AN: written for the End Of The World Competition - if you enjoyed this story and want to vote for it or like to read the other participants' entries, you can find the link on my profile page or go to the Livejournal community spnforthesane.
For those of you who don't know how a counter tenor sounds I reccomend visition Robert E. Lee's youtube channel. A part of what Castiel sing's as Oberon can be found on youtube, too. You can find all links at my profile.
Many thanks to my great (and fast!) beta citizencandy
This is my take on how Season 5 could end. Because I don't think we will get the Epic Battle between Heaven and Hell, I think Kripke's mind is way too twisted for that...
Dean wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up in Seattle. After dropping out of the army he had tried staying at Sam's. It was fine for about a year. Then his brother decided to marry his girlfriend. It wasn't that Dean didn't like Fran. No, she was a nice girl, really. Despite not even being a bit like Jess, he soon found himself becoming a buddy of hers.
When both Fran and Sam asked him if he wanted to move with them into the tidy white-picket-fence house they had just bought, Dean knew it was time for him to move on. Living with his kid brother was okay for two bachelors, but now that little Sammy was finally married, he knew he'd be an uncle soon. Probably even this year, judging by the way Fran and Sam had ogled that crib at the last garage sale they'd searched for useful stuff. So he said his goodbyes and was soon after on the road to... a new chapter in his life, he hoped.
But the next stop on Dean's journey had been South Dakota. Bobby's. For nearly half a year he helped the old man with his salvage yard. Soon after the birth of Sam's first son he had become restless anew, packed his few belongings into his old Ford and drove off into the sunset.
~*~
Dean didn't exactly know what he was looking for. It was just a feeling. A feeling that he was missing something. But he couldn't even say if it was a thing, a person or something entirely different. He only knew that there was a gaping hole somewhere deep inside of him and whatever he tried, nothing was able to fill it for long. A few jobs here, a few there, sometimes Dean didn't even take the time to unpack his stuff knowing he would be on the road again before long.
The empty spot inside his soul wasn't the only thing bothering him. Most nights Dean slept well, but sometimes there were dreams. Really strange dreams. He dreamed of monsters, of fights, of ghosts, demons and angels. It didn't feel like the 'normal' dreams he had once in a while. Sometimes there were entire stories told in his dreams. But as soon as Dean woke up, he couldn't remember much more than the last few seconds and a feeling of... loss. Of course he hadn't talked to a shrink as Sam had suggested. He wasn't crazy after all. So no need for that.
Dean tried his best to remember those dream fragments. He even bought a journal and started to write down everything he could still recall as soon as he woke up from one of those crazy dreams. The thing that bothered him most was that he couldn't recall any names or faces. It was hard making connections between the single pieces of his dreamscape puzzle without knowing how they were connected. It took some time before Dean discovered that the persons in his dream - although not having actual faces - had different eye colors.
There was this guy with yellow eyes - Dean thought he was evil. And a lot of people with black ones, too. They died pretty soon on a regular basis. A guy with blue eyes kept popping in to help and vanished as suddenly as he had appeared again. And sometimes a creepy girl with white eyes. Dean had never thought he had an eye kink. But why the heck was he dreaming of those strange things?
~*~
However, he ended up in Seattle. It was winter, the weather was cold and wet and generally very nasty. Dean was tired of traveling around without a destination so he decided to rent a flat and spend a few months there. He just needed a job.
Two days after Dean had driven past the city boundaries of Seattle, Bobby called and told him about a job. The old man knew a hell of a lot of people and obviously even a few in Seattle. A recommendation was always good because there were a lot of unemployed people out there desperate for any kind of job. A lot of competition. Dean had spent his last fifteen years in the army. He had been part of an anti-terrorist unit, trained to use next to any weapon in existence, silent and deadly. He could even kill a man with just one hand, the other tied to his back while blindfolded. Not exactly the kind of information you use as testimonial. Working for a few bucks as a waiter or scrubbing the dirty floor of gas stations was the only thing he had done since dropping out of the army. He really wanted a proper job, something he could be doing for more than a few weeks.
