"I can't find Castiel."

They'd landed in a desert in Utah, the sky a mess of color, spirals of sandstone twisting to the sky. Especially with his eyes watering, the scene bleed together—earth and sky, pinks and oranges—into something so vast and indescribable...If Dean's lungs had been working, it would have taken his breath away.

He groaned and pulled his attention back to Cas, standing completely out of place in lines of black and white and tan within the wash of color. "Is he dead?"

"No. I can feel his presence. His grace...it's...in the air? I just can't pinpoint him. He must be warded."

"Warded against angels. Like I am?"

"No." Cas' words tumbled over each other in quick dismissal. "It's probably nothing like how you are."

Nice. "Okay. So what? Should I pray to him?"

"That won't be necessary." Cas looked over and smiled. And screw Sunshine and her doom and gloom, path of destruction bullshit. Cas was awesome. "He's hidden from angels, but not from me."

"How's that?"

"We have a spiritual connection."

Dean snorted.

Cas closed his eyes and focused, sending his senses out into the wide world to resonate with like minded photons or something. Dean took a moment to watch him—his fingers twitching at his side, his breathing even, his face clearing of the grumpy wrinkles that had become so familiar. Cas was in a better mood this morning. Or maybe since they left. As if he was starting to let himself hope that this plan could work, as if he was as relieved to get away from the other versions of himself as Dean was. A little part of Dean—one that he tried to snatch back and tie down before it could fully form—thought maybe Cas was even looking forward to their dumb adventure today, and they were going to act like it was old times.

When he woke up this morning, that was exactly what he'd wanted. Then Sam and girl Cas had ruined his day.

He should ignore them, because they clearly had no clue what they were talking about. And they weren't allowed to harsh on his mood when 1. they weren't even here, and 2. no one should be able to disrupt a man's enjoyment of sandstone arches.

Cas' eyes snapped open, and that was all the warning Dean got before his enjoyment was completely ruined.

He knew the beat of wings at his back wasn't Castiel. It was like how he could tell when it was the Impala pulling up in the street instead of any other car, or how he could recognize when Sam was coming down with something based only on the airy hiss of his snore. This wing flap wasn't Cas, no matter what weird form he'd taken in this reality.

Instead of Castiel, they got three angels surrounding them. Black suited and bland and unsmiling, Raphael's flunkies looked the same in every universe.

The front angel, a skinny guy with a sharp nose, had his face pinched as he analyzed the changes in Cas' grace and any changes he might find in his vessel, but if he saw anything weird, he dismissed it. "Castiel. You've finally come out of hiding."

"Zephon." Cas shifted to put himself in front of Dean, which was annoying and wasn't even possible seeing as they were surrounded.

Zephon puffed himself up and announced, "We're prepared to accept your surrender."

"That's not Castiel," one of the other angels hissed. He had a blond pony tail, which lost him even more cool points. "This is a trap. Another piece of Winchester trickery."

Dean twisted to give the guy an incredulous look. "Trickery? Seriously?" He must be Bugs Bunny in this universe, painting tunnels on cliff sides so he could escape while the angels crashed into rock walls behind him. Or was that more Wile E. Coyote? That fit the scenery.

The angel sneered, shifting his hold on his blade. It shouldn't have been intimidating with his dumb hair—and it wasn't really—but Dean was effectively weaponless against the guy, and Cas hadn't bothered to slip his sword out of his sleeve yet. That's how screwed they were.

"If you're not here to surrender, what do you want?" Zephon snapped.

Cas shifted uncertainly and quirked an impostor of a smile, something too bright and too sheepish, clearly at a loss. "Uh. You know...Things?"

So Cas didn't want to let on that there was more than one of him running around, and he didn't want to mess up anything Other Cas had planned. Fine. That was honorable and strategic and whatever. But being loopy was not the way to cover.

His answer in itself might have been enough to distract the flunkies if Cas had thought to use it that way. Make a run for it. Stab someone. Something. Instead, everyone just stared at him.

"Umm. What do you think I want?"

Dean slapped a hand to his forehead.

Zephon sneered. He lifted his sword.

