Turned out that girl Cas wasn't such a shitty flier after all. Traveling between universes just sucked no matter what.
Knowing it was coming made it slightly better, and Cas did make an effort to keep Dean upright when they landed. A calm spread from the hand on his arm, seeping through his shoulders and into his stomach, turning it right-side-out again, easing the cramping muscles. He felt clammy and tensed, and he had to blink about a dozen times before his eyes uncrossed and all the blurriness faded. He wasn't tearing up, it's just that he was dragged from one dimension to another and not all of his molecules fit together, that's all.
Cas looked sympathetic in a way that made Dean push himself up straight, pull away, and slap the guy on the shoulder. "Alright. I'm good. Where are we?"
They stood in tall, crunchy grass, row after row of sunflowers spread before them and a pale blue sky draped overhead. The air sat warm and tanggy in the afternoon heat.
"You should rest," Cas said.
"I'm fine. The faster we get this done, right?"
Cas frowned. He was the least enthusiastic helper ever. Like despite their subtext heart-to-heart (the best kind of heart-to-heart) and their silent agreement to hang out more, Cas still wasn't entirely convinced that dragging Dean around the multi-verse was the best plan. Given how little Dean cared for having all his intestines removed, then shoved back into his body, Dean was starting to see where he was coming from.
"Where's your friend?" he asked.
Cas squinted into the distance. "New Jersey."
This did not look like New Jersey. "Okay?...And where are we?"
"Nebraska."
Well, obviously. "And you thought, 'Hey, since we're in the neighborhood, I'll show off and take Dean out somewhere nice. Show him a good time.'"
Cas turned his squint on him.
Dean elbowed him in the side and quirked a grin. "You brought me flowers, you big softie. That other universe is giving you ideas."
Cas shook his head slowly. "I don't understand. This isn't bringing you flowers. You can't keep them."
"Yeah. I know that."
"If I picked one for you, I don't know what you'd do with it while we speak to Castiel. You'd have to hold it and they're large. That would be awkward."
"Dude, no. It's just that it's kinda like a date, so I was making fun of you."
Cas sank into a kind of gloomy pout and turned away grumbling, "It's not a very good date."
That was most definitely true.
"If I wanted to impress you," Cas said, "I would bring you to Pasticceria Marchesi in Milan."
"What?"
"It's a bakery. I think you would enjoy it."
"Oh...Well. Yeah, we should check that out...Not so you can get in my pants tho."
"Of course."
"Just to go there."
Cas nodded, looking back in the direction of New Jersey. "We're here because I thought you might appreciate stopping somewhere peaceful to gather yourself."
Dean snorted.
"Also, I can't tell where Castiel is in a specific universe unless I'm inside it too. I thought we might as well pause here before meeting him. But you seem to be feeling better now. Are you ready?"
"Do we have a plan about convincing him?"
Cas sounded as grumpy and put-upon as Sam when Dad would force him to do something distasteful like oxy-clean blood out of his shirt or put away his book. "We're supposed to be polite."
Dean barked a laugh. "This should be easy then."
Cas hated everything.
He pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead and zapped them to New Jersey.
They popped up in a forest of spindly trees that cast long, dull shadows. The quiet settled on his shoulders, and a smell scraped at him and danced away before he could place it. Cas tensed at his side, and the hair rose on his arms because something here was wrong wrong wrong.
Before he could figure it out, Cas vanished, zapping twenty feet away to slam down his sword with a burst of black goop and a yelping howl that froze every drop of blood in Dean's body. Cas flipped the grip on his sword and slashed. With another shower of blood, the growling and whimpering and thrashing died, and something invisible thumped to the ground, disrupting dead leaves and flattening the dirt.
Dean hissed a curse, that came out so stringy he surprised himself.
"Hell hound," Cas said, jerking his sword out of the thing's carcass. Like labeling it was even remotely necessary. Fuck.
Fuck.
Growls, hot and damp next to his ear, painful against his eardrum. His eyes squeezed closed, because if he moved, if he freaked, if he twitched it'd snap. That catch in the snarl just before it chomped down on his face, on his neck. The heat of hell, the heat of hell, and it'd be back tomorrow, claws ripping through the flesh of his chest, catching on his ribs.
