Chapter 5: A Bit of Dean

Dean would be lying if he said he had his head on straight. In fact, he'd be the first in the long line of naysayers who thought he was quite the dumbass on the regular. Dean gets this, he knows he has his faults: emotionally unavailable, the drinking, the anger, etc. He's kind of fucked up, and he gets it.

But this? With Sam? God damn it, Dean didn't know which foot the shoe was on and if up was down or down was up. 90% of him was depressed that Sam said yes, 9% was pissed, and the last 1% was confused and doubtful. The whoever was riding Sam was painfully in character. The puppy dog eyes, the woeful glances, the sniping bitch faces, all were there and not a hair out of place. How could he have been so blind to it? He wrote off the weird actions after the church as side effects of killing Lilith and setting Satan free; the twitches, the alarmed and panicked look in his eyes, the hocus pocus during the first part of River Pass.

But then the shooting happened and Sam's eyes glowed. Not just the pupil, the whole eye. They burned with a power that shook Dean to his core and he was certain he was staring at his death in the face.

But then Lucifer healed all those folks, grew a bunch of fuckin trees, then had the nerve to give him those sad eyes like Dean was supposed to roll over for it like it wasn't wearing his Sammy like a skin suit.

So Dean had taken off, peeling out of River Pass in the Impala and swearing revenge. He left a bag behind, his nagging older brother instincts raging at him until he did. He went to Bobby and got him out of the hospital, took him home. Gave him the story of what happened while Bobby cursed up a storm. The two then got cracking on how to push an angel out of its vessel, but nothing came up. Dean hit the road after a week of nothing, his feet itching and his heart aching.

He hit a couple of hunts, got thrown around, chugged back more booze in those few weeks than he had all year, just so that he didn't have to acknowledge the situation for a few hours at a time.

During everything he was aware of how painfully alone he was; Bobby was out of commission, Sam was possessed, Cas was dead and he was one man against the entire forces of Heaven and Hell.

And it sucked major ass.

Dean was on the tail end of a hunt when something wondrous happened, something that flared a small spark of hope in his dying soul.

He was washing the dirt and blood of his face in the motel sink when he looked up and Castiel was there, looming like a fucking creep.

Scared the shit out of him. And Dean would later deny the high pitched yell he let out or the curses or the flinging anything within grabbing distance at the angel. Cas stood there, saying "Dean" over and over again like a broken record whenever a lamp, phone, or (ironically enough) Bible hit him in the face. Of course the angel wasn't affected at all, just stood there like a fucking statue waiting for Dean to calm down. Asshole.

"Where the absolute FUCK have you been?!" Dean roared at him after calming down. "We've been out here getting our asses kicked and you've been what?! Sipping fucking margaritas by the pool? What the FUCK!?"

Cas looked at Dean like he was a dumbass. Of course, his face didn't move and inch, but Dean could feel it.

"I was dead, Dean." Was all he said.

"Then how are you back?" Dean asked, putting down the toilet paper rack that he had been aiming to throw next.

"God did it, Dean." Dean was quite for a long time, processing that bomb of information.

"You're shitting me."

"I need your help," Cas stared him down, not shooting the shit.

"With?" Dean practically wheezed out.

"I need an amulet, it is very rare and very powerful. It burns hot in the presence of God."

"And what? Going to zap around trying to find him?"

"Yes. With His help we can end the apocalypse."

"Cas," Dean groused, "I don't know what you saw or heard when you came back, but don't you think that if God wanted to end the apocalypse he woulda stuck around after bringing you back? Not fuck off to timbucktwo?"

"That's why I need to find Him." Cas rebutted. Dean raised an eyebrow and the angel hesitated for a long moment. "I sensed something was… off."

"Off?!"

"Something is wrong and I need to find Him, Dean. I need that amulet."

"Well, I don't know if you know this, Cas, but i don't exactly have God emfs laying around," Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the pounding headache that accompanied this conversation.

"You do, Dean." Cas looked pointedly down to Dean's chest. Then it clicked.

"Oh Hell no,"

"Dean-"

"No! Fuck you, Cas, do you even know whats going on? It's a literal shit show down here and we don't have time to go on a wild goose chase, looking for a God who went out for a pack of cigs and never came back." Dean ran both hands through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart and racing thoughts. "Sam said Yes, Cas." he said, his voice horse and barely above a whisper.

It was quiet for a long moment.

