A/N: This one will most likely be Jossed by the end of the season, but hey, it's AU anyway... Spoiler alert for those who are not up to date on Season 9.

... and One Time He Never Received It

August 3, 2014

Well, wasn't this just peachy.

Dean had long ago given up keeping track of the year. His perception of the passage of time had been skewed ever since Hell and even more so since Purgatory, but that alone didn't explain that decision. The first time a year passed but didn't pass, while he was at Lisa's, he'd decided they'd messed with the timeline once too often—whether on a trip he knew about or one that hadn't happened yet from his perspective—and just decided to roll with whatever the calendar on his phone or his laptop told him. That spared him headaches when he'd gotten back from Purgatory to find that everyone remembered a year passing but the calendar still said 2012.

But today it told him a date he'd never forget in a million years, just as surely as he'd never imagined it would find him here.

Oh, he'd changed things. There was no question of that. Camp Chitaqua had been exchanged for the bunker, Chuck for Kevin, the Croatoan virus for whatever the hell Abaddon and the various factions of fallen angels were throwing at each other. Baby was in the garage, not abandoned in the weeds. Cas had found ways of dulling the pain of his humanity that didn't involve being stoned or drunk, not that his dogged attempt to read the entire library was necessarily any healthier. Instead of Risa and Cas' groupies, they had Charlie and Dorothy, along with Garth, who hardly counted because he was out doing his gawky best to fill Bobby's shoes and wouldn't take shelter. Nor would Krissy and her crew, no matter how Dean pulled rank. Oh, and they had one ex-King of Hell still shackled in their dungeon. Plus, Sam was there with them, safe and alive and not possessed by Lucifer. That was a slight improvement.

The reason for that being that Sam was currently comatose... wasn't.

Dean sighed heavily. Yeah, things were different. But Bobby was still dead. Sam had still said yes to Lucifer. Heaven still wasn't on their side, unless Bobby and Ash and the Harvelles had staged a coup (and if so, good riddance to Metatron)—but even then, there'd be limits on the kind of help they could send. And the Winchesters, and with them the rest of the world, were still stuck in a situation that they might very well not survive.

Team Free Will had tried so damn hard. And look where it got them.

Before Dean's train of thought could continue down that track, his phone rang, and the Caller ID showed Sheriff Mills' number. Frowning, he answered.

"Dean?" she began. "Where are you?"

"At the bunker," he replied. She'd already been there once, so she knew what he meant.

"Okay, 'cause I've got a guy here who looks like you, sounds like you, swears he is you, but obviously he isn't. I mean, I'm out of earshot but still have visual contact, and he's clearly not on your end of the line."

He blinked. "Where'd you find him?"

There was a brief pause, somehow filled with shared grief, before she answered, "Out at Bobby's."

"Dammit," he breathed. Maybe he'd changed more than he knew.

"Dean?"

"You test him?"

"Salt, holy water, borax, and silver. No reaction to anything but the borax, which just made him look at me weird."

He huffed. "Yeah. Yeah, it... it would. He doesn't know about the Leviathans."

Another pause, this one wary. "Dean, what the hell is going on?"

"It's—it's complicated. But he's tellin' the truth. Look, just... bring him here. I need to talk to him."

"I can make this his one phone call."

He shook his head, even though she couldn't see it. "No, trust me, this is not a conversation we can have on the phone."

She sighed. "All right. See you in about eight hours."

"Thanks, Sheriff."

Cas and Charlie walked out of the kitchen just as Dean hung up with another heavy sigh. "Dean?" Charlie asked. "You okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Look, get Kevin and Dorothy, okay? I need to get everyone up to speed on this. Especially Kevin."

"Hell, no," Kevin grouched, coming in from another direction. "I don't care what it is. I have been slaving away at tablets for how many years now? Not that you guys care; no, you don't even use half of it—"

"Well, we're using it now," Dean interrupted.

Kevin and Charlie both blinked in surprise. Cas frowned as he tried to puzzle out what was going on.

