A/N: Another chapter for this story...I've gotta say, even though this isn't my best, I've learned a lot from writing this. Now, I could get all sentimental and everything, but I forgot that there are no chick flick moments. :3 Without further ado! Disclaimer: I do own Supernatural
All was still within the world of the mirror. The storm had dwindled into a light rain with the occasional rumble of soft thunder. The monsters, who walked the abandoned city streets, stirred uneasily at the overhanging sense of disquiet. The entire city of Portland, Oregon was a tribunal of penance.
A strange electric atmosphere hung over the inhabitants of the world, growing stronger with each passing hour. It made the vile virus within the monsters' blood to boil, fueling the madness inside. Some of them had even began to strike at others while stumbling around like drunken beasts of rage. The monsters moved slowly, drawn to the leftover energy of the swirling portal that had finally closed.
It also had affected one of the groaning figures that lay crumpled in an icy snow bank. He twitched and clenched his jaw hard enough to pop the joints, thus inciting a terrible ringing in his ears that only fueled the adrenaline-like sensation in his veins. His fingers curled and clutched at the hard snow, causing a few fingernails to break. Blood stained the snow and the metallic scent slowly brought Dean back to his senses.
"Cas?" he rasped, pushing himself up. Panting, the other Dean looked around for the angel. As the evening approached, the red and orange light of the sun painted the streets and shadows stretched over the edges of buildings. The clouds from the storm were dyed different colors as the sun set. Dean blinked against the glare of the low hanging sun and spotted a square of beige peeking out from under the white snow.
Slipping on the slick ice, the other Dean scrambled over to the fluttering cloth and started pawing through the frigid softness of snow. As the rest of the trench coat came into view, a shred of panic churned in the hunter's gut. Grunting with effort, the other Dean gripped the angel under the armpits and lifted.
The action caused a burst of agony in his chest so powerful it made him lose his grip and fall backwards. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Dean squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a hand gingerly against his chest. When he pulled his palm away, it was wet and sticky. The other Dean's eyes shot open and he glanced down.
Dark red blood soaked through the green cotton material of his t-shirt; his wounds- the ones that had killed him initially- had reopened. Fear, jolting and powerful, had Dean turning the angel over onto his back and shaking his still form frantically. "Cas? Castiel, come on, man. Wake up!" he shouted. He could feel himself getting weaker by the second and it frightened him enough to make him desperate.
Straddling the angel, the other Dean reared his hand back and punched him as hard as he could. Even though Cas' head turned to the side, it was like Dean had punched a wall of steel. His mouth open in a silent groan of pain, he grabbed his throbbing hand and fell to the side, landing in the snow. Darkness clawed at the edges of his vision and it had become difficult to breathe.
Wheezing, the other Dean stared up at the sky, watching streaks of fuchsia collide with the pink, red and orange clouds of the sunset. Stars could be seen faintly through the color bomb, even the moon was peeking its face out from behind a cloud of golden light. It was a beautiful sight and it made the other Dean realize that he would never see anything like it again.
A tear brimmed at the corner of his eye then slid down his cheek slowly. It dripped onto the snow beneath Dean's head. The cold, wetness of the snow seeped into his clothes and skin, sending a seizure of tremors to rack his frame. He closed his eyes, feeling the light sprinkling of rain mist his heated skin, and was about to surrender to the calling darkness when a surge of warmth and light engulfed his soul.
All at once, the pain subsided and he was suddenly able to breathe again. Dean took a moment to take a few deep breaths, his chest heaving. When he opened his eyes, all he could see was Castiel staring down at him, his blue eyes dark with concern and panic. "Dean. Are you alright?" the angel asked. The other Dean didn't say anything; he was captivated by the being in front of him.
The way Cas was positioned above him, the sunset glowed around his outline like a multicolored aura. The glare from the sun even made what appeared to be a halo of sorts above Cas' head. In that moment, the other Dean could see the powerful, celestial being that was this Castiel. He lurched upwards and pulled the angel into a tight embrace, making Cas jump in surprise.
