Sam and Dean hid in the living room, dripping holy water on the upholstery and staunching the blood from silver knife cuts.
Bobby hadn't been thrilled about the duplicate thing.
He'd been even less thrilled to find out that the wrong set of Winchesters stayed in his house last night. After checking that everyone was human, and Sunshine's (too late and too brief) explanation that they were from a different universe, and her dismissive conclusion that there was nothing to worry about, Bobby'd parked himself in the kitchen, leaning against the counter where he could glare at everyone without turning his back to any of them, hat pulled low, arms folded over his chest.
It reminded Sam too much of their own Bobby.
The other trio had settled into the kitchen to strategize, their rapport easy, their postures comfortable, thankful to be out of captivity, and...thankful to be together. Even Bobby's mood couldn't bring them down. It was weird to watch. Like when Sam looked at photos of himself as a child, holding proof in his hand that he'd been happy and smiling, but unable to remember why.
They hadn't stopped to fill Sam in on the details of their plan, but just jumped into whether or not Sunshine had had an issue bringing Cas into their universe, and a discussion of (as far as Sam could tell) a tangential, hypothetical problem that they'd worried would come up during the jump between realities. Cas had looked no more awkward than usual, standing in some other family's kitchen, answering questions and talking about a bigger plan that he hadn't thought to share.
As much as Sam'd wanted to follow—because it did sound interesting and he wanted to help—he just couldn't. Not with his attention constantly dragged away by the jarringly familiar elbow nudges Other Dean prodded into Sunshine's ribs, or the completely alien smiles he'd give her. Or by the way Other Sam pushed his hair out of his face and then trouble-shot angel quantum mechanics. Or by the way Bobby had glared at him.
Dean had stood at his side, following the conversation even less than Sam, his arms folded even tighter than Bobby's. While Sam simmered from shock to curiosity, Dean looked frankly unnerved. History told them that when Dean got this unnerved, he started lashing out.
So they'd retreated to the living room, Other Dean's eyes following them, suspicion concealed under easy set shoulders. But then Sunshine shifted, and his eyes darted to her, and in some unspoken communication she told him she had it covered and he relaxed. Sam could read him like a book, and had to turn quickly back to his brother, just to remind himself which was which.
"I don't like it," Dean said, dropping onto the sofa and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to keep his voice low. "This place is weird. We came here for a rescue mission, we did the rescue mission, we saw the sights, so now we can say sayonara Bizarro World."
"You're not curious?"
His answer was too quick and too obstinate. "No."
"Not even a little bit?"
"No, you nerd. Alternate realities always suck. We should get out of here before they invite us to an orgy, or offer us amphetamines, or try to teach us a lesson." He gave a curt nod.
"I don't think it's like that. They look normal. Happy. Like things are good here." Too good. Other Sam had a lightness about him that Sam hadn't felt in years and couldn't understand.
"Might be the amphetamines," Dean said, with another serious nod.
Whatever. If Dean wasn't going to be helpful...well, Dean was never really helpful. Sam started talking through it on his own. "Cas said, the only real difference between this universe and ours is his choice of vessel."
"You mean this Cas picked up a chick."
"Yeah. I mean. I still died, and you still went to hell. He—she still pulled you out. We started the apocalypse. We stopped the apocalypse." Sam shrugged.
"Dude, are you blind? That not the only thing that's changed. They're all huggers, Sam. Huggers. And you and me, we didn't go get ourselves kidnapped. Our Bobby, he doesn't give a rat's ass about his blood pressure."
"Yeah, but what I'm saying is that all the changes we're seeing, somehow those are rooted in that one decision." He pressed his hands palms together to demonstrate. "Our universes were the same, but then our Cas made one choice while this Cas made another." His hands branched apart in a Y. "So our universe went one way and theirs went somewhere else."
"Yeah," Dean said, leaning forward and hissing like he wanted to shout, but was trying not to draw the attention of the camp in the kitchen. He pointed back and forth between Sam's hands, indicating the distance between his fingertips until Sam slapped him away. "The universes diverged. So now there are carloads of differences."
"But I think they've diverged all based on decisions we would have made if we were in their place. You know?"
"No. Those people are nothing like us."