He tried to wrestle his heart rate back under control, his hands clammy on his gun. He'd picked up a sweat in the Nebraska heat, and now it stuck cold to his skin. "I hate hell hounds." His voice didn't come out any manlier than it had before.
"There are more."
"Awesome. Just awesome."
Dean tried not to look at the dead hell hound as Cas led him off, but found it hard to tear his eyes away. Cas set a brisk pace, sure of himself even though the direction looked completely random. It only took a minute to hear the sounds of shouts and snarls, a moment later the fight came into view through the trees.
Girl Cas twisted, slashing at the air with her blade, ducking and dodging. It looked like a dance except for the growls and the splatters of black blood that burst from nowhere to spray across her gray pea coat. Not the blue raincoat. She'd found her vessel at a different time. In the dead of winter. All bland colors like the forest. She lost ground, giving up an advance to duck back and take on what might be a second or third hell hound, trying to keep them back from—
—from Sam. Who was watching girl Cas with his jaw clenched and his eyes wide, a shotgun at the ready and pointing at thin air.
"There are four," Cas said. "Stay here." And then he was off, darting into what might be the middle of the fray, and might not. Who knew.
It might have looked stupid, them slashing at nothing, but their every move was determined, strategic, and the heavy presence of hell hounds—fucking hell hounds—kept the fight so painfully real. Cas and girl Cas fit together without comment, without even a backwards glance or a tilted head. Warriors of God doing what they did best while Dean stood helpless and practically vibrating with strain.
Cas jerked to the side. Rolling. Pinned under something huge. Dean took a jerking step forward, but girl Cas was there, gutting the thing and saving Cas before spinning to block another damned dog, while Cas pointed and shouted, "Dean, there."
One had gotten past them, heading towards Sam, the leaves flickering under its feet as it ran. And Dean was running, circling the main fight and bolting for the monster, shooting twice before it yelped and stumbled, and then leaping to tackle the stupid thing like a complete moron.
And then snarling and wrestling, clumsy stabbing when he dropped his gun and digging his fingernails into putrid dog hair, grappling to avoid claws and teeth as the thing rolled and squirmed, his eyes squeezed tight. Stabbing and the smell and stabbing and the blood.
Something grabbed his shoulder, and he jerked, snapping up to face Cas and his calm face.
"It's dead."
Oh. He looked down, not that he could see anything but stillness and a growing pool of oily blood. He was breathing way too hard, and forced it to stop with a swallow.
Okay. He got it. No more hell hounds. Time to be polite. And charming.
Right.
"Dean?"
He straightened up and wiped dog blood from his forehead with the back of his hand, shooting Sam a half-assed, winded smile. "Sorta. It's a long story, but—"
Sam looked devastated. Horrified. Dean barely got to frown and think to ask, "You alright?" before Sam's face twisted and he was flying, knife drawn, eyes blazing, ready to slash and tackle and bite and oh shit.
Two fingers to the forehead, and Sam collapsed in a big floppy pile with Cas standing over him.
Dean gaped. So not ready to process this.
Then girl Cas was there, sword at Cas' throat, only held off by his hand on her wrist as they shoved against each other. And—Cas had his sword out too. Aimed up to slide under her ribs. Held still only by her hand on his forearm, and hopefully Cas' better judgment.
"Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa. Time out!"
"No one touches Sam," girl Cas growled.
Cas grimaced and adjusted his grip, trying to shove her away and utterly failing.
"Okay. Yes. We agree on that," Dean said. He wanted to get between the wrestling angels, but even he could recognize that that was impossible and the worst idea he'd ever had, so he mostly just ended up hovering beside them, his hands in the air, not quite touching either of them. "He's fine. Look. He's just sleeping. Right, Cas? He's just sleeping?"
Cas didn't answer, both the angels' feet slipping against the dirt. Dean took that as agreement.
"We're just here to talk. Cas, we're here to talk. Remember? Put the sword down, man. If you kill yourself, we have to go back and explain that to everyone. So quit being stab happy and put the swords down."
Dean held his breath through the beat of poised silence, through the suspended moment of angels glaring and swords quivering. Then they broke apart. Swords still in hand and postures still tensed, but calmed enough for Dean to breathe again.
"Good. Okay." He rubbed at his temple and the headache building behind his eyes. His fingers came away bloody. "We've got a proposal. To help with the war in heaven. We can help each other. See, we're from an alternate universe."