"Thank you," Dean breathed. He imagined that he could feel the overwhelming strength pulsing within the being he was hugging. It gave the other Dean a sense of security that he'd only ever felt with his Cas. The remembrance of his husband sent the hunter's heart clenching. He was suddenly extremely grateful and relieved to be back in his own world.
Castiel hugged him back for a few moments then tensed beneath him. "Dean...we have company," he growled in warning. The other Dean pulled away and saw the horde of monsters surrounding them on all sides. He cursed under his breath that he'd placed them in such an open space and got to his feet, pulling Cas up with him.
"Should we fight these sons of bitches or make a run for it? Cause I don't know about you, but I don't have a weapon," he muttered out of the side of his mouth. He kept his gaze locked on the hungry eyes of the monsters closest to him. He felt Cas' back bump into his. "Here," the angel said. Dean felt something cold press into his hand and felt the familiar groove of a gun.
"Where'd you get this?" Dean asked. Castiel was silent for a moment. A lizard-like creature opened its jaws, revealing rows of sharp teeth dripping with saliva. Its tongue flicked out and ran along the front row of teeth creepily. "It's my Dean's. He dropped it when you put him through here," Cas said. Dean frowned and examined the gun.
It was a TAURUS Model 92 9mm with a dark wood grip. Dean's eyes softened in recognition; this had been the same gun he'd given his Cas on their one year anniversary. Though this gun did not have his husband's initials carved into it, Dean still ran the pads of his fingers over the smooth wood. Sam had been so proud, so happy to see the people he loved the most together and content.
A sharp pang of painful nostalgia shot through Dean's chest at the memory. The muscles of his jaw clenched and angry tears pricked at the corners of his eyes; he'd missed an entire year with his family and now he might not even get the chance to see them again. All because of that damn rift. He closed his eyes, listening to the growls and screeches of the approaching monster horde.
The other Dean could very vaguely see an image of his Cas in the darkness behind his shut lids. He looked just as he had the day Dean had died: disheveled, tired, covered in blood, and eyes full of panic, fear, and most of all, love. Sam had had the same look. Seeing the amount of love in Cas' blazing blue eyes and Sam's hazel, renewed Dean's sense of vengeance. His eyes flew open, fixating with intense concentration on the enemies in front of him.
"What'll you fight with?" he asked the angel behind him. Dean could almost feel Cas' smirk. "I'm an angel. I can hold my own. Don't worry about me. When we finish these things off, let's go find your family," he said. Dean chuckled and set his feet as firmly as he could against the frozen ground. Although his original wounds had been healed, the other Dean could still feel the burning effect of the virus in his blood, fueling his desire to strike.
It had also been a long time since he'd had a good fight and the hunter within was itching to kill something. He pulled the barrel of the gun back and heard the click of a bullet lodge in place. It was like music to his ears. Just as he felt the warm pressure of Castiel's back leave his, the first swarm of monsters surged.
A couple of miles away, the other Sam Winchester was beginning to stir. When he made an attempt to lift his head, Sam immediately slammed back down on to the floor for a wave of intense dizziness threatened to overtake him. The room spun and tears blurred his vision. His stomach lurched and it took every ounce of his willpower to not vomit.
Sam inhaled sharply as a violent, pounding headache worked its way throughout the frontal lobes of his brain. He realized that he must have struck his head when the shock wave hit. Sam's head lolled to the side once he'd managed to turn over onto his back.
While the dizziness eventually ceased, the nausea and migraine remained. Groaning, Sam forced himself to his hands and knees, swaying ever so slightly. He blinked hard to try and clear the foggy film that smudged his sight. He looked over at the deathly still figure that lay a few feet away.