Sam rolled his eyes. "If our Cas was a woman, we'd treat him like the people here treat Sunshine. It all flows. Like the Bobby thing. He said Cas told him to take better care of himself. And, you know, I've heard our Cas tell our Bobby that too, and he told him to mind his own business and get out of his house."
"But if everyone here does the same things we would, then why didn't this Bobby also tell Cas to fuck off?"
"Because she's cute."
Dean's eyes narrowed.
"People treat her differently because she looks different. It might not be fair, but it's how the world works. A pretty woman from heaven shows up and tells Bobby she's concerned about his blood pressure, he's gonna listen to her more than he listens to Cas—our Cas—guy Cas, even if they both sound grumpy while they're saying it."
"So you're saying, all this time, we just needed a girl to tell Bobby to get his act together?"
"Who knows? It's not like we've ever tried."
Dean thought about this, letting his head tilt to the side and puckering his lips.
Sam hesitated, lowering his voice to something soothing, knowing he was approaching thin ice. "It explains the...the other part too."
"What other part?"
"Well...how long do you think it took Other Dean to sleep with Sunshine?"
Dean snapped up to gawk at him. "Jesus, Sam!"
"Like you weren't thinking about it all day yesterday."
"Wha—I—No."
"Just listen—"
"No. You listen. It's Cas! If what you're saying is it's all in how people treat him, then how did that make her not a freaking robot for the first year? I wouldn't have hit that."
"You know he's gotten more human. During the apocalypse, when he was cut off from heaven. When he fell. For you."
"Shut up."
"I'm just saying."
"Well, don't. We're friends. He's family. End of story."
Sam surrendered, leaning back in his chair with a roll of his eyes. Part of living with Dean was knowing how to pick your battles.
Dean only glared at the far bookcase for another moment before leaning forward, apparently deciding that retreating from the conversation at this point would leave Sam with the wrong idea. Not that diving back into it could change his mind all that much.
"No. No, because if they're the same except for the way they look, then why were they arguing the other night?"
Sam frowned. "They were arguing?"
"Yeah. I didn't get it then, but now it kinda makes sense. Our Cas didn't want us to come along on this mission. He didn't want us involved in his civil war at all. But I guess the other Winchesters have been helping the war effort from the beginning and she couldn't understand why Cas didn't want us around. He thinks her plan to win the war is too risky for us, and she thinks his plan's insane."
"What is his plan? The weapons thing?"
"I don't know. Doesn't sound like it. She said they wouldn't be powerful enough. Like it's a fact and everyone knows it. But then why would he have bothered?"
"Huh."
"So explain that. If they're exactly the same, why're they fighting? Why doesn't our Cas want us around when girl Cas does?"
Sam frowned. "Well, if she and other Dean are sleeping together—" Dean made a noise, but Sam ignored it. "—Then maybe they didn't split up after...after Stull Cemetery. If you two were together, I wouldn't have asked you to try to work it out with—" He bit his own tongue to stop talking.
Dean shifted, his jaw clenching, some of the color draining from his face. It took him a second to get back on track, sidestepping the sticky patch and not looking back. "Cas was heaven's sheriff. He was finally allowed back, and he was itching to leave. No way he would have stayed here."
"If the two of you were in a relationship, he might not have been in such a hurry to leave. And he's an angel, I'm sure they can multi-task. Balance their work and social life."
Dean sneered. "Yeah, because we know Cas is so good at that."
"If he tried—"
"But he doesn't want to try. That's my point. Why is girl Cas trying?"
"Because she knows Other Dean loves her back? I don't know. Why don't you ask them. I'm sure they'd tell you how it all went down."
Dean cringed. "Imagine that conversation. No, thank you."
He had a point. Other Dean would probably tell them everything. With a huge smirk, a metric ton of bragging, and graphic details not even remotely concealed by his select choice in "code words." Sam winced.
Actually...
He pushed himself out of Bobby's recliner. "I've got an idea."
"What?"
He didn't answer and headed to the kitchen, slowing as he approached. Bobby had softened, trying to hold back a smile at something one of them had said. Other Sam and Dean were flat out laughing, and Other Sam...
