Months Earlier...
Castiel's breathing was light as his mind slowly floated back into consciousness, pulling itself up from a deep slumber and turning over the gears to put his body and mind into motion for the day. He inhaled deeply as he slowly became aware of his surroundings, taking in the scent of his lover next to him. Cass wrinkled his nose up as he noticed a particular difference; there was less of a sweet, strong scent and more of a heavy musk than he was used to. Cass made a mental note to remind Dean to take a shower.
He stretched a little, expecting to feel the weight of Dean's arm draped over him, like it always was; except today it wasn't. Castiel slowly lifted himself up, turning over slightly to see his partner's back, nicely defined by a grey t-shirt. He tilted his head slightly in confusion, distinctly remembering that they had gone to bed without clothing. Cass shrugged, writhing happily in his own nakedness, when he noticed another peculiar thing; the blankets and sheets were coarse and smelled kinda funny.
Cass slid over to Dean's back and wrapped his arms snugly around the other man's chiselled torso, pressing his cheek into the surprisingly firmer skin. 'He's different...' The thought came to him in waves as he had to strain further to reach around Dean's body, as if it were bigger than before. The differences hit him more as his hand drifted along the defined lines of Dean's abs, finding them easier and much larger than last night. Cass sat up right now, staring down at his partner curiously. Dean was bigger, looked stronger, smelled stronger; he even looked less peaceful while sleeping.
Castiel shifted his attention to the room now, feeling somewhat out of place. The walls looked shabby, the air smelled stale, everything was dingy and run down. They were in a motel. 'Where's our room?' He thought nervously, slipping out from under the covers. Cass scanned the room and realized he was without clothing as well. After spotting Dean's duffle bag, he scooted his bare bottom over and rummaged for a pair of pants, quickly pulling them on. Dean wouldn't mind, they'd been dating for over three years now.
From where he stood now, Castiel got a better feel of the room; two beds, one for Sam probably -considering the laptop in the corner- and the other for Dean and himself. There wasn't much for luggage or bags either... It bothered him that he couldn't remember when they'd left or why. Last night he and Dean celebrated Pleasure My Angel's new popularity status reaching other countries, selling CD's worldwide and all that. When had they decided to leave? And why were they staying in such a shitty motel room?
His gaze drifted past Sam's laptop again, this time noticing several newspapers and bits of paper lying next to it. Cass trotted across the room, his bare feet padding lightly on the sketchy floor. He leaned over, figuring that Sam's research would tell him what was going on and why they weren't at home anymore. The first title he read was a little alarming; 'Another in a Series of Gruesome Murders', though the following all supported the first article. Not to mention Sam's laptop was open to a page highlighting the achievements of the most recent deceased.
Cass backed away from the table and turned away from it, trying to figure out what it meant, why Sam would be looking at something like that. Then he saw the rest of them; the wall he turned toward was covered in similar papers, printed images of people who had died, different strings connecting several articles from current and much older newspapers. "What the hell..." He felt anxiety rising as he backed toward the door.
The only exit swung open now, Sam walking in carrying a 'Dunkin Donuts' bag and cardboard tray with two coffees on it. "Oh," He looked genuinely surprised to see the angel standing there, more so to see him standing there in Dean's jeans. "Hi Cass, didn't know you were coming." He put the breakfast onto the same table as his laptop, "What's up?"
Castiel stared in nervous awe, "What do you mean you didn't know I was coming?"
"I mean I didn't think this case was gonna be something that required angelic assistance." Sam sipped at his coffee casually, as if nothing was amiss. "So why are you here, something big afoot?" He joked.
"What are you talking about? What case?" Cass was visibly perturbed, his face scrunched up in confusion. "I'm here because of Dean; why else would I be here?"
Sam looked up, surprised once again. Castiel was practically shouting at him, like a normal person. "Are you okay Cass?"
"No I'm not okay! You aren't making any sense at all! What day is it? Why are we in some shady motel?" Cass threw his arms down to his sides in frustration several times, throwing a small fit.
"Calm down, Cass." Sam had taken on his concerned voice now, slowly stepping closer to the disturbed angel, "It's Thursday, March 13th. What's gotten into you?"
Cass shook his head furiously, "If it's March 13th then how did we get here? Last night we all celebrated the band's growth and I went to sleep in my own bed! How did I get here?"
It was Sam's turn to scrunch his face in confusion, "Wait, what?"
