Sam had returned Dean's keys and, together with Cass in the back seat, they made the short return drive to the lakeside. As they neared the place where they'd left Mom and those from the other world, Dean looked back at Cass. When he'd gotten in, Cass had lain down, but now he stood crouched on the seat, the fur rising in a straight line along his spine from base of skull to tail, lips pulled back to reveal the full length of the killing fangs. He stared ahead, past Sam and Dean, past the windshield, and a rumble shook his chest, precursor to a growl or thunderous bark, one or the other or maybe both.
It was true that he had made this decision, but it looked a lot like his courage was failing him. The last time Dean could remember seeing that look was right before they slammed the lid down on the Apocalypse. After Cass had lit Michael on fire in a suicidal bid to give Dean time to get through to Sam. In the moment Lucifer had turned on him, and Cass had realized that he was about to be killed by an Archangel for the second time in less than a year.
More than death, Dean had the impression that it was Lucifer himself that frightened Cass. This belief was strengthened by the lengths Cass had gone to in his war with Raphael, lengths that in retrospect reeked of desperation and that same fear, a fear of the sheer power of the Archangels. It was not just a reboot of the Apocalypse that Cass had been out to end in that bloody war, it was the fear that had its hooks deep in his being, so deep he couldn't get it out on his own.
Dean sometimes wondered if that fear was also what had made Cass say Yes and let the Devil take the wheel. If it had been an attempt to purge the fear, or maybe because the fear of Lucifer was so great that saying No wasn't even an option. But Dean never let himself wonder long, because it was a train of thought that wouldn't led anywhere productive. Certainly it wouldn't do Cass any good.
The important thing right now was that Cass had the dread of a mortal being, one that more immediately felt the nearness of danger and death than any Angel, and perhaps any human. Whatever bits of Cass were left knew this was not the Lucifer who had hurt them all so much and, more importantly, knew it was his only chance at being restored. But Dean was beginning to have a fear of his own, which was that the nature of the dog would overcome the Angel's resolve in the critical moment, and the horror of the Devil's touch would prove to be more than Cass could withstand.
Or maybe Dean was just afraid it would be more than he could withstand. After all, Dean would have to stand by and watch, watch as Lucifer… did whatever the hell he truly intended. Watch without interfering.
Dean stopped the car, put it in park and cut the engine, then twisted around in his seat for a more direct look at Cass, who continued to crouch and bristle and make ominous sounds.
"Cass?" Dean spoke the name questioningly, but firmly, "You with us?"
Sam turned around to look when Dean spoke. He didn't seem too surprised by Cass's current behavior. Having been up close and extremely personal with Lucifer in a way he never spoke of, Sam knew better than anyone the crippling terror of being anywhere in proximity with that dark master of Hell.
"Cass?" Sam added his inquiry to Dean's, but his was much gentler.
The collie's laid back ears twitched at the sound of his name. Otherwise he was motionless except for his eyes, which moved to look first at Dean, then Sam. With obvious effort, he choked back the snarl. However, the fur's rebellion against this plan was a totally involuntary expression of his feelings on the matter, about which he could do little or nothing.
"I don't think he's gonna get any more ready," Sam ventured cautiously.
Realizing he himself hadn't moved, and that he would have to be the one to let the collie out, Dean jerked around to face the front, and said, "Right."
Getting out of the car was the easy part. Seeing that Other Lucifer waiting with his companions, knowing that in a moment he and Sam would be entrusting the life of the one Angel in all the world that Dean trusted and counted as a brother to that virtual stranger who wore the face of one of their most hated enemies… that was hard. Harder still was going to the back door, putting his hand on the release and realizing that, if Cass bolted this time, it was unlikely he would ever return. In a moment, Dean might lose his best friend forever, either to the Devil, or himself.
It wasn't the hardest thing Dean had ever had to do, which was proof of how absolutely batshit crazy his life really was… but just because there were more difficult things didn't mean this was easy.
Looking over top of the Impala and realizing that Mom had tentatively joined them and that she and Sam were watching him now made Dean take a deep breath and tell himself to just get it over with, one way or the other. He opened the door, and then there was nothing else for it but to stand back, watch, and hope.
