Reality shattered into pieces. In one moment he was standing on a dark, unnaturally gray meadow, staggering at the impact of Cas's hand on his forehead. Next moment he was in a stuffy, dark, abandoned house, staring into pitch black, insectile eyes embedded in a pale face that was hovering just inches away from his. His whole body ached, his limbs felt weighed down like they were made of solidifying concrete and his muscles reacted with a disconcerting delay, but he felt alive again - he heard the throb of his own pulse and the warmth if his own breath. The dreamy void started to beckon him, so before it engulfed him again, he drew the 1911 Colt he had tucked in his jeans, put it to his temple and fired.
He felt dizzy; his legs buckled from beneath him. He felt even more giddy when he saw his body slide down and slump onto the ground right where he was still standing, staring in horror at the bloody mass of exit wound on his head - now distant and foreign. He was so engrossed that he barely registered the smotherer choke and hiss, turning into a mass of fine, black powder with a mad shriek and sizzle, then fall apart, blown away by the impact of something huge rushing into the room.
Dean instinctively closed his eyes when he felt the pressing, burning presence, but soon he realized that neither the blazing light, nor the wild roar hurt his senses. He slowly opened his eyes to see Castiel - true Castiel - gently skim his dead body, cradle it in his being, entwine it in a fine net of radiant fibers like a cocoon until he let it surface again, then rested it gently on the floor: intact, without even a scratch.
Castiel's true form was lightning and blizzard, and fire. A stormy ocean of endless light; ripples upon ripples coiling and diverging into infinity like a flurry of crystalline snowflakes, restlessly transforming into one another, shimmering with all the shades of white no living man could ever see, transcending perception and human understanding, giving Dean vertigo as he stared up a soaring tower and down an abyss at the same time; at something infinitely distant and yet so close; hypnotized by the restive billowing and scintillation. Castiel was not present. He was happening.
His voice was deep and powerful, like a rumble of a distant thunder. Dean felt it rather than heard it, gliding along his bones, boring into him, filling him with tremor and the sensation of falling.
"Step away from him!" reverberated in the vast space of in-between.
It wasn't until that roar faded out that Dean registered a touch of a cool, soft hand on his shoulder. He turned around, following a pale, a bit chubby arm with his gaze until he met the familiar, aquiline face: plump lips, a pronounced, but cutely shaped chin, brown eyes, beautifully arched dark eyebrows. Mercy and calm embodied, if Dean didn't know who she really was.
"Tessa..."
Winchester blinked in bafflement. The moment he opened his eyes again, Cas was there in his ordinary, disheveled visage of a slightly insane tax accountant, tense and ready to tear into combat if the reaper moved any closer. The angel blade slid from his sleeve and dropped to his hand, but he froze; his eyes widened for an instant. Dean followed his gaze. The sight made his blood run cold. He was sure he would be able to charm his way out of Tessa's clutch, but Death... Death was another kettle of fish.
He was equally relieved and piqued when the most fearsome of the Horsemen of Apocalypse ignored him and rested his gaze on Cas, whose breeding made him bow slightly in reverence. Nonetheless, the Seraph did not cast his eyes down; he watched Death intently as he approached him and Dean, pursing his narrow lips in disapproval tainted with amusement.
"Castiel, you poor Thursday's child..." he began, clucking his tongue, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Death's look shifted to Dean; the Horseman rose his eyebrows as he fumbled in the pocket of his black woolen coat to fish out a small packet of beef jerky.
"Dean Winchester. Of course. It would be irrational to assume that there could be any other reason bringing the fallen one to the brink of demise," he said, then popped one small piece of the snack into his mouth to chew it religiously.
Castiel shifted to shield his friend from Death with his own body; as pointless as it was, this gesture made Dean's heart lurch in worry eased by gratitude.