A flash of blue, a grip on his arm, and Dean was flying, jerked through jump after jump, scenery flashing like a strobe light, too fast to see what had grabbed him, and something had grabbed him, whisking him away, through a universe he didn't know, away from Cas and his only ride home. He snatched enough breath to grab control of the shock that had frozen his stomach, to struggle, to tug, straining against the grip on his jacket. He could twist out of it. Abandon it to this universe and whatever had grabbed him. Get back to Utah. Find Cas. Shit. Shit. The grip tightened, iron and bruising, as an ocean flashed under his feet.

He hit the ground like he'd been hit by a car, gasping as the world slammed to a stop, cement biting into his knees. Everything inside his body clenched, too tight for him to even heave.

His organs were never going to survive this trip. They were probably all crumpled up and knotted together, bruised and pitiful and just done with this bullshit.

And now he was going to get angel tortured.

God. Fuck this.

The hand on his arm loosened, soothing over the burn in his bicep, and only then did he realize that his kidnapper had still been holding it. He looked up, his head still spinning like they were still moving.

Concern clouded girl Cas' face, her hair windblown and her blue raincoat brushed behind her on one side. Her other hand was latched onto Cas' wrist. Cas, who was still there and solid, and Dean hadn't completely lost his ride home.

Cas' shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank you," he said.

Dean groaned, sitting back on his heels. "Yeah. Great timing." But honestly, if girl Cas had known to follow and rescue them, then she could have just warned them ahead of time not to come here. Was this some kind of set up? Or did Cas have some kind of multi-dimensional distress signal? Why not just leave them the hell alone to have their poor excuse for a hunt.

"We've warded this building. You should be safe here," she said. "I'm afraid they're looking for me, so you lit up like a Christmas tree." The simile sounded stilted and foreign in her mouth.

Cas smiled slightly, too relieved to be more than self-deprecating, "I realized that a little too late."

"You're safe now. Hello, Dean." None of the heat from her previous warnings or her impending lecture showed on her face. And why hadn't she launched into that yet?

"Hey," he said.

She looked him over, X-ray visioning him for injuries, and apparently the inevitable shut down of every system in his body wasn't all that urgent, because she turned back to Cas so they could stare at each other with raw curiosity.

And...this wasn't Sunshine.

Okay. New Cas. That made more sense. And was infinitely more comfortable.

Dean pushed to his feet and took a look around. They were in a circular room surrounded by old-school computers and equipment panels, covered in lights that no longer blinked, buttons that would squeak under his fingers, and levers crusted in rust. Water damage and nature had crawled their way in, sending a sprawling vine across one wall, roots chipping away at pale green paint. The ceiling was opaque glass, dappled with dirt and fallen leaves and marred by the determined lines of a sigil in bright white spray paint. The whole room echoed. Maybe the whole building echoed.

"Is this an abandoned power plant?" he asked.

New Cas tore her attention away. "Yes. Do you like it?"

"It's pretty cool."

"The lower floors are more comfortable, but I don't know what kind of welcome you'll get."

"Probably someone trying to stab us."

"Exactly."

Dean decided he liked her. "Is this your hideout from Raphael?"

"It's one of our hideouts," she said. "We've been in hiding for a while, so we have several. I take it you're not doing the same?"

Cas sounded apologetic when he said, "No."

She hummed and looked around her home, fond and sad and proud.

"How long?" Cas asked.

"Since I learned Zacharia's plans to break the last seal on Lucifer's cage."

Dean blinked at her. "You stopped Sam from killing Lilith."

"It seemed the right thing to do."

"Wow. That's—" He shook his head and nudged Cas' arm. "She's better at passing notes than you."

Cas made a face.

"But...the apocalypse still happened?"

New Cas made the exact same face. "We moved Lilith to one of our hideouts, kept her imprisoned and alive, went into hiding. Dean even burned down the church where she needed to die. We held out for ten months before Monica got her."

"Who's Monica?"

"A demon. I killed her."

"Oh. Good for you."

"Thank you."