"D..Dean," he choked out. When he received no response, Sam began to half crawl half drag himself over to the unconscious hunter. Dean was lying with his upper body sprawled across the hardwood floor while his lower half was hidden behind the overturned table. The broken remains of one of the chairs scattered over his back and its leg was shoved beneath his left arm.
Sam collapsed beside Dean, his hair catching on the shattered wood of the chair leg. "Dean," he tried again. The hunter was silent. Fearing the worst, Sam shoved Dean's side as hard as he could. Dean moved to the side then slumped back to the floor. When Sam was beginning to believe that Dean wasn't going to awaken, he moved.
Dean shakily coughed and shifted against the tinkling glass and splinters of wood. "Sammy?" he rasped, his voice sounding like a smoker. Sam lifted his head and sighed in relief. Instead of answering, Sam reached out and grasped onto Dean's arm, squeezing in such a way to say that he was there. The glass beneath Dean scraped against the hardwood as he shifted onto his side.
"What...the hell happened?" he asked in a strained tone of voice. Sam blinked hard and looked around the room as best he could. From what he could see, the front windows of the house had shattered along with the dining room table. The table had also been forcibly thrown into the wall near the kitchen, breaking nearly in half from the impact.
Three of the chairs were lying hazardously in different parts of the living room, the fourth lay in scattered pieces all around where Dean was lying. Sam assumed that it had crashed into the back of the couch, where it broke. Sam's fatigue was gradually fading, much to his relief, and he was beginning to recollect what had occurred earlier.
"We got hit with a shock wave. I think it must've been because of that portal outside," he began with a befuddled frown. Dean shook his head to clear it and clamped a hand over his eye, wincing in pain. He stiffened at Sam's comment and turned his head slowly to stare at the younger of the hunters. Sam caught the look Dean was giving him and raised an eyebrow in question.
"Where did you see the portal?" Dean asked seriously. Sam blinked, taken aback, then gestured towards the sky. A dark look glinted in the green of Dean's eyes. "Why? Does it mean something to you?" Sam asked. He was growing increasingly more concerned by the expression on the other brother's face.
Dean pursed his lips and furrowed his brows in concentration. "What color was the portal?" he asked. Sam looked over in surprise, his face scrunching up in befuddlement. "Green. Dean, what is it? What aren't you telling me?" he asked. Dean looked as though he was about to be sick. "Son of a bitch," he muttered.
Sam paused for a moment, trying to piece together the hidden clues. His eyes flicked from side to side as he thought, his brow knitted in confusion. Then, suddenly the answer clicked. Sam sucked in a breath and he turned to look at Dean.
"That was the same portal that took you here," he said in a shushed tone. Dean gulped and nodded slowly, squeezing his eyes shut. Sam reared back with an 'oh crap' sort of look. But something still didn't make sense. Sam frowned.
"But why is that a bad thing? Surely that means you can leave, right? You can go home?" he asked. Dean just barely caught the flinch Sam's words had caused. It wasn't that Dean didn't want to go home- on the contrary, he wanted to go back to Sam...and Cas with every fiber in his being. It was because he hadn't done what he'd promised; the Cas from this world was still missing.
"I don't know what it means. But I've got a bad feeling in my gut. Something is going to happen," he heard himself saying. Sam seemed thoughtful and rubbed at his beard distractedly. Dean, forgetting the situation they were in for a moment, flicked his eyebrows up in amusement. Sam caught his look of mirth and scoffed.
"How is that funny to you?" he asked in disbelief. Dean shook his head quickly and gestured with the back of his hand towards Sam's beard. The other Sam looked down at his still moving hand and stopped abruptly. His cheeks reddened in embarrassment and let his hand fall back into his lap. "I do that when I'm nervous, okay? My Dean made fun of me, too. He used to tell me to shave all the time," he mumbled.
Dean chuckled and Sam managed to smile at him. Then, the moment was gone, leaving a tense, awkward silence in its wake. "So, uh, Sam," Dean began haltingly, "I was wondering...ah, never mind." The other Sam sat up and gazed at Dean curiously, urging him to continue his question. Dean scratched at the back of his neck in embarrassment.
