*~~ Juan Santamaría International Airport, August 15th, 2014 ~~*
Dean was going to fire Sam. He was going to fire Jo, too. No severance packages, no unemployment, just a boot in their ass as he kicked them out the door onto their asses.
Well. Not out the door right now, considering they were 35,000 feet in the air. Not that it wasn't still tempting.
"Dude, you've eaten so many of those that if you shake hands with someone who's allergic to peanuts in the next five days, they'll keel over dead," Sam said with a grin, referring to the crumpled, empty bag of crappy airplane peanuts currently crushed in Dean's hand. Dean didn't even like peanuts, let alone crappy, stale airplane peanuts, but they'd cut him off from the whiskey after two shots. Sam didn't want him to be drunk when they landed and met Gabriel at the chopper.
Right now, Dean didn't care, and wanted to be spectacularly drunk for the rest of this torture.
"Shut up, Sam, or I will push you out of the chopper," he threatened in return, though it was hardly an effective threat given that his voice was a tense mutter and his hands were still clutching the arms of his seat with a death grip. By the end of this flight he would have carpal tunnel in both of them. Or arthritis. Something.
Jo smirked, though she didn't raise her eyes from the book that was settled in her lap. It was one of Dean's that he'd leant her, the pages dog-eared and the cover battered from both multiple read-throughs and surviving multiple dig sites. It was the newest thriller out by Castiel Novak, and Dean had a brief moment of wondering if the last name wasn't coincidence, if he was related to Gabriel. Seemed unlikely though, a billionaire CEO and a New York Times bestselling author being in the same family.
Then again, he and Sam both turned out to be giant nerds for dinosaur bones. Although Dean would swear till his dying day that he was way cooler than Sam; paleobotany seemed really freaking boring. At least Dean dug up dinosaurs. Sam got excited when they found a full leaf impression on a dig.
The pilot's voice came over the intercom, telling flight attendants to prepare for final approach, and Dean took a deep breath. It was almost over. Maybe once they got back from the island he could convince Sam to rent a car and roadtrip back with him. That sounded infinitely better than getting back on an aluminum tube of death.
He turned up the music on the IPod Sam had let him borrow for the trip, trying to drown out the escalating whine of the engines with Metallica, and closing his eyes so he didn't have to see the amused looks on Sam's and Jo's faces. Fuck them. It was a fucking aluminum tube of death with wings, and nothing was going to convince him otherwise.
Only when he felt the jolt of the plane's wheels striking the pavement did Dean open his eyes again, swallowing down the lump in his throat and taking in deep breaths as he looked out the window. He didn't know what he expected, maybe something more subdued and stucco, but this was not it at all. The airport was all concrete and glass, the roofs arched and bright red over the industrial-like façade. A line of creepily-matching red taxis sat lined up at the largest building, almost like they designed the taxis to match the roof.
Past that, though, he could see the hazy, dark outline of low mountains through the heavy mist that hung around them like a curtain, and past the asphalt runways there was green everywhere, dotted by buildings that stuck out garishly on the side of the mountains, most of them below the fog that hid the peaks from view.
"It's gorgeous," Jo said from the other side of Sam, leaning forward in her seat to see out the window, the book sitting open straddling her knee to keep her place.
"Gorgeous and probably full of giant snakes and spiders the size of your head," Dean pointed out, not feeling charitable to the locale while his stomach was still trying to twist itself into knots. He didn't know if the chopper would be any better, considering he'd never been on one, but he didn't have high hopes. It seemed to be just a slightly smaller aluminum tube of death, but with death blades on the top.
The airplane finally slowed to a stop next to the terminal, and Dean heaved a sigh of relief, fingers already scrabbling at the buckle on his seat belt. (Why did they even have seat belts? If the plane crashed you were fucked. And the seat belt wasn't even long enough to strangle yourself with on the way down. Useless.) Trapped in as he was at the window seat, Dean could only wait and bounce his leg impatiently as the passengers in the front cabin gathered their things and filed out.
The jetway wasn't airtight against the side of the plane, so the first taste they got of Costa Rican weather was the blast of hot, sticky air as they stepped off the plane. Jo wrinkled her nose and was already reaching into her pocket for a hair tie, and Dean suddenly found himself missing the dry heat of Utah- this heat was tropical, thick and oppressive. Like it was trying to gather enough moisture in the air to drown you by just breathing.
