Dean opened his eyes to a bright light. His face screwed up as he was blinded by it. He tried to look around but all he saw was white. His vision wasn't focusing. His head hurt. Dean managed to prop himself up on one arm, though he was still struggling to see clearly. The smell was that of a hospital: sterile, dull, burning. There wasn't a single noise apart from his ragged breathing. What had happened? Dean was starting to make out shapes in the white. A door, a chest of draws.. no, that was a desk, and-
Dean shot up, sitting on whatever it was bolt upright. He wasn't alone. He had company. A woman, mid-thirties, brown-haired, was smiling at him with that fake nurse's smile he had seen so often. "Hello Dean." He gave her a look of confusion, slowly standing up from what he could now tell was one of those creepy chairs dentists had. He took a cautious step towards the woman standing opposite him. "Who are you?" his voice was hoarse, his throat dry. "My name is of no relevance, I am merely here to explain-" Dean held up a hand to silence her. "What are you?" she smiled sweetly "I am an angel." He raised both his eyebrows. That usually wasn't a good thing, he'd only ever met one decent angel, Balthazar, and he'd almost got them killed on multiple occasions. "So… where am I?" The woman just smiled sweetly. "You know your cheesy smile won't do you any favours when I try to kill you." Dean said sarcastically. Her expression immediately hardened, there was a more serious tone to her voice as she said: "I thought you'd have figured that out by now, it's your job after all." He let out a huff of disbelief "Yeah well I usually have something to go on, y'know, some sort of lead." – "Well I gave you a lead, I am an angel." Dean rolled his eyes "Yeah thanks, princess, I heard you the first time and guess what: I ain't Jesus, I got no Moses in my pocket telling me what's what! So you get talkin' or I'll get slicin'!" She smiled sweetly "And with what do you want to slice?" – "Balthazar was kind enough to leave me his angel blade when he kicked the bucket." He received a sarcastic look from the woman "you really think we didn't confiscate that? No, you're not getting an angel blade until you have adjusted." Dean frowned "adjusted? Adjusted to what?"
"Your new life of course!" Dean's eyes darted around in confusion, he wanted to speak, but he couldn't find the words so his mouth just made goldfish movements. "You are confused." – "Yeah, well done Sherlock! What do you mean 'new life'? I'm a hunter! I got Sam! I have to look after him, I ain't leaving!" He bagged a sympathetic smile "Oh Dean, you really don't remember, do you?" – "Remember? Remember what?" The angel moved towards him, lifting two fingers to his head "oh no no no, don't you mojo me I-" A feeling of dizziness overcame Dean as he looked around at the trees and the shrubbery. Light was seeping through the rustling leaves, forming patches on the ground. A light breeze blew through the wood, stirring up some fallen branches and shaking the bushes gently, but Dean felt no cold shiver down his spine, he didn't even feel the wind on his face. He began walking, not sure of where he was going or why he was there. He didn't understand anything. He couldn't even remember most of it.
Suddenly something rushed past his left shoulder. Dean spun round sharply, nearly losing his balance, trying to catch a glimpse at the creature, but it had disappeared. With a frown, he turned his entire body and hurried after it. It was foolish really, seeing as he didn't have a clue of where he was going or what he was doing. Nor did he know what it was he was following. It was fast, that was for sure. Wendigo? The conditions were right after all. Cautiously, he continued pursuing the creature, sticking to the shadows, hiding behind trees.
"Dean!" he looked around at the sound of his little brother's voice. "Dean! Where are you?" Sammy was standing maybe 10 feet away, looking towards the large pine tree on Dean's right. "I'm here Sam!" He called back, but his brother ignored him, looking around searchingly. "Dean!"
"Sammy!" He tried shouting once more as the taller man turned and walked off. Dean frowned. He hadn't seen or heard him. Why hadn't he seen or heard him? He made a move to follow Sam, when he heard a loud roar behind him. He hardly dared to look over his shoulder, but forced himself to turn around. A huge, black beast with fierce fangs was towering over him. Dean stared at it, unable to move. It looked like a massive hell hound… but how could he see it? How did he know what hell hound looked like? The only beings that could see them were the dead and the damned. so either he was damned, or…
Dean awoke with a start. He shot up off the rather uncomfortable floor, sweating and panting. He looked around, his eyes focusing. He squinted along the hall, trying to make out where he was. It was slowly coming back to him: the angel, the weirdo trip he'd been sent on. But now, he was alone. Nobody was even nearby. He pushed himself off the floor and stood up. Why was he here? Where was 'here'? Dean started walking towards the door nearest to him, deciding that if he wanted to find out, he'd have to do that himself. Cautiously, he opened it. Dean had experienced enough to know that generally, bad things hid behind doors in unknown places. He'd expected all sorts: demons, vampires, angry spirits… but never in a million years had he expected what really was behind that door: nothing. Not even a room, just… nothing. No colour, no temperature, nothing. Dean couldn't even process it properly. And, being the foolish and curious person he was, he did what no sensible person would do and stepped right into it. The smell of salt filled his nostrils, a cold wind hit him hard and the sound of waves was all that could be heard, save for the odd seagull calling. He was on a beach. A stone beach next to a grey sea. Waves were rippling onto the beach, leaving seashells when they pulled back. Dean looked around, confused. He saw a young woman and a man about the same age splashing in the water in the distance. The wind carried their laughter to him, they looked happy. The man picked her up and threw her into the waved. She reemerged with a gasp, soaked and laughing. Dean didn't understand, he didn't know how he'd ended up there. He walked backwards, his eyes never leaving the couple. He grappled for the doorknob, but it wasn't there. He looked around. The door had disappeared. This was getting freakier by the minute.
