Want U Bad
Chapter 4: Lost In La-La-Land
Maine?
What the hell was going on?
Dean didn't have time to process any of his jumbling thoughts, when the harsh ring of the bedside phone clanged.
He picked it up, automatically.
"Where the hell have you been?" Sam's voice was grouchy, "I have been waiting at the lake for two hours."
"You're not real." Dean yelled into the phone, before slamming it down.
The phone started ringing it again. Dean picked it up as a whole, before throwing it against the wall.
He laid back down, turning to face the bathroom door. He blinked several times, before shutting his eyes for a few relieving seconds.
Sam's duffel was laying on the other bed.
Along with his sticker-covered computer.
No, Dean thought to himself.
That computer had been destroyed long ago.
He closed his eyes again, and he drifted to an anxiety-filled nap.
"DAMMIT DEAN!" Sam's yelling woke him.
Dean hadn't opened his eyes, because he knew it was a part of the dream, and he wanted to go back to sleep.
It got blurry around the edges again, when he was yanked off of the bed.
He opened his eyes then.
"You left me at the lake!" Sam was standing above him holding his ankle, "What the hell have you been doing?"
Sam's hair was shorter. He looked younger in the dim light. More carefree, excluding the anger.
"You aren't real." Dean muttered, trying to jerk his leg free, "Leave me alone and let me go on with my life."
Sam cocked an eyebrow, "Not real? What are you talking about? If you didn't want me here, you should have let me go back to California."
"Let it go, Sam. I'm sorry but that was five years ago." Dean wanted this little encounter to be over.
"It was two months ago, Dean."
Maine? The lake? Two months after Jessica died?
Dean jumped up, grabbing Sam.
Sam began to protest as Dean hugged him, "Sammy..."
"Dean, ugh...what is going on?"
Dean shook his head, "Nothing...nothing at all."
OOOOOO
It was so easy to solve a case when you already knew everything there is to know about the creature and have already destroyed it.
Dean felt happy, he was back in a time when the angels, demons, and the end of the world were just bad plot lines in movies that Dean would never watch.
They ate in the same diner they had five years ago.
"That was easy." Sam commented, dipping one of his chicken tenders into ketchup. "Weirdly easy."
"Don't over analyze it, Sam."
"I'm not...I'm just not used to a case being solved and corrected so quickly."
"That's chick food." Dean changed the subject, not wanting to think about what would happen in the span of five years, wanting to enjoy a day in a more "innocent" time.
Dean glanced around the diner, wondering if Jo would show up too.
The guy standing at the counter paying looked familiar, but probably because Dean had been here once before. The waitress handed the man his change, and he turned to walk out the door.
Castiel?
Dean said it aloud without realizing.
"Who?" Sam turned in his seat.
"Give me a minute." Dean stood up and ran out of the diner.
"Castiel!" He yelled, but Cas didn't turn.
Dean ran faster, as Cas pulled out car keys to a blue Town & Country.
Dean grabbed his shoulder, "Cas."
Castiel about dropped his bag of food.
Food?
"What?" The gravelly sound was gone.
"Jimmy?" Dean's mouth dropped, "Jimmy Novack?"
Castiel/Jimmy nodded, "Yeah, uh...do I know you?"
Dean tried to keep his shock hidden, "Only in passing. Sorry, uh, I forgot what I wanted to say..."
Dean's hand dropped from Jimmy's shoulder.
This couldn't be true.
Jimmy Novack was in Maine, five years ago.
This couldn't be a coincidence...could it?
OOOOO
When Sam and Dean pulled back into their motel, Dean was lost in the past. How he missed these moments. He had never really appreciated them before, but now he couldn't get enough.
The singing in the car.
"Bitch"/"Jerk" type situations.
He missed Sam.
He pulled right infront of their door.
Right beside of a blue Town & Country.
He was staying in the same hotel as Castiel. As Jimmy Novack, because Castiel wouldn't take the human's body for four more years. At this point in history, Castiel was in heaven, serving under Uriel.
Dean would be dying in three years...if this were to stay this way.
Dean hoped it would. He could go back to hell, and never give in to Alistair, never start the apocalypse.
He put his hand to the door handle, grabbing the six-pack from the backseat. The clang of bottles as the beer hit the floor didn't register to Dean. He was dizzy. He closed his eyes for a minute, and opened them again, feeling one of those temple headaches fighting to emerge.
The hotel was now a McDonalds. Dean was back in the present.
Alone.
AN:
What is going on? Wouldn't you like to know?
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