When Dean woke, it was to feel luxurious comfort beneath him and soothing warmth above.
The first reaction to register was confusion; how the hell did he get where he currently was? And just where the fuck was he? The last thing he could remember was feeling like his chest was compressing in on itself, his throat burning with the desperate need to breathe, numbness from the icy water overtaking control of his body. Dean's head throbbed in protest as he remembered the way the cold had settled inside his lungs, the threat of oblivion hovering once again just inches from him.
But then he remembered the crash from somewhere behind him, and the pull of the water as something else forced its way through the ice. He remembered the tight hold of Castiel's arms around his middle, frantically dragging him up and out of the water, wings beating wildly beside him. Because Castiel, with little regard for his own safety, had jumped into the fray after he'd got himself royally screwed yet again and saved his skin just as he had done ever since they'd met.
Dean glanced around the room he currently lay in. He was in a vast bed with several blankets piled on top of his body in an obvious attempt at keeping him warm. The room itself was huge, but sparse. With the exception of the bed, the only other furniture in the room was a wardrobe that looked as if it hadn't been opened in years, and two lamps along the walls which were unlit. To his right was an enormous window framed by silky-looking dark curtains which were doing little to prevent the weak rays of sunlight projecting into the room. The view beyond the glass showed the snow-covered treetops and the mountains he had spied when he'd first arrived.
He sat up, preparing to slide out of bed, when a faint pop sounded from his left. He whirled around, his hand instinctively flying to the pocket of his jeans only to find that the knife had gone. Whether it had been removed by Castiel or another of the angels, or was currently resting at the bottom of that damned lake, Dean didn't know. But finding its loss came with a horrible sense of vulnerability.
Hovering just above the floor was Raphael. He observed Dean's behaviour with a slight frown and a quirked eyebrow, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "I was ordered to check on you." He announced in a flat tone of voice that suggested he considered the job a waste of his precious time.
"Great. Well, you can tell Cas I'm fine, thanks to him." The hunter replied, a little sharply. Call him spiteful for holding a grudge, but he hadn't quite forgiven the archangel for everything he had done in the real world. It was down to Raphael that their planet had launched itself towards a second Apocalypse after all, and the reason for Castiel resorting to the drastic measures they were currently supposed to be trying to stop.
Raphael nodded; a rather jerky movement, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to do it properly. "My master awaits your presence in the library."
Dean inwardly winced. Research. Great. "Right. Got it."
Without another word, Raphael vanished with another quiet popping noise. Dean dragged the many blankets off himself. He was fully clothed apart from his shoes and jacket, which he quickly spotted on the floor beside the bed with his phone resting on top. He slid his socked feet into the boots first and shivered as he retied the laces. Outside of the cocoon of warmth the bed had provided, the castle was freezing. And a little too reminiscent of that lake for Dean's liking. Next, he scooped his phone up and noticed with relief that it was still working.
He made a grab for his jacket and was about to pull it back on when he noticed something. Something – or far more likely, someone – had cut several holes all across the material, even down the arms. Rage coursing through him, Dean got to his feet and stormed to the door, wrenching it open so violently that it slammed against the wall with an almighty bang.
Because he had a very obvious culprit in mind, and this time the pixie-fied archangel was going to pay.
It took Dean several failed attempts before he found the library. The castle was exactly that – a castle. By definition it was huge. And it wasn't like Dean had been given a guided tour or anything. He'd only arrived at this place a day or so ago. And since then he'd had to fend off a brother who seemed adamant in his belief that Castiel was a thing of evil, learned that Castiel himself was cursed – which he really was not going to think about – and to top it off, he'd almost drowned. So he hadn't exactly had much time to get used to his surroundings.
It was as he was stomping halfway down what felt like the hundredth corridor without a trace of any angel that he thought he heard voices coming from behind a set of double doors to his right. They, unlike many others that he had encountered thus far, were clean and missing the layer of dust that seemed to have claimed everything else in the castle. It looked as if the room beyond was actually important in some way, because it was obviously in use.