"I gathered that," she said.
"Right. Of course you did. Well, we're trying to get a few Castiels from different universes together to take on Raphael. Team up. Make a little army."
"Why were the hell hounds after you?" Cas asked, because things like staying on topic weren't all that important when you were actually ancient-ass, sentient light particles pretending to be a dude.
"There's a demon named Crowley," she said. "He offered me a deal and when I turned him down he thought threats and intimidation would change my mind. Why does Sam want to kill you?"
"How should I know?" Dean said. "I'm not from around here. He and I fighting in this universe or something?"
"Not that I know of, but there are a lot of people who want to harm him. I've hardly met them all."
"You..." His heart stuttered until it felt like he'd been punched. "...Haven't met me."
"No." Her eyes darted to Cas and back, her head tilting as she considered them. "That upsets you." Her posture sagged, her face softening until she looked like Sunshine again instead of a wet cat. The sword disappeared from her hand.
Cas explained, "I raised him from hell."
"I raised the Righteous Man from hell."
Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah. That's me. I'm the Righteous Man."
She shook her head with a twitch. "John Winchester is the Righteous Man."
His dad.
The blood drained from Dean's face.
His dad broke. He broke the first seal. He was Michael's vessel. And Dean didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. He always knew he was plan B, so it really shouldn't have been that surprising.
Some recognition sparked in her eyes. "You're Dean Winchester." At Dean's jerky nod she continued. "That's why Sam wanted to kill you. He assumed you were a monster impersonating his brother. In our reality, you sold your soul to a cross roads demon to save him. You've been dead for three years."
And he was still down there. No one came to get him.
"Dean."
He ran a hand over his face, scraping it through his hair. "Yeah." He cleared his throat again, that hollow feeling that came with terror and emotional whip lash clawing at his chest. He pulled himself together to smirk at Cas, and his stupid, pitying face. "Looks like our universe isn't the worst after all."
"Dean," he chided.
"What?"
Cas frowned.
"Hey, whatever. They're free to suck as much as they want. I'm not gonna judge." He wasn't going to dig either. He didn't want to know how Sam coped without him. How he weathered the apocalypse and being soulless and having dad alive and on his case again. If he and dad hunted together, or where the man was now. Why girl Cas was so overprotective.
Shit, were they sleeping together? Nope. Didn't want to know.
"You said you have a plan to defeat Raphael," girl Cas said. She didn't look impressed, but she did look interested.
So Dean shoved everything down into his toes and focused on the plan and gave the pitch that he hadn't (seriously. Shut up) been planning in his head. She only half bought it, but Cas had only half bought it too, and their solidarity in skepticism was actually part of his pitch. Also part of his pitch were hints that Sunshine might have her shit together enough that her hair-brained scheme might actually be the least stupid idea any Castiel has ever had. Not that it wasn't stupid. Just the least stupid.
For example. This stab-happy Cas had a plan that involved making (from scratch) a cage for Raphael. With seals and everything. The seals sounded like some kind of wild scavenger hunt. She preened as she told him her favorite so far, which was something about renewable, clean energy instead of extinguishing orphans. Honestly, she and Sam must be a force to be reckoned with. They probably had a compost pie and went to marches. The details of her plan got hazy after the construction phase, but it sounded familiar aside from the fact that they didn't have Raphael's vessel to offer himself (herself?) up to jump in the pit, so they would have to trip him and hope he fell into their trap.
Seriously. Coming up with off the wall plans must be a universal character trait of all Castiels along with the head tilt and the staring. Following through on a plan, they could do, but coming up with one? They were new at that. And so they took whatever idea they had and ran with it until they ended up in crazy town with ideas like "find God" and "Molotov cocktail an archangel" and "with our powers combined we can call Captain Planet."
Dean was fucking exhausted, and they still had four more angels to track down, with four more realities full of mind-fucks. He could tell girl Cas was in, but she felt like being stubborn and grumpy and autonomous, so she phrased it like she might possibly be interested but she'd need to check it out first. And then Cas gave her directions by staring at her for way too long, which still kinda pissed Dean off, even though he wasn't sure why.
She couldn't leave without one more argument though. Because that's how things work. And they had to bicker for a bit over whether or not she'd take Sam with her.
