AN: I have a particular fondness for this one. Hope you like it, too.
Disclaimer: I totally own the Wind and Someone Else. So there.
Summary: What do you do when you find yourself in an alternate world, watching your two friends fight off demons? But wait, that's not all! Not only are they fighting off demons, but they are demons! This question can be answered by Castiel No-Last-Name, poor guy.
Castiel stood in the middle of a lush green field, the color oddly cold. The sky above was a crystal blue that was like looking at the normal, human blue sky through ice. Cracks spread all across it, making it look as if it could shatter if it was just hit hard enough.
A leaf detached from a nearly tree and began to turn white as it twirled in the breeze.
"Where am I?" Castiel asked.
"Feel the frost, biting and bitter," whispered the Wind. "See the air chill your breath. It is winter."
C(e)ald Eorþe. Cold Earth.
"Why am I here?"
"Heed the call. Do what you will. Follow the storm. Watch the lull."
Castiel frowned. "I do not understand."
"Shh, angel. Worlds need you. Take action. In the end, meaning will be tangible." There was the sound of a smile in the Wind's voice. "A word of advice, so that you will not feel remorse. Trust your friends. Together, you make rules break and worlds bend. In a perfectly good way, of course."
Castiel was just trying to puzzle that out when the Wind shifted, took hold of him . . . and threw him into another world.
To someone else, the Wind asked, "Can we stop rhyming now? Despite what you think, it does not sound sage."
Someone Else huffed and said, "Oh, fine then. Go on. Take a bow. Leave the stage."
With relief, the Wind promptly did just that.
Castiel stood in an alley. He looked around. The place was dirty and had a somewhat interesting, er . . . aroma.
Castiel frowned. Why was he sent here?
Then he heard them.
"C'mon, Sammy."
"Why now, Dean?"
"Because it isn't safe to stay. A demon spotted me earlier and he's probably getting some backup right now."
"Damn." Sam sounded upset.
Dean snorted. "You said it, Sam. It's hell being on the run from Hell."
Castiel stepped out of the alley and immediately saw them.
Demons. Inhabiting the Winchesters' bodies? Wait . . .
Castiel looked closer and saw that it wasn't demons in their bodies. The Winchesters were the demons.
Dean looked up and saw him. His expression changed. He didn't look alarmed or defiant. He just looked tired. "Great. Just what we need."
Castiel didn't like seeing Dean Winchester so weary. Then, just like always, Dean rallied, stepping in front of Sam with a sense of purpose.
"Dean," his brother protested.
"Sam."
Sam opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by the arrival of demons. The ones that Dean had mentioned, Castiel guessed.
"Well, well, well." The demon in the front of the group smirked. "Looky here, boys. It's our lucky day. We get both the Winchesters AND an angel."
Castiel said nothing. He simply looked at them.
There were five. He calculated that the odds of failing to beat them were somewhere around 39%. Not bad at all.
The Angel Blade in his sleeve slid into his hand.
The demon was still talking. Foolish.
"Don't worry, boys. Hell won't keep you forever. After we're done with you, we're going to give you to Heave-gurk!"
Castiel pulled the knife from the demon's chest. The demon fell, and Castiel was already on another demon when the rest started moving.
In the end, he threw the knife into the third demon and grabbed the heads of the other two. They cried out as he exorcised them permanently.
Standing in the middle of a pile of bodies, he thought that if he'd known how bad they were at fighting, he would have changed the odds to 18%. And they were the ones sent to capture the Winchesters? Castiel shook his head. More foolish than he'd thought.
He turned to look at Sam and Dean Winchester. Looking at the two bodies next to them, he realized that there had been more than five demons. That had been careless of him.
What with the fighting, Sam and Dean hadn't had the chance to run while Castiel was distracted. Knowing that if they did so now they wouldn't get far, they watched him warily.
Castiel took a step forward before realizing that he still held his knife. He tucked it away, wondering what he should say to them now. Would they believe that he meant them no harm?
From the way they were eyeing him, not likely.
He thought about it, then decided that, as they appeared not to know who he was, introductions were in order.
"Hello," he offered. "I am Castiel." He didn't say that he was an Angel of the Lord, as he had the first time, because they probably wouldn't find it reassuring. And besides, they already knew what he was.