Dean called the number Bobby had given him and learned that some schmuck from the opera was staging a casting for a new bodyguard. Bodyguard. Right. Bobby really wasn't dumb. With his training he would be the perfect body guard - why the hell hadn't he thought of that? Idjit, yeah, this time he had to agree with Bobby...
There were still two hours left before he had to be at the given address so Dean booted his laptop, connected to the web and entered the guy's name in Google. Voilà! More than enough hits for him to read the next few days about that man - holy crap! He even had a Wikipedia entry!
~*~
Dean learned that the guy who was looking for a new bodyguard was an opera singer, some kind of tenor. He himself had never been to the opera even once but from what he found on the Internet the critics loved that guy. Apparently he was a Contra-Tenor, a man singing as if he'd lost his family jewels. 'The voice of an angel' was one of the phrases he found very often in regards of the man's talent. Probably junkless, Dean thought with a smirk.
Turned out he wasn't the only one applying for the job. As Dean entered the room, he had been told to sit down and wait; there had already been at least ten other guys. Most of them were as huge as Sammy and twice as bulky - Dean felt annoyingly small and fragile in comparison.
After filling out the obligatory questionnaire he tried to pass the time chatting with a few of the other guys. They were quite nice for competitors. All of whom Dean talked to were old hands, having been bodyguards for at least some years. Apparently he was the only newbie - maybe it was better if he just left now, there was no way the singer was going to pick him if he could have real, professional bodyguards instead. Still, somehow, he chose to stay.
Dean witnessed more and more of the other men being called into the room the interviews apparently were being held in, and each one of them left with a disappointed face. Great. If the guy didn't even like the real bodyguards...
When Dean's name was called he was sure to leave the interview room again very soon after entering. He somewhat hesitantly opened the door and stepped into what looked like the office of some executive schmuck or manager. There was a guy shorter than himself in a dark suit with light brown hair, brown eyes and a notepad. He glanced up at him with a gaze that seemed to bore into Dean's very soul. It was an extremely uncomfortable feeling. The optical vivisection lasted just a few seconds then the guy turned to another man Dean hadn't even noticed prior. "This is Dean Winchester. You okay if we hire him?"
Dean blinked in surprise and so did the other man. Dean hadn't been able to find a picture of Mr. Junkless on the net but he assumed the second man, lithe, wearing jeans, a dark button down and a tattered frock-coat must have been the singer. He looked as if somebody had just dragged him out of bed, his nearly shoulder-long hair still ruffled, sticking out in all directions and his cheeks unshaven with a dark five o'clock shadow. But the most striking feature about the otherwise inconspicuous exterior were his eyes. An icy blue with a somewhat otherworldly intensity like the trench coat wearing guy from his dreams.
"Are you sure, Gabriel?" Mr. Junkless' voice was low, gravely and seemed to rumble though the man's entire body - nothing like what Dean had expected from a maybe-eunuch.
"I am, brother. I think Mr. Winchester is the one you have been looking for." Dean wasn't exactly sure but he thought he had seen something like a short flash of amusement in the man's brown eyes before they turned cold and piercing again.
With a heavy sigh the singer nodded and shot Dean a glance before looking at his brother again. (Brother? Seriously? They looked even less alike than he and Sammy.) "Then so be it. I will give it a try. But you should acquire the other men's data in case this doesn't work out as planned."
~*~
Only five minutes later, Dean and Mr Junkless - he probably should stop calling him that and start to use his real name pretty soon if he wanted to hold this job - and Castiel left the building. The singer stopped in front of a shiny black sedan, turning to Dean and taking a step towards him so that he was standing right inside his personal space before he asked, "Are you able to drive?"
Dean just nodded as an answer - of course he was able to drive! And that had been one of the questions on the form he had filled out. And why the heck was that guy standing so close that their bodies nearly touched?
Castiel just continued to ignore Dean's personal bubble, remaining next to the black car obviously waiting for something. Dean frowned not knowing what he was supposed to do now - perhaps the singer hadn't noticed him nodding in reply? So he voiced his prior response: "Sure thing, I can drive."