"But," Charlie began, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb, "Sam's..." She didn't finish the thought, and Dean didn't want her to.

He held up a hand. "Look, I don't want to have to explain this more than once. Where's Dorothy?"

"Right here," Dorothy replied, coming in from the stairwell that led to the garage and wiping her hands on a greasy rag. "What's the word?"

"The word..." Dean paused and turned to look Cas straight in the eye. "Is Zachariah."

Cas frowned more deeply. "Zachariah is dead. You killed him in Van Nuys."

"Yeah, but in 2009, he's alive and kicking and wants to teach past-me a lesson."

And Cas got it. "To convince you to say yes to Michael. But we thwarted the timeline he showed you—"

"And now somehow past-me has turned up in Sioux Falls in this timeline. Sheriff Mills is bringin' him here."

Charlie turned her head a little and looked skeptical. "I thought The End was all about—y'know, Croatoan and stuff."

"Well, like Cas said, things are different this time. And maybe we can change things even more if I talk to him."

"Still, isn't that dangerous, having two versions of yourself in the same room? Aren't you risking, like, entropic cascade failure?"

"Not if the duration is limited," Cas replied.

Dean nodded. "I mean, I'm not sure what... entropic... whatchamacallit is, but nothing weird happened the last time I was in this situation. Besides, now that we've got this place warded against angels, it's the only place I can talk to him without Zach listening in."

Dorothy shook her head. "Wait, I'm confused. Why are there two of you?"

"Short version? Few years back, me and Sammy stopped the Apocalypse. Somebody wants it back on."

Kevin's scowl had mostly given way to complete bewilderment. "What's that got to do with the tablets?"

Dean turned to him. "I need you to type up your notes on the trials, Heaven and Hell. Charlie, you think you can ward a memory stick or something so Zach can't swipe it or erase it?"

Charlie nodded confidently. "I've got a spare flash drive we can use. None of that technology's gone obsolete in the last five years, so it'll open just fine."

But Kevin still looked lost. "I still don't get it."

Dean opened his mouth to explain, but Dorothy beat him to it. "Kev, this is their last chance to do an end run."

Kevin in turn opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes flew wide as the implications hit him. "Then—then you mean none of this will have happened? I... I won't..."

Cas shot him a compassionate look. "You will always be a prophet, Kevin. That has been decreed from the foundation of the world. But if Past-Dean can change the timeline this way, then there is little chance that you will ever be activated."

"And I... won't remember? Any of this?"

"Nope," Dean replied. "You and Channing can go off to Princeton, get married, and have lots of little overachievers to drive your mother crazy."

He wasn't sure whether the noise that burst from Kevin at that mental image was more laugh or sob. "That sounds like heaven!"

"No, trust me, buddy. It'd be better."

Kevin wrestled for composure for a moment while Dorothy rubbed his shoulder and Charlie rubbed his back. Then, with an effort, he looked back at Dean and nodded. "Okay. Okay, I'll do it."

Dean nodded back. "Thanks." Then he turned to Cas. "Cas, I'm gonna need the full text of that spell Henry used, along with instructions."

"All right," Cas said. "Perhaps Dorothy would help me look."

"Glad to," Dorothy replied.

Dean nodded again. "We've got eight hours or so. Charlie, when Kevin's done, bring me that flash drive; I've got some stuff to add to it. Oh, and also see what records you can find on the history of the Letters. We can add that, too."

"Got it," Charlie said, flashing him a thumbs-up. "Where will you be?"

Dean picked up his laptop. "Sam's room."

Those eight hours passed a lot faster, and a lot slower, than Dean thought they would. He had just finished his notes when Charlie brought him the flash drive, and once he'd saved everything to it and let Charlie triple-check the encryption and the warding, he shut off the computer and turned his full focus to Sam. Dean still didn't know what had gone wrong, whether one of the angels they'd fought on their last hunt had done something or tripped some kind of failsafe Zeke had left behind or whether Sam's system had just had enough, but whatever had happened, Sam had been out cold for three days. Dean had gotten him back to the bunker, but no one could do much for him except keeping him alive. Now Dean quietly talked to Sam off and on, trying to keep him up to speed, while changing his IV and checking his catheter and turning him every so often to make sure he didn't get sores... and tried not to worry that this time there wouldn't be even as dubious a fix as what Zeke had done.

