Title: The Plan (or How Dean Winchester Killed The Devil, With The Help Of Sam And Cas.)
Author: PhirePhox666
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/Characters: Dean, Cas and Sam. No pairings so far.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some swearing. Alternate Timeline. Eventual Slash.
Summary: Dean had been told there were only two choices; say "yes" and stop that future, or say "no" and everything would happen the way he saw it happen. No one considered the fact that Dean never followed anyone's rules.
Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own. It's very disappointing. I own nothing but my laptop and the DVD set of the first five seasons of Supernatural. To bad.
Word Count: 2,244
Dedication: For Aslan.
Prompt: None
Excerpt: Simple, like hunting, when everything has fallen in to place and he's got the matches and the bones and the salt and everything burns to ashes. Simple as that, they don't get to win.
A/N: Like all my multi-chapter fics, I have no idea if I'm going to continue this. Maybe, if I get a lot of requests. This can technically be read as a one is an alternate Timeline and will eventually be Slash if I continue. Review if you wish. Flame if you wish. Still never been flamed. Hope you enjoy.
Chapter One: In Which Dean Makes A Plan Over Waffles
(But Only After He Gets Sam Back)
In that first crystallized, perfect second, in which he is no longer standing nose-to-nose with an exceedingly pissed off Zachariah, in which his every thought focuses to a single point, in which he feels, sees, hears an echo of that world in which everything he was, everything he loved, was dead, in that first moment he suddenly knows, understands, comprehends what he is going to do. He will not let them win.
Simple, like hunting, when everything has fallen in to place and he's got the matches and the bones and the salt and everything burns to ashes. Simple as that, they don't get to win.
Everything snaps into place and he turns, knowing with no uncertain clarity that Castiel stands behind him and he turns. The relief is sharp and almost tangible. "That was pretty nice timing, Cas." He says, voice rich with relief and gratitude.
When Cas smiles it is not a wide, empty, hopeless smile. It's the briefest curve of lips into something so faint that once Dean would not have understood what it was. That was then, though, and this is now and Dean knows the angel well enough to understand the smile and to hear the affection and amusement that mixes in Cas' measured and gravelly voice when he speaks.
"We had an appointment."
Dean's own mouth breaks into a genuine smile, the first in a fair while.
He knows that the image of that Cas will haunt him for a lifetime. The Cas who was all loose grins, and snappy retorts. Hippy Cas who had mass orgies and smoked pot and hit the bottle with more abandon than Dean had seen since Sam had died and he, Dean, had gone slightly crazy. Cas, who looked at Dean, both of them, like the hunter had broken his heart too many times to count and Castiel hated him for it but couldn't bring himself to leave. The image of that smile and those eyes, both haunted with immeasurable grief and unaccountable anger, will forever be burned into him. A reminder.
Clarity flares again, a star burst in the back of his brain, and his own eyes harden. He refuses to let that happen to Cas. He refuses to let that happen to Sam. Not to his people. Not ever. He steps forward clapping his hand on Cas' shoulder and looks directly into Castiel's sky-blue eyes, letting his rare seriousness show, register, sink in. "Don't ever change."
What he doesn't say is his own private vow. 'I'm not letting you change into that.'
Castiel tilts his head in silent question his curiosity evident, but Dean's already patting his coat pockets for something. Cas wisely changes gears. "How did Zachariah find you?"
Dean grimaces a bit thinking of the poor sucker who sure as fuck wasn't in the know if he thought that the angels were the good guys.
"Long story," He looks up at his own angel, "Let's just stay away from Jehovah's Witness' from now on."
Aha! he pulls out his phone triumphantly, flipping through the numbers. Castiel frowned slightly. "What are you doing?"
Dean pauses for a moment before pushing the 'Call' button over Sam's name. He looks up at Cas before he lifts the phone to his ear. "Something I should've done in the first place." He smiles slightly before turning his attention to the phone.
When Sam picks up Dean speaks before Sam can get in a word edge-wise.
"Sam, I'm in Kansas City. We should talk. Meet me at the usual place."
When Sam responds his voice is thick with grief and hope and Dean just wants to hug the sorry-ass bastard at the way he hesitates.
"Are you sure?" Dean is though, never has been more sure of anything in his entire life. So he says, "Yes. Damned sure, Sammy." Firmly and with no room for argument and the hangs up before Sam can protest anymore.
He hangs up, looking up into Cas' bluer-than-blue eyes. He holds the gaze for a moment and a faint and quick impression of concern flits across Castiel's face. "Are you alright, Dean?"
Dean closes his eyes for a moment. "No, not yet. But I will be. I will be." He opens his eyes again and looks at Cas. "First things first. You take me to the Impala. I drop you off somewhere where you wait for us while I meet up with Sam."
He looks around taking in the empty highway. "Where were you while I was sleeping, anyway?"
Castiel looks around as well. "Here." He states simply.
Dean blinks, then blinks again. "Here? On the side of the road here? For four hours, here?"
"Yes." There is a hint of a frown mixed with confusion as if Cas cannot quite comprehend why Dean is having trouble with this concept.
"Jesus, Cas." Dean sighs rubbing the back of his neck for a moment. He's so very tired."Right, well that changes now. It's time to teach you the uses of the diner."
For a moment Cas looks indecisive then he asks with the faintest of frowns. "This will not be anything like the brothel, will it?"
Dean frowns and his mind flashes to that room where a drugged out hippy Cas sat, four women looking up at him adoringly. His voice is sharp as steel when he speaks. "No! In fact brothel is out of your future vocabulary. Forever."