He had draped himself floppily over Sunshine's shoulders, hanging heavy in a way that would crumple anyone without angelic strength. His shoulders framed her ears, his forearms under her chin, and he slouched to prop his chin on top of her head. And she just stood there, talking to Cas and letting Sam do his thing. Like he was her dumb, little brother. Like she didn't notice. No one noticed. Not Other Dean or Other Bobby or Cas. Like this happened all the time.
When was the last time Sam had been that at ease with anyone? Jo? Jess? Jesus.
Cas was the first to notice his reappearance. Or, more specifically, his gawking in the doorway.
"Sam."
Everyone turned to him, still kinda smiling. Bizzaro World was right.
"Uh." He blinked. "Sorry, uh. I was wondering if I could use your computer?"
"Oh. Yeah. Sure." Other Sam peeled himself away to grab a laptop from the kitchen table, half hidden under some books and an open tupperware of potato salad with the fork still in it. He made a face and shoved it at Other Dean, who took it with a shrug and started eating.
Other Sam handed over the laptop with a smile. "Here. You doing research?"
He didn't look like he found it as weird to talk to himself as Sam did. Maybe he was just putting on a good show, being a nice host, trying to make his guests feel comfortable. Or maybe this just didn't phase him. He looked so easy. So earnestly interested in his own mirror image.
Sam put up his own front. Friendly. Responsible. Sympathetic. In happier times, he was all these things. He could power through this. "Yeah. We were wondering how different our universes are."
"I was wondering that too. But I didn't know how much you'd want us to pick your brain asking questions."
Sam huffed a laugh. "Yeah. That'd be awkward."
"I wouldn't even know where to start."
"I've got an idea. You want to...um...work together?"
Other Sam's face lit up, and Sam found himself honestly smiling back.
Other Dean coughed, sounding eerily like the word "Nerds."
As much as girl Cas and Cas were nothing at all alike, and Fake Dean was from Mars or something (not that Dean had talked to him), the Sams were fucking twinsies. He could still tell them apart and everything, but still. They were both gigantic, know-it-all, baby brothers.
Maybe they could talk about their feelings and braid each other's hair.
Sam returned with his new best friend and a familiar laptop: Fake Sam's laptop, which looked exactly like Normals Sam's, complete with that one scuff mark and that one green sticker the size of a postage stamp. So weird. Dean wondered if they had the same bookmarks, and if there was a bookmark folder marked "Dean's" that Sam never ever opened and pretended didn't exist except to frown at it and bemoan how his brother was such a perv.
The folder was actually only half full of porn. The other half was videos of how to marinate baby back ribs and make tiramisu (which he guessed could count as porn if you were into that). Also links to streaming TV shows that he needed to keep up with but wouldn't admit to watching.
Was Dr. Sexy M.D. exactly the same in this universe or had it also branched off at some point to unfold in its own wacky direction? Wait. If it did, did that mean this universe had episodes he hadn't seen?!
Okay. So maybe Sam's research idea wasn't so bad. But the alternate universe thing on the whole still blew.
Sam took his seat again, settling in with a huff, and Fake Sam hovered over his shoulder, leaning his forearms against the back of the chair. This didn't seem to bother Sam at all, but then again, the two of them probably finished each other's sentences.
Sam opened the laptop, started typing, and Fake Sam's face split into surprised delight. "Oh! Good call."
Sam smirked, the light on his face changing color as he clicked on a site.
Dean didn't want to know.
Cas drifted in after them, apparently done with his secret kitchen meeting. Was Dean seriously the only one who didn't want to exchange Christmas cards with these people?
After watching clones of themselves make out, any normal person would try to keep as much distance between themselves and their best friend as possible. Avoid one another. Walk in opposite directions. That kinda thing. But Cas was the farthest thing from normal, and the most socially incompetent person ever, so he came and took a seat on the sofa next to Dean. Dean had to shift to put some space between them so they wouldn't slide towards each other with the dip in the sofa cushions.
"Castiel has a plan to defeat Raphael," Cas said.
"I gathered that much, thanks."
Sam stopped typing, both Sams going unnaturally still. Maybe they were reading and not just listening in on their conversation. But probably not.
"You're upset," Cas said.