"No he didn't." Cas looked like Dean had just told him pigs could fly.

"Bullshit!"

"Dean, every angel would feel the exact moment Lucifer takes his vessel. Even now I can feel his presence, he is not hiding himself. Lucifer is currently circling a possible vessel, and it is not Sam." Castiel informed. His head tilted, eyes squinting at Dean, "Why do you think Sam has said yes?"

Dean recounted everything that happened in River Pass, and all the other weird little things that he had noted since their exit of the church. Castiel looked concerned by the end.

"Sam is not being possessed by Lucifer, nor is he being possessed by anyone with allegiance to Heaven. There would be chatter if Sam had said yes to any of my siblings."

"Is it possible he said yes to a rogue angel, someone who aint so hot for the apocalypse?"

"... It is possible."

.

.

.

"Shit,"

"Dean-"

"SHIT!" there was a crash of broken glass as Dean threw the closest thing -another lamp- across the room. One hand rubbed through his hair as he paced the room, overthinking everything that had happened.

"Fuck, i gotta- I gotta call him. I have to call him now." he said, grabbing up his cell.

"Dean-"

"NO! Cas, you dont- you dont fucking get it. Damnit, damnit, DAMNIT!" Dean hollered at the call as it went straight to voicemail. He tried again, and again, and again. "Sam, please, call me as soon as you get this." He said after the beeped the 6th time, flipping the phone shut after.

He blazed through the room, throwing his shit into bags and holstering his guns. Cas intercepted him as he went to leave.

"Dean, i need the amulet now." He said, his stare penetrating Dean.

"And I need to find my brother." Dean all but growled back, his gaze challenging. There was a stare down for a long moment, both unwilling to back down. It was Dean who caved, huffing angrily as he pulled off his amulet and handed it over, demanding that Cas return it in perfect condition.

With that, Castiel flew off, leaving nothing but a breeze in his wake. Dean hauled out the door and got into the Impala, pointing it towards Bobby's.

The kid could make some Goddamn awful decisions, but Dean'ed be damned if he'd let him do it alone.

He got back to Bobby's in record time. The old man was up and walking with a walking stick for short periods of time, regaining the strength in his legs. Sometimes Dean would wheel him around in the chair, but those moments were few and far between.

With new information, the two delved into a new research frenzy, trying to figure out what angel was riding Sam's bones. Dean went out on a hunt or two, but in all they did not find much.

But one day Castiel showed up, looking frazzled.

"He was here, on Earth, they all felt Him. He was right there and I missed Him-"

"Wait wait wait, slow your roll, Cas," Dean held up his hands from where he was sitting next to one of Bobby's desks. "Who are you talking about?"

"God, Dean." Cas said impatiently.

"So God was on Earth? What the hell was he doing, checking the tourist traps?" Bobby butted in from where he was sitting in his chair. Castiel gave them both a frustrated look.

"Wait, did this happen just now?"

"No, Dean. It was a few weeks back. There was a smiting in Norman, Oklahoma. A man's soul was sent to Hell. The angels have it now for questioning, but it was undoubtedly God who had done it." Castiel said with conviction. "And that is not all," He strode forward, pulling out a map from his trench coat and laying it flat on the desk between them all. Several locations were ticked with red marks. There was a star next to Norman, Oklahoma.

Castiel pointed to another location, some small town about 300 miles away from Norman.

"Here there was a mass smiting of demons. Over two dozen remains were found, all with traces of His Grace."

"Shit,"

"And here," he pointed to the opposite side of the map. "Is where a woman, Tracy Smithen, turned up. She had been possessed by a demon, God smote it."

Castiel pointed to a few other random locations on the map, pointing out other odds and ends that he believed were signs from the big man himself.

"Wait wait wait, this hospital here, that was the one me and Sam went to after our confrontation with Zacharia in the storage room." Dean said.

Castiel nodded, "All residents of the hospital were healed of any and all ailments. Even those with terminal injuries or diseases were completely healthy within 24 hours."

"Damn, talk about a friggin miracle." Dean huffed.

"So what's he doin' down here besides the random smiting and healin'? There are no patterns to these events, Smithen was found on the opposite side of the country to the demons and the exploded bar was nowhere near them either. We can't tell where he'll be next." Bobby put in.

Castiel was silent for a long moment, staring at the map before looking up to them.

