Dean found himself in a large, modernly furnished hotel room in the twinkling of an eye. Luckily, everything seemed real this time, though not necessarily normal: everything was large, leather or vinyl or velvet and mostly black or in various shades of gray and silver. Winchester's body felt mostly all right, save for a prickling numbness of his legs, which he attributed to the fact that they'd been the hind legs of a cartoon stallion a few seconds before.
One thing that caught his sight was a huge poster - a heavily photoshopped picture of a punk rock band performing among fireworks and fake fog. The frontman was captured running towards the audience; though the dynamic poise and violent light made him look surreal, there was something oddly familiar about him. Dean had to come closed to take a better look.
He stumbled on something hard and squarish; he staggered, struggling to regain balance, but his other foot encountered an obstacle too, so he faceplanted gracelessly onto a fuzzy carpet. During arduous and equally graceless attempts to stand up he realized two things.
These weren't any free-standing objects that he had tripped over. He was wearing platform boots. Black, knee-high studded leather platform boots.
The numbness of his legs was caused by the same factor that prevented him from standing up in the usual manner: extremely tight pants.
The only thing that prevented him from taking these ridiculous boots off was the fact that he had no idea how to do it - the straps and buckles proved to be imitations, there were no shoestrings or zippers. Being a Winchester he couldn't give up without a fight. After a couple of failed attempts that left him bruised, frustrated and with an unidentified piece of clothing invading his butt crack he finally developed an effective way of working his own body in this torturous outfit. He even managed to make a few almost-steady steps. By the time he was ready to set forth on the journey to the other side of the room he had already guessed it, nonetheless he approached the poster to make sure. Yes, it was him.
Dean felt his own head warily, without much hope that Gabriel proved merciful this time. Of course he didn't. Winchester apparently had a mohawk and some piercing just like the fake-Dean in the picture.
Tentative knocking on the door interrupted his self-examination. The door opened slowly and a small, weedy figure snaked inside, bowing in reverence. It took Dean some time to recognize him because of the black suit, sunglasses (Indoors? Seriously?) and a big, black-and-blue wireless earpiece.
"Garth?"
"Oh, sir, yes, thank you. Thank you. You know my name. I didn't expect it..." the little man babbled, staring at Dean and still curtsying from time to time, "Please, sir, we need to go now. The car is waiting."
The hunter figured that following this cue was the only sensible move, though he balked at the thought of interacting with people or merely exiting the room while walking still felt more like riding a unicycle. With skittish guinea pigs instead of pedals. On a tightrope.
"In the meantime, sir," Garth handed him a pink fur-bound notebook while they were both waiting for an elevator, "I know the situation is difficult. I don't want to seem impolite or intrusive, but my daughter is your huge fan, so if you please..." he trailed off, looking at Dean with hope and trepidation.
Apparently he played a kind of music that appealed to underage girls. Good to know.
Winchester cursed under his breath, taking the notebook and a scented pen from Garth's shaky hands. He had no idea if his name in this world remained unchanged. His instinct was telling him that Dean Winchester was not a catchy name fit for a rock star.
"Please, write for Alex, mr Blade," Garth whispered, "I mean, mr Michaels."
Dean did a mental eyeroll while scribbling For Alex, never give up - Blade Michaels, because seriously, it wasn't even remotely funny. And never give up seemed like an universal positive message.
Garth twittered all the time during the ride in the elevator and a walk through an underground garage towards a black limousine with tinted windows.
"Thank you, thank you so much, mr Michaels. I'm so glad that I could finally meet you. It's wonderful that I'm Jimmy's replacement," words died in the little man's mouth; he seemed mortified by what he had just said, "I mean of course what happened to him is a tragedy. No, it's not a tragedy, not yet. Oh God. I mean it won't be a tragedy, because he will be fine. I'm sure he will be fine. It's just that... Plase, don't fire me, mr Michaels..."
"Why would I fire you?"
Garth didn't have time to answer; one of the windows rolled down and Gabriel's head popped out.
"Hop in, kid. Busy day today," he ordered.
"What the hell is going on?" Dean asked grimly after taking his place on the back seat between the archangel and - if he'd figured out Garth's role correctly - his bodyguard.