So it took Dean somewhat by surprise when his phone rang and Sheriff Mills said they were there already. By the time he'd taken his leave of Sam and made his way back down to the main hall, Charlie had already let the visitors in and was talking Past-Dean's ear off as she showed him around the library.

Sheriff Mills greeted Dean with a hug. "How's Sam?"

Dean sighed. "No change."

She rubbed his back comfortingly before letting him go. "You sure about—" She nodded toward Past-Dean.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

Something about the way he replied, though, set off some kind of mom alarm. "Dean, have you eaten?"

He blinked. "Uh—"

"I thought so. C'mon. They've got him." And she marched him into the kitchen, made him a sandwich, and stared at him until he ate it.

That done, Dean went back to the main hall and found the others practically talking over each other to bring Past-Dean up to speed on what had happened over the last five years, why they were here, and so on. Past-Dean was trying manfully to keep up with it all, but he was clearly approaching information overload.

"Guys," Dean interrupted firmly.

His friends jumped and turned, and Past-Dean's eyes widened.

Dean ignored his past self for the moment. "Let me handle this. Charlie, you mind sittin' with Sam for a while?"

"On it," Charlie replied and ran off.

The others took that as their cue and dispersed, leaving Dean alone with... himself.

He sat down across from Past-Dean. "Gotta be honest. I didn't expect to see you again."

Past-Dean frowned. "Wait, so—you're buyin' this? No tests, no secret questions, nothing like that?"

Dean shrugged. "I know what happened because it happened to me. Only... I didn't get sent to this future. In the one I saw, the world was crawlin' with Croats, humans were barely survivin', and Lucifer was wearin' Sam to the prom."

"You tellin' me this is how it changes if I say yes?"

"No."

Past-Dean blinked. "I don't understand."

"This isn't how it changes if you say yes. Because I didn't say yes. Not to Michael. What changed was that I forgave Sam."

Past-Dean sat back, processing that. "So Sam didn't say yes?"

"Oh, he said yes all right, but only so he could throw Lucifer back in the Cage. Michael gave up on me, so Zach brought Adam back and put us all in a situation where Adam felt like he had to say yes. Sam did his thing, but Michael tried to stop him from jumping, and Sam... pulled Michael in with him."

"So Sam and Adam are in the Cage with two ticked-off archangels?"

"Were. Long story short, between Cas and Death, we got Sam out. But Raphael tried to put the Apocalypse back on track, and Cas... made some really bad choices. Stopped Raphael, but the price..." Dean could only shake his head. "We cleaned up most of that mess, had to do a tour in Purgatory, and then we tried to close the gates of Hell."

"What happened?"

"Metatron."

"What?"

"More like who. God's scribe. He'd been hiding under a rock on a reservation in Colorado. We went looking for him because he's the one who wrote down the info about closing Hell. And that was a really bad idea."

"Why?"

"Seeing what Heaven had become, he decided he wanted revenge on the other angels for messing it up. So he tricked Cas into helping him with a spell to cast all the other angels out of Heaven. Permanently."

Past-Dean shook his head and swore. "When was this?"

"Little over a year ago."

"So where's Sam?"

"He's... here. In his room. He's been comatose for three days. No idea why."

Past-Dean leaned forward. "Three days?"

Dean nodded.

"I've been in this year for three days."

Dean frowned. "So shouldn't Zach come pick you up soon?"

"That's the thing. When I hung up on Sam, right before I woke up in a trashed hotel in Kansas City, I thought I saw something in the corner of the room—and I could have sworn it was Sam. And I haven't seen Zach since I've been here."