"Here's to hoping the place we're staying has air conditioning," Jo muttered as they stepped off the jetway into the terminal, and also into the blessed air conditioning of the airport. Dean wondered if the air conditioning for the whole airport had strained their budget- because judging by the garish, retina-scarring green pattered carpet, they didn't put a huge amount of money into an interior designer.
"You never complained at the dig," Sam pointed out, and Jo snorted.
"That's because if someone complains about being hot on a dig, you sneak into their hotel room and dump ice water on them in the middle of the night," Jo pointed out, giving them both a look. "Plus, that is not the same kind of hot as this hot."
Dean nodded, hitching his backpack up higher on his shoulder. "Gotta agree with you there."
"Where are we supposed to meet this guy, anyway?"
"He said they'd have someone at the baggage claim to help with the bags," Sam said, weaving as conspicuously as the giant he was, past tourists in wide brimmed hats and sandals and families wrangling their overly excited children. The three of them stuck out in comparison, in their work boots and beat up jeans and shirts- it wasn't like they'd had time to go home and properly pack some normal clothes, so they'd combed through the clothes they had on hand and tried to pick the items that weren't torn or had dust ground into the seams. Easier said than done, when you're on your ass in the dirt half the day.
They had just turned the corner to the baggage claim when a man in a dark suit spotted them, immediately locking on and making his way through the crowd toward them. Either this was their guy, or they were about to get offered drugs to smuggle through for some local mafia, because the guy was creepily overdressed.
"Well, I almost didn't believe Gabe when he told me I wouldn't need a greeting sign to find you three, but it seems he was right. The moose gives you away," the man said with a low voice tinged with a British accent, and Dean could practically feel the eye roll that Sam wanted to give him but was holding back out of politeness. "Fergus Crowley. Just Crowley, for you. I'm the private attorney for Novak Industries," he continued, shaking each of their hands in turn.
Dean could already tell he wasn't going to like this smarmy dick.
"I'm Sam. That's Dean, and this is Jo Harvelle, one of our interns," Sam said, luckily handling the introductions for them while Dean was still imagining that his hand felt slimier after this guy touched it.
"A pleasure. Must be a pleasant change from your everyday dirt and bones," Crowley said, and Dean almost laughed.
"You know, I think I prefer the dirt and bones so far."
Their conversation was interrupted by the shrill dinging sound that signified the baggage carousel starting up, and Crowley turned and whistled to a woman and a baggage handler standing by the doors. The woman took her time in putting her phone away before she sauntered over, her brown hair falling in thick waves around her shoulders.
Okay, she was kind of hot. Dean could get on board with this.
"Are these our dinosaur experts?" she asked Crowley, not shy about giving them each a long once-over, arching her eyebrow at them. "Somehow I expected more Jack Horner and less male model in bad clothes."
Dean could just tell Jo was about to say something, but Crowley beat her to it. "Don't let Meg here bother you too much. We didn't hire her for her charm," he said, and Meg smirked, locking eyes with Dean. And when she locked eyes, it was like a freaking staring contest from hell; Dean was suddenly focusing less on how hot she was, and more focusing on if she might be Novak Industry's hitman or something.
"Meg Masters. I'll be your pilot on our little jump to the island," she elaborated, but Dean was still unconvinced that she didn't have a side job where she stole kidneys for a living. She definitely didn't look the part of a helicopter pilot.
"Is Mr. Novak already on the island?" Sam asked, and Crowley snorted.
"Please, just call him Gabriel, he doesn't do well with honorifics and certainly doesn't deserve them. And no, he'll be meeting us at the helicopter with our other guest for the tour. He flew in earlier today," Crowley explained, leading the way over to the moving baggage carousel, which now had quite a few bags circling on it. Crowley and Meg stood off to the side chatting as Dean and Sam stood by, grabbing their bags as they slid by.
"Well, that's kind of more what I expected with big business," Sam said, throwing an uncertain glance toward the pair before hefting Jo's duffel bag off the carousel and onto the floor.
"He is a lawyer. I think they only come in flavors of sleazy and super sleazy," Dean said, and Jo groaned.