Pressing his ear to the crack between the doors, Dean listened to the hum of voices. And yep, there it was. He knew that deep rumble anywhere. Kicking in the door, he strode inside but, despite his fury, was forced to a halt when he saw the magnificent room beyond.
His first coherent thought was that Sam would probably have a complete nerdgasm if he'd been put in Dean's boots. The library was utterly massive; there were rows and columns of bookshelves in every possible direction, each surface covered in heavy looking tomes. Two winding staircases sat on either side, leading to an upper floor. Every spare inch of space had been taken up by shelves groaning under the weight of countless books; even the walls were not exempt. Straight ahead were two enormous windows that looked out onto the snow-covered grounds, placed on either side of a gigantic fireplace in which crackled several merry flames. A desk had been placed just in front of this, surrounded by the comfiest looking armchairs Dean had ever seen.
Sitting in one of them and just getting to his feet was Castiel, a concerned gleam in his eyes. Gabriel, Anna and Uriel were sitting on the tabletop around him and all peered over their shoulders at Dean's entrance with different reactions. Gabriel smirked as he clapped eyes on the ruined leather in Dean's arms, Anna blinked curiously up at him but Uriel shot him a glare of pure poison that showed he hadn't forgotten Dean's actions the previous night, near-drowning or not.
"Dean? Is something wrong?" Castiel asked, bringing Dean back to the moment and with it his anger. He marched forwards towards the table and pointed straight at Gabriel who stared at him with that wicked smile on his face not fading one jot.
"Do you know what that jackass has done?!" He spat, brandishing his ruined jacket at the angels. "Look at it!"
Castiel turned from the holey jacket to the archangel, lips turned down in a slight frown. "Gabriel, did you do this?"
Dean stared at Castiel in disbelief. "You're asking him?" He cried incredulously, flinging the jacket onto the desk and narrowly missing Anna. "Who the hell else would have done it?!"
"I fail to see the problem." Uriel said acidly.
"Yeah, what's the big deal, Deano?" Gabriel asked.
"The big deal is that it's winter, and it's fucking freezing here! And that it's my fucking jacket, you dick!" Dean was about to turn to Uriel to snarl something at him too, probably tell him to shove something up his ass sideways, but a movement caught his eye. Castiel was shrugging off his trenchcoat, and before Dean could say a word, he extended it to the hunter, the tan folds bunching on the table.
"If you are cold, you may borrow this if you wish. I do not require it to stay warm."
Dean could only blink for a moment or two, his brain completely stuttering to a halt at the sight of the angel without his coat. It was a physical part of Castiel, so much so that he looked, well, wrong without it. Castiel without his trenchcoat just wasn't the Castiel Dean knew. He became Jimmy Novak, or even worse, his drugged-up 2014 future self. The horrible reminder of such a different Cas was enough to make Dean feel sick to his stomach, and he swallowed hard as he shook his head.
"Nah, it's okay Cas. You keep that, it's yours." He ignored the uncomfortable churning of his stomach and Gabriel's raised eyebrow which he could just see out of his peripheral vision. "Just get that dick to fix this, and I'll be fine."
"Very well, Dean. Gabriel." Castiel said expectantly as he pulled the coat back on, not noticing the way Dean visibly relaxed once it had been replaced.
Rolling his eyes but nevertheless complying, Dean's jacket was fixed with a click of Gabriel's fingers. Then, without another word or backwards glance, he and the other two angels vanished. Castiel took his seat once again, selected a book from a pile gathered at one end of the table and began to read. Dean, wishing he'd stayed unconscious longer, slid into the nearest chair and swiped one of the books too. It was heavy in his hands, the cover a glossy black, pages yellowed with age. There was no writing of any kind on the cover, giving no indication of what it contained.
"You really think these books can help give us a hint on how to get out of here?" He asked incredulously; dread pooling like a leaden weight in the pit of his stomach as he threw his head back to stare at the masses and masses of books around them.
Castiel didn't look up as he spoke, flipping pages. "I'm certain there is an answer hidden here, and unless we search for it, we will fail to discover it. The angel responsible would not place us here without giving us an answer to discover, after all. That would be illogical."
