"I thought we were supposed to be meeting this guy on an uninhabited part of the planet?"
"Evidently, we were misinformed."
Captain Dean Winchester of the Federation flagship USS Impala stopped mid-punch, trusting his brother – and first officer – to handle the Klingon that was currently gunning for his blood. Instead, he turned to give his science officer an incredulous look. "You think?"
Cas didn't even blink, neatly slashing the throat of a nearby Klingon with the mek'leth in his hand before turning to the next adversary.
Even Dean could take that hint, and returned his focus to the fight he, Cas, Sam and two of his red-shirts – he was pretty sure their names were Josephine and Aiden – were in the middle of. Which was when he remembered…
"Hey Sam? Cas?" he called, neatly getting a nearby Klingon with a roundhouse kick, "Just why are we supposed to rescue this guy again? Isn't he a Klingon too?"
Because when he thought about it, it made absolutely no sense. After all, this was Klingon they were talking about, one who was directly the cause of him being in Qo'noS in the first place.
Being in the Klingon homeworld was enough to make him miss the good old days. Sure, they had involved Romulans and Azazel and a quest for vengeance, and the destruction of Vulcan and the almost-decimation of Earth had definitely not been a picnic. But even with the mess the Romulan had created of the space-time continuum, at least it hadn't been Klingons.
Which was exactly when the Klingon in front of him started smoking, moments before collapsing in a heap on the floor, dead as a doornail.
"Fascinating as that question is, Captain Winchester," a cultured voice said from somewhere above him, "Can we not debate that question after we get back to your ship? I assume that's why we're here after all – to get me out of this godforsaken planet, as you humans term it."
The voice definitely did not sound like it belonged to a Klingon – it seemed too cultured to be – but the appearance of its owner confirmed that it was, in fact, the Klingon the crew of the Impala had been sent to rescue. There could be no mistaking just which race those distinctive forehead ridges belonged to.
Dean was immediately disposed not to feel too kindly to him. Not only was he a Klingon, he was also the reason the lot of them were in the mess on Qo'noS. But the newcomer had a disruptor rifle, which was a lot better than the bladed Klingon weapons the crew of the Impala had been supplied with.
Sure, Dean understood the need for making sure that Federation involvement wasn't detected, but it still didn't make him happy with the weaponry he was forced to use. He hated short range weapons like blades.
Luckily, Cas had no problem with them – of course, Cas was good with just about any weapon that was placed in his hands, so that wasn't saying much – and Dean was more than happy to let him and the Klingon – Listar, if he remembered correctly – deal with them after he and the rest of the Impala's crew had managed to knock them unconscious – or at least stopped them in their tracks long enough for the two to do the deed.
It was only when the group of them were lying around them, blood coating many of the crates in the warehouse they were in, that Dean finally turned to get a good look at the Klingon male they had been sent to save. At first look, he couldn't see anything special about him – sure, he was dressed rather more formally than his companions had been, but that was all.
But he had his orders from Bobby, and as much as he didn't like it, they had to get him out of here.
He tapped his comm. "Winchester to Impala. We've got him – six to beam out. Energise."
Once they rematerialized in a shower of light and got away from the transporter platform, Dean immediately turned his attention to the Klingon. He wasn't very happy at having him on his precious ship, and he planned on finding out just why it was so important.
Before he could say anything, however, the Klingon grinned smarmily at him and started talking. "Oh, don't bother asking why you've been forced to bring me aboard your precious little ship, Captain," he murmured, stepping out of the transporter room and walking in the direction of the bridge. The fact that he seemed to know just how to navigate himself through the Impala did not help in making Dean any more comfortable around him.
About halfway to the bridge, the Klingon stopped in his tracks and spun around to face Dean. "You know what? I think I'll throw you a little bone. I'm feeling generous today, it seems."
Dean would have liked nothing more than to punch the guy in the face – and from the look on his face, Sam agreed with him – but neither could he deny that he was curious. "Tell me," he commanded.