"Mr. Winchester...," the other man started, his voice soft but laden with impatience.
"Please, just call me Dean. Mr. Winchester 's my father..."
"Dean, now you are supposed to open the door for me."
"Oh... Okay, sure." Dean hurried to comply, feeling dumb and retarded. His fingers brushed the other man's arm as he reached for the door handle. Yeah, that had really been smooth...
~*~
Obviously being a singer at the opera paid. Castiel's home was a three storey manor surrounded by a tidy garden full of flowerbeds that were partly covered with lopping to protect the sensitive bulbs from the cold. Dean stopped the car in front of the stairs leading towards the huge wooden front doors and waited for further instructions. Castiel told him to park the car in the garage and meet him in the kitchen before the smaller man left the sedan.
The garage was on the backside of the house, a driveway decorated with marble statues leading down towards the closed door. Dean found the remote control easily inside the glove compartment. The garage itself wasn't particularly big. There was just enough room for three cars - one spot was already occupied so he had to maneuver the big car carefully. As he exited the sedan, Dean could not help marveling at the beautiful black car that was already there. It was a classic, a Chevy Impala, most likely built 1967 and in excellent condition - a bit dusty but otherwise... Dean tried to pull himself together. Cooing over his employer's car wasn't a proper behavior - at least not on the first day.
The kitchen was easily found, although the manor proved to be huge. Inside the spacious room, Castiel was already waiting, leaning casually on one of the vanilla colored counters. As Dean stopped next to what he thought was the fridge, the other man closed the distance between them with two steps and was again right inside Dean's bubble, looking at him with such an intense gaze as if he was trying to read his mind. Both made him very uncomfortable.
"Are you able to cook?"
This too had been in the questionnaire. Somehow the query made Dean wonder what else his new employer wanted him to do except driving, cooking - oh, yes, and guarding him, of course.
"Yep - unless you expect nouvelle cuisine or something like that."
"No. Pancakes would be fine for a start. But I'll show you your room first. Lunch should be ready at 1pm. I need to be at the opera around 14:30. You will have the afternoon for yourself. I expect you to pick me up again not later than six. We might have dinner in town."
"Okay."
~*~
Dean's 'room' was bigger than some of the flats he'd rented. He even had his own bathroom and a small balcony. It felt like a suite - except for the missing mini-bar.
Dean was just inspecting the shower - a really fancy device with countless nozzles and a silvery control panel - when the door opened and Castiel led another man towards him. He was older, probably in his fifties, balding, with a sharp nose, rubber gloves and a dirty swap in one of his hands - and he was scowling unkindly at Dean.
"Dean, this is Zach. He helps keep the mansion and the garden tidy. And he will do your laundry too. Zach, this is Dean." Castiel's speech pattern suddenly changed. He now spoke slowly as if he was talking to a toddler. "He is the new bodyguard. Remember, we've talked about this. You have to be nice to him. If he needs anything, help him. Did you get that?"
Zach nodded mutely, shot Dean another hateful glance and left the room again,
"Huh? Not a chatty Cathy... What's eating him?"
"Don't. It isn't his fault, he's born that way. Just try to speak slow and don't take him too seriously. I am sure you will be on good terms soon, he just doesn't like new faces. Uhm, do you have any further questions?" As Dean just shook his head, the shorter man continued, "I will be downstairs in the parlor. Call me when lunch is ready."
~*~
After carefully inspecting his room, opening each and every drawer and cabinet, he decided to get his stuff in the afternoon after dropping Cas off at the opera. Cas. Where had that come from? Somehow the nickname felt very familiar. And right. Dean shook his head, he had other things to think about. Like how to make pancakes.
He hadn't lied earlier, he was able to cook. If you call putting everything one finds in the fridge into a pot and boil it into a stew or soup 'cooking'. Pancakes were a bit more tricky. He knew that he would need eggs and flour and milk but how much of which proved to be a bit tricky. Dean ended up with enough dough to feed an entire school class.