"I have a plan,"

"This is a shitty plan." Dean hissed from the doorway, peeking out to keep a lookout. Castiel shushed him and kept drawing a circle around the disabled man in the wheelchair.

Castiel's brilliant plan: stalk an archangel's vegetated vessel and see if they can force said archangel to hand over the soul God threw to Hell. Cas had a bottle of holy oil that he spread in a circle around the man and was chanting into his ear, calling for Raphael to appear.

Obviously he didn't, because when did things ever go easy for them? They waited all day and the angel didn't show.

But he did later, in the little ramshackle house they'd been squatting in. The entrance was pretty cool, but Dean wasn't going to admit it.

"I mean, I thought you were supposed to be impressive. All you do is black out the room?" Dean snarked, looking around.

"And the eastern seaborge," Raphael's voice rumbled like the thunder outside.

Then there were threats, Raphael threatening to take him to Michael to be worn like the fanciest angel condom, and listing some of the greatest hits from that asshole Zachariah.

If Dean was honest, the shocked look on the bastard's face when he light the holy oil satisfied something deep in Dean's soul. Dean didn't know when he got so good at reading the normally stoic angels, but a part of him could just feel the edge of fear in the archangel when the fire flicked too close to him, even if the vessel's face gave nothing away.

He filed it away for later, focusing on the two angels facing off in front of him.

"Where is He?" Castiel demanded, glaring holes in the other's face.

"God?" Raphael raised an eyebrow at the seraph, "Haven't you heard? He's dead, Castiel."

"That's a lie." Castiel all but hissed. He moved closer to the ring, "He is here, He is present. You know this." Raphael glared at Cas, not speaking. "He smote a horde of demons, and cast a soul to Hell. His presence was felt by all."

"You were dead, how would you know?"

Castiel was quite a long time, shuffling from foot to foot.

"He was the one to resurrect me." he said slowly. The other angel tilted his head up, looking down at Castiel.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe Lucifer raised you?" Raphael said, his words low and damning. Dean felt more than saw how Cas stiffened, frustration rolling off the younger angel.

"No,"

"Think about it, he needs all the rebellious angels he can find. You know it adds up."

It was quiet again, Castiel shifting on his feet in an all too human gesture of conflict.

"He spoke to me."

"What?" Raphael's voice was flat and disbelieving. Castiel looked him straight in the eye.

"He spoke to me." Castiel repeated. Raphael edged closer to the edge of the fire, an intense look on his face as he stared the seraph down.

"What did he say?" came out in a horse whisper.

"... He told me all would be well."

Raphael's vessel was deadly still, Dean could taste the desperation and longing coming from him, the intensity of the emotions pushing at his sides until he backed up, as if distance would help.

The mood in the room had gone from hostile to something far more intense in .5 seconds and Dean's head was reeling from it. He felt like an outsider looking in at a picture he didn't quite understand and was grasping at straws to piece together.

"That is not all," Castiel continued, looking troubled. "... when He spoke to me… He… He did not seem well."

"What do you mean?" Raphael demanded, almost pressed to the edge of the circle, uncaring of the flames that flickered at the edge of his grace. His focus was on the other angel, the one who saw Father, the one He chose to speak to after all these years. A spark of jealousy flared in Raphael, one that rubbed against the raw shards inside him where his family used to be. Centuries of practice made it easy to push down, cram into the little dark corners to forget.

The younger angel in front of him looked a mess, his wings whole but unkempt, feathers in disarray. His vessel looked worn and dirty, as if the seraph had been so distracted by everything he forgot to maintain it. The stern facade from before melted away and Raphael could see the lost and frightened edge to him now, the concern as he spoke of Father.

"His grace was different, I know it was Him, but it felt… fractured."

"Explain," Raphael demanded, feeling the fright in Castiel mirroring within himself. The thought of Father being injured or fractured shook something within him. It was an impossible, horrible thought. The Father, the one who was held so high up He was untouchable to all.

All but His first born.

Raphael remembered a time where it was just them, the five of them together. So tightly wound around and within one another that if someone told him where they'd all be now he'd think them quite insane. But there they were, with a splintered, broken family. It hurt him, deeply, and Raphael had long ago learned to lock away his love and care in the deepest pits of himself. Where it couldn't be hurt any more than it already was.

"It was His Grace but it felt like much of it was missing. He looked injured, like His Grace had been shredded." Castiel said softly, like the words alone would poison him.