"Please, do not talk about that guy's flavor. You're giving me mental pictures I could go a lifetime without seeing," she said as the baggage handler who'd been with Meg took Jo's duffel from the floor and set it onto a waiting cart. Dean winced and grabbed the next bag, a large duffel that would be identical to his were it not for the lack of duct tape wrapped around part of the strap. He slid Sam's duffel across the floor to the baggage handler, who put that on the cart as well.
"Well, I doubt he'll make us spend much time with a lawyer if he wants us to enjoy the vacation," Sam pointed out, watching the bags go by, everything from hot pink suitcases to hastily duct taped cardboard boxes. "Wonder who the other guest he mentioned is, though."
Dean shrugged. "Probably some stuffy academic. Who cares?"
The final bag came around, and Dean grabbed it and hauled it off the belt, sliding that one over to the baggage handler as well. Crowley seemed to notice that they were stepping away from the throng of people standing around the edge of the carousel, and he tugged out a wad of the local currency, pulling 2 10,000 notes from the bundle and holding them out to the man. "To the helipad, my friend, and make it fast. Rápido," he said, and the man took the bill and nodded, and he was off through the crowd like a bullet. Dean could already see the headlines; toddler gets run over by baggage cart, baggage handler says 'totally worth it for the tip'.
"Well then. Shall we?" Crowley said, and Sam frowned a little.
"We should stop and exchange some money while we're here, shouldn't we?"
Crowley laughed and clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder, starting to lead the way. "You won't need any. You're a guest, you'll get everything you need pro bono," he insisted, and Dean and Jo shared a wary look before following. They were going to be on a private island; he was probably right.
"So, what kind of park is this?" Jo asked Meg, who was trailing behind them as if to make sure they weren't going to bail. Meg smirked, her hands tucked in her pockets as they walked.
"Can't say. Lawyer up there had me sign so many non-disclosure agreements that I think Novak owns my soul by now," she said, her voice like a purr, smooth and rich. "But I can tell you that when you leave, you'll wish you could have stayed your whole life instead of three days. Hell, I'm not a nature person, and I put up with the bugs and humid-ass climate to go out there."
"I thought this was a nature preserve," Dean said, getting an uneasy feeling. There was something big here, a puzzle piece they weren't being shown yet. "What the hell is in a nature preserve that would make me want to camp out in this crap?"
Meg laughed and tossed him a wink. "I guess you'll see when we get there, won't you?"
Dean wasn't happy with that response, but he didn't ask any more questions, knowing that he wasn't going to get more than vague answers. Nothing about this made sense, though; every time Novak Industries had opened a park before now, it was a media frenzy. It was all over the news, showing clips and highlights from private tours, and every detail hashed out in the spotlight. If this park was so great, why hadn't they heard about it by now? It was surely close to being ready to open if they were doing private tours, and yet there had been no press on the subject. Nothing.
The whole thing was making him feel uneasy, and he could tell by the slight frown on her face that Jo was thinking the same thing. Sam was up front talking to Crowley about something, but the space had widened between them and the chatter of people around them and the intercom above made it impossible to hear what they were saying. Maybe Sam would find out more than they did.
He nearly groaned when the automatic doors slid open and they were once again blasted with a blanket of humid, hot air, but they didn't have far to go; a blue van was parked outside, sticking out like a sore thumb among the endless red taxis, and the logo for Novak Industries was plastered across the side of it in stark white lettering. The driver was already at the back door, sliding it open and waiting until Sam, Jo, Dean, and Meg had climbed in before he shut the door and walked around; Crowley settled into the front passenger seat, twisting around to look at them.
"Won't be a long ride. Don't get comfy," he said as the van pulled away from the curb, cutting through gaps in the taxi traffic that Dean wouldn't even try to make in a Smart Car. Meg was back on her phone, fingers tapping at the screen, either texting or playing a game; Dean couldn't tell from where he sat on the bench seat in front of her.
"How long is the chopper ride?" Sam asked, and Meg rolled her eyes, glancing up from her phone only for a moment.
"Do yourself a favor, sasquatch, and don't call them choppers. You sound like a five year old," she said, swiping her finger across the phone's screen. "It's a 2 hour flight, normally, but I'm damn good and the weather's clear, so I can cut fifteen minutes off that."