And then they were back to staring. It was getting kind of old, watching Cas stare at himself, but Cas seemed to agree this time, his gaze less burning in intensity and more resigned to being inspected. The novelty had worn off or New Cas just wasn't all that interesting. The emptiness of the building seemed to pulse, wobbling off steel walls and vibrating down corridors. It made Dean want to fidget, to hum, to start talking again.

Then New Cas saved him from it, asking, "Why are you here?"

Ah. Right.

"We've got a plan to beat Raphael. A bunch of Casses from different universes team up and pool their power."

"Miscere Vires?" she said.

"Yeah. That's what it's called."

She tilted her head in thought. "Using only Castiels would solve the graft rejection problems. And the constructive interference would give even more power than intended."

"Uh...Right. Constructive."

She quirked a smile, knowing exactly how little he knew what he was talking about. "The solution is interesting."

"But?"

"But I have my own plan, and although it's still in its infancy, I'm not ready to abandon it for what little I've heard of yours."

"Hey. Makes sense." Dean shrugged. "We didn't buy it either at first. But we've heard a lot of bad ideas lately. This one is almost reasonable when you hear the others."

She leaned forward in interest. "My plan involves time travel."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Time travel. This'll be good."

She didn't catch his sarcasm. "I can go back in time to stop a catastrophe, keeping a large number of souls alive so they can procreate, creating more souls that would not have existed otherwise. More souls means more energy, which can be used to defeat Raphael."

"What kind of catastrophe?"

"The Dean of my reality wants to 'kill baby Hitler.'" She rolled her eyes because this was the part of the plan that was stupid. "But I don't see much point in infanticide. Hitler was just as vulnerable as a small child."

"Huh." In an effort to be diplomatic, Dean nodded along even though that plan might win the Dumb Plan Award. He should mention it to Sam, so he could make blue ribbons.

Next to him, Cas shifted, looking away and trying to look like he wasn't part of this conversion.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. "Why do you look guilty?"

"I don't."

"Yeah, you do."

"I—Expressing emotions on a human face is difficult. I must be doing it wrong again." He scrunched up his face until he looked constipated.

"Dude, that is the biggest load of bullshit." He turned to New Cas. "Are you buying this?"

She tilted her head, trying to figure out what the hell was up with him, and that was answer enough.

"You were going to kill baby Hitler too."

"No."

"But you were going to time travel."

Cas looked away again and muttered, "It was Balthazar's idea."

"Sure it was." He asked New Cas, "Was your plan Balthazar's idea?"

"No. But...he would enjoy carrying it out. I should ask him about it."

"See, Cas. I'm not buying it, and—Crap. Wait. Are you two giving each other ideas?"

"No," she said, and then with a level of interest that completely betrayed what she just said, she asked, "What were you going to do?"

Cas shifted uncomfortably. "It's not important."

"It wouldn't have worked?" Dean asked.

"It would have worked."

"Come on, man. Just spill it."

"...I was going to stop a ship from sinking."

"Like a battleship?"

"Not exactly."

"A passenger ship," New Cas said. Her eyes sparked with excitement, latching onto the idea and letting it light her from within, even as her decision came our completely deadpan. "I like that plan."

"Of course you do." Dean groaned. "Well too bad. Both of you. New plan now."

"Because cross dimensional influxes of power are so much more stable than power influxes created through minimal changes in history." They both looked grumpy.

Dean decided that New Cas might be his second favorite Cas. She was the most like his Cas, she lived in a Bat Cave, she'd yet to tick him off or order him around, and had yet to try to have eye sex with him. Plus Cas seemed to like her. That counted for something.

"I know it sounds weird. We weren't convinced immediately either. But just give it a shot, okay? The Sams can explain all the details and the Cas running the show is too determined to let anything go wrong. Just give it a shot." He gave her the pleading, smoldering smile, that he knew wouldn't work on her because she'd probably seen her own Dean do it a billion times without success. "You said your plan was only half baked. You might as well try this out while you get your own flushed out."

She considered him, and he knew a good three seconds before she announced it that she was on board. "I'll need to tell the boys."

"Do you think they'll be okay with it?"

"I don't need to consult with them. Just inform them."

And that was a lot like his Cas too.

Less endearingly so.