Cas—of course, the prick—thought that it'd endanger Sam or at least traumatize him when he woke up surrounded by clones of himself and a couple versions of his dead brother. Plus Bobby already had about all the company he could stand. And the trip across universes wasn't very pleasant. Which were all pretty valid excuses except for the fact that Dean was one hundred percent done with Cas' "the Winchesters are delicate damsels that I have to protect by locking them in a prissy tower and keeping them out of the loop" shtick.
Girl Cas flat out refused to leave Sam, because who knew what kind of trouble he'd get into without a babysitter, and Crowley might come after him again, and she couldn't just leave him unconscious in the forest.
Cas seemed to think the forest was a perfectly fine place for a nap, at which point Dean lost his patience.
"Shut up, Cas. She can bring Sam McStabby along if she wants." He glared over at Cas, who realized he was doing it again and looked away like the guilty son of a bitch he was. Yeah. Suck it. Cas should feel bad. After their unspoken agreement and everything.
Dean turned to girl Cas. "Just tell him what's up before he shanks anyone."
She nodded, bent to pluck up Sam's limp hand, and vanished. In the silence left behind, Dean's shoulders slumped in exhaustion and relief.
One down.
They landed in the next universe in Evanston, Illinois. Dean's feet sunk into the sand on a tiny, man made beach between two breakers, and he sunk to the ground to press his forehead to his knees and cover his head with his arms, taking deep, hissing breaths between his teeth to hold back the nausea. He probably looked pathetic and sweaty, but he didn't give a shit. His eyes were about to explode from the changes in pressure and leave ooze trails down his face. His heart was about to come up out of his mouth and then there'd be a heart plopped in the sand, beating once, twice, before he blacked out.
He was going to die in a Chicago suburb. Awesome.
He squeezed his eyes closed and breathed, focusing every last ounce of his waning energy on not letting that happen.
With evening coming, the sky had dimmed through the gray blankets of cloud cover. The wind off Lake Michigan nipped at his fingers and the back of his neck, exposed from the collar of his jacket as he curled in on himself, chilly and bracing against his anxious sweat. Unlike the sunflower field, this place wasn't abandoned. Just behind them, he could hear cars on the street, see houses just outside the roped off bounds of the beach. But it was late and chilly and they were alone.
Cas took a seat next to him, and once Dean felt less like a sick mess and more like an angry mess, he turned his head to the side to watch him. Cas clasped his own wrist and propped his forearms on his bent knees, staring out at the choppy water, watching the birds.
"We'll return to Sam after this and rest for the night."
Dean nodded. He should probably say something flippant about how he could go all night, or how Sam was a big boy and could tuck himself in, or how maybe Sunshine would change her mind about this plan once she realized what sorry examples she had to work with. Instead he said, "Sounds like a plan."
They sat in silence, listening to the birds and the cars and Dean's relaxing pulse until he could uncurl and lean back on his palms. "You know, some forewarning about what we're gonna see here would be great. Like if Sam's grown a mustache or married Ruby or been hybridized into a lizard-man. Or if my dad's the president or the king of hell or the God-damned messiah. Or—I know—if I'm dead. Those are shockers, Cas. Shit like that doesn't help the communication process."
Cas sighed, that woe-is-me I-just-wanted-to-protect-you attitude shifting back into place. "I'm sorry this is so disturbing for you."
"You bet it's disturbing! Do you have any idea what I—what fake Dean is doing in hell right now?"
Cas stared at him. And suddenly Dean's anger drained.
Yes. Cas knew.
Another beat and Cas turned back to the lake. "I can't tell what's different from here. I can sense the angels, so I can sense the war. I can't sense you or your brother, probably because you're both hidden from angels, like you are in our own reality. But once I see Castiel, I can see parts of her life written in her grace."
"Really?"
He tilted his head in concession. "Sort of."
"Must be hard to keep secrets from each other. If everything you're up to is written on your forehead." He scooped up a handful of sand, letting the grains slip between his fingers. "No wonder you can't lie to save your life."
Cas didn't answer for a moment. Probably embarrassed. All the other angels knew about the whoopee cushion thing and how much tequila he could put away.