"Well, misters, I believe this is my lucky day," the Horseman lifted his cane; the tip hovered inches from Cas's chest, but Death was looking straight into Dean's eyes, "You have been slipping through my fingers for yeas. As insignificant as you are, you were annoying. Today, though, I cannot imagine what kind of insane stunt you would have to pull to escape my hold," he jeered, pacing leisurely across the room. At the flick of his wrist the veil between the reality and the in-between thickened. Dean found himself drifting in time and space, still anchored to the dark, stuffy room, but separated from it by an impenetrable,yet impalpable wall of impossibility. He couldn't hear the thump when Sam finally managed to crack the trapdoor open to let Charlie out or the screech of wood against wood when she the moved the closet away to let Sam out. He didn't hear their screams when they rushed to his body, shocked at the sight of blood sprayed on the dusty floor and a cracked wall. He didn't hear Charlie's gasp or Sam's howl when they finally realized he was dead.
"OK," Dean clapped his hands "Skeletor, I'm thrilled that you found time to drop by, but now will you shove my ass back into this meat?" The thought of all the taunts and jokes about this girly outburst of emotions he'd harass his brother with after he'd get back to life barely sufficed to keep him from breaking down at the sight of Sam's face contorted in pain, the tears filling his eyes or the mad, childish despair with which he clung to Dean's dead body, with fistfuls of Dean's clothes clutched so tight that his knuckles went white as if the force of the embrace could do anything to bring Dean back.
"I honestly cannot imagine what gave you an impression that I will be willing to let you go, human," Death answered flatly, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his black velvet lapel. His laughter was low and dry, like grinding gears of an old, broken clock.
"Name your price," Castiel ground out decidedly.
Death eyed him, mildly amused, gnawing at another bit of dried meat. Dean budged, trying to yank himself from Tessa's grip, but the long, slender fingers only tightened around his arms. The expression of a politely masked lack of interest on her face did not change.
"A price? I am afraid you have nothing to offer unless there is something I am not aware of," Death chewed slowly; Winchester hadn't imagined that it was even possible to devour beef jerky in such a gentle, refined way, unless... He could have sworn that instead of the tang of meat he smelled cherries and toffee.
"How about myself? I have escaped you twice. You cannot convince me that it was not annoying," the Seraph insisted.
"Cas, are you fuckin nuts? What are you..." Castiel's words made Dean forget everything else and his blood boil. With one mad lurch he finally struggled free; he was milliseconds away from pushing Castiel aside and pouncing upon Death, but in the last possible moment Tessa's vice-like grip held him in place; her ice-cold fingers curling swiftly around his elbows. The moment she touched him, the man found that no sound was coming from his lips, though he kept screaming until his throat hurt.
"Two and a half times, to be precise. I count the 'half' as my personal failure. Taking merely your grace, but not your life due to this unfortunately placed angel banishing sigil that you have been kind enough to devise to grant your own destruction... I must admit that it was disappointing. Now, let me see. Every time I take one Winchester as my rightful trophy, the other interferes. Now, if I decide to keep Dean, I will have to deal with Sam's tenacity. If I try to keep you, I will have to deal with your father's aberrant whimsies. Sam and God are both infinitely less powerful than I. The question is - which will be more persistent?"
"I presume my Father will have no intention to resurrect me this time. The only reason I had to remain here..." his voice was getting hoarser and weaker with every word "is no longer valid. I used to protect the Righteous Man, but now I cause him nothing but harm."
Dean stopped scuffling with Tessa. The world around him came to a standstill.
"Are you willing to do this for him?" Death gave the hunter a disdainful once-over, then gave Castiel curious look, "Even if he does not feel the same way about you?"
Cas's widened eyes darted to his friend, then to the Horseman again. For the moment their looks met, Dean could see puzzlement in the angel.
"Why would it matter?" he frowned slightly, most honestly not getting Death's point. The father of reapers laughed again; this time the sound was less grating, more ringing.
"Oh... My sweet summer child. You never cease to amaze me."
"Let him go. He needs to go back to his brother," the Seraph took a step forward. Death bent his upper torso back, opening his arms, then pointed at Castiel while sending Dean a sour, yet somewhat playful look.
"Do you see this, you mutton head?" he jested.
Winchester coughed.
"What?" this time he was able to hear his own voice, raspy due to strain and shock.
"Did I say mutton head? Well, crap..." Death threw his head back in nervous laughter. Winchester and the angel both stared at his tailored felt coat and tuxedo turning into a pair of well-worn jeans, a maroon shirt and a brown denim jacket. His body grew fuller, his skin getting less wrinkled and more tanned. After no more than two seconds they were looking at the well-known figure - a vertically challenged, inconspicuous guy with a lopsided nose, a cheesy combover and powerful, soul-piercing, terrifying amber eyes.