"I was wondering if, when we get Cas back, if you-," he stammered, "I-I know that me being here was hard for you both and me leaving isn't going to be much better. I guess what I'm asking is will you two be alright?" Sam's eyes were soft with sadness and understanding. He reached over and put a hand on Dean's knee, making the other brother jump.
"We'll be fine, Dean. You're right; you being here was hard and you had the worst timing ever. But I'm glad that we got to know you. You helped fill that void of emptiness we'd been feeling," Sam said, "I hadn't heard Cas laugh in a long time and you were the one who made that happen. I felt like I had my brother back and, because of that, it isn't going to hurt as much when you leave. Cause we can say goodbye this time."
Dean stared at him, green eyes wide and shocked. Sam just caught a glimpse of the tears welling up before Dean turned away, covering his face with his hand. Sam blinked in surprise then grinned. "Dude, are you crying?" he teased. He heard a sniffle and saw Dean paw at his eyes, wiping the tears away. "Hell no. I got some dust in my eyes, that's all," Dean muttered.
"Uh huh, sure. You know, it's okay to cry,"
"Shut your face,"
Sam laughed quietly and stretched out his limbs, relieving the aching pressure that had been building up in his joints. As a comfortable quiet fell over the room, a series of sounds very faintly could be heard in the distance. Sam sat up straight, straining to listen to the noises. Dean, who'd composed himself, was listening as well.
"Are...are those gunshots?" he asked eventually. When Sam's bright, hopeful eyes locked onto Dean's, the hunters sprang into action. Any sense of their previous fatigue vanished and the two brothers were rapidly strapping on weapons and tugging on jackets. Dean's leg injury, which had scabbed over at this point, sent sharp pulses of dry pain with every movement.
Although they remained silent while they prepared to investigate the noises, Sam and Dean were holding an entire conversation with their eyes alone. Both were aware that the gunshots might not have belonged to Cas, but both hunters refused to give up on the chance that they did. A tiny part of Dean held a spark of hope that it was his angel or even Sammy.
Sam also held his own spark that the shots belonged to his brother; the woman who's kidnapped Cas had hinted that his Dean was still alive. Even though his mind told him that it was impossible and he was clinging onto something that could never be, his heart kept cheering his thoughts on. Dean watched as Sam picked up the machete that he'd held against his throat when they'd first met.
In that moment, Dean was reminded, with a jolt, that if the feeling in the pit of his stomach was correct, Dean would never see this Sam again. Without thinking, Dean strode over to Sam and pulled him into a hug. Sam stiffened for a moment in surprise then hugged back, his long arms looping around Dean's shoulders.
After a few more moments, they pulled away and met each other's gaze. "Ready?" Dean asked. Sam caught on to his hidden meaning and nodded solemnly. Dean returned the nod and loaded the gun in his hand with a loud click. "Alright. Let's go get our family back," he said. The corner of Sam's mouth quirked up into a smile of agreement.
As they opened the front door, the monstrous horde of beasts that lingered outside the abandoned grocery store turned in the boys' direction. A shiver of fearful recognition trembled throughout the monsters as the Winchesters began to walk towards them. The virus within held the creatures in place, even made a few snarl in challenge.
The monsters knew that they could not flee even if they wanted to. Death was on the menu and it was the horde that was the main dish. The Winchester brothers were the servers. The shorter of the two men, with his powerful jaw clenched and a steely glint to his eyes, raised his gun and aimed it at the mass of beasts.
Meanwhile, the rift was pacing the floor, her heels making rapid clicks. "I don't understand. Why are they surging? The virus should have died out of their systems by now. What is making it active?" she hissed. Her energy churned uneasily and she had almost lost her control over her vessel several times because of it.
