(Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Thanks for the favorite, follows, and review. Since there's a few people that want me to continue, I'll try to so.)

Summary: AU. Dean had just thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again.

Chapter One: To Hell With it, Let's Wing it

. . . .

Dean eventually found his way to Sam; he just hoped he remembered how to find his room again, but he supposed that that was the least of his problems because he really had to piss. Like bad. However, he wasn't about to ask Sam where it was because he knew how'd that play out. It wouldn't end very well. Instead, he'd wait for Sam to go, and then he'd go after. Also, there's the problem that he always seemed to freeze momentarily upon looking over at his brother, just like what happened when he found the kitchen.

He tensed up for a few moments, allowing Sam some time to glance up from his breakfast and make a face. "You sure you're alright, Dean?" His younger brother asked, clearly worried.

He mentally shook himself, and he placed on a smirk. "Yup, just had a long night I guess. If you want, I'll tell you all about it. It was real…"

Sam cut him off. "No, I'm fine. I'd rather not know what you did last night." He turned his eyes away, taking a bite of food in the process.

"Suit yourself, Sammy." He simply said, moving his chair back with one hand, and with the other he brought his food close as he sat down. He could only guess that what this Dean did was similar to what he did. He also thought the place seemed only to be occupied by the two of them, but he wasn't really too sure. Soon his stomach won over the thinking, so he took a bite of the eggs and nearly choked on them. It wasn't that they were bad, man they were great, so good that he had to limit how fast he ate them. During the apocalypse, eggs were a luxury, so was any food now that he mentioned it. And so was pretty much anything else.

After he finished, he grabbed his plate and went to put it in the sink. He stretched out his hand, inches from the handle on the sink, and without another delay, he turned it, getting cold water rushing out. He blinked. That's awesome! Running water was so great, and he instantly thought of taking a shower whenever Sam unintentionally showed him where the bathroom was. He rinsed his dishes, setting them down and turning off the water. He leaned against the counter after, crossing his arms and watching as his brother took out his laptop. Sam always loved that thing, and he hated it when Dean used it. He almost chuckled, but concealed it just in time. He studied Sam more closely this time, trying to find even a hair out of place that would indicate Lucifer was still in his head. So far, he found nothing.

Hope blossomed in his chest without his consent. He couldn't be a hundred percent certain that this was his brother, but it sure as hell looked like it, and it sorta felt like it. However, an inkling scratched at his brain, making him nervous. Maybe the Trickster was up to no good again? He certainly hoped not. He only saw that son of a bitch a few times anyway. However, he would feel a whole lot better if he had someone who could see into Sam and through images created by the Trickster, which would mean that he needed an angel, and not just one of them, but the one that got him here in the first place. He hated that he had to rely on an angel's assistance, even the thought made him glare. He wiped it off and cleared his throat.

Sam drew his eyebrows together. "What is it?"

Dean shrugged. "You know, I was just wondering about things, and I guess… Uh…" Shit, those eyes. He looked so much like Sam that he wanted to hug the kid, but he knew how awkward that would suddenly get. He paused at the other look Sam was giving him; it was turning slightly impatient, probably because he was trying to work on something at the moment, so the older Winchester forced it out as casually as he could. "Where's Cass?"

Sam raised a brow this time. "We haven't seen him in weeks. Why are you bringing him up now?"

Dean said. "Guess I'm just curious-" He almost tacked on "about the feathery dick," but he stopped it. He tilted his head to the side quickly then it returned to its original position, moving his shoulders in a shrug along with it. "Well, it doesn't matter right now… I'm going to look at some books." He walked the way he had come before a disbelieving expression formed on Sam's face. He had seen a place filled with books before when he was looking for the kitchen. That was a good enough place to start looking for the bathroom, not really, but he might as well try since Sam was taking forever, and he really wanted the bathroom - well he really needed it now.

All he noticed were books and more books, and with each book that came within his vision, his jaw tightened. He was about to walk past a tower of books when he heard footsteps; on instinct, he ducked behind the books, blade instantly in his hand. Eyes narrowing on the doorway, he prepared to launch himself at his foe, but when Sam appeared and Dean realized it was just him, he stumbled to catch himself, only managing to slide on a book. He flailed to stop gravity from taking over, accidentally snagging on the mountain of books, and everything flung everywhere, even his knife and gun got displaced, and he was left unarmed and sprawled across the floor. He propped himself onto his elbows just as Sam came over and helped him to his feet the rest of the way.

To cover up the mishap, Dean gritted out. "We really need a housekeeper or a maid, you know like one dressed like the chick in Clue, with the-"

"Dude, I don't need the visual." Sam said, and Dean grinned, holding back his discomfort with it, while he eyed the floor. Under a few of the books, he spied his gun and grabbed it fast, placing it back in its place on him. Now he just had to locate his trusty blade. It has been with him as long as the apocalypse had lasted; he found it hidden somewhere in a building he had raided. He was about to turn the whole place upside down when Sam bent down, digging around in the books and picking up the weapon. He gently placed his finger to the blade. Almost seeming like he was speaking to himself, his voice began, "I've never seen this before." He took his hand away from the blade when he realized it was extremely sharp. He offered the weapon over to his older brother. Instead of asking what he wanted to, Sam went with. "You know that you don't have to carry those around with you here, right? It's kind of warded."

