Sorry it took so long to update guys. I've been having trouble with my laptop, and on top of that the last scene felt really awkward for me to write. Anyway, I finally got it done! And huge thanks to FanGirlNoLife (love that username, lol) for your awesome reviews! And everyone else, for that matter; you guys are what keep me going.
The story will now continue leaving off from the events of The Amulet (which was Chapter 7).
P.S. I'm really sorry about the whole timeline change, but since this is reflecting Supernatural it's going to be much earlier, when Sam and Dean would've just started hunting together. So Dean is 26, and it's currently the year 2006ish (around the time the series started). Cas' vessel is older than him, like 28.
Trust me, there's a reason for it.
RECAP:
A small smile found its way on Dean's face.
"Thanks." It was a strange gesture, but one he wouldn't turn down. He put on the amulet, latching the metal clasp on the back. It was the perfect length, and came to settle on his chest.
And there it would stay, for years to come.
The protection of the amulet was really only needed for a handful of occasions.
Once, in the summer of 2016, and later in the 2020s, around the time the apocalypse started.
For now, we'll focus on the present.
The guttural rumble of an engine pierced the otherwise quiet evening, followed by a car door slamming shut. Cas ignored it, mistaking it for one of his neighbors until a harsh rap sounded on his door. He looked over, attention torn from the mindless program playing on the tv.
Another knock came, much louder than the last.
Cas answered the door to see Dean. He was a bit surprised to see him here so soon, as he had just been talking with him on the phone 15 minutes ago.
"Dean! Hey-" Cas trailed off, quirking an eyebrow when Dean stepped through the door and let it swing behind him. He stepped forward enough that Cas had to take several steps back.
"I believe you would consider this a breach of personal space," Cas stated blandly, studying Dean's features to decipher what he was doing. He was backed up to the wall with a window behind him.
Dean tilted his head, a knowing, almost menacing smile growing on his face.
"Dean? What are you d-?" Cas looked over Dean's shoulder and saw, through the open door, a truck parked in the driveway.
Not the Impala.
His eyes shot back and he noticed that Dean wasn't wearing his amulet.
He hadn't taken it off since Cas gave it to him 2 years ago.
Cas' eyes flew back up to Dean's in a look of confusion. He didn't have much time to think as the fist flew towards his face. He ducked to the side in time to hear a crash from where his head had just been.
When Not-Dean withdrew his fist from the now-gaping hole, shards of the newly shattered window rained down, sprinkling the ground with their angled fragments.
The Not-Dean shoved the disoriented Cas to the ground. He looked up to see the man snarling down at him and scrambled to get his angel blade. The man seemed to have noticed, and stomped his booted foot on Castiel's wrist when he procured the weapon. Cas cried out, holding what he dreaded to be a dislocated wrist against his chest,
Not-Dean snatched the blade from his broken grip, twirling it in his hands as he admired it.
With Not-Dean's attention on the blade, Cas was able to find a sizable chunk of glass. He held it flat in his palm in an attempt to block it from his attacker's view.
Not-Dean tore his attention away from the craftsmanship of the blade.
"This thing kills angels," his eyes flicked down to see Cas' reaction, "right?" He grabbed him by the throat and Cas suddenly lashed out with the glass shard. He managed to slice the right side of his face before the shifter kicked him in the side and made him drop the makeshift weapon. The shifter bore his weight down harder on Castiel's neck, forcing him to struggle and kick for air.
If Cas had blinked, he wouldn't have seen Not-Dean's green eyes flash an opaque grey. He wouldn't have seen his pupils dilate animalistically to miniscule black dots.
Shapeshifter.
This complicated things.
ONE HOUR LATER (READ IT IN THE SPONGEBOB VOICE FOR FULL EFFECT)
After work, Dean decided to drop by Cas' house with dinner. It was something he did often enough for it to be called a regular routine, and he called Cas beforehand to let him know.
He pulled in alongside Cas' car, taking note of the other unknown truck parked along the road. He internally shrugged, not thinking much of it as he shut off the engine.
Something gnawed at Dean's gut as he made his way up the steps. He didn't think it was the two uneaten burgers and fries he was holding in the brown bag.
He rapped at the door, surprised to see it swing open under his knuckles.
Dean cautiously walked over the threshold, making his way toward the hallway. He heard a crunch under his foot, and looked down to see glass littering the floor.
He could faintly make out a bloody handprint, with a small stream of red trailing away further down the hall.
"Cas?!" Dean shouted.
_NOW_
He was so stupid to have thought that shifter was actually Dean. He hadn't been paying attention.
He'd be the first to admit that he was very out of practice. He hadn't been in the field for too long, and he was starting to grow soft. Trusting, almost. Which was worrisome- he was a soldier, he couldn't be getting used to covert life.
The house was dead silent. The shifter had proven to be more capable than most others, and used a weakening sigil under the chair Cas was tied to. It smothered his grace, making it take much longer for him to heal his dislocated wrist, shredded hands and bruised throat.
"Where. Is. Dean?" The shifter leaned down so he was eye-to-eye with Castiel, and he couldn't help but feel unsettled to see that venomous look in Dean's eyes.
Cas was silent, testing the shifter's patience.
Which he apparently didn't have, Cas thought, as he shrank back from the fist flying towards his face.
"Where-?" The shifter paused, and his face suddenly lightened. He looked up in concentration: he heard someone in the house.
"Is that him?" The shifter seemed delighted. He inclined his head to the door and heard it again: someone calling the name of the angel he had cornered.
Footsteps could be heard rapidly approaching down the hall, and the ever-prepared shifter came up behind Cas. He grabbed a fistful of the angel's black hair and wrenched his head back, exposing his neck. He pressed the blade to the vulnerable flesh, forcing Cas' breaths to become shallower as he tried to prevent the blade from digging any deeper.
Dean stepped into the room wielding a frying pan. His eyes widened when they took in the sight of Cas, and even further when they saw who was threatening him.
"What the h-"
"Dean Johnson." The shifter nodded, flashing Dean his own trademark smirk. If it weren't for the knife, Dean might have thought he was having a casual conversation with his clone.
"Just the man I was looking for."
Sorry for the iffy ending, next chapter will hopefully be up soon. Huge thanks to everyone that's reviewed, followed, favorited, and shown any kind of support for this fic. If you guys are up for it you should really check out FanGirlNoLife's fic titled Love is what ends it. It's really great, especially if you're into Destiel and want to see more of the angel bros (and if you like crying your eyeballs out).
Here's a link: s/11945961/1/Love-is-what-ends-it