"I don't like people dropping bombs on me."
Cas nodded, looking only a little bit guilty. "And this reality makes you uncomfortable."
Seriously? Now Cas wanted to talk about feelings? "I just don't get why we're still here. The job's done. And if I was gonna care about a heavenly civil war, it'd be the one in my own universe. And you don't want my help. So why should I care about girl Cas' problems?"
Cas stopped, his train of thought derailing in surprise, the guilt and seriousness falling from his face. "Girl Cas?"
Dean blinked. "Yeah."
"You need a modifier to tell us apart?" Cas squinted, still constantly confused by the limited nature of the human brain.
"Well, you don't like 'Sunshine.'"
Cas scowled. "I don't."
"Weird that she likes it." He shot a pointed look at Sam to say See? Different. But Sam was still pretending not to listen.
"But now you've stopped using it," Cas said.
"You don't like it."
Cas tilted his head to the side and let his scowl fall away. "Have you given other counterparts in this universe modifiers?"
Dean jerked his head towards the kitchen. "Fake Dean." Then he pointed at the Sams in turn. "Thing One and Thing Two."
They both shot him bitch faces before folding back into their huddle over the laptop.
"There's no 'real' or 'fake' Dean," Cas said. "The Dean in this universe is just as authentic as you are."
"Okay, first of all, ow. Second of all, he's wearing my face, but he's not me. That makes him Fake Dean."
Cas considered this, and then nodded slowly.
The Sams had started murmuring to each other. "All of this. That happened."
"What about...um..." Fake Sam reached over the back of the chair to point at something on the screen, looking uncomfortable. "That?"
Sam matched his discomfort. "Yeah."
"And. Uh. That?"
Sam exhaled in defeat. "Yeah."
They both held a moment of silence for whatever horror existed in their mutual past. Dean could only guess, but all his guesses were traumatizing. Sam scrolled down whatever page they were on.
Cas picked the conversation back up. "Castiel wants to join forces across realities, bringing several Castiels together so we can combine our power."
The fuck? "And with your powers combined, you can take down an archangel."
"If there are seven of us, our strength will increase by a factor of seven." Something in Cas' voice nibbled at the edges of disdain or mockery, and that caught at Dean's attention. He realized Cas thought this situation was as stupid as Dean did.
Huh.
Some of his irritation dimmed.
"But you'll also have to go around to the different universes and fight the guy seven times. Unless you're just offing the one here and letting the other six of you fend for yourselves."
"Oh. No," Sam said, and Dean looked over to see it was actually Fake Sam. Both of them were done pretending they weren't listening. "There's a ritual to combine their powers so all of them are super charged. Then they go back to their own universe and fight their own battle."
"Super charged?" Dean couldn't decide if that sounded terrifying or really cool. He was leaning towards terrifying.
"That's her plan," Cas said. "She wants our help recruiting my counterparts in other realities."
"Our help, or your help?"
"Your help." Cas scowled. "She doesn't trust me to make the plan look appealing."
Okay, so maybe Dean still liked girl Cas a little bit, because she definitely had a point there and seeing someone call Cas on his shit was kind of endearing.
Sam interrupted, "Here we go."
"What?"
He read, "Free to be you and me."
Dean blinked. "Is that supposed to mean something?"
"Well, maybe." He made a disgusted face. "At least I'm pretty sure this didn't happen." He developed a sudden, shifty fidget through his limbs, setting Dean's nerves on edge. Sam passed over the computer, and Dean settled it in his lap to see a .pdf pulled up on the screen, a wall of black on white text and a header that said—
"Carver Edlund! Are you kidding me?"
Sam shrugged. "Seemed the fastest way."
Cas leaned into Dean's shoulder to read along. Once Cas had realized that he was in the later books, he'd suddenly become much more attentive of Chuck's work (beyond the "Chuck is a Profit of the Lord and his work must be respected" thing he used to do). He'd pretended that he didn't care, but was obviously offended that the volumes in which he appeared were only published online. He'd asked Dean if there was anything they could do to help persuade the publishing company to pick the series up again, because it would surely be God's will.
Like that fooled anyone.
Cas pointed at the screen. Judging from the scroll bar, they were about a third of the way through the story. "I recall this happening. But I assume the narrative diverges from here."