"Pft, yeah," Dean nodded and tried to hide his disbelief, taking the knife back. "Course I did, Sam, what, we've been here for like forever?" Winging it, not sure that's how you ace it, but he was trying.

Sam's face showed his suspicion. "Yeah, sure, whatever you say Dean." He shook his head and walked off. After a moment, Dean became his shadow from at least three feet behind him. Now that's a shadow fit for Gigantor over there. Dean stifled a laugh. He made note of the door and made his way to his bedroom, grabbing a clean pair of clothes. Once he made it back to the bathroom door, or at least what he hoped was the bathroom and not Sammy's room, cause that would be hard to explain. He shook his head, waiting and waiting. He placed his ear against the wall and heard running water, and he jumped back as it was shut off and the door opened.

"Heya, Sammy, got everything cleaned up princess?"

Sam made yet another face at him, and Dean couldn't help the laugh. It sounded strange, even to himself. It's been forever since he had the chance to even smile let alone laugh loudly.

"Come on, you were in there for awhile, what else would I say?"

"Normal people don't go around saying that, you know."

"You do know who you're talking to right?" Dean smirked. "I'm Dean-frigging-Winchester, part of the Winchester family, and everyone knows that we aren't normal." He clapped him on the shoulder to move him out of the way. "Later we'll braid that hair, okay?" The last time he saw "his brother" he had shorter hair, so he found that strange, not really; it just looked different than what he was used to.

He closed the door behind him and locked it. He leaned against the door, sagging a bit and running a hand through his hair. Was he overdoing it? He turned his eyes to the shower, placing his clothes on the toilet seat; it was closed, mind you, because if it wasn't that would royally suck. As he looked into the mirror, he turned his head this way and that. His face wasn't covered in dirt and grime like before Cass showed up to transport him here, and neither were his arms. They were both unusually clean. Then, he pulled off his shirt and discovered the dirt all over his torso. Well, he was as dirty as he thought he was supposed to be.

He undressed and went into the shower, turning on the hot water as far as it could go. His previous worries left him as soon as the water hit him. Man did he miss indoor plumbing, hot water, and electricity. During the apocalypse, there was no electricity in any houses anymore, and with Lucifer clearing cities off the map, plumbing was a rarity because staying put meant death. The best way to survive would to continue running, never stopping to smell the roses, but there's only so much running a person could do. He let out a sigh, brushing his hair out of his face. He and his camp had done that a few times in hope that they could surprise the Devil with numbers they would get if they ran to another place or maybe they'd get really lucky and find something to gank his ass. Dean wasn't that optimistic.

He knew he was running from his mistakes, running so he didn't have to face Sam. He had let his brother down when it was the most important. He dipped his head, letting the water roll down his back. Yeah, this already beats the apocalypse. Dean moved his head so the water hit his face. It was scalding hot, but he didn't mind. He actually appreciated the steaming water. He liked a lot of things here, he found himself discovering. Yeah, this place wouldn't make it without power because from what he seen, they wasn't really windows. This place would have been pitch black without the lights, and it would be a bitch to supply candles for the entire place. Even at his small camp and the tiny rooms, it was difficult to light them a little bit or to even find good candles. Sometimes they found a lantern, but that was only once in a blue moon.

He focused his attention onto the water again, letting it wash over him like it was the last time he'd ever be in a working shower again. Actually, he couldn't help but feel that this was a dream or he'd be sent back tonight and realize that this was never going to be his. He guessed he had to enjoy it while it lasted, and enjoy he did. He stayed in the shower until the water reached a temperature that was almost chilling him to the bone, and then, he waited a few minutes to make sure.

Finally, he pulled himself out of the shower, dressed, and wiped a hand on the mirror, meeting his own eyes staring back. He thought there was something left unsaid- like How was this possible? What time did the angel send him? The past? Another future? Why him of all people? - but he couldn't pull himself to ask himself anything. He didn't want to know the answer, so he gathered up his semi-dirty and ruined clothes, and he left the bathroom. After he put his clothes in what he presumed was his clothes basket, he made his way to find Sam. He checked the kitchen first, still holding his towel that he was drying his hair with, and saw him. He placed the towel on his head and ruffled up the soaked hair. "Find anything good?" Sam was zoned in on his laptop, so Dean withdrew his towel from his head, bundled it up, and whipped him with it.

"Dude, seriously?" Sam basically yelled at him since he was fumbling with keeping the laptop on the table instead of on the floor.