Dean winced and slouched down in his seat. Two more hours of being way too far above the ground for his liking. Gabriel was rich enough, he should have built a bridge or something.
And there was another thought. Surely they weren't going to take all the guests out to the island like this, by private helicopter; but people could hardly drive out there.
"How are people going to get to the park? I mean, it's going to have a lot of visitors, right?" he asked, and Crowley met his gaze in the rearview mirror.
"Helicopter or boat transportation is included in the eight thousand dollars a night price tag," he said with a rather pleased look, and Dean didn't even have to look to know that Sam's and Jo's jaws dropped at the same time his did.
"Eight thousand dollars a night?! Who the hell is going to pay that to see an island?"
"Oh, a whole lot of people, Winchester. A hell of a lot," Crowley said, looking back forward as the van pulled to a stop beside the helipad. "Believe me…we have no worries about filling the rooms. In fact, I do believe we'll be booked up a couple years in advance, at least. Might have to extend the park to the other islands."
Dean was glad they had to get out of the van, because otherwise he was going to tell Crowley exactly how much bullshit that sounded like. No one paid eight thousand dollars for one night on an island unless there were orgies involved or something. He gave Sam a look of disbelief, and his brother could only shrug. Meg was already making a beeline for the helicopter, the machine itself a dark navy blue like the van, complete with the Novak Industries logo across the side.
A sleek black car pulled up behind the van, and Gabriel was stepping out even as it was still rolling to a stop, the usual bright smile plastered on his face. "There's my favorite group of bone diggers! Have a good flight?" he asked, and Sam elbowed Dean before he got past opening his mouth to say he'd rather have a colonoscopy than get back on another plane.
"It was fine, thanks," Jo said, and Dean's attention was drawn to the person getting out of the other side of the black car. He looked familiar; dark hair that looked like he'd just rolled out of bed, blue eyes…he was sure he'd seen the guy before. Of course, he wasn't sure how he could forget if he had; that was a face he'd remember. He usually went for people of a more female persuasion, but the closer the guy got, the further his Kinsey scale was tipping.
"C'mere, Cas! This is Castiel, my little brother. He's going on the tour with you guys," Gabriel said, pulling Castiel in close with an arm around his shoulders. Castiel was obviously not too happy about it, but he indulged the shorter man.
Then, the light in Dean's head went on.
"Wait, Castiel Novak? As in, the writer?" he asked, suddenly realizing why the guy looked familiar- some of his books had his headshot on the back cover. And while enough to give him pause, the headshots didn't nearly do justice to the real thing.
Castiel smiled, almost looking shy. "Yes, the writer. Though for the next three days I suppose my title is guinea pig," he said, shooting Gabriel a look, which was promptly ignored.
"Don't let Cas bring you down. He hates vacations. Workaholic," Gabriel said as the helicopter motor began to growl and the rotors slowly began to turn. Crowley was just watching the baggage handler put the rest of the bags into the chopper, so it seemed like it was almost time to go.
Jo held up the book from her bag almost sheepishly. "Reading your newest right now, actually. It's really good," she said, and Castiel seemed genuinely pleased that someone was complimenting his work. The smile made Dean's breath catch; he took in every detail, the crow's feet that got accentuated when he smiled, the way his shoulders seemed to relax.
Yeah, this guy just dropped a boulder on the 'homo' end of his Kinsey Scale.
"Stop makin' his head bigger. Cas, these are the paleontologists I mentioned. Dean and Sam Winchester, and Jo Harvelle," Gabriel said, gesturing to each of them in turn, and Dean found himself impressed that the guy remembered Jo's name after only meeting her once. Castiel shook each of their hands, the smile back to one of those polite smiles that didn't quite make it to his eyes. Dean would have to get him to smile for real more often on the trip, he decided.
"Well, enough talk about literary achievements, let's get this show on the road," Gabriel said, stopping and patting Sam on the shoulder. "Be sure to duck, skyscraper. We're gonna need your head to stay attached to your shoulders for the weekend," he teased before heading for the chopper, not having to duck at all himself.
"What, swallow a lemon?" Dean said to Sam as he passed him, seeing the sour look on his face from the teasing, which Dean was more than willing to join in on. That's what brothers were for, right?