Castiel's eyes watered in frustration and he hurried back to Dean's bed, the jeans he'd picked out had slid down his slender hips already; Dean was definitely much bigger than before. He slipped under the covers and pulled up close to his partner, the only thing that made sense to him in that moment.
The sudden intrusion of another body –cold from out-of-covers exposure, was a start to Dean's attempt at sleeping in. His eyes fluttered open as a shiver ran down his spine, "What the hell?" He grumbled and tried to shift around in his bed. At first he thought it was Sam, remembering days when a single nightmare would launch his kid brother under Dean's covers and scurrying for protection. But that wasn't right; this guy was way too small to be Sammy. Dean noted that the pale slender arms barely reached around him. Craning his head around to get a better look, Dean was shocked to find Cass clinging in what appeared to be desperation. "Cass?"
Castiel lifts his head, a shaky smile crossing his lips. Dean sounds a little gruffer than he's used to but it's still him, it's still Castiel's Dean. Or so he tells himself, "Morning," he says quickly, so as not to leave Dean without a response. He wriggles closer, though he's already plastered against Dean's back. Cass rests his cheek on the heated flesh, nuzzling it gently and subsequently scratching it a little with his stubble.
Dean wasted no energy on gentleness or grace as he wrenched Castiel's arms off of him and turned around to face the angel. "If I've said it a thousand times, then you must've heard it at least once," Dean growled. "Personal. Space. Cass."
Castiel's eyes water instantly, the roughness which Dean uses to force him away bruises his soft skin but more over it's the tone Dean takes. He sounds angry, but worst of all he sounds detached from the angel. What was going on? Why would Dean want personal space around him? 'What'd I do?'
Dean's grip on Cass' wrists weakened quickly when he caught sight of the tears in his eyes. More observations were quick to follow: not only was Cass crying, his face was expressing 100% more emotion than Dean thought possible from him, not to mention Cass was much thinner. And topless, which upon further observation almost proved to be pants-less as well, if it weren't for the too-low jeans hanging on his thighs. Dean quickly averted his eyes, and then had to look back to confirm it. "Why are you wearing my pants?"
Dean could only imagine how bad this looked to Sam, coming back with coffee and donuts just to find Cass wearing absolutely nothing at all, except for a pair of Dean's blue jeans, and cuddled up with him in bed no less. "What the hell's going on here? Are you alright?" Dean wanted so bad to launch off the wall with questions and accusations, but those tears in Cass' eyes held him down good. Dean had a sneaking suspicion that it would be all too easy to make things worse.
Cass flinches at Dean's tone again, annoyance. "I didn't have any clothes," he whispers self-consciously, awkwardly pulling up the jeans he was wearing. A deep, embarrassed blush forms on his cheeks as he tries to stop the ache in his chest. "I didn't... I didn't think you'd mind..." his voice breaks into sobs after that, his hands rushing up to his face and hiding it from view.
Dean wished he hadn't been so rude, and it only took one choked out sob for that wish to overwhelm him. He'd never meant to make Cass cry –on the other hand, he didn't think it was even possible for Cass to cry. "Hey hey hey," Dean shuffled closer, trying to take it back. Dean gently put his hand on Castiel's shoulders, trying to stop them from shaking. He hadn't realized that Cass' vessel had become so frail, so thin. It was almost like Cass' grace was gone again. Dean looked up at Sam, his expression one of sheer flabbergastation.
Sam looked pretty awkward himself, not sure what to do with a crying Castiel. "Uh, Dean?" Sam mutters, leaning closer to his brother, "When I came in Cass was wandering around the room and asked what day it was, after which he freaked out because we were apparently celebrating some band's achievements yesterday and he went to sleep 'in his own bed'. He's really confused Dean; I'm not so sure this is Cass..."
"I'm Castiel!" Cass lifts himself from the bed, tears streaming down his cheeks as he shouts at them. "And no I'm not alright! Why do you guys think I'm so confused! You're the ones not making any sense!"
Sam exchanged a quick look with Dean before looking back at the distraught angel, the jeans sagging low on his hips again. "Cass we're hunting right now," Sam started explaining vaguely, edging out where Castiel's knowledge was. The confused look he was given answered the first part of the question, Cass didn't know what 'hunting' meant. "We think it's a ghost," Sam continues, watching Castiel's expression change from confused to extremely confused mixed with a bit of concern.