They landed at a lookout point on the side of a mountain. The two lane road at their back was empty and the scenery before them was open and free. Purple mountains disappeared into wispy clouds. The air was thin, which might have helped him breathe since he wasn't choking on lungfuls of air, but might have hurt since he could get even less oxygen than usual. His fingers were instantly chilled, and he balled them into fists and released them, balling them and releasing them, trying to get the blood flowing again.

Cas waited, a hand resting lightly on the wooden railing, which was unfinished and striped with soft wood splinters and sap. Cas looked out, at ease like he belonged here. And maybe Dean would have to change his mental image of Cas sitting on a cloud, because this moment was pretty close.

Dean took the spot next to him, letting the soft wind brush against his face.

"So." He turned away from the view so he could concentrate on Cas, leaning back on his elbows against the railing. "The time travel thing. Is that the big secret?"

As still as he'd been before, Cas stilled more. Like his stillness was now colored with a need to flee at a moment's notice. "What do you mean?"

Dean hesitated. He didn't like the taste of anxiety in the air. Didn't like that Cas feared him finding out.

No. Everything was fine. There wasn't anything wrong.

"Everyone thinks you're up to something. Like you've got some terrible plan you're not sharing. But if it's the time travel thing, then that's not so bad. I mean, it's pretty out there, and I don't know where you pulled it from, and I guess given our luck it'll end up going horribly wrong. But it's not like we have to worry about...I don't know. You misusing your powers or kicking puppies. It won't be the end of the world. And it didn't seem like that flushed out of a plan anyhow." Dean lowered his head to get in Cas' line of vision, to grab him with a smile. "That's why it was a secret, right? You just weren't done thinking it through yet."

Cas stared at him, his eyes so so so blue. Slowly, so so so slowly, his shoulders eased in relief still tinged with a stiffness that might never fade. Probably embarrassment. He lowered his head and looked up at him with the brush of a rueful smile. "I worried you'd think it was a bit far fetched," he admitted.

Dean's smile widened. Thank God. "Hey. Don't worry about it. I don't share all my half baked plans."

"No, you just act on them."

"Shut up." But there wasn't any heat to it. Cas teasing him was good. They were good. He shoved Cas with his shoulder and turned back to the view. Cas had good taste in private relaxation spots.

"See," he said, "I told Sammy he was worrying about nothing. I don't even know what he was on about. The guy's paranoid."

Cas didn't speak for a moment, too lost in the view. "Sam...thinks I'm doing something nefarious?"

"Dude, don't take it personally. All these other time lines are getting him turned around."

Cas frowned.

"Sunshine told me you're on a dangerous path and I need to stop you. But she told you the same thing the other day. I heard you talking in the kitchen." Cas stiffened beside him, and Dean hurried to fix it. "Sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't think it mattered, and it didn't make a lot of sense anyway. But she's way outta line judging your plans. She's just upset that everyone isn't exactly like her and her perfect universe. But you're fine. I mean, if this ritual thing works, you won't need to do the time travel plan anyway, so I guess that counts as stopping you. And even if it doesn't, you're the expert on this crap. I trust you."

Cas squinted at him, and Dean found himself holding his breath.

"Thank you, Dean. That means a great deal."

"Any time."

Cas looked away. "You're right. If this plan works, I won't need another."

"Let's hope it works then."

Cas nodded, eyes on the clouds.

The latest Cas was in a typical motel. Typical layout of little rooms around a parking lot. Typical neon sign with an arrow and a many pointed star unlit during the day. Typical peeling, yellow paint.

They stood in the parking lot for a second before Cas took the initiative. "His vessel is Jimmy Novak."

"Okay. Awesome."

"He's not sleeping with Dean."

"That's...um."

"And Sam and Dean are both—" He tripped over his own words, his face pulling into a frown. "Oh. You won't like this reality."

Dean panicked.

I'm dead again. Sam's dead. I'm a demon. Sam's possessed by Lucifer, who has amnesia, but still has homicidal tenancies. I'm possessed by Raphael and I've killed Sam and Bobby, who are poltergeists.

A flap of wings interrupted him before he could freak out completely.