As Dean put the plate with an approximately 11 inch high stack of pancakes down in front of Castiel, the singer blinked at Dean in confusion.
"You know, they taste good cold, too. Or we could fill them with stuff for tomorrow lunch."
The other man still eyed him, flabbergasted.
"Gratinated? With cheese?"
Castiel finally took one of the pancakes and put it down on his plate. "You forgot the syrup."
~*~
Dinner was awkward, too. Again Castiel showed no concept of personal space and Dean noticed more than once that people shot them strange looks. They were at a fancy restaurant with things on the menu he had never heard of. There was no price noted next to the French names and as Dean saw that he had various sets of silverware draped next to his awfully big under plate, he knew he would make a fool of himself pretty soon.
Next time Cas wants to have dinner in town, we're are going to the nearest Burger King, Dean thought while the waiter poured white wine into one of the three glasses flanking the rectangular under plate.
~*~
That night, Dean dreamed. He was leaning casually against a kitchen counter when suddenly the blue eyed guy in the trench coat appeared in front of him. With two quick steps he was right in front of Dean, their bodies nearly touching. They were just talking - he couldn't remember a single word – but somehow the tension grew more and more. As the faceless stranger leaned even further towards him, he suddenly was awake again, shivering a bit but otherwise just as confused as ever after one of those dreams. What bothered him most was how similar to Dean and Castiel's talk about cooking yesterday midmorning that scene was.
~*~
Dean learned a few things about his new employer in the first week. Like that he was unable to tame his hair and looked ruffled again even right after combing it for five minutes straight. Or that he seemed to not understand personal space only when Dean was concerned. Or that he didn't watch TV despite the huge plasma-flat-screen-home-cinema-thingy in his living room because he found watching alone boring. Or that he had a questionable taste in pizza (honestly Hawaii with onions?!).
Dean learned a few things about himself, too. Like that he had absolutely no problem with getting up at five in the morning to make breakfast because Cas had to be at the opera at seven. Or that he was a quite formidable cook – with the help of the internet. Or that he somehow found Cas really likable despite all his quirks.
~*~
The first time Dean called him Cas was about one and a half week after he had landed this job. Gabriel was there, too, talking about a magazine that wanted to interview the singer in the next few days. Dean really didn't want to disturb them but he needed to tell Castiel that he was about to make a short trip to the next mall – the singer always needed to know where Dean was and he just wanted to avoid an awkward phone call.
"Cas, I'm gonna drive to the mall."
Both men turned around to look at Dean who at first didn't know why he was answered by two frowns. Gabriel shot his brother a short glance before eying Dean again contemplatively. After one or two seconds, Castiel simply nodded, a fond smile starting to spread across his features.
"Back in a few...," he mumbled practically fleeing the room while a warm feeling blossomed inside his chest.
~*~
Although Cas had asked him the first time about two weeks after Dean had become his body guard, it took him nearly three months to agree to come to the opera to listen to Castiel sing. The music Dean normally listened to was more like Metallica and Led Zeppelin and he could not remember having been to the opera even once so he was understandably reluctant to attend the rehearsals.
Although he did not like the way the people were singing, Castiel's voice was different. As expected, it was higher than a man should normally be able to sing but... It did not sound female either. It was just... different. Otherworldly. Making him get goosebumps all over his body.
Dean decided to ask Castiel to sing one of his favorite songs, 'Ramble On'. He was sure he would love to hear Cas sing Led Zeppelin.
~*~
Sometimes it felt as if they had both already known each other for years. There were those tiny moments like when a gaze was enough to communicate when other people needed entire sentences. It was the easiness of how they both fell into a daily routine, their mutual understanding of each other that made Dean feel like he finally had found something to start filling the hole inside his soul with.
Castiel was his friend. A friend he never wanted to be without again. And Cas seemed to feel the same for Dean.