"Gabriel?"
The archangel snorted.
"No, Pocahontas. Of course I'm Gabriel."
"How did you survive Luficer?" Dean finally managed to choke through a sudden upsurge of anger and grudge. The archangel put an index finger to his lips and frowned in an exaggerated pantomime.
"Let me think. It took one mini-me to fool two Winchesters. How many mini-mes did it take to fool one Lucifer?"
The hunter shot a quick glance at Tessa, hoping that she would be more eager to explain. Instead of the reaper, he saw a blonde, well-endowed Playboy bunny with a grin so dumb that he wondered why she wasn't drooling.
"Then why didn't you... People died because of you, brother!"
"Because I had to produce an Aunt Sally that was a carbon copy of my glorious self and that stab offered me by our favorite self-centered douche kicked me out of timespace pretty much until now. I still have this heartburn every time I eat something stodgy," Gabriel scowled theatrically at Winchester, then looked at Castiel like a disappointed teacher, "You would know all of it if you cared to explore your power instead of killing yourself over and over for this half-brained hunk. Now," he herded Dean towards a slit in the veil that was already starting to grow - thrumming ominously and radiating white heat, "now that we agreed that the little angel is staying with me, let's shove your ass back into that meat before Sam whines his lungs out. I mean I know this boy has a weak spot for you, but come on, this is embarrassing. He totally slobbered all over your face, see? Let's go before he drowns in a puddle of his own snot."
The next thing Dean knew was blazing pain in his lungs as he was taking a deep, hungry breath.
xXx
Sam felt like he was reduced to a sharp pain, curling and gnawing at him that burst in his chest the moment he realized what had happened. Charlie knelt next to him, tugging at Dean's hand, squealing and begging, then ran out of the house to call an ambulance, but he knew. Sam had seen to many people die not to recognize the one in front of him. He had seen enough unnatural deaths to accept this one, despite a lack of wound. He just cradled Dean's body in his arms, rocking it delicately and crying with his chin pressed to Dean's forehead. He wasn't able to force a single word through his throat and even if he could, his mind was filled with unspeakable pain and denial. All he could think of was No, this isn't happening, let this not be happening.
The moment Dean budged with a feeble moan and gasped for air, Sam clung to him even harder, letting out a single, strangled whimper. His relief soon melted into fear when he saw madness in Dean's eyes as he was looking around frantically, searching for something he obviously did not see. Overcome with panic he pushed his little brother away, then noticed his shocked and pained expression. He pulled Sam into a quick, firm, brotherly hug, but then slowly, yet decidedly freed himself from this bear-like embrace.
"Where's Cas?" he breathed, darting around the hall like a terrified animal. Sam put a calming hand on Dean's chest that was heaving in quick, ragged breath.
"Easy, man. I don't know. Calm down. You were dead a moment ago."
"Damnit, you sucker!" Dean yelled in no particular direction, "Drag your ass right here right now or next time I see you I'll fry it extra crispy!"
The younger hunter sat on his heels, eyeing his brother with concern.
"What did Cas do to you?" he asked warily. Dean winced at this suggestion.
"Cas? Wh...what? No! Gabe. He's back," he lifted his gaze from his brother, stood up and gestured with his head, urging Sam to come along, "Come on, Sammy. We need all the holy oil there is in the world. We're gonna go Colonel Sanders on this sonofabitch."
"Are you saying that Gabriel is alive?" Sam croaked, more flabbergasted every second. The older hunter did not seem to mind.
"Yeah. Dickhead's gonna regret he ever was, and I'm gonna get Cas back! You hear me, you wussy?" he turned to the ceiling, yelling even harder, "Whine all you want. I'm gonna get you back!"
This is where I'm gonna wind up this part. I am planning one more, in which Dean will have to pass a certain test devised by Gabriel - a plan including an alternate reality and Dean coping with his fear of chick-flick moments.
I do realize that this part may have been boring, but I hope you'll stay with me and see for yourselves if the third story is more entertaining. Don't forget to leave me a comment!