"Ghosts? You're trying to telling me you're 'hunting ghosts'!" Cass couldn't believe his ears and for a second he thought this might be a prank but the serious looks on Sam and Dean's faces told him otherwise. "You aren't kidding... Oh god..." he rubbed his face repeatedly, "What happened? Where am I?" He wanders to the nearest window, peering out at a rather shady street.
Sam averted his gaze immediately, Castiel's exposed body not something he was entirely ready to see quite yet. It wasn't that he was full on nude yet, but the jeans were low enough to give a decent outline of where Castiel's curves and creases were.
Dean didn't know what to say, his best friend had just inexplicably lost his mind. While Sam had quickly turned a blind eye, Dean was too lost in thought to bother looking away. 'What happened? In the last month since I've seen him, he's completely forgot about hunting, found a whole new level of liking me, and...' Dean looked Castiel up and down; the man's form was thin –not too thin. The way he held himself seemed more... human. The angle of his torso, the way he placed his quivering hands on the window sill –which Dean now noticed bore fresh bruises on the wrists. 'Did I do that?' Sam seemed to be right –this wasn't Cass, at least, it wasn't their angel-fighting-a-war-in-heaven Cass.
Cass looks back at Dean now, worry filling his blue eyes. He quickly strode across the room and crawled onto the bed again. Dean's eyes widen quickly, his slow downward assessment of this new Castiel had just reached low-riding-jean level when he spun around, jostling the pants even lower as he sped across the room. On his hands and knees Castiel leaned over and planted a kiss on his beloved, hoping he wouldn't get the reaction he expected.
Dean blinked five times in rapid succession, trying to clear the image from his mind. He couldn't help the surprise that took over after. 'Did he just... KISS me?'
A little voice in the back of Dean's head reminded him that if he reacted the way his gut told him to, not only would Castiel likely burst into tears –again, he may even try running away. And if Cass ran away, then they'd never figure out what the hell was going on. Dean even doubted that they'd be able to use the Enochian summoning to find him. Unfortunately, gut reactions are a hell of a lot faster than level-headed thinking, and by the time Dean concluded that he shouldn't shove the confused angel away; he'd already shoved the confused angel away.
Castiel stumbled backward on the bed, his leg instinctively slipping down to catch himself. Dean reacted exactly how Cass hoped he wouldn't. His heart pounded hard against his ribs as he stared with large, hurt eyes. He was so confused and now in serious pain. How could Dean push him away? Instinctively, even! His breathing rate increased rapidly, tears continuing to slip over the rims of his eyes, "Wh-Why?" His chest rose and fell excessively and just as quickly as his breathing which was much shallower than moments before.
Dean looked at Cass sternly, though unintentionally so. His hands were gripping him tightly on either side, and Dean could've sworn he felt ribs not far beneath the surface. He was aware enough not to let Cass pull away, holding on tightly. "Alright, now you're going to stop all this crying and give me a straight answer here." Being in a state of confusion for a prolonged period of time was one of Dean's least favourite pastimes, and his patience was running low.
Dean's grip was still strong, forceful and unloving. Castiel squirmed against it though it did him little good. He looked to the floor now, pinned in place. Cass had been so accustomed to using nothing but human strength he was able to leave his angelic abilities entirely unchecked and almost forgotten at times. He bit his lip, trying to regain control over his heart which sent the rest of him into overdrive. Dean demanded he quit crying, demanded answers. When did their relationship stop being about supporting one another and became something about answers?
"Now, just calm down." Dean sat Cass down on the bed carefully, and pulled the covers over him. He'd like to say it was for Cass' sake, helping him cover up some humiliation over the whole ordeal, but in truth it was just impossible to ask serious questions of a friend who refused to pull his pants up. Dean rubbed Castiel's shoulders, trying to keep him calm and stop him from crying again.
Cass turned an intense blue depth back in Dean's direction, a swirl of emotions mixing together and consuming one another. He said nothing but took the blanket anyway, curling up with it for some comfort, since Dean wasn't giving it to him. Despite his intentions, Dean's contact with Castiel wasn't helping in the least; it only made him wonder more about what Dean was thinking. He glanced down at the hand on his shoulder and thought about moving away from it, but then what good would that do him? Dean would just get more angry, distant and cruel. Cass curled his bottom lip in and huffed the blanket further onto his shoulders, trying to hide.