The image he painted, of their Father hurt, disturbed him to the very core of his being.

He stared Castiel in the eye, daring him to lie to him. It was quiet for a long moment, but he could feel nothing within Castiel that would hint at deception. Something clicked within Raphael, his internal compass turning on its axis into a new direction.

"Let me out."

"Hell no,"

Raphael looked over at Dean, who had backed up to lean against the far wall.

"We ain't letting you run around, causing destruction, just 'cuz you found out your daddy's not feeling well. Or did you forget you're the mooks who started the apocalypse while the old man was out."

"This is my Father you are speaking of, you will let me out of here so I may find him." Raphael snarled, at the end of his patience with the human. The human shifted, foot to foot, but did not back down from glaring at him. Raphael had to admit, his brother's vessel was just as stubborn as he was. The strength within him was begrudgingly admirable, and he had to send a quick prayer of good luck to Micheal in getting his vessel to say yes.

"If we let you out, you must promise to leave here, no confrontation or manipulation. Dean remains." Castiel spoke, his voice firm. Raphael gave him an irritated look. "Swear it to your Grace and I will let you go."

"Cas-" the seraph shushed Dean's protest.

The archangel growled to himself, displeased at the turn of events. However, his priorities lie with finding his Father, not fighting a falling seraph and one human. He nodded.

Castiel grabbed a bucket of water that had been laying off to the side and doused the flames. When they were snuffed, Raphael stepped out from the burnt out ring, his wings stretching out behind him from where they had been cramped in close to not touch the fire.

Both angel and human looked at him warily, and he felt a flare of indignation at their presumption that he'd go back on his word.

"One last thing," Castiel said, prompting Raphael to raise a brow. "The human, the one Father cast down, I need to speak with him."

"No."

Castiel's wings ruffled in frustration.

"Listen here," Dean spoke up, moving to stand next to Castiel, "Cas here was the one your dad decided to bring back. Out of all the angels to pick from, he chose Cas, the only angel openly rebelling against the apocalypse. That says something, don't you think?" he challenged, arms crossing. "And who knows, maybe he'll pick up on something you guys haven't."

Raphael stared blankly.

Then flew off.

"Fuckin' bastard."

Days later, Dean got tossed through the shitter.

Again.

Goddamn Zachariah. He couldn't wait to wring his smarmy little neck.

Waking up in 2014 wasn't his idea of a good time, the damn croatoan infected people running after his ass even less so. But he got through it, hunted down the survivors at Camp Chitaqua, got his head knocked in and tied up by his future self.

So, you know. Eventful day.

His dipshit other self left him there though, so that kinda sucked.

Dean struggled for a hot second, grating his fingernail against the wood until he could grab up a nail and use it to pick open the lock. He stood from where he had been sitting, rubbing at his wrist to get the feeling back in it. He made his way to the door and got out.

He wasn't outside for two goddamn seconds before something weird happened.

Future Chuck came speed walking up to him, clutching a clipboard and looking skittish.

That look melted away when he got close to Dean.

The skittish look melted away, a sharp, calculating look taking its place. Dean shuffled from foot to foot, feeling like a bug under a microscope.

"Interesting," Chuck mumbled, mainly to himself, his head tilting to the side in an alarmingly familiar gesture. "You're not supposed to be here. Not yet." Dean jumped on that.

"Uh, yeah no! I'm not from here here, i'm from-"

"An alternate dimension." Chuck cut in, the sharp look not leaving.

"-Wait what?"

"Someone sidestepped you. Who?"

"Zachariah." Dean said slowly, not really getting what was going on. An odd sensation filled his chest when he had first seen Chuck, one that oozed familiarity and something else he couldn't name. It freaked him out a bit.

"Why?"

"Uh, i'm guessing to see how bad the future will be, ya know, say yes to Michael and all that crap."

Chuck hummed, his arms crossing.

"You ok?" Dean asked slowly, his eyes scrunched at the smaller man.

Chuck shrugged, rubbing a hand against his forehead.

Dean was (still) completely flabbergasted.

The Prophet sighed, "It'll be ok, Dean. Just, do what you do. It'll work itself out."

"I still don't understand what you're on, man." Dean shook his head at the smaller man, the tug in his chest pulling harder. Chuck smiled then, a small sad smile.

"You will."

So, big yikes given from Mr Prophet Man, but Dean was pretty good at shaking weird shit off. Not that it was difficult given the crazy shit that happened next.

