. He expected to be sliced in half in that moment, but Sam looked over at him with those eyes only Sam could pull off, and Dean's chest tightened. Maybe in this time, Sam was just Sam, not Lucifer. He felt his body sway some.
Was Sam really Sam? Sam took a step into the room, asking him if he was alright. The room began to rotate around the older brother, and his body shook some. He wasn't sure what to do, so he forced a grin. "Yup, I'm fine, Sammy." Even though he felt like he was going to pass out, he turned his look on his brother, who didn't seem convinced, but he nodded and told him to come out when he was ready. When his brother closed the door, Dean stumbled back to sit on the bed.
Just get up, would you? His brain snapped at how he was so out of it. If he stayed any longer Sam would know something was up. With that in mind, he shakily made it to his feet, and he cautiously journeyed to the door, cracking it open so he could peer out without the chance that his neck was in range of a weapon. He deemed it safe, and he opened the door all the way, pausing at the hall after hall, and he paled.
This was going to be difficult to get used to, the gigantic place he was in, not Sam being just Sam-fucking-Winchester. He didn't want to hope for that yet. It would just lead to disappointment.
(This is the first Supernatural story I have written down, so I'm not sure how it'll turn out or even if I'll post anymore chapters. If you want me to continue just let me know. I had to split this up anyway, so I have one or two other chapters already done, but they might just stay where there are, depending on if this interests anyone or not. Also, since this is an AU, it'll probably have some things from both timelines (the one with the future apocalypse and the almost one), and the characters probably won't be spot on either.)
*Cass/ Cas- could be spelt both ways (whatever you prefer)