"It's more that I know my own scars. I can tell that...girl Cas doesn't have some that I do. The Castiel we just met, she's missing some too, but has others. I don't know exactly what happened to give her those marks, but I can guess." The corner of his mouth twitched into a teasing smile. "I could tell right away that she hadn't met you."
"I'm sure you can get my smell out of your wings with a heavy dose of Lysol."
"No, I couldn't."
He didn't know what to do with the level of certainty in Cas' voice besides make a self-deprecating joke. "Sorry. Guess you'll smell like guilt and bad decisions forever."
"Yes," Cas said, in a soft murmur. "That's most likely."
Without even a quip to say to that, he stared at Cas as outrage and hurt and the guilt he'd already mentioned crawled up his throat.
But then Cas turned to meet his eyes with a completely out of place smile. Sad and fond and familiar. "I'm glad you're the Righteous Man."
Dean blinked, then scoffed. "Come on, man. We're not doing this."
Cas accepted that, or he'd already said enough. He turned back to the water with that stupid, little smile still on his face.
This Castiel was in Sioux Falls, which lowered the chances that they'd have to fight monsters, but raised the chance that they'd have to talk to someone who'd question his life choices. But who knew, really. Maybe a car monster had taken over the salvage yard. Maybe this Cas just liked hanging out with Bobby. Maybe this Cas had turned into a car monster and Bobby was the only one who could keep his road rage in check.
The salvage yard looked like it always did. Quiet, but not spooky quiet. Hot, but getting cooler every minute. Some of the same clunkers from his own universe and some from Sunshine's sat around on blocks. The Impala wasn't around, which didn't bode well (or did it?), and the house itself had an extension on the side. Like Bobby had expanded his library, or built himself a torture chamber, or manufactured an aquarium because Sam had turned into a mermaid.
"Hey," Dean grabbed Cas' sleeve and pulled him to a halt just shy of the steps. "Is there a way you can give him a heads up we're here before we knock on the door and someone tries to stab us?"
"He knows we're here."
Okay, that was creepy.
Cas stared at him, impatient.
"Can you spidey sense his grace from here? Give us an idea what we're dealing with."
Although he clearly thought it was a waste of time, Cas looked towards the house and squinted. "It's...placid."
"Placid."
"That's the only way I can explain it. And it's boy Cas this time."
God, Cas was hopeless. "You mean he's a dude."
"His vessel is Jimmy Novak."
"Yeah. Okay."
Cas offered up no further information, waiting for Dean to get on with it. Was he supposed to play twenty questions?
Dean narrowed his eyes. "He's sleeping with Dean, isn't he?"
"Not right this second. We're not interrupting. It would be alright to knock."
Completely hopeless. Dean let his chin fall to his chest. "I guess that means I'm alive."
"Yes. We should knock."
"Alright. Fine. Keep your pants on." Dean jogged up the steps, which creaked and thumped in a familiar tune under his weight. "We need to work on your reports," he muttered, rapping a rhythm against the door. "Because your idea of important points and my idea of important points are very different things."
Cas slumped one of his shoulders as he shuffled his feet. Like of course they had different priorities and Dean's were stupid.
There were footsteps on the other side of the door, someone peering through the peep hole. The deadbolts clicked open one after another as Dean threw on his charming smile.
Instead of Bobby or himself or Cas (who knew they were coming), a cute blonde answered the door, wearing a ratty gray hoodie and cut-offs. The memory of her face pulled at Dean's memory, but he couldn't place it. Maybe she was a hunter he'd met briefly, or a local, who'd just sweet-talked Bobby into fixing up her Nissan. Maybe she was one of Cas' angel friends.
Her fond eye roll and the pop of her hip immediately scratched off the possibility of her being an angel.
"Really, Dean? Knocking? This must be an epic apology you have planned."
"Uh."
This was apparently about as much of an apology as she'd expected, and her attention shifted to Cas. "I didn't even know you'd left. He's only been gone ten minutes. That's not nearly enough time for him to stew in his own juices before you drag him back."
"Actually," Dean said, "we're—"
"It's called 'letting him sweat it out.'" She winked, ignoring Dean in favor of Cas, sharing what could only be relationship advice (oh, fuck his life) like the guy should be taking notes and calling her sensei. "Don't worry. We'll work on it."