Dean stared at the odd angel who had just killed five demons by himself and was now introducing himself to them. The angel-Castiel-shifted slightly and gave a light cough. "I believe this is where you tell me your name." He frowned. "Unless I got that wrong."
"Uh, no. You got it right. That is what usually happens when you introduce yourself. Except that angels and demons generally don't tell each other their names. Because they're normally too busy trying to kill each other," Dean explained.
"Dean!" Sam hissed. "Do you really want to remind the angel of that?"
"Uh . . . no?" Dean guessed.
Sam felt like facepalming.
"Your names," Castiel prodded.
Dean flashed a winning smile to make up for his faux pas. "I'm Dean. This is my brother, Sam. And you really don't want to kill us. We're too pretty. Well, I'm too pretty," he amended.
Sam looked up at the sky and wondered, Why me?
"What does beauty have to do with intent to harm?" Castiel wondered.
Dean didn't know how to reply.
"Nothing," Sam said, somewhat exasperated "Ignore him. Dean's just being . . . Dean."
Castiel tilted his head. "Does he have any other option?"
Dean gave a surprised burst of laughter. He slapped Sam on the back. "He's got a point, Sam."
Castiel felt his lips tilt up slightly. "I frequently do."
Dean grinned. "You know, you're pretty cool. For an angel."
Castiel nodded. "Likewise."
("Yeah, I'm pretty cool for an angel, too. Way cool." But of course, Dean would never say that. Darn.)
"So, does this mean you're not gonna try to kill us?" Dean asked casually.
"Yes."
"Yeah, I didn't think-wait, what? Really?" He blinked.
"I would not lie about this." Castiel heard the sound of wings and looked up. "We must leave. Now." He reached out.
"Wait, Cas-"
Too late. He touched them, and they were gone.
There was a moment of disorientation when they reappeared. Dean shook his head, blinking. When he was sufficiently steady, he asked, "Where the hell are we?"
The angel's eyes swept around the place, which was littered with broken and beat-up old cars. "Singer's Salvage," he answered.
"Why are we here?"
"There is a man. He may be able to help us."
"You trust him?" Sam asked.
Castiel smiled slightly. "I do."
The brothers exchanged glances.
What do you think? Sam's look asked.
Dean shrugged. Well, I still don't know if we can trust this guy, but what choice do we have? Besides, he hasn't ratted us out to the angels. Yet.
Wow, Dean, careful with the faith there. You just keep trusting blindly like that and you might get taken advantage of, Sam didn't say dryly.
Dean snorted. Bitch.
Jerk.
It was amazing what one could express without words spoken aloud.
Castiel felt something like fondness as he gazed at them. And pride. He was proud of them. This was a different world and they were demons, but they were still far closer than he could ever hope to be with any of his brothers. Of course, as Robert Singer had once said, and as Dean had once repeated, "Family don't end with blood." Dean had proven that time and again.
Castiel tilted his head. "Shall we?"
He led them to a house in the middle of the yard. It was old and looked a bit ramshackle, but it was clearly well lived-in.
Cas - Castiel was a bit too much for Dean to keep up for long - glanced at them as if he had half-expected them to knock instead of him before hesitantly rapping the door with his knuckles, clearly not used to doing such.
When there was no answer, he knocked again. Inside, someone called, "Hold your horses, I'm comin'!" There was a thump and the sound of someone cursing. Dean was starting to get a little alarmed when a man pulled the door open. He older than he'd expected, with a scruffy brown beard covering his face, a worn green ballcap on his head, ratty jeans that had seen a better time, and a belly that had evidently seen a lot of alcohol.
"Bobby Singer," Castiel said.
The man's eyes moved from Cas to the boys, clearly suspicious. "Yeah?"
"We require your services."
"Bring the car over and I'll have a look at it."
Castiel frowned. "I apologize. You misunderstood. Those are not the services we need."
Bobby crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah? What 'services' do you need, then?"
"We need refuge, a haven, if you will, from Heaven and Hell. I believe you can help us with that."
Bobby's eyebrows rose. "Heaven?"
"Oh, yes. I apologize. I have yet to introduce myself." He met his eyes calmly. "I am Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord."