Dean looked around in search of a way out. Where had the door gone? He stepped towards where it had been and…
The intense light almost blinded him as he stepped back into the hall. What the-? Dean turned on his heel and saw the door. It hadn't moved, it was still in the same place it had been. This wasn't helping, he was just more confused. None the less, he decided he'd try another one. Dean walked towards one on the right, nearer the end of the corridor. He firmly gripped the door handle. What the hell was he doing? He should be looking for a way out. Dean shrugged and took a deep breath before opening it. Again, he was greeted by nothing, but upon stepping into the nothingness, he felt the sharp smell of alcohol burning his nose. He was used to it, normally, he barely noticed it. But now, it made his eyes water. He had to hold a hand in front of his nose. Dean looked around at the wooden paneling of the bar. It looked homely, it looked… he was in the Roadhouse. What was going on? Ash was sitting at the bar with a laptop balanced on his knee. "Ash?" he looked up and frowned. "Dean? Dean, what are you doing here?" he shrugged "I don't know, Ash, I don't know what's going on, what the hell is going on?" Ash shook his head "you can't be here! Dean, are you dead?"
"No, no I'm not, I don't know why I'm here. Where am I?"
Ash's expression changed, though Dean couldn't quite say what to. "You need to leave." He got up and dragged Dean towards a door next to the bar, probably the one he'd come through. "Don't come back here, boy, ever." The door was flung open and the next thing he knew, Dean was back in the corridor. What was that all about?
He knew he shouldn't try another door. It would just be stupid, unwise. But he needed to know where he was. No. no, he'd find out another way. Dean proceeded to walk towards the end of he corridor, trying not to get distracted by any of the doors. There were black ones, white ones, wooden ones, steel ones… he'd almost managed it, it was like they were calling his name, daring him to open them and take a peek. The end of the corridor was getting closer and closer. Only three more doors to go, two, one…
But Dean turned around. The door on the right was dark wood, almost black. The silver panel next to it read "eternal Tuesday". He didn't feel in control of his body as he reached out his right hand, pushing down the door handle, stepping into the nothingness…
A garden, a park. The trees were an orangey-red, the grass was green. A red rosebush was standing in the middle of the lawn. Dean saw a man in a blue sweater flying a kite a couple of feet away. It's rectangular shape gracefully glided through the grey sky, it was neither particularly warm, nor particularly cold. It was perfect. But they weren't the only ones. Standing near the bush enclosing the lawn was a dark haired man in a beige trench coat. He was tall, but not as tall as Dean. He couldn't make out his exact features, but Dean could tell he was watching the bees flying around the roses. He seemed… content. At peace.
The man turned around and looked right at Dean, there was something about him that made him… different. Dean couldn't tell what it was. He started walking towards him, his stunningly blue eyes were looking right into Dean's own green ones. His expression was soft. A light stubble covered his cheeks. And even Dean could tell he was attractive. "Hello Dean" a deep, gruff voice that didn't seem to fit the man greeted him. He frowned "hello" he said hesitantly. How did this stranger know his name? "I am Castiel, it is an honor to finally meet you. I have heard much about you, Dean Winchester."
"How do you know my name?" now it was Castiel's turn to frown "your name is a legend, Dean. We all know who you are." Dean took a step back "We, you mean… you're an angel too?" Castiel's face showed no emotion "yes." Dean responded with a sigh. "Great." The angel looked to the floor "I am sorry if I have… upset you in any way. Forgive me." The other man shook his head "my experienced with angels hasn't been to great so far." The look he received was one of regret "I apologize for the actions of my siblings. They can be very… " he paused to search for the word, it seemed he often did that when searching for emotions, like he struggled to understand them "tactless."
"And I guess you're different?" there was a bitter taste in Dean's words, he didn't know if Castiel would get that. He didn't respond, he just looked at him apologetically. "I should be getting back. Can I take you anywhere?" Dean shook his head. The angel didn't even say goodbye, he just disappeared with a flutter of his wings. God, all Dean wanted was a bed and a good night's sleep. He was sick of this crap and he was sick of angels. He walked back towards where the door had been and stepped into the corridor. This time, he was gonna get to the end of it.