Revelations
Prologue
By Nan00k
When a desperate Castiel showed up on his doorstep a month after the failed apocalypse, Dean wasn't amused. They had an hour to come up with a plan to save the world from Raphael. Now they have ten months to hope their decision will waylay a second apocalypse. AU Post-S5
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"Do not mistake consequence for fate."
-Kirstin Brown
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August 4, 2010
Cicero, Indiana
It ended as it started—with death, a chaotic whirlwind of heartbreak—and Dean standing by the way side, trying to catch up.
Sam was dead. He was… dead. He was in Hell, in the Cage with both Lucifer and Michael, trapped for eternity. There was no turning back the clock on that and no way to fix things. Sam had made the ultimate sacrifice to save the world and went into the pit willingly.
And Dean found himself waking up in a world of nothing.
Lisa and Ben were the best damn thing to happen to him since… he didn't even know when. When he opened his eyes, he saw a beautiful woman he had grown to love. He opened his eyes to domestic bliss—breakfast together in a warm kitchen, Ben making chatter, a delicious meal to start the day. Dean woke up to a world without monsters, without angels, without the fear of imminent death.
…He woke to a world without Sam.
And he felt nothing.
Castiel had been right to say Dean had no right to complain. He had gotten his wish of a life without heaven and without hell. He was granted that wish, of that "apple pie" life he had always, always wanted. He was a father, a spouse, a protector and provider. He got a job in mechanics. He had a wage. He had people to care about and spend time with.
He had stopped dreaming after the first week. There were no memories of that day at Scull Cemetery, or of Sam, or of anything, really. He fell asleep and dreamt of nothing. His days were fill with nothing. A nice nothing, without pain or pleasure, to remind him of things he had lost. The nothing let him breath. It let him exist without remembering. He didn't hate or love it.
He managed.
Lisa didn't say anything, if she noticed his apathy toward his newfound niche in the world. There wasn't total peace, but he had his freedom. He could have walked away, but he didn't. It was his choice to stay. He wanted to stay. Perhaps that was because he didn't have anywhere else to go, but… that was okay. Lisa would wrap her arms around him and Dean would do the same for her, closing his eyes, hoping the nothing was last forever.
It was a month when he found himself sitting alone in Lisa's living room, a place that was slowly becoming his living room too. Ben was out at practice and Lisa was shopping. It was a glorious Saturday morning, without a single care in the world to hound him. He was free to rest there, basking in the soothing sensation of…
Dean rolled the bottle of beer he had been nursing along, taking in the texture of the glass and label, eyes pinned to the dark brown glass but he really didn't see anything.
It had been an entire month. He hadn't thought about it much, to be honest. There wasn't much point in it, so he just… let the matter drop. He tried to shake it off and just move on, like everyone seemed to insist. What was done was… done.
This was Dean's life now.
Dean knew he was content. This was enough for him. He could live and die like this. Bobby told him that maybe it was just time to go ahead and take that sort of life. Hunting wasn't an option after everything that had happened. This was the only place he could call home. Even more than that, Dean knew Sam would have wanted him there. So, he stayed.
His head hurt, but he didn't know why.
The doorbell rang. Dean looked up, surprised. The sharp sound shook the last bit of lethargy from his system. He found himself standing automatically and he went through the motions of putting the beer down on the table, walking into the foyer and reaching the front door. He didn't feel much when he did that, but today, it just seemed unimportant to care.
Reaching out, Dean unlocked the heavy storm door and opened it. The screen had been busted a few days ago, so he had it in the garage to fix. There was nothing protecting him from the outside world then. Before he even had the chance to regret opening the door and exposing himself prematurely to whatever lurked beyond the veil of this simple life, a voice shattered the void:
"Dean."
Dean stared out over the threshold. Part of his mind had fallen… and was not getting back up again.
"Holy… shit," Dean breathed, stumbling back into the frame of the door, eyes wide. "Cas?"
Beige raincoat torn and spattered with blood and grime, Castiel met his eyes without hesitation. The startling, inhuman blue made Dean freeze. The angel had never looked more severe.
"I need your help."