Wow! Thanks for all the reviews and favorites and follows! I was a bit worried about this story, but I'm glad people are interested so far.
Hope you guys still like it!
:)
Dean snatches the bedpan off the table next to him and looks into it. He's not the same, either. He hasn't changed as drastically as Sam, sure, but his face is thinner and younger and he's definitely not the age he was when he died.
He lets out a chain of swear words.
"What happened?" he asks. "Why are we here?"
Sam puts a hand on his shoulder like he's trying to steady him. "We got hit in the Impala. Do you remember anything about the reaper? About being outside your body?"
"What're you talking about?" But right as the words leave Dean's mouth, he remembers Tessa. The reaper. He remembers the first time he met her, which was here, was just a little while ago probably. And he had somehow been outside his body, traveling through the hospital and watching people die. He was like that girl in that fluffy stupid book Sam liked because it was "unique" and "cool." Dean told him it was for teenage girls, but Sam didn't seem to care.
"No, I remember," he says quickly. "I mean what're we doing back here? Why did we get sent to this time? And where's Cas?"
"Who is Cas?" Sam asks. He looks at Dean like he's afraid his brother is losing his mind.
Dean's heart sinks in his chest. This is the real Sam from this time. This isn't his Sam sent back with him. This Sam knows nothing about Hell or demon blood or angels or the Mark of Cain. This Sam is nearly innocent.
"Oh shit," he mutters. He looks around the room and up at the ceiling for any sign of a crumpled Castiel somewhere. "Cas, where are you, man? Is this one of your life lessons or something? I'm really not in the mood."
Sam's mouth forms into words he can't find. Right as he starts to sputter, there's a gust of a wind and the faint sound of wings clapping together. Sam spins around quickly, taking a defensive stand in front of Dean, and Dean, amused as he is that Sam is at the age where he would do something like that, pushes him aside as he sits up.
"Chill, Sam. He's a friend. Where the hell have you been?" he asks. Castiel tilts his head and examines Sam with curiosity.
"I've been trying to find you," he says. "He is small."
Dean scrubs a hand over his face. "Yeah, well, he's like twenty-two. Did you do this?"
"This is not my work. I've been trying to figure out who is responsible, but I can't get in contact with any of the others. There's some kind of block here."
"What's going on?" Sam demands. Dean glances at him. Almost wants to smile. He remembers this Sam. High, raw voice that hasn't been strained and knocked down an octave. Passion in his bones. Hot-headed. Still carrying the faint belief that maybe one day things will be okay. Everything he was before their dad...
"Shit!" Dean scrambles from the bed. His bare feet touch down on the cool tile. Castiel grabs his shoulders.
"What is it?" he asks.
"My dad," Dean says. "You have to stop him. This is the day he–"
Castiel's eyebrows turn down, his face solemn. He knows. Dean can see it. "It is already done, Dean. We were sent back right after the deal was made. There's nothing I can do."
Dean explodes. "What do you mean there's nothing you can do?! Use your grace and bring him back like you did for me and Sam! Don't you have your grace here? Come on!"
"It is not that easy," Castiel says. "I had a team of angels with me when I raised you. Getting to Sam's soul was nearly impossible when he was in the cage. I'm not in the right time. I cannot call upon my brothers and sisters to help me. And we can't change what's going to happen in the future."
"I'm already dead," Dean snaps. "Who cares what happens?"
"You might be, but Sam is not. Regardless, that isn't the case. It will happen anyway."
Dean sits back on the bed. Covers his hands with his face and falls apart. This isn't fair. This isn't fair at all.
"Damn it," he says. "I can't live all this again, Cas. I could barely live it the first time."
"I need to figure out why we were sent here. It is one thing for you to come back to this time, but I have never been here. Not physically, at least. Not in this vessel."
"Yeah, you didn't show up till the first round of Hell."
"I was there before that," Castiel says, throwing the comment aside as he looks at Sam again. "You are different. You are pure."
"Cas, don't," Dean hisses. "This isn't our Sam."
Castiel frowns. "This is the Sam from this time? Interesting. But why send just the two of us back?"