"This is gonna take forever though, Cas," He moaned, gesturing towards the hundreds of shelves. "This is Sammy's thing, not mine."
"Do you have a better suggestion?"
"Yeah, you call the bastard that's doing this, and we make him or her let us go."
Castiel finally glanced up, and Dean spotted an annoyed glint in his blue eyes. "Do you think I have not already tried that? Either we are unable to communicate with the outside world or, more likely, they ignored me."
Dean snorted. "Yeah, talking to people outside is a no-go." As he spoke, he placed his phone on the table. "I can still only get Sam's phone, and that's because it somehow came here with me. No internet, no talking to Bobby, can't even get Crowley; we're on our own with this one."
"So, do you have an alternative suggestion?"
Realising there really wasn't, and that meant having to read their way through the entire library, Dean scowled heavily as he opened the book in his lap. "No need to be a smartass, Cas." He grumbled.
The angel tipped his head slightly in confusion, an anxious tremor passing through his wings. When no response came from Dean, he turned back to his book. He knew the hunter loathed research; it was obvious even with Castiel's basic knowledge of human emotion how Dean felt about it. But as he had pointed out, they had no other choice, other than waiting for someone else to rescue them. And as they had no means of contacting Sam or Gabriel, nor any idea whether Bobby even knew about their predicament, they were out of options. He would have offered to take on the task solely by himself, but he doubted Dean's pride would have allowed that.
Opposite him, Dean flicked through page after page, scanning for anything remotely helpful, but his mind wasn't really focused on the job.
Truth be told, he was still seething. And not because of Gabriel's latest 'hilarious' prank. It was seeing Raphael. Seeing his smug little face had brought everything back, everything Dean had tried for so long to squash down and lock up in the darkest part of his mind along with the Hell visions and the brief stint he'd shared with his soulless brother. And now he was stuck in a room with a person he still intrinsically connected to the start of yet another Apocalypse, with nothing but mind-numbing research to distract him.
No matter which way he looked at it, Castiel was the one at fault; the one responsible for the shitstorm they were supposed to be fighting against. Dean's hands tightened on the book as this thought crossed his mind, and he hoped the angel didn't notice he hadn't turned a page for a while. He couldn't put into words how much he really didn't want to think about this ever again, but his brain had other ideas, it seemed.
Because yeah, Castiel's betrayal had stung. It had hurt in ways he couldn't – and wouldn't – explain. Almost as bad as when Sam chose that Hell-bitch Ruby over him. Maybe even as much. Cas was supposed to be family, and family was supposed to stick together. Not slink around in the shadows, making ludicrous deals with back-stabbing demons. But Castiel, idiotic child that he was, had done all that as well as make several attempts at their lives when he became God.
Dean honestly couldn't see a way back from it. The world was fucked five ways from Sunday, and there wasn't a damn thing any of them could do about it. Cas was out of control and wouldn't listen to reason, wouldn't listen to him.
But when he saw the angel lying on the floor of that place, his body coated in a mixture of blood and grime, all his anger vanished to be replaced with a horrible aching sadness. Because no matter how furious with Castiel he was, the last thing he desired was watching the angel die. And scooping up that stupid trenchcoat from the reservoir.. It was numbing. Because it felt somehow final, that this time, Dean's ever-loyal angel wasn't coming back. After this, his anger had returned with a burning in his gut; at Castiel's stupidity, at the latest impossible odds they were facing, at his own damn guilt over the whole thing.
And then suddenly, the angel was back in their midst, once again sacrificing everything because Dean asked him; this time, his sanity. Had Gabriel not chosen that moment to crash back into their lives, Dean knew he'd never have found the strength to turn the car around and go back for him. Because deep down, despite all that Castiel had done for Sam in recompense for his actions, there was a tiny part of Dean that still bore that grudge, still a tiny part that hurt every time he saw the angel. Because it was a reminder of his betrayal, that someone he cared for had once again chosen a demon over him.
"Dean?"