He'd been distracted from the impending flight by the mystery of the park and the fact that he was basically a starstruck teenager, but now as he grudgingly walked toward the helicopter, he could feel the anxiety setting in all over again. The rotors buffeted the air in rhythm now, the wind pushing at him as he ducked slightly to get to the door. The motor was too loud to be heard over, but he climbed in and took a seat, away from the window this time. There were two bench seats in the chopper, one facing forward and the other towards the back, so Dean had Sam and Jo on each side of him, and across from him Castiel was settling in between Gabriel and Crowley. He looked about as thrilled to be here as Dean was, but Dean had the feeling it wasn't because of the helicopter ride. It didn't take much to notice the tension between Gabriel and Castiel, like Castiel was just trying to tolerate his brother, and it left Dean wondering if there was more to the story.
Crowley pulled the door shut, and evidently they had some damn good soundproofing in this thing, because the sound of the helicopter was cut down to over half of what it had been. It was quiet enough to speak at a normal level and not struggle to hear each other, though the air was so thick with tension that Dean wasn't sure there would be much conversation on the flight.
Dean's leg was already bouncing with nervousness, his hands tightening into fists and relaxing over and over on his knees as he tried to tell himself that this was different. That it was somehow safer than a plane. It wasn't helping much; the three across from him had already taken notice of his nervous tics.
"Guess I should have had her stock this thing up on whiskey, huh?" Gabriel said, and Castiel snorted softly.
"Wouldn't that have been nice," he muttered, already pulling a beat up notebook out of his bag and tugging the pen free from where it was clipped on the spiral. Well, at least they seemed to have two things in common; a need for alcohol in stressful situations, and a dislike of technology. Though he couldn't imagine that he wrote his books entirely by hand, that would take a really, really long time.
"Don't mind Dean. He has this thing about flying," Jo said, earning a glare from Dean even though she was just saying out loud what everyone else had already likely figured out.
Still. He was still going to fire her and Sam when they got back from the trip. Fire them with extreme prejudice.
His whole body stiffened when the helicopter lifted off the ground, and no, he definitely did not like this better than the plane, because he could feel it moving. At least a plane felt somewhat sturdy; this thing seemed like a strong gust of wind would send it spinning. The feeling was lessened when they got higher in the air, but Dean still kept his fists clenched tightly and closed his eyes, letting his head drop back against the wall with a thud.
This fucking park had better be fucking worth it, he thought, opening his eyes long enough to get jealous of everyone else, who seemed to be taking the flight in stride. Hell, Gabriel was probably in one of these every day. Castiel was already jotting things down in a messy script that Dean wasn't even sure he would be able to read if he saw it right side up, Crowley had pulled out a laptop, Sam was trying to get Gabriel to talk about the park more, and Jo was eagerly looking out the window, probably trying to memorize every detail so she could tell her mother every detail tonight.
Jo and her mother were incredibly close, as Dean had found out. Jo's father had died when she was young, and her mother became a widow and single mother trying to run a popular bar and grill all on her own. Despite that, she'd always been an amazing mother to Jo, making time for her and making sure she stayed on the right path, even when she was at her worst from the anger of having lost a parent so early.
Knowing that, it was easier to understand why Jo walked away from the dig at the same time each evening to call her mother and fill her in on everything. It made Dean miss his own mother, who'd passed while he was getting his PhD and Sam was just in his first years at college. It had been several years, but the loss still stung, and he didn't think his dad would ever be over it even though he'd known it was coming.
That was the only good thing about the way she'd gone; cancer at least gives you time to say your goodbyes.
Once Gabriel's phone rang, there wasn't much conversation other than the obnoxiously loud one-sided one coming from the CEO. He was evidently talking to someone about merchandising for the park, and how he wanted the logo changed. More red, he insisted. Dean eventually managed to tune him out and close his eyes again, just waiting for it to be over.
True to her word, it was just under 2 hours when Meg turned her head and announced that they were getting ready to land. Dean opened his eyes and looked out the window reluctantly; on one side the ocean stretched out for endless miles, the sun making the blue color of the water seem even more vibrant; they were low enough that he thought he saw something moving under the waves, a dark shape, like a dolphin. Maybe a shark. On the other side the island took up most of the view, though this side of the island seemed to be mostly made up of jagged cliffs and crashing waves. The helicopter dipped down, though, heading right for those cliffs.