"Okay," Sam interrupts, his face tight, arms crossed over his chest. "Someone tell me what's going on. Dean, who is this? What's happening? What do you mean your dead? And what about Hell and my soul?"
It's Castiel who answers him first. "I am Castiel. I'm an angel of the Lord."
"You're a what?"
"It's true, Sammy," Dean says. "Yeah, he's a real angel. Yeah, I'm sure. Yeah, I know you're impressed to be standing in front of him. The bottom line is something strange is happening here. Cas and I...we aren't..."
"We're not from this time," Castiel says. Dean groans.
"Well don't sugar coat it, Cas."
"Does he not deserve to know?"
"Of course he does, but maybe try to ea–"
"Dean?" a deep voice asks.
A silence falls over everyone. Sam and Castiel turn toward the door, blocking Dean's vision. But Dean doesn't need to see to know who it is. After all these years, he would recognize that voice anywhere.
"What's going on here? Who are you?"
No one seems to move. Dean rises to his feet again, feeling light and numb. He pushes Sam gently aside and steps forward.
"Dad?" he whispers.
His dad smiles at him. The smile of a dying a man. The smile of a dead man.
The smiles disappears quickly, though, because as much as he looks like he's happy to see Dean alive and standing, he's a hunter and he's tense. He looks at Castiel again.
"Who is this?" he asks.
Dean shakes his head. "A friend of mine. I'll explain later."
But there might not be a later, and Dean realizes that a second too late. He closes the distance between them and pulls his dad into a hug. He doesn't care if it's weird for this version of himself. Or any version of himself.
"Something isn't right," Castiel says.
Dean pulls away from his dad to look back at him. "What?"
"You didn't do it," he says, but he's not talking to Dean. He's talking to John. "You tried. I know you did. I've seen it before. But I would know if there was a demon here, and there is not. Not anymore. Your soul is intact."
Dean turns to his dad again. His head is pounding and he feels like he might drop at any moment. Nothing makes sense. Nothing is right. He should be dead.
"You didn't make the deal?" he asks.
"How do you know about that?" John demands, eyes flashing to Castiel again. "And who the hell are you?"
"His name is Cas, and he's...uh, well..."
"I'm an angel of the Lord," Castiel says.
"Well, he used to be," Dean mutters. "Not his finest hour, really. But Cas powered through."
John looks at him for a long moment. "You're Castiel? The angel?"
"I am."
"Well, I'll be damned." He shakes his head and lets out a huff of a laugh.
"You are not damned yet," Castiel says. "Was the deal not completed?"
"What deal?" Sam asks. He sounds incredibly small. Dean had forgotten for a moment that he was still there. Young Sam had a way of disappearing in situations he didn't want to be in. Sinking into walls and shadows and slipping out of back doors. But Dean remembers the teary-eyed look all too well. The one he's currently wearing – fighting really – but Dean can't blame him.
"Someone please just tell me what's going on."
"Sammy," Dean starts. His head gives a painful throb, making him stumble. Arms reach out to catch him before he hits the ground. He's not sure whose arms. His dad's. His brother's. They both seem so foreign and familiar to him at the same time. Strong. Loving. Reminding him of a life he used to have.
He sinks to his knees with those arms cushioning him on the way down. He can't see. The pain is blinding him, making him ill. He clutches at his head.
"Dean, talk to me. What's going on?"
"It would be in Dean's best interest if both of you step aside," Castiel says. And Dean's not sure how Castiel gets either of his stubborn family members away from him, but the next thing he knows, two fingers are pressing against his forehead and everything goes black.
XxXxX
He wakes to the sound of voices around him. For a moment, he only hears Castiel, and he thinks maybe everything was a dream and he's back in real time after Cain stabbed him. But then he hears his dad's voice mixed into the equation, and he keeps his eyes closed for a minute to listen.
"2015?" Sam asks. "How is that possible?"
"It's not the first time it has happened," Castiel says.
"He's been sent through time before?"
"You both have. Back in time and into alternate universes. Time is fluid and very hard to bend, but we are sometimes able to do it. It takes a lot of energy, though. A lot of power."
"I haven't dealt much with angels," John chimes in quietly. "But I'm gonna guess they aren't what I think they are."