"Now before you interrupt with protests and disagreements, let me get through this explanation first. Sam and I have always been hunters. Ghosts, wendigos, demons, ghouls, you name it, we kill it. It goes bump in the night, we kill it. And if you tell me you don't believe monsters are real, then I know for a fact you're not the Castiel we know. Now, is this the real you, or are you possessing a vessel?" Cass' answer to this question would set Dean and Sam in some sort of direction, the key was Cass answering without hyperventilating.
Cass remained in the blanket for several moments after the explanation; though he looked unresponsive his mind was moving rapidly, considering his options. He could whine and cry about Dean being mean, or he could figure something out. Castiel lowered the blanket around his waist, resting his arms on top of it. He'd wiped his eyes which looked almost dry now, "I believe in monsters, Dean. I'm an angel; I'd be pretty ignorant if I didn't." He wanted to snap at the Winchesters but he couldn't bring himself to do it, not to Dean. "This is me, the real me." He closed his eyes for a moment and spread his wings, visible to the hunters sitting in front of him.
While Dean was glad that Cass wasn't so far gone that he needed to give the 'monsters are real speech,' he was not in the least prepared for Castiel's wings. Last time he saw them, they were merely the shadows of wings, or at least that's how Dean understood it. But these... these were full blown, white-feathered wings. 'What the hell is he?' Dean couldn't help but wonder.
Sam gawked at the sight; despite seeing angels several times he'd never seen their wings either. For some reason this Castiel wasn't beyond their comprehension, a thought he sort of enjoyed. "Okay so you're an angel," Sam collects himself and leans in, questions of his own, "But you're definitely not Cass, not the one we know."
Castiel tilts his head slightly, "What exactly is the difference?"
Sam shrugs, "Well uh... you seem more... I dunno, human? You're more expressive and a lot more open with yourself." He gestures toward the blanket vaguely.
Cass looks down at himself and then back up, his gaze shifting to Dean for some clarification on this, "Am I not your Castiel?" he felt out of place and had noticed several things that weren't quite the same but that didn't mean they were that different, did it?
Dean looked him over, and his slow moving mind dropped the pieces together for him: the clinging, the kiss, the heartbreak, and the constant use of possessive; 'your Castiel.' "I'm pretty sure you're not our Cass," Dean said cautiously. "See, the Castiel I know is a stoic, stiff, by-the-book angel that's quick to take on heaven's burden. He's out fighting Raphael right now." 'And I'm praying he's still alive.' While Castiel was away from the hunters, Dean spent a fair amount of time wishing there was something they could do to help, but of course there never was.
"The question is, if you're not the Cass we know, but you're still a Cass who is an angel, then where'd you come from?" Now this was seriously bothering Dean. Even when he and Sam jumped to an alternate universe where magic and things didn't exist, there still weren't any doubles of anyone.
Cass sighed and looked at himself for what felt like the millionth time that day, "I'm far from 'by the book'." He shrugged, his eyes flicking upward to stare into Dean's again. "I'd have to say an alternate reality or dimension, if I had to guess where I came from. Heaven's not burdened with anything I could take on at the moment." Cass furrowed his brow a little, confusion not quite leaving his features. "Then... I suppose that means you aren't my Dean, are you? I guess not." He rubbed his chest slightly, trying to ease the pain that was still thumping along inside. 'I left Dean just lying there... What will he think? That I did it on purpose? He'll be heartbroken.'
"I need to get home." He whispered, "I need to see him, hold him; I need to tell him its okay." Cass gripped the blanket in front of him, frustrated as all hell. He glared up at Dean, "You take everything personally, you know that?" He grumbled, knowing full well this wasn't his Dean but he needed to get that out.
Sam inched around the bed, mostly unnoticed. He had a curiosity that ran too deep for him to not do what he was thinking of doing. Sam stood behind Castiel now, his eyes fixated on the wings spread out in front of him. He hesitated a little but shrugged his concerns off, reaching forward he placed his hands into the softest feathers at the base, just before reaching Castiel's spine.
Cass shuddered, his eyes rolling back slightly as he turned his head to look at Sam. The younger Winchester smiled awkwardly, a nervous laugh caught in his throat. He withdrew his hand after a few more strokes; he'd always wanted to touch an angel's wings, even as a kid. Another shiver ran its course through Cass' body, his legs shifting uncomfortably at the tingling sensation developing between them. Cass' wings hadn't been touched in a long time; he'd almost forgotten the little quirk they had.