The collie stepped down out of the Impala with an air of imperious regality that had never been in the nature of Castiel or his vessel. There was an effortlessness to the movements which belied the awkward unfamiliarity with this form evidenced previously. The combination of gusting wind and morning sunlight seemed to turn the tips of the burnished mahogany coat into flame, and there was a radiance to the white markings that had never belonged to a dog. In fact, Dean realized that the Other Castiel had given to the fur the same supernatural glimmering of his own feathers and those of Luke as well, almost as though he wanted to ensure that those with a discerning eye would always see the mark of an Angel when they looked upon the dog.
Castiel stopped and stood for a moment. Of his fear from mere moments before, there was no sign. For a few seconds, even in the cast of a collie, he was himself. He stood straight, regarding Luke with an impassive gaze that was neither friendly nor hostile, but merely respectfully matter-of-fact, acknowledging the necessity of this thing he had come to do without taking pleasure in it.
And then, with steel-nerved purpose, Castiel walked towards Luke, who had stepped away from his companions so that he stood alone. Luke's feathers were stirred by the wind, but he was still otherwise, making no move to close the gap between himself and Castiel. Dean knew Luke could be upon the Angel dog in an instant, but sensed that Cass's cooperation would make it all much easier for both of them.
There was no hesitation now. Though Dean seldom considered that Castiel was any older than he was himself, it was shown now in each step Cass took that narrowed the distance between himself and the other Angel, not as age but as agelessness. Cass had committed himself, and went without delay to meet either salvation or doom with a steadiness that befit a warrior who could remember back to that long ago day when feeble, squishy life had first crawled up from the depths of the ocean and oozed its way onto land, who could perhaps remember a time even before time.
Dean wondered idly, foolishly even, what that was like. He'd never know.
Castiel reached Luke and stood before him, a pitiably small mammal in the face of an otherworldly Angel of unknown and incomprehensible power. Dean knew Cass was intimidated, because he had seen as much earlier, but the Angel dog gave no sign of it now, gazing evenly up at Luke, no trace of anything but confidence in his stance. Even the low-held tail seemed only a signal of the solemn nature of this encounter, not any lingering doubt or fear.
As if on a mutually agreed upon signal that nobody else could detect, Castiel sat and Luke knelt down. At the same time, the Angel spread his wings, slicing the fierce gusts of wind into bewildered little zephyrs, and Dean had the undeniable impression that the Angel had just gestured for nature herself to be silent, for even the small breeze wandered away in a moment, leaving nothing but icy stillness.
Once satisfied that nature would be a respectful audience of his task, Luke reached out a hand and laid it on the shoulder of the collie. They were too far away to see if Cass flinched at the moment of contact. In the same second he touched the dog Angel, Luke folded his wings, not in their customary position at his shoulders and back, but forward so that they encompassed Cass, hiding both Angels from view behind a shimmer wall of white.
Dean felt his own resolve snap the instant Cass was out of sight. On impulse rather than the result of thought, he tried to move forward, to intervene, but Sam caught him by the arm and managed to restrain him. Dean flashed Sam a resentful glare, though he knew there was nothing he could do if that alternate reality Satan decided to simply disintegrate Cass instead of save him.
Evidently, the wings were for the protection of the humans, for they shielded human eyes from a direct view of a blinding flash of light, some of which nonetheless escaped over, under and around the wings. Dean winced, then blinked rapidly. His eyes hurt and his vision was full of enormous black floaty spots.
By the time his vision cleared, it was finished.
Luke unfurled his wings, to reveal himself and Castiel, both kneeling where they had been before. Luke was unchanged. But Cass… Dean felt an unexpected catch in his throat at the first thing he saw clearly, which was that stupid, worn out, beautiful trench coat. Luke withdrew his hand from Castiel's shoulder, then slowly stood and stepped back. He watched Castiel with expectant concern, and Dean realized that might not have been all there was to it.
After all, it had taken some time for the spell that made him physically a dog to finish chewing up Cass's mind and Angel powers… maybe the reverse was also true. Or maybe… Dean felt his gut start to tie itself in a knot… maybe it was possible to bring back Cass in form, but not in mind.
"Cass?" Dean called out involuntarily.
For a moment, Cass remained still, kneeling on the ground with head bowed. Then, slowly, he raised his head and turned to look at Dean. The blue eyes could have been anyone's. After all, they had been Jimmy Novak's first, and Lucifer had been in there once. But the look in them now, the spirit or whatever it was that lay behind them… that was Cass.
"Cass," Dean repeated without even realizing it, but this time there was nothing inquiring about it.