Dean played it off like it wasn't his fault by letting a small smirk form. "What did I do?" He paused and added. "Come on, Sammy, stop whining. It didn't hurt." He made his way to lean against the counter by the sink again. He went back to drying his hair, both of them being silent now until Sam said.

"Who's the princess now?"

"Huh," Dean raised a brow, uncovering his face. He realized what Sam just hinted to, so he glared faintly. "Shut up."

"You can dish it out, but you can't take it?"

Dean could even hear the tiny bit of arrogance in his younger brother's voice. "I can handle it just fine." That expression in his brother's face made Dean scowl.

"Can you, Dean, can you really?"

If Dean wasn't so happy to converse with Sam like before everything hit the fan, he would reach over and strangle the kid. He did the next best thing; he threw the towel at his face and smirked triumphantly when it shut Sam up. "Sure can Sammy." He winked at his brother. "Always can."

Sam just presented him with a smile. Dean saw his younger brother again - not Lucifer- and he smiled back. It was wiped off when Sam told him, joking. "Keep telling yourself that."

It took Dean a moment then he rolled his eyes. "Alright, what's the case," he changed the subject.

"Oh, uh," Sam turned to the screen, putting the towel beside it. "It doesn't really say much besides a few abandoned cars… The passengers were nowhere to be found after they had these 'supposed' crashes."

"Doesn't sound like it's really our thing." Dean cocked a brow at him.

"There was a frantic call from one of the victims before she died." He clicked the video (it was Facetime or whatever so they could see the girl), moving the screen over so Dean could look easier. "It seems like what we go after."

Dean agreed. "Well, what are we waiting for?" His feet stalled. "I'll just wait outside, Sam."

Sam nodded. "I'll get the stuff."

Dean and Sam moved. Dean went to head out of the kitchen; Sam began to pack away his laptop. Dean paused before leaving though. He could just feel eyes on his back. "What," he snapped accidentally.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Dean turned to face him. His arms crossed over his chest. "I don't know, am I?" He face showed his slight annoyance when Sam didn't answer him right away. Perks from being the "Captain" of a group for years. "Okay, what am I missing? I'm not playing 50 Questions with you right now."

Sam pointed to the counter, and Dean followed his finger. He saw keys. "It's out front." For a second, Dean made no move to get the keys, but when he went to go for it, Sam already beat him to it, dropping it in his hands.

Dean immediately turned on his heels and went to find the exit, which he guessed was near the library area and up the staircase to the door on the balcony. Luckily, he guessed right, and he mentally flipped off the bunker. Me 1, whatever this place is none, Dean beamed, opened the door and went out, all the while hoping Sam didn't have some cheap new jellybean car. He made it outside, and what he saw made his grin widen. He approached the black beauty, placing his hand along side its door. He traced the exterior, glancing in the window and whistled. "I can't believe you're up and running baby." Yeah, he had his one at home, somewhere, but it was rundown into the ground since it was far too expensive to get up to date, so to speak, and the gas was outrageous. "I can't believe you're Sam's car."

"Actually, dad left it for you." Sam's voice made him jump. Apparently he was ogling the car for a while because Sam had two full duffel bags in his hands. He put one duffel in the backseat, and the other one was still in his hands as he went to the back of the car. Dean didn't need to be told what to do; he just opened it for Sam, and both his eyebrows shot up at all the weapons in the truck. Damn, how was the duffel supposed to fit? Dean had no idea.

He went to the passenger side, not entirely sure if this was a time that he allowed Sam to drive his car. "So are you driving or what?"

Sam closed the trunk and replied. "You usually drive."

Dean went to the other side then, not missing the look from Sam. Sam was suspecting something was up, Dean was sure, but he didn't really care at the moment. He opened the door, but before he sat down Sam tossed something at him. It was a dark blue-gray jacket. He hadn't realized he forgot one, so he quickly donned it over his black shirt. "Aw, thanks Sammy. It shows you truly care." He slipped into the driver's seat as Sam did the same in the passenger seat, both closing the doors at the same time. "Where to Google?"

Sam ignored the name. "Dudleytown, Connecticut."

"Dub-Dudley… whatever it was, here we come." Dean started the car, hands skimming over the steering wheel. He missed his baby.

"Are we going to go or are you going to drool all over the car?"

"What, you jealous?"

"Hell no, Dean."

Dean blew out a bubble of spit at him with a smirk. "I know you love me." He moved his head up along with his eyebrows. He put the big behemoth in gear after he glanced away from Sam, and they were off. After a few minutes of driving, he asked. "So do you know how to get to this place?"

The younger brother's brows shot up, and he frowned. "Not exactly."

"Awesome." His green eyes turned to the road as they narrowed. He never did like going in blind.

"Wait," Sam's voice started. "I think I can find out."

(Next time: What is That Thing? It Looks Like the Grudge Had Sex With a Wendigo)

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KianCalling: The place Dean was brought to was the future the show followed, more or less. His appearance will change it though, so it won't follow the show up to a certain point, which you'll found out eventually. Also, this apocalypse timeline is different than the show's.