For one, Cas was Buddhist? And having orgies. Dean gave the angel props to finally getting the stick from his ass, but it was weird as hell.

Also, Future Dean was an absolute asshole. Like, 11 outta 10 asshole and Dean hoped he never fell to that level of dickishness.

It also made him acutely aware of his own behavior, both now and in the past. It made the ache within him to find Sam all the stronger.

Next: going after Lucifer, the trap, Future Dean knowing about the trap and willingly sending his people to die.

Dean didn't know how to describe how he felt when he realized just how far gone his future self was. It was like he went numb from the inside out, nothing left but a dull, painful, disbelieving throb in his chest. It took looking into the cold eyes of his other self for Dean to come to a resolution.

Come Hell or high water, Dean would do whatever it took to never become the man that stood in front of him.

Never.

...Figures as soon as he had a life affirming moment he'd get sucker punched and knocked unconscious.

Dean woke up with a groan, his head killing him. But the sound of gunfire didn't let him recover, he was up and following the sound quickly. Which led him face to face with Lucifer, who had just snapped the neck of his Future self.

Dean had a hard time finding any grief for that.

"Oh. Hello, Dean."

Ah, shit.

Thunder and lightning crackled dramatically overhead as Lucifer talked, and kept talking. Lamenting about Sam being his vessel and spewing the whole 'Sympathy for the Devil' shit like mouth diarrhea. Dean had a hard time concentrating, replying on autopilot whenever needed.

Besides the ache in his head, the dull throb in his chest from before had yet to go away. He swore he could feel the ache creeping up in his body, stronger and more painful the closer Lucifer got to him.

Thud… thud… thud…

"Do you know why God cast me down?"

It was drumming in his ears, behind his eyes. In time with his heart, it grew as his adrenaline spiked. Louder and louder, until he was surprised he could hear what Lucifer was saying at all.

"Look at what 6 Billion of you have done to this thing..."

It hurt, burning in a cold way, across his chest and up his neck and behind his eyes until Dean could think of nothing else. Was Lucifer doing this to him? Was he holding him here with his powers, hurting him and forcing him to say. Schakeling him in place. Detained? Captured? Confined…?

"We will always end up… here."

IMPRISONED?

The thought echoed outward, his mind and the thrumming going quiet.

"Dean?"

Sam's voice. But not.

Layered with grace, another being's voice resonating on a frequency that humans could not hear.

Dean's eyes snapped open -when had they closed- and looked at Lucifer.

'Y O U ' G'

Lightning crackled once more, the smell of ozone strong in the air, and then Lucifer was gone.

It was like an immense pressure suddenly lifted from him, like he was a thousand leagues under the ocean and suddenly brought to sea level. The thudding, heavy feeling faded and he was able to breathe again, gasping for breath. Dean didn't move for a long time, just standing there, breathing in and wondering what the fuck just happened?

Dean was thwarted from figuring this out by the dick bag known as Zachariah, who zapped him back home with three clicks of his ruby slippers.

Dean had a great time telling him where to shove it. He didn't look too happy about it though, and just when Dean was absolutely certain he was about to get the angel version of a cosmic wedgie, Cas swooped in like a knight in beige armor and saved his ass.

"Holy shit, Cas, you will not believe the day I've had."

"It's night time, Dean."

"Yeah, well, it's been a day for me." Dean replied, giving a quick summary of what went down earlier. Ending with his weird encounter with the alternate Lucifer and how he felt suffocated by it.

"It's well within his powers to do something like that, Dean. I am not surprised he used his Grace to keep you in place while you two spoke."

"Pff, you make it sound like we had a conversation. It was more like i just stood there and he monologued about how he was the victim." Dean snorted, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. He tried Sam's phone again, and it went straight to voicemail. He cursed to himself, and then to Sam, wondering if his phone being off was a sign of trouble or just Sammy going off to sulk a bit more.

He turned to Castiel.

"We need to find Sam," he stated, holding up a hand when Cas went to speak, "I helped you with Raphael, now it's your turn to help me."

"Finding God will stop the Apocalypse, Dean." the angel said slowly. Dean's jaw clenched tightly.

"It'd be faster if he was here."

"I don't doubt it, Dean. But there is an urgency to finding God that trumps the need to find your brother."

Dean was quiet for a long moment before he spoke next, his voice strong and sure.

"Not to me."