Dean cranked his winning smile up to eleven. "Okay, funny story—"
Cas cut him off, and he had that voice like he was trying to be approachable, but the words that came out of his mouth ruined what little effect he was getting. "We need to speak to Castiel."
There were surely a lot of ways to broach this topic, and maybe one of them was gentle and not frightening, and maybe if given enough practice they'd even find it and perfect it. But clearly that magical phrasing wasn't something the two of them were going to find on this particular adventure.
The smile slid off the girl's face, her eyebrows pinching together in confusion. Her lips parted in question, when a form stepped up behind her, nudging her gently to the side. Castiel. Tan trench coat and blue tie, with that same look of awe and curiosity that graced Cas' face the first time he set eyes on Sunshine.
The girl jumped, her head snapping back and forth between them, her jaw dropping, then snapping shut. Then Dean got hit square in the face with holy water. He spluttered, blinking drips out of his eyes just in time to see her grab a knife and launch herself forward. Just in time to see Cas sidestep, and the blade sink into his chest.
She blinked at her hand, then up at Cas, who just frowned down at the hilt like he'd spilled coffee on himself. She jerked away as he reached up for the knife, gripped it tight, and pulled it out. There wasn't any blood.
The other Castiel took hold of the girl's shoulder, guiding her back (but where was he a split second ago?) "They're from an alternate reality. They're not monsters." He and Cas stared at each other before he continued, "They're friends." It sounded mostly like he was trying to soothe the girl, or just voicing whatever decision he'd come to after he and Cas had their telepathy thing, but a threat lay somewhere under there.
They better be friends.
The girl's voice twinged. "Alternate universe?"
Handing back the knife, handle first, Cas said, "We just want to talk."
She took the knife with shaking hands and swallowed.
Dean wiped his face with the hem of his shirt. Okay. So. Someone trying to stab him was just going to be a thing. Not all that surprising. "Okay. Now that we've got that settled?" She shot a pointed look at the girl, then at Cas and fake Cas. Yeah. All settled. "Let's try this again." He held out his hand. "Dean Winchester. And this is Cas. Nice to meetchya."
She looked at his hand like she'd never seen one before, then cocked an eyebrow when she looked back up at his face, a bit of curiosity slipping into her expression. "Winchester. Huh." She pocketed her knife and shook his hand. "Jessica Singer. And this is Cas too."
It hit him like a train.
Jess.
Shit.
His face must have fallen completely, because she shifted uncomfortably and snapped a look at fake Cas for reassurance.
Dean cleared his throat, and barely managed to pull it together enough for a nod and a strained smile at fake Cas. Then his eyes were back on Jess, committing her to memory. Her hair was shorter, her face more tan. She had a scar on the side of her neck and one that cut through her eyebrow. She knew about hunting and hung out in Sioux Falls and paled around with an angel.
"Singer," he said. "So that makes you Bobby's..." Please don't say something messed up. Please don't say something messed up.
"Daughter-in-law."
"Daughter-in-law?"
"Yeah." She managed a smile, something desperately trying to be polite, desperately trying not to panic. "Your universe sounds bizarre."
"You should have seen the last one we were in."
He darted a look over at Cas to find him and his mirror image staring at them.
He raised his eyebrows and nodded his head in encouragement for Cas to...you know...break the tension by talking. Saying something. Anything.
The angels' heads listed to the side. Both of them. At the same time.
"Shit, that's creepy."
A startled laugh burst out of Jess.
And that did the trick. He rolled his eyes and shared a commiserating look with her. Can you believe these guys? Can't take them anywhere.
"Come on, Cas. Staring time's over. Time to show the recruitment video so we can get out of here."
"That's your job."
"I did the last one. I'm tired now." Plus, it looked like he'd already won over fake Cas, just by showing up and being his awesome self and not putting Jess in a choke hold.
The beginnings of a sulk started on Cas' face, and Dean had to nip that in the butt. "And don't even think about fucking it up just to prove a point."
Cas muttered something in one of the billion languages Dean didn't know. Fake Cas smirked, and muttered something back. Probably, "Dean's such an ass-foot," and "He'll hate it if we talk about him behind his back. We should do that."
Jess laughed again and nudged him towards the steps, her posture finally relaxed. "Can I get you some tea? Or a beer?"
"I'm good."