"You know I'm not telling you this because you're ordering me too, right?" Listar asked him, looking rather bored (that was, as far as Dean could make out from his face – he wasn't an expert on Klingon expressions). "Still. The reason I'm on your precious little ship, Captain Winchester, is to with information. In some sections of society, it's just about the most powerful weapon a being can possess – and it seems that your Starfleet Command agrees."
Before Dean could continue to quiz him, the Klingon continued. "Now. I'm tired, and I believe I was promised rooms?"
Dean watched the Klingon disappear down the hallway, a dark look on his face.
"Dean," Cas murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder, "You realise he was right? If he does indeed have information on the Klingons that he is planning on sharing with Starfleet Command, it more than explains his presence here."
As Dean continued to scowl at the hallway, Sam muttered, "Leave it, Cas." For all that Cas'tel was half human, his actions and behaviour tended to be more on the Vulcan side of his heritage. And while Dean – both of the brothers really – could appreciate the insight that this brought him, there were times when logic didn't really help. For Dean, this was one of those times.
"Sam, could you?" he asked abruptly.
The younger Winchester nodded, already making his way towards the bridge. A life by his brother's side had taught him how to speak Dean better than just about anyone else in the universe. "I'll handle the bridge, Dean, don't worry about it."
"Thanks," Dean grunted.
As soon as Sam disappeared, Cas approached Dean hesitantly. "Dean…"
"I know Cas," he sighed, turning to look at the half-Vulcan. "Doesn't mean that I like him - I don't like him at all."
"I know, Dean."
Dean sighed once again, throwing Cas a slightly desperate look. "I guess I'm going to have to spend time with him, socialise and all that bullshit, right?"
If he hadn't known the science officer as well as he did, Dean would have missed it completely. But for him, catching the faint quirk of Cas' lips (which lasted for all of two seconds) had become almost second nature. And the intonation in his voice when he replied, "I'm afraid so, Captain," said everything regarding just how amused he was about the situation.
Had it been anyone else in Cas' place, Dean would have probably said something snarky – but it was increasingly rare to see that flash of laughter and amusement in Cas' eyes when he looked at him. The psychiatrist Starfleet had forced them all to see had said it would happen – delayed comprehension of the effects of the loss of Vulcan to him, personally, or something like that.
Still, it was…nice, to see Cas happy. And while he would argue against the accusation, Dean was well aware of the fact that where Cas was involved, he tended to fold rather easily. Exactly like he was doing at that moment, even though it was all mainly in his head.
"I plan on dragging you and Sam with me, you know," he said instead, taking an odd sense of pleasure at the faint sense of horror he got from him. It was always fun to get a reaction out of Cas.
"If you insist, Captain," he replied. Had he been human, his tone would have been long-suffering – but he wasn't, at least not completely, so he still sounded polite and calm. Dean wasn't fooled for a moment.
"I do, Cas," he answered. "In fact, I insist that we have a dinner before we have to suffer through a meal with the Klingon-"
"I suspect you should start training yourself to refer to him by his name, Dean. You cannot simply call him 'the Klingon' when you are meeting with him in person."
Dean scowled faintly at Cas. "Fine. Listar, then," he grumbled. "Anyway, I insist we meet for a dinner before this meal you're forcing us to take with Listar – I'm sure you have a list of topics to lec- educate me on when it comes to talking about them with a Klingon."
"Indeed," Cas replied, a faint smile playing across his lips. Unlike the previous one, this one danced across his lips for far longer. "How do humans say it – I believe it's a date, Captain."
an: the only star trek canon i really know is the reboot. i did, however, do some research on memory alpha to try and fit cas and crowley's names to existing naming conventions. there's apparently a minor vulcan male character named chu'lak in ds9, i believe, which is where cas'tel comes from.
listar comes from aliester crowley, who was a britsh occultist and at one point dubbed 'the wickedest man in the world.' which, in turn, is how the crowley we know and love gets the name listar in this piece.
written for the following prompt on destielficprompts on tumblr: GOSH I just really need a Star Trek AU where Cas is Spock and Dean is Kirk, and scenes from the five-year mission. And if there was some angst thrown in there you'd be an A+ person in my book!
i hope you guys liked it! as always, please don't forget to drop a review on your way out :)