Dean had a feeling of how it was going to go down before Bobby shut the door.
With nowhere else to go, they sat on the porch. The wind blew, swirling red and orange leaves around and causing Sam and Dean to hunch in their jackets. Castiel didn't seem to notice the cold.
"I thought you knew him," Dean hissed.
Castiel looked a bit sheepish. "I do. However, I failed to remember that though I may know him, that does not necessarily mean that he knows me. I . . . may have miscalculated."
Dean snorted. "Gee, you think?"
"Go easy on him, Dean. At least he tried." Sam turned to give the angel a reassuring him. "It's alright. We'll think of something else."
Castiel tried not to look upset. Whenever he tried to help he always seemed to mess things up. He wanted to do something for them that didn't end up . . . how was it that Dean had put it? . . . 'Blowing up in their faces'?
Dean must have seen some of his distress, because he relented. "Hey, don't worry about it. He'd probably have shot at us once he learned that we're demons, anyway. Hell, maybe we should be thanking you. You probably saved us from some pretty painful gunshots," he joked.
Castiel still looked troubled. "But you are not bad demons."
Dean snorted. "Bet you never thought you'd hear yourself say that."
Cas looked at him steadily. "And it is all the more meaningful for it."
Inside the house, Bobby was listening thoughtfully. Finally, he knocked back the rest of the whiskey he'd been drinking and stood up. He went to the door and opened it. "If you're not gonna go away than you might as well come in."
They looked at him, shocked.
"Well? Getchur asses in here."
"What-but-" Sam stammered.
Bobby raised his eyebrows at him. "You arguin' with me, boy?"
Dean grinned and stood up. "No, sir."
They filed into the house and looked around. The place was a mess, with books everywhere, glasses and bottles, presumably used for alcohol, all over the place.
Sam turned to Bobby. "Can I asked why? Why did you decide let us in?"
Bobby thought about it. Then he shrugged. "No idea. Guess you idjits just looked too pathetic out there in the cold for me to rightly ignore ya. The fireplace is lit in the living room. You can tell me your life story after you warm up."
They lingered for a moment. "Thank you, Bobby," Sam said softly.
"Yeah, Bobby. Thanks." Dean flashed a smile.
"Thank you," Castiel said gravely.
"Yeah, yeah," Bobby grumbled, obviously not meaning it. "Go on. Git."
They got.
"Idjits." He shook his head and went to put on a pot of hot chocolate. It probably wasn't a good idea to give an angel alcohol.
Castiel took a sip of his hot chocolate while Bobby stared at them. He'd never had the hot beverage before. It didn't disappoint.
"So let me get this straight," Bobby finally said. "You idjits"-He gestured at the Winchester boys- "are on the run because you're too good for Hell and too bad for Heaven. Not to mention all the hunters out there who want your guts for garters."
Castiel frowned. "Why would they want to make a retaining band out of intestines?"
Dean laugh-coughed on his hot chocolate while Sam explained, "It's a figure of speech."
"Ah." Castiel nodded knowingly.
"Okay, I've heard all about ya'll." Bobby turned to Cas. "But what about you? Why are you here?"
Castiel frowned thoughtfully. He couldn't really think of a reason not to tell them. And he didn't want to keep anything from Dean, since he really didn't like that. Though Dean himself probably didn't tell them everything, either. And they were likely to meet this world's Castiel sometime. He would rather give the explanation now than later, when they would be confused and likely not a little bit angry.
So he did.
They were staring at him now.
Next Up: In which Gadreel makes a different choice and is all the better for it.
Weird Randomness!
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"So let me get this straight," Dean said slowly. "You're an alternate version of yourself that was sent here by . . . sentient wind. And our alternate versions are hunters who've stopped an apocalypse, crippled three of the Four Horsemen and put Lucifer back into his Cage along with Michael the Archangel."
Castiel nodded. "That is correct."
Dean clapped him on the shoulder and flashed him a grin. "Well, why didn't you just say so! Hell, for a minute there, I thought you were going to say that you were actually some kind of mislaid actor playing the role of an emotionally repressed angel with a tendency to make lame, redundant insults. But what're the odds, eh?"
"You're an assbutt."
". . ."
"I don't know why I said that."
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