"Might want to buckle up; the landing can get a bit rough," Gabriel said, and it was obvious he said it just to torture Dean, the way he stared at him and waggled his eyebrows. Dean tried to be as casual as everyone else as he reached for the seatbelt, but he fumbled it so many times that Jo eventually rolled her eyes and reached over, snapping the buckle in place and pulling the strap tight. Dean didn't bother to thank her; he totally could have done it on his own.
The helicopter lurched suddenly, and then the cliffs rose on each side as it dropped down into a ravine. Dean's stomach lurched right along with the helicopter, and he concentrated on breathing, counting the breaths in his head as the helicopter dropped toward the ground. Luckily, it was only a few seconds more of the wind battering the helicopter before it set down lightly on the ground.
Dean let out a sigh of relief; he'd cheated death twice in one day. Good enough for him, now he wanted off this thing.
The air was just as hot and humid here as it was on the mainland, though here it had the heavy scent of salt added to it; the helipad was quite literally between two cliffs, open to the ocean on one side and a dramatic waterfall on the other. He heard a distant noise that sounded like the horn on a boat, so they must have been fairly close to some kind of dock. He hadn't seen one on the way in, but it could have been hidden in the cliffs like the helipad.
"Okay, I'm starting to like this place," Jo said as she hopped out of the helicopter, craning her neck to see the top of the waterfall as the helicopter's rotors began to slow. Castiel was studying the area too, but with a definite frown on his face, as if he'd already made the decision to hate it.
Maybe he knew more about the park than they did, being Gabriel's brother and all.
Two navy blue open-top jeeps were waiting on the road beside the helipad, the keys sitting in them, which made sense when he thought about it for more than two seconds; why would you steal a car on an island? You wouldn't get very far.
"Pile in, everyone! Time for your introduction to the park," Gabriel said, hopping in the driver's seat of one jeep, while Meg climbed in to drive the second one. Crowley was talking to Castiel about the possibility of writing a book about the park after the tour, leading him over to the first Jeep, so Sam, Jo, and Dean hopped into the second one with Meg, Jo getting in the front seat next to Meg.
Poor Cas. He looked about as thrilled to be talking to the lawyer as Dean had been about the plane ride.
As the jeep pulled away, Dean did a double take at Sam, who instead of curious or excited was instead frowning deeply. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, nudging Sam with his elbow, and Sam shook his head.
"Nothing, just…I could've sworn that tree back there was some kind of Gingko tree."
"Yeah, and? China has a shit ton, they probably brought it here for scenery."
"But, Dean, that…that wasn't a normal Gingko tree."
Dean snorted. "Now you're going on about mutant trees? Cause I don't know if it was in your paleontology books, but there's only been one kind of Gingko since the Cretaceous period."
Sam laughed weakly, running his hand through his hair. "Yeah, you're right. I just didn't get a good look at it," he said, though he didn't seem convinced of his own words.
Leave it to Sam to be freaking out over a tree.
They turned the corner and Dean's eyes widened; in front of them were massive steel gates attached to what was obviously an electric fence, stretching into the trees in both directions. And this fence was serious business- not only was it about 25 feet tall, but there were signs in Spanish and English reading "10,000 volts". As if the massive voltage wasn't enough to scare people away from the fence- seriously, that was probably enough of a shock to kill an elephant- each sign also had a skull and crossbones on it.
"Jesus. Who are they trying to keep out?" he said with a nervous laugh as two workers slid giant locks out of place and opened the huge gates so the jeeps could pass through.
"Not trying to keep anyone out, dino-boy," Meg said from the front, her smirk evident even in her tone, and Dean and Sam shared a look. Was this some kind of weird Survivor-type deal? Like, full on Lord of the Flies? That would be just Dean's luck, really.
They weaved through thick trees and ferns on a dirt path, and with every turn, Sam was looking harder at the trees and plants they passed. Evidently his curiosity got the better of him, because eventually he reached out and snagged a giant leaf from one of the trees as they passed by, and now that it was up close, Dean could see just how big it actually was. Bigger than a normal sheet of paper, that was for sure, and he didn't know if that was normal for Costa Rica or not.