The hunter blinked, suddenly back in the present. Castiel was holding another book in his hands now, but Dean was the sole attention of those impossibly blue eyes. He didn't answer, couldn't answer, guilt and anger and confusion all clashing together and battling one another for dominance inside his brain. Castiel had given everything to earn the Winchesters' forgiveness, true, but he had done something utterly despicable to break that trust in the first place. Dean couldn't just let that go; he had broken Sam. But then he'd fixed him again. It was confusing and irritating and so fucking messed up, and he really didn't want to be thinking this, he needed to get out of this situation right the fuck now because those eyes were still fixed on him and now the crippling pain that had left him unable to let the trenchcoat out of his sight was rushing back and fuck, he was going to lose it.
"Dean, are you -?"
The sudden blare of classic rock split the air, making Dean start and Castiel's wings to flare, before they both turned to where Dean's phone still lay on the table. It continued to blast his ringtone, accompanied now by the equally loud buzzing as it vibrated on the tabletop. Dean snatched it up and read the screen that flashed Sam's name at him, mentally praising his alternative-reality brother for his timely distraction.
"Sammy? You worked out how to use the phone?" Dean asked, impressed. The kid may have been an inventor, but the last time Dean had seen Sam with the phone, he'd had a very hard time grasping that Dean wasn't actually in the device itself.
But it wasn't Sam that answered.
"Dean? Is that you?" John Winchester asked. He sounded distant, as if he were speaking through the phone at arm's length. And given Sam's initial reaction to it, Dean realised with an inward groan, this was probably the case.
"Dad?" He replied, concern now flooding through him. "Where's Sam?" At this, Castiel looked up once more from his book, his eyebrows furrowed, frowning slightly.
"Dean, can you hear me? I found this in Sam's room. There's something wrong. He -" Then there was a click and the line went dead.
"Dad? Dad, what's wrong with Sam? Fuck!" He stuffed the phone into his pocket and leapt to his feet, Castiel following his movements, his stoic face now marred with concern.
"What's wrong, Dean?"
"Something's up with Sam. I have to see what's going on. I know he's not.." Dean trailed off, unable to explain the instinct that came so naturally to him whenever Sam was in danger. "I just have to go, okay?"
To his immense relief, Castiel nodded. "I understand, Dean. I hope all is well."
"I'm sure it's nothing." Dean said, mostly to himself in an attempt to slow the racing of his heart. "I promise I'll be back once I know everything's alright. I'm not gonna leave you here, Cas, don't worry."
The angel's lips twitched slightly but his smile, as always, was in his eyes. "Dean, it's alright. I understand your desire to protect your brother. I hope to have discovered something of use for your return."
Dean thanked him before spinning on his heel and sprinting from the room and the mess of emotions that came with being near Castiel. To his utter bafflement, Anna was hovering just outside the doors. Without saying a word, she inclined his head to indicate that Dean should follow, before taking off down the passage, her wings fluttering gracefully. His mounting concern about getting lost on his way downstairs rapidly vanishing, Dean followed.
Anna led him down several dingy hallways and a couple of staircases before they burst into the huge entrance hall he instantly recognised. He followed the angel through the front doors and along an iced pathway that snaked around the edge of the castle and into the grounds. Putting on a burst of speed, Anna then flew ahead to a small stable, unlatched the door and swung it open before doubling back and vanishing from sight.
Dean hurried past her and spotted the dark horse he'd rode in on immediately; the stable was otherwise empty. He mounted quickly and kicked the horse into a gallop, following the path Anna had shown him moments before. As they approached the iron gates, Dean adamantly not taking his eyes off the path in front to prevent seeing the void on either side of the bridge, he spotted the tiny redheaded angel pulling it open.
"Don't delay too long, Dean." She said seriously as they drew level, speaking for the very first time. "Both the boss' and our time is running out. You need to break the curse put on all of us, and fast."
"Uh, yeah," Dean began awkwardly, clearing his throat, remembering the flood of emotion he was still trying to stamp back down into the dark recesses of his mind. "We're, uh, working on that right now."
Anna smiled serenely and nodded. "I can see that."
And Dean really was not going to waste time wondering what the hell she meant by that. He just muttered his thanks, and then kicked the horse back into its gallop, following the path back to the village.