Dean read.
"Do we have any chance of surviving this?"
"You do," Castiel said, her certainty betraying none of her fear.
"So odds are you're dead tomorrow."
"Yes."
"Well," Dean said, unsure how to argue with a suicidal angel and throwing on a half-hearted grin. "Last night on earth. What are your plans?"
She clasped her thin hands in her lap and looked around the small motel room, with its peeling wallpaper and fraying carpet, the last setting she would ever see. "I just thought I'd sit here quietly."
Dean leaned his head back and groaned. Fake Dean wouldn't take girl Cas to a brothel. And Fake Dean probably had a "last night on earth" speech almost as good as Dean's. This was headed nowhere good fast.
Cas reached over to the mouse pad to scroll to the next page.
"Hey!"
"You're reading too slowly," he said. "We already know this part."
"And the next part is a mystery?"
"I want to know how you manage to seduce me."
"How I manage?"
"Yes."
"Like a boss! That's how!"
Cas' expression dripped with skepticism, his eyes still moving as he read.
Fake Sam moseyed over to lean against the back of the sofa and read over their shoulders, and then probably snuggle them or something. And Cas pressed against Dean's side for a better view. It was suddenly way too warm. Too many eyes. Not enough room to breathe.
"Wait. No." He shoved at Cas's side, but the guy had gone all immovable. "We are not sitting next to each other reading this."
"That's true," Cas said. "I'm the only one of us reading."
"Damnit, Cas. Just—shove over." He elbowed until Cas consented to scoot, just enough to almost look like he was cooperating, but still firmly inside Dean's personal space. Dean swatted his hand away until he could take over the scroll bar again, because if this train wreak was happening, he was damned well gonna drive. Cas frowned and rolled his head to the side to give Dean his most utterly unamused stare.
Dick.
"God. How does he stay not ticked at you long enough to make out?"
"Maybe it's hate sex," Cas said, completely deadpan.
Dean stared at him. Cas gave him as overly innocent look, all big, blue eyes that freaking sparkled with virtuous angel magic.
Dean shook his head and turned back to the computer to find Cas had already skipped a long portion.
Once, in order to break a curse on a town, Dean had had to kiss a statue. At the time, they predicted only a 40/60 success rate, but without any better ideas, they gave it a shot.
Dean had climbed up, balancing one foot on the head of one of the bronze geese at the statue's feet, one foot on the pedestal on which the statue stood. He braced himself with one hand on her basket of roses, and leaned forward. He had decided that, with the whole town at stake, he should give it everything he had. He'd use tongue and grab the statue's ass. He'd make it the best kiss of that statue's life. As a bonus, enthusiastic groping of a town landmark would disgust and embarrass his brother enough to put an end to any teasing.
However, face to face with her, he found a softness, an innocence. The spirit of the sleepy town looked back at him, and he placed the most chaste and gentle kiss against the cold bronze of her lips.
Now he stood before Castiel on her last night on earth. As much as a part of him pushed to make it good, the look in her wide, blue eyes caused him to hesitate. Suddenly, all he wanted was to reach out and smooth the startled creases from her forehead. He wanted to ease the fear from her eyes. He brushed a thumb over her cheek, fingers slipping into her hair. He licked his lips and leaned in, careful to move slowly, and careful to hold her gaze, waiting for the moment she would relax or freak out completely and shove him away.
When he pressed his lips to hers, they were just as still as the statue's and the kiss just as short. She was exactly as confused and exactly as tense when he pulled back. Instead of leering, he smiled. "How was that?"
The back of her neck softened under his hand, her eyes softening as well. She breathed again. "That was..." Her eyes shifted down to his lips, eyelids growing heavy.
The second kiss was better. She melted into his touch, suddenly pliant under his lips and warm as she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew herself against him.