~*~
Summer came and then autumn. And with it the new repertoire. Castiel was to sing the part of Oberon, some kind of Fairy or Pixy or Elf in a play called 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. Dean wasn't particularly keen on watching this strange story so he brought his laptop and spent the entire time inside Castiel's wardrobe surfing the Internet – no, not for porn. He would never do something like that. Okay, he totally was. But he was bored and it was late and what else was there to do?
It was nearly midnight when finally the last curtain dropped and a very exhausted but happy Castiel returned to his wardrobe to change into jeans and shirt. The audience had been ecstatic, standing ovations, demanding an encore and the entire cast spontaneously decided to celebrate at a near bar. Of course Dean was smack right in the middle of it.
It was long past 3am as they finally decided to call it a night and leave the few remaining reveller. Dean too wasn't exactly sober anymore so he called them a cab. It was already cold outside, autumn chill holding the city firmly in its grip so they were both looking out for the car that had to come around the corner any second now. Neither of them paid the walkway much attention.
"Your money or your life!" a hoarse voice suddenly hissed a few feet to Dean's left. He spun around and saw a man standing behind Castiel, holding a gun to his friend's head. While the singer slowly opened his coat to reach for his purse Dean's instincts and years of training kicked it. It took him two steps to be next to the robber. A quick movement of his right arm and the gun that had just now been pointed at his friend was now aiming in the air. Although the attacker was obviously taken aback by Dean's quick action, he was not willing to let go of his weapon that easily.
"Cas, down!"
The singer complied and dropped to his knees as the weapon discharged accidentally for the first time. Dean and the robber struggled for the gun, both determined to take possession of it.
Another shot. Suddenly there was pain stabbing Dean's chest. A piercing sensation that threatened to tear his entire being apart. He knew he had been shot. He could feel the warmth of blood spreading on his torso as darkness tried to engulf him. Dean had had his fair share of bullet wounds to know this one was serious. He was not going to make it.
The last thing he heard, the last sound to ever reach his ears was Castiel sobbing his name.
~*~
He felt a warm weight on his body. Then after a while a rhythmic sound joined in, like the beat of a song. A ticking noise accompanied it and a soft voice singing.
Gonna ramble on, sing my song
Gotta keep-a-searchin' for my baby...
Gonna work my way, round the world
I can't stop this feelin' in my heart
Gotta keep searchin' for my baby...
So this was Heaven. At least the angels were singing Led Zeppelin.
~*~
When Dean woke up again he was not in Heaven but in a hospital bed. Various items of medical equipment were arranged around his bed for good measure and in a small chair next to the window, just a few feet away, there was Castiel. The singer was asleep, head dropped onto his chest, one hand propped up on the armrest, snoring softly and looking utterly exhausted.
A small groan escaped Dean as he tried to move and suddenly there was a sword driven into his chest – at least it felt that way. The robbery... right, he had been shot. Why was he still alive?
"Dean! Finally! How are you? Do you need anything? Do you want me to call for the nurse?" Castiel was already next to his bed, looking as excited as a small kid at a fair. No, not exactly. More like a small kid seeing his parents again after he had been told they were gone for good. Actually, Cas didn't look like a small kid at all. There was no longer any stubble on his face but a real beard, dark rings under his eyes and deep lines of worry etched into his face.
"'m fine, Cas," Dean croaked trying to give his friend an assuring smile.
"No, you are not 'fine', Dean. You... you nearly died. No, you did die. The doctors managed to get you back. Please, don't ever scare me like that again."
Dean could see tears shining in Castiel's blue eyes. He did not want to see his friend suffering or even sad. He just wanted to make him smile again, happy and accomplished like after the premiere.
"'m your body guard. 'sposed to catch a bullet for ya."
"In that case you are decruited."
Dean just stared at his friend in confusion. Wasn't that what a bodyguard's job was all about? What was Castiel's point?
"I happen to have an open position as personal assistant, though. Perhaps you are interested...? Better payment, and no more guns pointed in your direction."
"Your brother...?"
"Gabriel told me he wants to move to California. So he is no longer available."
"My brother's there, too..."
"So, you are taking the job?"
"Sure, just wanna take a nap before I make my x."