'What's the matter, bitch? Getting scared?' the annoying voice in her head piqued. The rift snarled and shoved the presence away fiercely, earning a yelp. Unfortunately for her, the voice did not leave. 'Aw, you were so close. Try again,' it jeered. "You are most tedious, you know that?" the rift growled. There was a triumphant laugh that echoed in the rift's mind.
Had she had known that her vessel would regain consciousness once she'd lost control the first time, the rift would have found a different one. Charlie, the owner of the voice and the body, held on like an embedded burr that no amount of shaking could remove. The rift had grown used to having the body and mind to herself; Charlie was a major interference.
Shaking her head, the rift continued to pace. She used every ounce of her concentration to block out Charlie, who had begun to hum a ridiculous, repetitive rhythm. The rift gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. Charlie seemed to notice that the song bothered the being possessing her body and sang louder and more obnoxiously.
"ENOUGH! WHAT IS THIS IDIOTIC MELODY YOU'RE SPEWING?!" the rift roared, her eyes glowing bright green. When Charlie didn't answer right away, the rift relaxed. She was certain that she had managed to silence the woman within her mind. That is, until Charlie began screeching incredulously.
"Idiotic?! Star Wars is NOT idiotic! It's like the best thing ever! How do you not know the Cantina Band theme from Star Wars?!" she said. The rift threw her hands up in defeat and her shoulders slumped. After the phone call with Sam, the rift had locked Castiel in the van and had driven not even a few feet when monsters began to ransack the vehicle.
Using her powers, the rift teleported herself and the barely breathing man in the rear compartment back into their original location. She cursed loudly and slammed her fist against the rickety crates lining the wall of the warehouse, splintering the box into tiny pieces. Charlie quieted with a squeak.
The rift didn't bother to feel relieved at the sudden silence; her plan was shot and she was now at risk of being found. She sat on one of the unharmed crates and put her head in her hands. She knew that the Winchesters were not stupid and that Sam had figured out her riddle. The rift had heard it in his voice when she'd spoken to him, which was why she chose to play the sly card.
It was also why she had chosen to move to a different location. The warehouse had been too obvious of a set-up and she had realized this far too late. With Castiel nearing death quicker than she'd expected, the rift panicked and threw him into the van she'd stolen from around the corner. But the monsters, which had never bothered her before, attacked like vicious brutes and nearly tore the van to pieces.
Her energy had spiraled beyond her control after she'd used it, causing a rather agonizing experience for both the rift and for the newly conscious Charlie. The monsters that had attacked the van were now prowling the perimeter of the warehouse, occasionally making bone-chilling howls or pounding against the walls or door.
The rift trembled and wrapped her arms around herself. If she didn't figure out a way to stop the creatures soon, the Winchesters would surely find her. And if that happened, she knew deep in her core that she wouldn't survive that fight. She had worked so hard to get here; it'd be maddening to have her efforts crushed. Especially if it was because of a few pathetic humans.
Everything she had done, it would all be for nothing. She clenched her fists and dug her nails into her palms hard enough to draw blood. The rift stood calmly and brushed some bits of crate from her clothes. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"No. I will not fail. Dean Winchester might have managed to weaken me, but I am still strong enough to destroy his world. And," she said, suddenly smug, "I have his precious little Cas. Sam is on his way, yes, but that will only make him my prime target. After all, Dean can't live without his baby brother."
The rift suddenly remembered the recent shock wave and the supernatural scream from above that had knocked her off of her feet. Her energy had informed her that the entity she'd encountered while in the other Dean Winchester's world- the angel- had arrived. As though in reaction to her memoirs, her energy bubbled excitedly, eager to consume the power of the celestial being.
An evil grin stretched across the rift's face inhumanly as an idea popped into her head. "Dean Winchester from that other world is on his way here as well," she chuckled, "And what is an angel without his human?" She began to laugh- a guffaw that grew louder and louder until she was practically screaming.
A/N: Next chapter may or may not be the final chapter. I'll let you all know, once I post it, in the first a/n. Until then, I send you all my love and gratitude.