The third kiss decided things. He breathed her name and there was a choke in it that spoke of all the lingering gazes and all the heat in his chest, all the times she'd saved him and all the times he'd ruined her. She moaned, pressing against him, bruising and needy. She stole all his air and sent a burning heat through his lips and down his spine. Her sudden intensity took him by surprise, and she latched onto his jacket and twisted, teleporting them to land sprawled on the bed in his hotel room.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. No. We're not reading this." Dean splayed his hands over the screen to cover it, hovering just over the glass so Sam won't have a shit fit about smudges. He glared up at Fake Sam and pointed a finger at him. "You're not reading this. No one's reading anything about Cas' virginity or boobs or—or noises. She doesn't need this. Give her some privacy." He slammed the laptop shut and snapped, "She's an angel. This is wrong."
That speech earned him three identical looks of confused disbelief. Well, two identical looks, and one look from Cas that was just really super similar.
Fake Sam laughed. "Dude. Did you just defend her honor?"
"No."
"You don't get protective about Cas' virginity," Sam said.
"That's—"
"It's what? Different?"
"Yes. It's—" Oh shit. It was different. Sam was right.
He knew it too. He looked downright gleeful.
Dean groaned and let his head flop backward against the couch. Fake Sam slapped him on the shoulder. When Dean opened his eyes, his brother's clone grinned at him from upside-down. His life was a hall of mirrors, surrounded on all sides by heckling brothers.
Cas was warm against his side again. He shifted the computer out of Dean's lap, reopened it, and kept reading. Dean glared until Fake Sam went away, then begrudgingly went back to reading along with Cas. Because it was hard not to when it was right there. Plus Cas needed supervision.
Apparently, holy angel superpowers included speed reading trashy novels, photographic memory, and instant recall. Together, these skills would make Cas the undefeated champion of those "spot the difference" puzzles they had in kid's magazines in hospital waiting rooms. He scrolled through crap about horsemen and long descriptions of the Midwest, stopping every few minutes to point out some minute difference.
During their confrontation, Raphael said a few rude things about being able to smell the human on Cas, as if he could see grubby hand prints on her grace, but she didn't rise to the bait and the conversation went mostly the way Dean remembered it. And then Cas was scrolling again, eventually coming to the end of the novel, closing the window, and opening the next from a link on the Supernatural Wikipedia page the Sams had open in the background.
Scrolling.
Scrolling.
He stopped about twenty pages later and pointed at the word "bitch." "In our universe, you called me a dick." Then he kept scrolling.
Book Cas from the future wore a man's shirt with the sleeves tied in a bow across her ribs, baring her shoulders. Book Dean kept getting distracted by a mole just under her collar bone. But she still had the same cynical twist to her smile and the same glaze over her blue eyes. She still laughed and said, "What? I like past Dean."
The weirdest part of it all was how little things were different. Apart from some gendered slurs (which got Sam started on a rant about casual sexism and how Dean was part of the problem) and that one sex scene, there was pretty much no change for two and a half books. There was absolutely no follow up to the whole "last night on earth" thing. Dean didn't buy her flowers and Castiel didn't try to hold hands. They still fought over everything. They still had prolonged, intense staring contests and invasions of personal space, but those weren't unusual or charged with sexual tension or anything. They weren't even sort of awkward around each other. They just went on with the apocalypse, time traveling and picking up Sam and killing pagan gods.
It started to make Dean think that Chuck had made up the whole episode for some stupid literary reason.
Or at least, he thought that until Book Dean finally let Sam out of his sight and he and Castiel found themselves alone in a hotel room for the first time in three books. He turned from the TV, raised an eyebrow, and smirked. "So—"
Before he could finish his proposition, she'd shoved him back on the bed, pinned his hands over his head, sealed her mouth tight against his, and undid his fly with her mind.
"Holy shit. You can do that?"
"Yes," Cas said, still reading.
Huh.
Dean shifted.
Fun facts about angel sex that Dean seriously didn't need to know, doesn't buy would ever apply to him, and doesn't want to think about in reference to his best friend:
*There are a lot of exploding light bulbs, shattering glass, and power surges.
*Apparently, angels know their own strength unless they get really distracted. It sounded painful. Maybe it was just that Chuck's writing sucked (which it did), but all the slamming against walls and pinning against mattresses only sounded appealing if Dean sat back for a few minutes to think about it (which he was not going to do).
*There was a lot about how he could hold her grace in his arms, how it enveloped him. And he didn't know how literal that was, or if it was just Chuck being flowery, but it sounded terrifying.