~*~
A week later, the doctors discharged Dean from hospital. He had orders to rest, recuperate and stay in bed most of the day. Castiel was there to help him and waited on his hand and foot. Although it was nice and pleasant it prove how worried the singer must have been, how close they had grown.
Castiel made sure Dean took his medicine and acted on the doctors' orders. He sometimes felt like a small child and it drove him nuts. His body was still recovering, simple things like taking a shower were utterly exhausting and just going for a walk? Unthinkable without Castiel hovering over him each and every step.
Although unnerving for both of them, slacking off proved to be the right thing to do. Another week later, Dean still felt the injury every time he made a wrong movement but it no longer hurt or hindered him.
~*~
"Dean, I want to show you something," Castiel said after they had finished dinner a few days later.
Dean could feel the excitement underneath his friend's seemingly cool facade and wondered what Cas was up to.
Together they left the kitchen and descended the stairs to the garage. As always, there were two cars parked inside. The sedan and the dusty Impala. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"I'm not really good with cars – as you have probably guessed by now... But I know that you have a knack for them. I'd like you to take this one. It's old and you'd have to wash it but... it's better than your rusty Ford."
Dean looked at Castiel, his mouth hanging open, gaping, at a total loss for words. His friend was giving him the Impala as a present. He blinked a few times before he found his voice again.
"Wow... Cas... thanks."
"I think I'll leave you two alone now before you start dry humping the car...," chuckling, he left the garage.
~*~
"So... I think I need to go for a spin."
"Now?"
"Yep. Wanna come with me, Cas?"
The lithe man could not help but smile at Dean's enthusiasm. "Of course."
"What about we drive to a bar and have a few beers? Perhaps pick up a girl for you?"
There was something in the way Castiel's eyes narrowed that made Dean wonder. Was that embarrassment? Fear?!
"You have been with a girl before...?"
Instead of an answer Castiel studied his reflection in the Impala's windows.
"Oh, come on! Seriously?" Dean could not believe it. A grown man like Cas...?!
"Look, I've never had occasion. I don't have an awful lot of spare time as a singer and being from the opera doesn't exactly help with chatting people up. Most think I'm some kind of famous Pop Star but as soon as I tell them what I really do for a living I am no longer appealing."
Dean shrugged of the slight feeling of deja-vu. "I think we'll cancel the trip to the bar, we'll head for a brothel instead."
"Dean... I don't know..." There was fear creeping into Castiel's gravely voice as he shot Dean a pleading look.
"No, Cas. I've made up my mind. Get in the car."
The singer sighed heavily, made a few steps around the Impala but did not open the door. Instead he looked up at Dean again. There was a hint of amusement underlying the dread as he stated, "As my body guard, you should actually 'guard' my body. My virginity too."
Dean shot Castiel a shit eating grin. "As your assistant I should actually assist you in losing your virginity!"
~*~
Gabriel smiled. His punishment proved to be much more fun than anticipated. Father truly was just. He watched his brother and Dean carefully dance around each other, deepening and expanding their friendship to an extent that had been unthinkable as Castiel had still been an angel. The remorseful archangel changed his whereabouts with a mere thought, unseen by human eyes, and observed Zachariah hanging out the laundry. His sentence had been far more severe. To live a human life with full knowledge of what he had been before but being unable to voice anything of it. To serve and lackey humans, to not be taken seriously until he could be no longer able to disdain and condemn humankind but to cherish and love their Father's creation... Gabriel knew how angry and bitter Zachariah was. It surely would take him a long time before he could be able to join the Host again.
Gabriel shook his head as he watched the former angel a bit longer. After a few minutes he decided to pay Sam a visit. He loved to tout little Gabe - well... he had to admit there might have been a teeny-weeny angelic influence when Sam and Fran had picked the name, but calling him Lucifer again was just not feasible. This entire sentence was about learning what it meant to be an ordinary human! - and he used every opportunity to fly to their place. With a content smile and a snap of his fingers, the archangel vanished. Life was fun again. Even if he no longer was The Trickster.