Dean slumped back with a groan. "Dammit, Zeke," he breathed.

Past-Dean blinked. "Zeke? Who's—"

"Dean!" Charlie interrupted, running in. "Sam's awake!"

Heedless of his past self, Dean jumped up and followed her. Past-Dean stayed right behind him, he thought, but he didn't care.

"Sammy?" he asked as he burst through the door.

Glazed hazel eyes slid over to look at him. "Not at the moment."

"Dammit, Zeke, what the hell were you thinking?!"

"I had violated your trust. This was the only way I knew to make amends to you and to Sam. And Sam agreed that you would know what to do." Zeke blinked slowly. "Clearly, I underestimated the toll such a task would take on us."

"So you've been—how'd you get past the wards?"

"Dean. My grace... is almost gone. I... I will... spare... Sam..." Sam's eyes flared blue, but the light was far dimmer than usual.

Once he had control again, Sam turned his head to face Dean better. "Don't be mad, Dean. He's telling the truth. And he's dying."

"The hell with him," Dean replied as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "How about you? How are you doin'?"

Sam huffed. "Not much better."

"Dammit, Sam—"

"Dean. You can't fix this. Not this time. I'm too busted up, and there's no one left to ask."

"No. No, there's gotta be something."

"There is." Sam grabbed Dean's hand. "The one way you can save me..." He glanced past Dean's shoulder to Past-Dean. "Is to give him the plan."

"You know what that is?"

Sam looked back at Dean and nodded. "I heard you. Zeke was the one who was unconscious. I just wasn't strong enough to take back control."

"And you're cool with it?"

"Yeah. Hell, what else have we got?"

Ignoring the way his hand was shaking, Dean brushed Sam's hair back from his forehead. "You gonna be all right while I take care of this?"

Sam nodded and blinked like he was about to fall asleep.

"Okay. I'll be right back."

Sam murmured something that sounded suspiciously like "Love you, too" and drifted off.

Charlie came up behind Dean and rubbed his shoulder. "I'll stay with him," she whispered.

Dean pulled himself together, nodded, and stood. Then he let Charlie pull him into a hug that was more comforting than it ought to be. That finally gave him the strength to tear himself away from Sam and go back to Past-Dean, who was hovering in the doorway.

"Who the hell is Zeke?" Past-Dean demanded as Dean steered him back toward the library.

"It's a long story," Dean replied, "and it's not worth telling because you are gonna rewrite it."

Past-Dean snorted. "This is the part where you tell me to go back and say yes to Michael, right?"

"Wrong."

"—Wrong?"

"That's the one thing you can't do. Even if Michael wins, trust me, you don't want the angels in charge of this planet."

"If?!"

"Have you met Lucifer? It's not a foregone conclusion."

"So what was Sam talking about? What's your plan? Find the Colt?"

Dean shook his head. "We tried that. Didn't work."

"Didn't work?"

"Is there an echo in here? I shot Lucifer point blank. All it did was knock him over."

"So what—"

"Will you shut up and listen?" Dean exploded as he stormed into the library and grabbed a blank sheet of paper out of a notebook Kevin had left on the table. "Cas and Dorothy will give you a spell that will take you back to '09, directly to Sam." He sat down and started writing out the angel-proofing sigils. "Once you're there, put these around the walls. This is angel proofing, should keep Zach and Lucifer both from finding you and interrupting. The first step after that is to reconcile with Sam." He quickly finished the list of sigils and handed the paper to Past-Dean.

Past-Dean glanced over it, nodded, and stuck it in the inside pocket of his jacket. "Then what?"

Dean pulled the flash drive out of his pocket. "Together, you and Sam need to read this. All of it. It's the information you'll need to stop this mess before it starts—save Sam, Mom and Dad, Bobby, Ash, everyone." He handed the drive to Past-Dean. "The drive itself is warded, but don't plug it in until you get that angel proofing up."

Past-Dean frowned at the drive and looked back at Dean. "Why? What's on here?"