*The "explosive power of his own bliss" actually caused Dean to black out. Every time. What bullshit. It was probably from the multiple concussions he surely had by the time it was all over. Chuck was a moron.
*When Book Dean regained consciousness, panting and stated and boneless, Cas would be there, tracing her lips over his skin, erasing the bruises on his wrists, on his hips, the scratches on his back, the possessive red marks on his neck, on his shoulders. There was something worshiping about it, and Dean always dragged her closer before he fell asleep.
But seriously, all that changed was the sex. With growing frequency, it was just there, and then everything else was exactly as Dean remembered it. Which, first of all, meant he and Cas were just reading the porn parts of this story and skipping everything else, and out of all the dumb crap he'd never thought he'd do with an Angel of the Lord, this one might take the cake.
Second of all, what the hell? What was even happening here? These guys pretty much had the exact same relationship he had with Cas except for the one, kinda important part. How did that work? Book Cas would call, and then pop up in the backseat of the moving Impala and say something about demons, and even though they'd cracked tile in the bathroom the night before, Book Dean wouldn't even bother looking in the rear-view mirror. And not even in an awkward Don'tLetSamKnowDon'tLetSamKnow ActCoolActCool kind of way. They were honest to God, friends who just—
"Oh, holy shit. Are they fuck buddies?"
Cas agreed with a hum, scrolling past some boring plot stuff. "Yes. I'm curious how Dean comes to realize he returns her feelings."
"Her...What?"
Cas turned and stared at him.
What? It didn't say anything about that in the book. It mostly said she was a grumpy alien, imitating humans and being a weirdo. "Dude, she doesn't have feelings for him. Why would she? She could do way better." Cas was just letting his inner romantic run away with him. Reading too much into it. Probably all the porn they were reading. They should take a break.
The Sams had already wandered off to geek out about the spell that would bind all the Castiels together and form Voltron. So apparently they were going to help with that instead of heading home. Though it didn't look like Cas was fully on board with the plan yet. He'd rather read smut about himself.
Dean's life, man.
Cas stared for another few seconds, then went back to the computer without a word, clearly conceding that Dean was right.
Chuck started fading to black on the sex. There was just too much of it. That bore repeating: there was too much sex for Chuck to bother writing it down.
And this kept up, getting worse and worse, in book after book, until the very last scene of a mostly unchanged novel. When God announced that he didn't care.
She turned her face to the ceiling, and at first they thought she was holding back tears.
"You son of a bitch," she said, her prayer bitter and angry. "I believed in..." She waited. For an answer. For comfort. Her eyes scanned the water stains on the ceiling for a sign.
None came.
She looked away, and before she could say anything more or disappear, Dean had crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. She stood stiff against him as he soothed a hand up and down her spine, brushing his fingers through her hair. She dropped her face against his chest in defeat.
"It's pointless."
"It's not pointless."
"He doesn't care."
"So what? Screw Him. We care, Cas. That's enough."
Sam padded forward, carefully placing a hand on Castiel's shoulder, offering comfort to an angel for the first time. "We'll find another way. We can stop all this."
She shuddered, and Dean squeezed, holding her fast, never letting her go. "We care," he repeated. "You're one of us now."
Slowly, her arms came up around his waist, her fingers biting into his jacket, her form relaxing into a desperate cling. Despite his brother's presence, he pressed a kiss into her hair, smelling of mountains and storms.
Over the top of her head, he made eye contact with his brother, who clung to his very last shreds of hope. Dean let his words sink in, stern and serious, forgiveness and apology which he could never voice directly.
"It's the three of us against the world."
Dean stared.
It didn't answer all the questions. But it answered enough. Enough to show that the real difference between their worlds wasn't Cas' vessel. It was that when push came to shove, they had banded together instead of pulling away, fraying their ties to each other with doubt and fear and petty grudges.
It was enough to leave Dean ashamed.
Cas must have finished reading before Dean, but he considered the words for a long, humbled moment before quietly closing the laptop. His voice lowered and eased, less weighted by the harsh skepticism he'd held since they came to this universe.
"We should see what Sam's learned."
Dean nodded. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Let's help these huggers."