She plopped down on the top step, flipping back the stretched cuffs of her sleeves in a nervous gesture and extending miles of bare leg down the steps. "So," she looked back over her shoulder at the angels, now in deep, mumbled discussion about their mutual dislike for Dean. "Visitors from another dimension, huh? What brings you to this neck of the woods?"
He eased himself down onto the step beside her. "Well, you know how two heads are better than one? They've decided that enough Castiels to fill an SUV are better than one, and probably pack enough horse power to take on Raphael."
Her eyes sparked with interest. "Will that work?"
"Hey, Sam's the one with all the details. I'm just in charge of recruitment. So...yes!" He grinned. "Of course. Nothing can go wrong."
She laughed.
And then the silence fell, and Dean found himself staring again. The nail polish on her toes was blue with little stars.
What do you say to your brother's dead girlfriend? A girlfriend who's hopefully married to a version of your brother, who changed his name to give your dad the finger. And that was a weird thing to hope for.
"So..." He grabbed at a line of questioning and hoped he wasn't too obvious. "How long've you been hitched?"
"Almost a year,"she said. "Shotgun wedding, you know. During the apocalypse."
Did she help during the apocalypse? Ride shotgun to give directions and eat at diners and sleep in awful motel rooms? Aim a double barrel at ghosts and witches and demons. Watch Sam drink blood and break the last seal and say yes to Lucifer?
Instead, he asked, "Vegas?"
"Niagara Falls."
"Classy."
"I know, right? We—hold on." She scrambled up and disappeared into the house, popping back out a minute later with a tri-fold photo frame, brushing her fingers over her Cas' shoulder as she passed him. She took her seat again and pressed the pictures into Dean's hands. The frame was dusty and clearly bought cheep at Target. A very Bobby purchase. The photos themselves were a bit blurry like they were taken with a camera phone. No, they were definitely taken with a camera phone. And then Bobby had printed them out and framed them.
The picture on the left caught Sam and Jess mid kiss. Catching was probably the wrong word, because they looked like they were taking their time with the whole thing. The picture on the right, taken just before or just after, showed them making moon eyes and grinning at each other. They looked so happy it hurt. The middle photo was a selfie (a fucking selfie) that Dean had taken to get Sam, Jess, Cas, and himself all in the shot. They wore their FBI suits, and Cas had lost his trench coat, and Jess looked like she'd picked up the first light colored sun dress she could find at JC Penny. They all had their arms draped over each other as they tried to squish together and push Jess to the front. Even from the weird angle, he could see himself absolutely glowing with pride.
He held the photos gingerly, trying not to let the ache in his chest spread roots.
Sam with a name change then. Bobby hadn't had a kid that stole Sam's girlfriend. Or maybe Sam was Bobby's kid in this universe. But then wouldn't Sam look different? God, if this trip spilled the beans that Sam was his mom's love child with Bobby, Dean was gonna bleach his brain. But they'd only met Bobby after his dad started hunting. Unless the Campbells knew him. Or maybe—
"Dean?"
He snapped up, finding Jess' hand on his shoulder.
The fondness—the weird, weird fondness—had returned to her face. Even though he wasn't her Dean. "You're getting teary," she said.
He scoffed and shrugged her off. "Am not."
"Yeah," she snarked, slipping into an easy familiarity. "Riiight."
And he could glare at her. Snap that she didn't know him. That they were strangers just waiting for the angels to get done with their business. But instead he bowed his head, sinking into his exhaustion. "It's...been a long day."
She nodded and let the silence stretch before she spoke again. "You know, part of me really wants to know why I'm not in your universe, and why you still have your dad's last name. But then part of me can guess, and I think maybe I don't want to know."
"Yeah. I hear ya." He thumbed the corner of the picture frame. "I asked Cas if he could give me a heads up about this universe. So there wouldn't be any surprises. All he had to say for himself was that it was placid."
"Placid."
"Whatever that means."
She thought for a minute, looking at his face like she could read his history in his freckles. "I guess it is in comparison. You're still hunting, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, I can tell. Here Dean's mostly stopped. Went back to his day job. Sam too. He went back to law school after the apocalypse. Dean told him to. So he did."
"That's great."
She smiled. "It is."
He nodded. A happy ending then. Good for them. He felt sick. "So is Dean a mechanic or a construction worker?"