"Please don't do that," he spoke directly to Sam, "It's a little personal," with that they folded back in, vanishing from sight. Sam only nodded, shuffling back to where he stood before. Cass looked at Dean again, "I'm sorry, where were we?" he had regained full control of himself, piecing together that something was definitely amiss around here. It no longer looked like his boyfriend had somehow stopped loving him; it looked a lot more like this wasn't his boyfriend, though they looked very similar. "I'm getting the feeling I'm not where I should be."
Dean couldn't help the smirk that decorated his lips. He was certain of what he just saw; there was no way that he could be wrong. "That's quite the happy face you were making a second a go," Dean joked, taking a stab at Cass' predicament. Dean had no idea that wings had that kind of an effect on angels. It seemed a little odd, considering they were supposed to refrain from that sort of thing. Further proof that their Father is an ass. Despite the ill-humoured joke, Dean couldn't help but find himself a little too intrigued by Castiel's vulnerable expressions.
Castiel blushed furiously, "Yeah well don't get used to it," he smiled a little, his eyes fixated on Dean's, "Though I know your face better than you do; you enjoyed watching."
Giving himself a quick mental slap, Dean refocused on the issue at hand.
"Let me try something," he offered and stood up from the bed. Spreading his arms out wide, Dean did what was somehow his sole responsibility: call Cass. "Alright Cass, if you can here and can spare a minute, we could really use your help down here. I know we always say that, but we really need you this time so if you could hurry it up, that'd be great." Dean dropped his arms to his sides and looked around the room, quickly checking behind himself first.
Cass almost laughed at the prayer though he did his best not to, "That's how you talk to your Castiel? No wonder you two haven't fucked yet," Cass' tone was casual and very 'matter of fact'. "'If you could hurry it up'," he mocks softly, mimicking Dean's voice, "How about a please? I bet he responds to please."
Dean let out an indignant huff, what did it matter how he prayed? It was enough of an arm twisting just to get him to pray in the first place. But it was what Cass said next really through Dean for a loop. It was already apparent that this Cass and whoever he was thinking was his Dean, were in some sort of relationship. But that didn't mean that the anti-Raphael battle angel was remotely interested in a relationship with Dean Winchester. Or vice versa, for that matter.
Sam couldn't help but note how much more of a chatter box this Cass was; he seemed to have an opinion about everything and acted as though he were the center of attention, a lot like a famous person. Sam figured that if their Castiel hadn't shown yet then he had a second to ask a few questions. "Hey, when you said celebrate a band's achievements and whatever, were you talking about-"
"My band, yeah." Cass nods, his tone isn't obnoxious but it's obvious he's proud of his group.
Sam nods a little, curious as to what kind of band but he realizes that their Cass hasn't shown. "Damn..." He mutters.
A few minutes passed and there was no sign of the apocalypse-weathered Castiel to be found. Every time he failed to show Dean felt a little hitch in his chest, like perhaps Castiel didn't make it out of his last scuffle with Raphael. Who would tell him if Cass was dead? How long would it take to know for sure? Worry or no worries, he still didn't show. "Well, that's just rude." Dean tried to joke off the anxiety.
At first Cass was going to say something along the lines of 'of course he didn't show up, I wouldn't either', but then he saw Deans' expression. He knew Dean better than anyone else, he'd even dare to say better than Sam (or at least the Sam he knew). Dean cracked jokes when upset, not just upset angry but when he was sad or lonely. And the little pained glint in those eyes told Castiel that Dean missed his angel, was worried about him.
Cass shuffled off the bed and to Dean's side, stepping around him to stand directly in front of him. Cass lifted his arms and wrapped them around Dean's neck, blue fixed on hazel, "I have a theory," he whispers with a smile, "If I'm here and he isn't, then he must be where I'm not. Get it?"
Sam lit up, "Like the two of you switched places somehow?"
"Right," Cass glanced at Sam then back to Dean, "So don't worry, he's alright I'm sure of it. Now how about we get ourselves some breakfast?"
Dean's eyes were as far from watering as he could command them to be. "Of course Cass is alright, why wouldn't he be? Don't talk crazy." Dean fought through the conversation, trying his utmost to deflect it from comforting him. "We'll talk about your theory more over breakfast." Dean gazed into those blue eyes, Cass' body pressed seamlessly against his own. It suddenly felt a lot hotter in that motel room. "But first, I'm going to get you a belt."