New Cas looked exactly like Dean's Cas down to the blue tie and the frumpy coat. But that made the differences all the more clear. There was a wildness in his eyes. And he looked paler. Why was he pale? He didn't look injured. Was he sick? Did angels get sick? Is that what he wasn't going to like? Because he didn't fucking like this.

"Hello, Dean." And that was another weirdness. Usually the Castiels focused their laser vision on Cas, so surprised and interested in themselves that they effectively gave Dean the brush off. They could probably get more information reading their graces than they could looking at Dean's battered organs and mentally projected stubbornness. New Cas only gave his counterpart a sweeping glance before his desperate focus bore entirely into Dean.

"Uh. Hey." Dean waved. It was stupid. As soon as he realized he was doing it, he stopped. "We've got a plan to stop Raphael and we want your help."

Wow. Not the best introduction by any stretch of the imagination, but now he was on edge and flailing. Just word vomit that made no sense even to him. And angels could probably smell fear like horses, or at least New Cas would know him so well that he could read him like a book. That made him even more tense.

I'm a head in a jar. Cas killed me in my sleep and now he's wracked with guilt. I was killed and a skin walker took my place and everyone's pretending it's me.

He spewed out their plan, and realized about half way through that spelling out all their plans like this to a complete stranger might not be the best idea. But Cas would have stopped him if the guy was evil. Cas was supposed to be their trust barometer.

But Cas was stiff at his side, distinctly uncomfortable, and saying nothing either encouraging or warning. What the hell was that about? Should they leave this guy to his universe—the one Dean "wasn't going to like"? There were infinite universes out there where they could find another Castiel. Dean would even suffer through a bonus trip through the multiverse if he really had to.

I'm raising Sam and Ruby's orphaned, half-demon baby, and I'm teaching it to hunt.

And now he just wanted to know, because whatever it was couldn't possibly be worse than the crazy his brain was imagining. He wanted to ask. He didn't want to ask.

And maybe he was just blowing Cas' warning out of proportion. Maybe it was like "they crashed the Impala yesterday and you'll be sad about it," or "Dean let his hair grow out, and now he has Sam hair."

Maybe. But until someone explained, he wasn't trusting this New Cas. Something was off. Wrong. Something that had nothing to do with Dean's wild paranoia and the stress of hopping universes.

Was that a bruise on New Cas' neck? The fuck? Dean shifted his weight for a better view, but New Cas tilted his head and the shadow disappeared under his collar. It was a subtle movement, like his usual head tilt, but Dean had seen the head tilt so many times, from so many different Castiels, that he could tell when there was something off about it. It was a bit too intentional.

He finished his spiel, and New Cas considered him a moment before sighing and lowering his head, a gesture so familiar that Dean felt drawn to it even as the idea revolted him.

"Are you sure you want me?"

Dean blinked. Even as Cas stiffened further, as he stopped breathing and blinking, in painful suspension, Dean felt his muscles finally relax. Not all the way, but enough for him to to soften at the sight of Castiel with such a lack of faith in himself. So lost and meek. Feeling like he didn't deserve the things he was offered. Dean hated that look. He hated it on Sam, and he hated it on Cas, and his instincts wouldn't let him act any differently than he did.

He smiled. "Yeah. We want you."

Cas spoke for the first time, his voice quieter and more even than Dean would have expected. "Castiel believes that through this plan, she can save us from ourselves."

Like hell. Cas didn't need saving.

They'd all been fuck ups at some point. The guy was still Cas. Just Cas at low tide.

Cas didn't need saving, and neither did this guy.

New Cas turned to his counterpart, looking pale and tired and broken. "Will her plan save Dean and Sam?"

Dean sucked in a breath but let it out slowly, keeping his fears in check.

The furrow between Cas' eyebrows deepened. "What's wrong with Sam?"

"He has no soul."

Dean snapped, "What? Still?" But Cas only frowned. Then he started to nod very slowly, his eyes on the sky as if seeing the history that had lead to this point unfold on the wind, as if it made sense that Sam would be soulless here. "We know how to get his soul back. We can help you with that."

"And Dean?"

Cas sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. One of the others may know something I don't."