"Dean, this is impossible," Sam said, fingers tracing the branching veins in the leaf's surface before turning it over. "This is definitely Gingko, but it…it looks like it's an apodes, like the one we found on the Stego dig…"
Dean snorted, blinking in the sunlight as they pulled out of the thick trees and into a mostly open field. "Like I said. Extinct."
"I'm not wrong about this! I've studied these things for years, Dean, I wouldn't mistake this for something else, I know it," Sam was saying, but Dean had stopped paying attention around 'years', because that was when the ground trembled underneath them. Literally trembled.
"Was that an earthquake…?" Jo asked, just before it happened again, this time with a heavy thud accompanying it, like a body hitting the grass. Both Jo and Dean looked toward the sound, back and to the left, and about that time a tree came striding out of the foliage.
No, not a tree.
A leg.
"How did they get an extinct form of gingko? Where did they even find this? Where- what, Dean?" Sam said as Dean grabbed at his brother's head blindly, unable to tear his eyes away as the creature took another step, and Sam had obviously finally looked up because he wasn't talking anymore.
No one was talking. They were all staring at the Brachiosaur calmly strolling past the jeep, every step making the ground tremble again. Meg leaned forward on the wheel, relaxing like she saw this every day, and meanwhile Dean was hopping out of the jeep without even bothering to open the door. He took a few shaky steps toward the dinosaur, met by Gabriel, who was looking rather smug and proud, his hands on his hips.
"You…you have a dinosaur. That's a dinosaur," Dean finally gasped out, vaguely aware that Castiel had left his jeep too, and looked as shocked as the rest of them, though Crowley was just lounging in the jeep, unconcerned with the massive extinct animal on his left. "Is that real?!"
"Oh, she's real, Dean-o. This is the first Brachiosaur we cloned. I named her Missy. She looks like a Missy, don't you think?" Gabriel said, but Dean was beyond being able to reply. Sam and Jo were beside him now, stunned into silence as the Brachiosaur abruptly reared up, using its tail to prop itself up as it tore branches from the top of the trees. And when she dropped her front legs back to the grass, it shook the ground enough to nearly knock him off balance.
It was beautiful, and definitely warm blooded, brown mottled skin over a body with legs as thick as massive tree trunks. "That's a…28 foot neck?" he asked weakly, and Gabriel shook his head.
"30 foot."
"Gabriel, what did you do?" Castiel asked, though like everyone else, he seemed unable to look away from the dinosaur that was contentedly munching leaves some 40 feet above their heads.
"I did what every kid always wants to do when they grow up. I brought dinosaurs back," Gabriel said proudly.
Sam was slack jawed as he took a couple steps closer. "How fast are they?"
"Well, with the right motivation, the TRex clocked in at 30 miles per hour."
Dean finally tore his eyes away from the dinosaur- the fucking dinosaur, what the hell- to stare at Gabriel in shock. "…did you say TRex?"
Gabriel grinned mischievously. "Come on, what's a dinosaur park without a TRex? Of course we have a TRex. Her name is Betty."
Dean suddenly felt dizzy. He felt Sam's hand on his back, pushing him toward the ground, and he went with it and plopped down heavily in the grass. The Brachiosaur was moving forward again, the trembling of the ground shaking Dean right down to the bone as he fought off the dizziness and shock, looking up again when he heard Castiel's deep voice mutter an "Oh my God…"
With the Brachiosaur out of the way, he could now see the massive lake down the hill from where the jeeps were parked, and gathered at the side of the lake was a herd of at least ten Parasaurolophus, the curved crests atop their heads giving them away immediately. He heard that sound again, the boat horn, but it wasn't a boat horn, it was a fucking Brachiosaur, the call so loud that he'd heard it all the way back at the cliffs. If he looked past the Parasaurolophus, he could see the low slung, wide, armored bodies of what were likely a couple of Ankylosaurus, wading in the shallows to drink.
Dean pinched himself hard enough to bruise, but it wasn't a dream, because the air was just as thick, the field was brightly lit, Jo and Sam were both just as shocked silent, and there were fucking dinosaurs eating their goddamn lunch in front of him.
"Now see, aren't you all glad you came?" Gabriel said, his voice practically dripping pride as he slung an arm around a shell-shocked Castiel. "Welcome to Jurassic Park, boys and girls."