Turning to look up at Luke, Cass spoke in a voice that had grown rough, seemingly not from lack of use but simply due to a forgetfulness as to how to use it, "Thank you."
"No need for that," Luke replied gently, with a slight twitch of his properly folded wings, "It was the right thing to do," he held out a hand to help Cass to his feet.
After a moment's wary hesitation, Cass accepted the help, and it appeared to be a good thing too, because he was a trifle unsteady, which seemed only natural, seeing as he'd finally gotten used to being a creature with four legs instead of two, and being a physical creature was probably challenging enough when one was natively incorporeal. When Cass found his balance, Luke let him go.
Dean decided that the time for everyone to stand clear could safely be considered over, and he went to join Cass. Everyone else seemed to have the same idea, though nobody really knew what to do, so they just kind of milled around and stared awkwardly at each other for awhile.
It was actually the Other Dean who hit on the right idea, "Well this calls for a beer. Or several. Cassie?"
The Other Castiel was gone in a blink and flutter of wings, and back almost as quickly with two six packs. Dean decided not to question where the hell he'd gotten them, and grudgingly accepted the offering of one set of six packs. Dean still considered these otherworlders abhorrent, and he wanted them gone, but he recognized that this was sort of a completed job and that, for all their differences, these Winchesters from an alternate reality and their Angels had the same way of celebrating a completed job as his own family did.
Some of them settled on the hoods of the cars, some on the bench, the rest remained standing. For a little bit everyone just sort of toyed with their beer bottles, but the Other Dean came through again, addressing Sam, Dean, Mom and Cass as he said, "Well here's to never seeing you four again."
Annoyingly, Dean found himself agreeing with… himself.
"Yeah, same to you," he grunted, then the two Deans drank to that sentiment and everyone else followed their example, whether they fully agreed with it or not.
While the two Deans pretended they weren't participating in a grudge drinking match, and Mom preoccupied herself with asking the Angels about their alternate reality, Sam and his counterpart both sort of accidentally on purpose drifted back to the edge of the lake, and their prior conversation.
"So, I don't think Dean gets it, not yet anyway, but… I realize you didn't have to stay. You didn't have to come find us, or make things right for Cass," Sam said, "So… thank you. Really."
His counterpart merely shrugged, "It may have been on my brother's order that Cass got hurt, but it wouldn't have happened if Dean hadn't been looking for me. Which wouldn't have happened if Luke and I hadn't been fighting," he sighed, "Family, right?"
Thinking of all the things he and Dean had done here in this reality for and because of each other, Sam was forced to acknowledge that he understood. Sometimes doing for family meant going into dark places, doing things that weren't necessarily good, and sometimes there was an effect like chain lightning, where one thing led to another and next thing you knew you wound up unleashing something monstrous and getting the people around you caught up in the crossfire.
Yes, Sam understood.
"Anyway," his counterpart was continuing, "We don't always get the chance to undo the damage we've done. But this time we did. And, eventually, my brother is going to see that. Once he's finished being angry, then he'll start feeling guilty. And then..."
"And then you Hunt," Sam interrupted, "Yeah. I know."
"I guess some things are the same in any reality."
"I guess so," Sam admitted.
They were silent for a few moments, just letting the beer sink in, watching the day unfold across the water, each occupied by his own thoughts. Then the Sam from that other reality finally spoke again.
"What would you do?" he asked, "If you were me. About Luke, I mean."
Sam had known he would ask, though he'd half-hoped he wouldn't. But the question had been asked now, and Sam knew the answer, much as it went against everything in him. It was another Lucifer, from a different reality, one who had just saved this world's Cass, when he had nothing to gain from it. True, he'd done it at the behest of his Master, but Sam got the impression that Luke had also wanted to.
But… it was still a Lucifer, even if it was not the one Sam had been trapped in Hell with.
Thus, it was nearly impossible for him to speak. But he did, because he felt that it was right.
"I'd say Yes," Sam paused, composing himself after that monumentally difficult sentence, "Anything else would be a lie. Love isn't just some... amorphous feeling. It's about having a choice, a voice to say Yes or No with. It's about trusting each other, and not running off at the first sign of trouble or if you get bored or have a disagreement over something stupid. It's about caring more about them than yourself. No strings attached. No magic artifact. No servant, no master. Anything else… it's not worth having. So," Sam exhaled sharply, "Yeah. I'd say Yes."