"Actually, a lot. Now we're heading to Harvelle's Heaven to get you prepared for the photo-shoot that starts at 1 pm. Then you're giving an interview and meeting the finalists of this year's edition of..."
"What's Harvelle's Heaven?" Winchester horned in.
"A beauty salon. Finalists of this year's..." Gabriel repeated, unruffled.
"What?" snapped Dean.
"A beauty sa..."
"What?"
"A beauty... Oh, come on!"
It was one of the strangest things Dean had seen in days. Gabriel smiled. Not smirked, not scoffed. His smile was faint, but warm and sincere, even a bit inhibited. His lips budged weirdly when he tried to keep the reaction in check, but he couldn't help the smile spreading on his face.
"All right, hotshots. Then you're meeting the fans that won a writing competition. And then, dunno... Hospital maybe?"
"Why would I go to a hospital?"
Garth gasped and petrified, but said nothing. Dean hesitantly took the tablet which was handed to him by Gabriel.
"My little insane bro keeps saying you don't read enough and yep, he is right. Check DailyScan."
"Oh yeah, 'cause a scandal sheet is a piece of reading worth a damn..."
The webpage was jam-packed with ads, catchy captions and photos. Some of them showed some kind of a scuffle on a red carpet, a man with a gun aiming at Dean, Castiel charging at the man (Dean had to admit that Cas looked pretty fly in this short, black coat and a black shirt), some showed the attacker tackled by the angel, other showed an ambulance and a group of people kneeling around someone lying on the ground - Dean among them, shouting, with his face pale and eyes widened in horror. Winchester tapped one of the headlines to read the whole article. There wasn't much to read, though. A photostory that unfolded before his eyes was clear-cut: an assault during some kind of a ceremony, Cas protecting Dean and getting shot while trying to overpower the gunman.
"And Iiiiiiiiiiiiieeiiiiiiiii will aaaaaalways love yoouuuuuuuouhouhouhouuu" Gabriel crooned in a burlesque, high-pitched tone, trying to restrain a chuckle.
Dean's heart fluttered in a moment of panic. Soon enough he realized that this wounded bodyguard was probably a dummy, just like Samuél in the first universe. He was starting to get that Gabriel had no intention to harm his little brother. Besides, even if he did, he wouldn't do it this way.
"Who the hell even comes up with all this crap?" he snorted, much to Garth's horror.
"Ooouch, I wouldn't say ther's much coming up involved here. Protecting you is basically what that kiddo does."
Dean tried to rub his face with his palms, but he ended up tugging at his eyebrow and nose rings, simultaneously pushing the inner part of a large labret into his gums. He groaned in unexpected pain and frustration.
"Yeah, but why does it has to be so friggin corny? I mean reliving a chick flick from the nineties? The nineties? Seriously?" he spazed out.
"It's only corny when it's not you, isn't it?" Gabriel suggested playfully.
"Yeah, whatever..."
Still, the bitter sting in his throat didn't go away so easily. He realized that something like this could happen any time. Of course Castiel was immune to most blades and firearms, but Dean knew too well that if he was ever attacked with a weapon that could hurt an angel as well, Castiel wouldn't hesitate to take the bullet for him.
He also knew that if it ever happened, he would never forgive himself.
Hi, guys!
I'm so excited that you like the idea so far, because I was pretty uncertain about it :)
I have the outline of the story and a couple of alternate universes ready, but how about some suggestions from you to torture Dean even more? There will be High School AU, two almost-canon universes where the characters aren't really themselves (I can't say more without spoiling it) as well as a little bit of domestic drama. What else? Should Dean pay a short visit to any other universe on his journey to self-acceptance and emotional balance?
I have only two conditions:
1) No parodying any actual story published here or anywhere else - just general ideas that are being used by fans. I don't want anyone to feel offended.
2) No making fun of Cas - the original show is taking it too far for my taste anyway, so I just can't. Cas will appear for a couple of times more as himself to try to help Dean, but I couldn't take any dress-ups, Gabriel's pranks or embarassing situations including him. Besides, it was Dean who scwered up, wasn't it?