New Cas bowed his head and closed his eyes. Acceptance and sorrow

The words rose up before Dean could stop them, coming out quiet and half choked. "What's wrong with Dean?"

New Cas looked back up at him, that same penetrating, haunted look in his eyes, like he was drinking Dean in, whole and healthy, trying to memorize everything about him.

"Dean's a vampire."

Oh.

Oh.

A little voice in the back of his head hissed, This is the universe Sam wanted. And an even smaller voice said, Maybe that's why Cas is worried.

They landed at a shady, green rest stop butted up against a forest. It was one of those rest stops snuggled away in the trees so you couldn't see the highway, but you could still hear it as a distant sweep of wind and cars. The place was vacant but for a single blue mini van on the other side of the lot, but it looked clean and maintained, the vending machine fully stocked next to a welcoming, little building.

Dean plopped a seat on a gray picnic table, setting his feet on the bench and resting his head between his knees. When his stomach stopped rolling, he flopped onto his back on the table, covering his face with an arm to keep the sun out of his eyes. The table creaked as Cas took a seat next to him.

"A vampire huh?" Dean asked.

"It seems so. Luckily, we didn't have to meet him."

"Yeah. I don't have an icebreaker for that."

Cas thought for a minute, as Dean let the sun soak into his clothes, into his skin, warming away the clamminess. "You could have asked him if he turns into a bat."

Dean lifted his arm enough to give Cas a squint. "Dude, he's a vampire. He doesn't turn into a bat."

"I know. But you could have asked anyway to start a conversation. An icebreaker."

Dean stared.

When Cas looked down at him, his eyes danced. "The question would have irritated him."

"Do we really want to irritate a vampire?"

"I feel like we're on the wrong sides of this conversation," Cas said.

"Okay." Dean lay back and put his arm back over his eyes to partially cover his smile. "Ask me if we really want to be pushing a vampire's buttons."

"Dean," Cas said, with a stern edge to his voice. "Do you think it's wise to irritate a vampire?"

"Hell yes it would."

Cas' laugh was warm as the sun.

"Okay." Dean sat up, and then clambered off the picnic table. Cas followed him to his feet. "Last one. Where is he?"

"He's in heaven. You'll have to pray to him."

"Why don't you pray to him?"

Cas gave him his best bitch, please, which made Dean grin.

He cleared his throat, schooling his face. He theatrically pressed his palms together, bowing his head, and closing his eyes. "Oh Castiel, our patron saint of bad hair days." He cracked open an eye to catch Cas' disapproval. "We are but tired travelers from another dimension, come to share a plan to kick Raphael's ass and see if you want to get in on it. So if you want to come on down and talk, you can finally have that epic staring contest with yourself that you've always dreamed of. We would greatly appreciate it. Forever and ever. Amen."

They waited.

Dean's eye cracked back open to see if he'd appeared, then slipped back closed to hold his penitent pose, as if that would make a difference.

Cas sighed. "That wasn't a very good prayer."

Dean dropped his stance. "Hey, you knew what you were getting in for."

"Maybe we should just leave."

"Oh hell no. We didn't leave last time. This is the last stop."

"Not if we have to find someone else because you aggravated this one too much."

"Hey, if that aggravated him, then he clearly hasn't met me before."

"Maybe he hasn't."

"Then this reality sucks."

A sound like the startled flight of pigeons burst behind them, and Dean turned to see...himself. Without Castiel.

Despite his usual layers of leather and cotton, something about him looked distinctly out of place next to the picnic table. Like he was poorly photoshopped into a photograph. And he was just there. Staring. His posture odd and eerie with his chin raised and arms limp at his sides.

"Uh," Dean said. "Hey."

The guy tilted his head to the side. "Hello, Dean."

…

Welp.

Dean blinked about eight times, shook his head, and held up a hand to request a moment. He had to take a breath before he spoke, because apparently his lungs had spontaneously stopped during his brief aneurysm.

He squared his shoulders and pointed a finger to show his seriousness. "Dude, I don't want to know."

Then he sighed, staring down the angel before him.

"So we've got this plan to gank Raphael."