Sam sighs, long and deep. "Is anything what we think it is? This whole world is crazy."
"I guess that's why we do what we do."
"Sure it is."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means the only person saving people here for the sake of saving them is Dean. You're out for revenge. That's all you've ever been out for."
This time Dean sighs, short and impatient. He forgot about this Sam. Rebellious Sam. Sam who was always arguing with their dad. Arguing since he could string sentences together. Sam has never wanted this life. That's why he ran and didn't look back.
Dean opens his eyes and spies the trio standing close to the foot of his bed.
"Okay, enough," he says, sitting up with a groan. "Enough."
Sam steps closer to him. "How do you feel?"
"Pretty fucking miserable is how I feel. All things considered."
Sam bites his lip and looks down at the ground. Dean frowns.
"What?"
"Nothing," Sam says. "Just...I...I have so many questions about what happens...in the future...to us. To me. I don't really...know you. I mean, this version of you. It's just really strange."
Dean glances at Castiel, who gives a small shake of the head. Dean wants nothing more than to warn Sam about what's going to happen. Warn him that soon he's gonna die, and if Dean can stop Sam from doing what he's going to do, get to him maybe a minute sooner, he can save himself, too. He wants to tell him not to trust Ruby, not to drink the demon blood, not to kill Lilith, not to go through the trials. He wants to tell him everything.
But instead, he scrubs his face and says, "Can we get out of here?"
"I don't know if you're well enough, son," John says.
Castiel steps past him, gently pushing Sam aside. He presses two fingers against Dean's forehead. "I have healed his wounds. He is fine now."
"Yeah, thanks for making me pass out," Dean mutters.
"You're welcome."
He rolls his eyes.
Sam and Castiel leave first, setting off in pairs to hide the illusion of them sneaking out of the hospital. Dean waits until they are gone, until his dad is helping him find shoes to wear because his were torn off somewhere in the wreck, before he asks the question he's dying to know.
"What happened with the yellow-eyed demon?"
John sighs. "He said he'd take the deal. Said he would come back for my soul, but your angel friend says he isn't here. I don't know what happened. Maybe he got scared off."
Dean watches him carefully. "You know it's not that easy."
"Of course I do. But I'll take the time I can get."
"Why would you do that?" Dean asks. "Why would you sell your soul to save me?"
"Wouldn't you do the same?"
The question leaves him silent. He did do the same. Sold his soul to bring Sam back. He understands it. Mostly. But he also feels a strange kind of hatred toward his dad for keeping him alive when he didn't want to be. Or doesn't want to be. Maybe he liked life back then. He can't remember now.
"I missed you, dad," he says, and it sounds so strange coming out of his mouth. But his dad smiles and claps his shoulder.
"I missed you, too, Dean. Now come on. Let's get out of here."
For the first time in a long time, Dean smiles a real, heart-felt smile. If things are already different, he might be able to pull this off. His dad is alive. Sam is okay. There's no mark, no curse, no desire to kill and never stop. No Cain. Not in his life, anyway. Dean thinks maybe he can stop everything that's going to happen. Maybe he was sent back in time to make a difference. To give Sam the life he always wanted. To make his dad happy.
Castiel has a different opinion. "Dean, I told you time is fluid. Every road leads to the same fate. Something may have gone different here, but that doesn't mean the outcome will be different."
"How can you say that?" Dean asks. He watches Sam and John walk in front of him, both of them muttering under their breath to each other, probably talking about Dean. But Dean doesn't care. Because they're both alive. And they're both okay.
"There are greater things going on here," Castiel says. "Unless we are in an alternate universe, you cannot change the end result. Everything will end where it was when you left, no matter how it happens."
"Well, what makes you think we're in the same universe? I mean, look at my dad. He's alive, isn't he?"
"Yes, but that–"
"Dad, look out!" Sam shouts. There's the sudden noise of tires screeching, someone yelling too far away to understand, the thud of something hitting the ground way too hard, and when Dean looks up again all he can see is the car that ran the red light and has its front wheels on the sidewalk, smoke pouring out from under the hood.
There's no Sam.
There's no John.