Castiel's expression is one of curiosity now and Dean feels his cheeks warm with embarrassment but he's not going to take it back now. He makes a vague motion with his hand.
"Right. Let's go. I've got a brother to fetch."
He's cold, the metal of the Impala cool against his thighs and ass where he leans against it, the air sharp with early morning chill. He's not thinking about the cold though. He's thinking about Sam. His baby brother Sammy, who he's spent his entire life protecting. Sam, who he traded his life for. Sam, who he pushed away. Sam, who asked him to let him come back. Sam, who he almost let go forever. Sam who wasn't Sam anymore, only a demon using his brothers face. Sam, who this time isn't going to become that.
He looks up as he hears the crunching of tires on gravel. His eyes land on the piece of crap that Sam has picked up. Sometimes he thinks his brothers taste in cars is almost as bad as his need for chick-flick moments.
He gathers himself and when Sam steps out of his car Dean is ready and meets his eyes steadily. In Sam's eyes are a combination of hope, despair, fear and need. Dean sighs slightly and steps forward toward his baby brother. He's already checked to make sure their really alone so when he comes to a stop in front of Sam all he does is speak a simple, "Sam."
Sam looks like crap, tired and worried and worn. When Dean reaches into his jacket to get The Knife he leans ever so slightly away the look in his eyes a resigned 'you're going to kill me.' Dean keeps his expression neutral as he flips the knife around, watching as Sam's own expression shifts, his eyes widening in surprised question, 'you trust me?'
Dean chooses to answer this question by wiggling The Knife slightly. "If you're serious," He starts voice serious, eyes grave, "and want back in, you should hang on to this." He meets Sam's eyes squarely letting a small bit of humor slip in to his tired voice. "I'm sure you're rusty."
Sam smiles, stark relief flooding his face. He takes The Knife peering at Dean's face questioningly. "Listen man, I'm sorry." Dean looks at him, looks into hazel eyes that are explicitly Sam's, warm and real and filled with emotion. Nothing like the dead, flat, reflective things that were Lucifer's. He swallows and says in a voice not much more than a whisper, "I'm, Ah, whatever I need to be, but I was... wrong."
Which sums up everything because he was so wrong. Perhaps not about trusting Sam because that will take some time, but about them not being able to work together. About leaving Sam alone.
Sam asks him, voice rough, "What made you change your mind?"
Dean huffs out another sigh, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Long story." Such a long story. "The point is, maybe we are each other's Achilles Heel, and maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know. I just know that we're all we got."
He looks directly into Sam's eyes this time, letting him know that this was about both of them. Speaking, not just of Sam's issues, but of Dean's as well. "More than that... we keep each other human."
Because that person he'd become, the one who'd left his brother to face Lucifer alone, left him to make that choice alone. The one who'd left Cas, maybe not physically, but mentally. Who'd let Cas become some drugged out hippy. Who'd stopped taking care of his people. That person, that man, had not been human. Had been little more than a machine.
"Thank you." Sam's voice is rough with relief, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Really. Thank you. I won't let you down- "
Dean cuts him off before he can continue, his voice suddenly hard. "Oh, I know it." Because if Sam betrays him on this, Dean's not completely sure what he'll do and he is trusting Sam on this. Then he lightens his tone because he's Dean and there is not a thing in the world, in the whole goddamned universe, that can happen that he won't find some way to crack a joke at. "You are the second best hunter on the planet."
Sam looks away, something half sob, half laugh escapes his mouth, Dean waits for him to pull himself together, which only takes a moment. Sam's voice is steady, though his eyes are still a little over bright, when he speaks next, something Dean is proud of. "So... what do we do now?"
Dean thinks of the future that Zachariah had shoved him in to, had so callously, so in characterly, pushed him in to. Thinks of his own self, dead already in spirit with a body that was just hanging on. Thinks of that Cas' haunted eyes and grief at a life that he'll never know again. Thinks of Sam who had given up his body to Lucifer, who knows why, and the blissfully empty eyes that had stared back at him.
Everything sharpens, clarity flaring, and when he speaks his voice is hard and sharp and certain. "We make our own future."
Sam takes a deep breath, setting his shoulders and straightening his back. "I guess we have no choice."
Dean's mouth quirks slightly, because hell, if that ain't damn near prophetic. He let's the silence settle for a moment before he turns towards the Impala.
"Get your stuff and come on. We've got to pick up Cas and then there's some stuff we have to talk about." Sam does.
He orders them all breakfast. Food, he figures, is what they all need. Of course, being the ultimate pains-in-the-ass that they are, both Cas and Sam protest to eating. He glares at both of them in the way that he had perfected due to years of practice on Sam. They both cave. Dean quirks a smile and settles in to eating his own food. It's damn good, too.
Waffles, he decides, are pure heaven. He thinks Cas, who has never tasted them before, might agree by the pleased look on his face.
When they all have eaten and the waitress, Debby, has refilled their coffee cups, even Cas' who has found he actually rather likes coffee, Dean straightens in his seat and clears his throat to get their attention. He has it in moment, with unnerving intensity. Two sets of eyes, belonging to the two most important people in his whole universe. His people.
He look at them, bringing every thought in to focus. "I have a Plan." He can practically hear the capital letters in his own words. Sam and Cas stare at him for a moment hopeful beyond belief. Dean can see it in his own head, every step he needs to take, he can make things work differently. Nothing will be the same. He smirks a little.
"Lucifer needs to die. And I know how to do it."
To Be Continued...Maybe?