For some reason, that startled another laugh out of her, and it took her a moment to realize he was serious. "Child protective services."
He blinked. "What? Like a body guard?"
"Like he's a social worker?"
What the fuck?
She cracked up laughing. Then kept laughing. "Oh my God. Your face."
"You're joking."
"No, I'm not. He...oh man. Really?"
"You have to go to school for that."
"So? He's got his MSW."
"The fuck is that?"
"Oh my God."
"This universe."
"Why's it so hard to believe? It's something he's passionate about." She bumped his shoulder. "Saving people."
"That makes no sense."
"Really? I think it makes loads of sense. I mean, his dad dragged him and his baby brother around the country, living out of their car, running credit card scams, and endangering them by killing monsters. You bet he wants to keep as many children as possible from that kinda life."
He narrowed his eyes. "Watch it."
She just looked at him, amusement and a painful level of understanding holding firm in the quirk of her lips.
"He did the best he could."
But she knew. She'd heard all this before and the Dean who hugged homeless, abused, adorable children had given her answers Dean would never dream of voicing. She could see all his defenses for exactly what they were, and that was terrifying and aggravating, but there was no way he could storm out and then tell Sammy that he'd cut a conversation with her short on account of her giving him a look.
He shook his head. "Hey, in the last universe we were in he was the Righteous Man. So he can't be that awful."
Her nose twitched. Like a sniff. Like she was trying to scoot a pair of glasses up her nose. And he'd never seen her do that before, but it was so endearing and he was so pissed at her and God damn this universe and the last universe and the one before that.
"I think, John Winchester was a good man," she said. "But that doesn't make him a good father."
He stared at her.
And she offered him a beatific smile. Radiant and clear. And she knew. Accepting of all the churning crap in his heart and loving him anyway. Loving. Him.
He had to look away. Just for a second. And when he looked back, her smile was even brighter, and he just had to shake his head and laugh.
"This universe," he muttered.
"This universe," she agreed.
"Where did your Dean stormed off to?"
"The hardware store. Sam went with him to soothe things over when he snaps at Mr. McCoy because he's gonna be too surly to be polite."
"I guess it'd be polite to ask what the fight was about. But—"
"—You don't want to know."
"You got it. I'd rather ask what they're getting at the hardware store."
"New garbage disposal."
"Oh, thank God. That old disposal is older than Cas."
"I know, right?"
"And you're okay with all this." Another change of subject, but it just forced itself out like a blown tire. He gestured at the salvage yard, even though that wasn't what he meant at all, and only realized the subject change after he'd said it. "Sam told you he hunts monsters, and you were cool with it?"
"You'd have to be pretty messed up to know what goes bump in the night and be cool with it."
"But you're still here."
"Still here," she said. "Exorcised a few demons, bitched out a few archangels, kicked a horseman in the nads." She shrugged. "Sam's worth it."
One of the strings on her hoodie was pulled longer than the other. Her wedding ring was a silver band.
With no idea how to express...whatever, he reached out awkwardly to pat her arm. So awkwardly that she laughed at him again, and pulled in his elbow to wrap around his arm and rest her head on his shoulder. She smelled like summer and Sam's shampoo.
"I'm dead in your universe," she said.
"Sam's crazy about you," he answered.
"Good answer, Winchester."
"Dean." They turned to the angels, who were staring at them again.
"You done?" Dean asked, pushing himself up with a groan.
Cas nodded. "We're ready."
Dean smacked Cas' arm with the back of his hand. "Told ya you could do it."
Jess came up next to them, addressing her Cas. "You leaving?"
He nodded. "They have a good plan. It's worth an attempt."
"What should I tell Dean?"
He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the sky. "Tell him I've gone to an alternate reality with someone who looks exactly like him, but has yet to pick a fight with me." A smirk slipped onto his face. "Let him 'stew in his juices.'"
"That's my boy!" Jess grinned and popped up on her toes to kiss his cheek. Then she turned to Dean, stepped forward, and hugged him. "It was nice to meet you."
"Yeah," he said, patting her back. What was he gonna tell Sam? "Bye, Jess."
She pulled back. "Nice to meet you too, Castiel. Take care of him."
Cas nodded, taking hold of Dean's shoulder.
"And take care of Sam."
And then the world turned inside out.