"I'm gettin' to that. When you've finished reading, call Cas and have him throw you and Sam as far back in the past as he can reach—1860 would be good, but if Cas can't get you there, any time before October of 1972 would be okay. And make sure he knows you know it'll be a one-way trip. Wherever you end up, find whatever help you can get and start to work. There are two sets of three trials, one set to shut the gates of Hell, one set to seal the angels in Heaven. Each set has to be completed by one person only. You take one set, have Sam take the other."

Past-Dean nodded once and tucked the drive into his jeans pocket. "Why will we need help?"

"Because the trials will consume you. And the last one... will kill you."

"Well, then Sam—"

"You can't do both yourself. And if you only finish one set, the other side will find a way to make the Apocalypse happen anyway."

"But..."

Dean held up a hand. "Dude, I know. I get it. But if you want Sam to make up for letting Lucifer out, he'll die one way or another. With this, he won't land in the Cage. You'll both go to Heaven—together."

The muscle in Past-Dean's jaw twitched, and his eyes looked suspiciously bright.

Dean stood. "Now, when you first get there, you'll probably be alone. But there's a road; it's called the Axis Mundi. Follow that. It'll take you to Sam."

"How do you know?"

"Been there, done that. March of 2010. Seems Roy and Walt had a beef with Sam, and they didn't want any witnesses."

Past-Dean swore, looked away, and ran a hand over his mouth. Then he looked back at Dean. "Wait, if we seal off Heaven—"

"Look, whatever happens next, it's got to be better than this. I mean, you saw what it's like out there, what the angels and demons are doing to this planet. This is the safest place on earth, but I don't know how much longer we'll hold out. And you saw what's happened to Sam."

They were still staring at each other when Dorothy came in. "Dean? We're ready."

Dean glanced at her and nodded, then looked at his past self again. "Just promise you'll read what's on that drive before you decide."

Past-Dean nodded slowly. "All right. I'll promise that much."

Dean nodded once and offered his hand. Past-Dean shook it. Then Dorothy led Past-Dean away, leaving Dean alone in the library.

Dean sighed heavily and got himself a shot of the good stuff. He sat down at the table and drank it slowly, then found himself staring blankly at the empty glass. He knew he should go back and check on Sammy, but he was just...

... so...

... tired...

"After a meeting with President Palin this morning, Senate Republicans, led by Mike Ditka of Illinois, announced a new health-care initiative. Senator Ditka says the centerpiece of this legislation is tort reform—"

"Dean?"

Dean startled awake to find Sam, looking hale and whole, walking into the library. "Wha?"

Sam turned off the radio. "Mom called. She wanted to know if you want to eat here or get supper someplace in town before the initiation. Dad's too stressed to eat, as usual, but she said she'd meet us if you want to eat out."

Dean blinked at Sam as his sleep-fogged mind groaned its way into gear. Of course Mom and Dad were still alive. Mom joined the Letters to get out of hunting, and she and Dad had raised Sam and Dean in Lawrence because that was closer to Lebanon than Normal was. They'd all had their share of tours manning the bunker for as long as Dean could remember, and even now that the brothers were married—even with Jess and Jo having joined the Letters themselves—Dad still kept assigning them bunker duty together.

Not that Dean objected much. A memory, a real one that he'd never fully forgotten, leapt to mind now... an old man with curly white hair and blue eyes, in a trenchcoat and suit with a blue tie that he'd put on backward, sitting on a bench at the park near the house in Lawrence when Dean was five, calling Dean over to talk to him... Look after your brother, Dean. Whatever else you choose to do, look after Sam.

The police had found the old man dead on the park bench a few hours later. It was like he'd held off his death just long enough to say that to Dean.

"Hey," Sam said with a chuckle. "Earth to Dean."

Dean pulled in a deep breath and shook himself. "Hey. Sorry. Um, supper, I—I dunno. Doesn't matter."

"You all right, man?"

"Yeah, yeah, just... I had the weirdest dream just now..."