The Phoenix, a mythical bird that represents among other things long life, is said to build a nest and set it aflame when it feels its death approaching. Then, it burns itself until only its ashes remain. The cycle has just begun; forth from the ashes a new phoenix will spring. This cyclical regeneration allows for only one of the mythical birds to exist at one time.
Though it had all taken place so long ago, fragments of Dean and his brother's quest to collect ashes of a phoenix returned to him gradually and disconnectedly, like splinters of a broken shell washing onto shore. He recalled that it was a risky trip, and that he and Sam had nearly been trapped in 1861. It had been Cas who had sent them back to that time, in the undisturbed town of Sunrise, Wyoming, and it had been Cas who had gotten them back to the year 2012, but just barely, for the angel was gravely weak at the time. Despite his initial disappointment at the outcome of his trip to 1861, he found he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with relief at his return; Dean had always loved western movies, but he didn't want to live in a place where sarapes weren't accepted as part of the wardrobe. The original hunting trip that had brought him to the place he was now stuck in had been simple compared to the problems he and Sam now faced, and it made Dean feel a little nostalgic thinking back on it.
The thought of Cas, though, brought new hope to Dean. He'd been searching for a solution, a way to get back to 2014, all the while with Owen at his heels...but he hadn't once considered the angel. Cas could help him, it wasn't as though time travel was difficult for the ex-soldier of heaven. Though, when he also recalled recent events, Dean dismissed the idea of contacting Cas. Last time Dean had seen him, the angel had been weak and sickly, almost withering away before his eyes into a ghastly-looking, hallow creature. Cas had been growing increasingly ill ever since he'd lost his grace, and Dean couldn't bring himself to worry him.
"Fan-freaking-tastic," he mumbled as he came to a stop next to an idle cart. Owen stood beside him.
"I take it you have no clue on how to get us out of here?" the agent said.
Dean glanced at the man with an expression that said 'don't-ask-stupid-questions'.
"Lovely," Owen replied. He sighed. "Don't you have any black-eyed friends who can help us out?"
"Demons?" Dean grimaced as though he'd swallowed something sour. "I don't have any friends down there. I have plenty of enemies, no doubt about that."
Owen looked Dean over. "A demon? That would explain your homicidal tendencies, now wouldn't it?" He smiled bitterly. "What the hell are we going to do? You don't happen to have any friends up there, do you?" He pointed toward the clouds that hung low overhead.
Dean refused to say a word, but he didn't need to. Owen read his face in the abrupt silence.
"Well, I'll be damned," Owen said, slower and quieter than before. He raised his eyebrows and watched Dean.
Dean, meanwhile, cast his gaze down to his dark brown boots. He brushed the ground with his foot and hesitantly brought his eyes up to meet Owen's. Slightly annoyed, he rolled his eyes at Owen's attentive expression. "Okay," he admitted. "I do know a way out of here."
Owen threw up his hands. "Feel free to share with the class at your convenience, then."
"You don't understand-"
"I'm sure I would if you'd just stop and tell me what the hell is exactly going on, and how we can get out of this damn place!"
Dean took a deep breath. "I need someplace where we won't be watched."
Owen paused, taken aback by the strange request. "What?"
"You wanna be happy, or not? Shut up and help me find someplace discreet."
Both men glanced around at the wooden structures that surrounded them.
"Here," Owen said after about a minute. He walked toward a sign that read: STABLES. "I don't think the horses will tell anyone about anything they see."
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Dean was thoroughly impressed. For a full ten minutes, Owen hadn't said a word, but had instead stood by and silently watched Dean cover the stable walls and grimy windows with protective symbols finger-painted with his own blood. It had been a slow process, and once it was done, Dean stepped back, sighed, and said, "Now for the exciting part."
Owen squinted at the sigils Dean had drawn with a hint of suspicion. "Are these satanic?" he asked.
"It's not satanism, it's...it's...I don't know what the hell it is. But it works," said Dean. Owen gave him a wary look.
Dean didn't like what he was going to do next, but he knew that his idea of finding their own way back to 2014 would never work. Sam was the one who always did the research and came up with solutions when they got into sticky situations, but Sam was over four thousand miles from Wyoming, and one-hundred-fifty-three years away. The Men of Letters would help Dean, but Dean wasn't sure how he could contact them, or even if the group existed yet. Summoning Crowley was out of the question.
"So...is there a script? How exactly are you planning on getting the attention of an angel?" Owen said, staring at Dean while he mulled over other solutions. "What are you going to do, pray?"
Dean closed his eyes. "That's exactly what I'm going to do."
Owen frowned. He mumbled something under his breath as he walked toward the wall and leaned against it.
"Cas," Dean said, tilting his head so his chin rested against his chest. "I need you. Get your feathery ass down here. Me and some British jerk-" Owen ceased mumbling and glared at him "-got stranded. I could use your help."
Both men remained silent for a long moment. Outside, a strong breeze caused the leaves on the yellow plants to rustle. The stable's wooden walls moaned. Two minutes flew by, yet there was no Castiel.
"It's not going to work, is it?" Owen said dryly.
"Shut up." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, his jaw hardening. He knew this could only mean bad news. If Cas couldn't even answer a prayer, then he must be either in trouble or sicker than Dean thought he was. Neither of the possibilities appealed to the Winchester at all.
"Well, this was a grand idea," Owen said, his voice wet with sarcasm. "Your problem solving skills are just phenomenal!" He threw up his hands and turned around to leave, but instead of stepping through the doorway, he came nose-to-nose with a stone-faced man who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. "Gah!" he yelled, jumping back.
Dean laughed. "Cas!" He came forward and hugged the angel with one arm, pushing a disgruntled Owen out of the way.
"Dean? What happened?"
Dean stepped back and smiled. "It's a long-" He paused. Cas was staring at him, an expression of horror painted onto his face. "What?"
Cas moved back defensively, procuring his angel blade from within the sleeve of his trench coat. He held the blade at his side and eyed Owen before bringing his gaze back to Dean. He appeared hurt in more ways than one.
"Cas, are you alright? What - what are you doing?"
Owen grabbed for his gun before realizing it still wasn't in his belt. He cursed under his breath.
"Dean," Cas said, his voice dry. "You're a demon?"
"Sort of, but you knew that already," Dean answered, frowning. "Come on, Cas, you're freaking me out. What's going on? Why do you have your blade out?"
"I don't understand," the angel said. "Where is Sam? You left Bobby and me no more than half an hour ago."
Dean froze. Bobby? Something was terribly wrong, Dean knew because of the sudden dropping feeling in his stomach. He took a closer look at Cas.
"Cas," he said carefully. "Do you know where Metatron is?"
The angel blinked. "The Scribe of God? No one has been able to locate him for thousands of years."
Dean turned around and took a deep breath. "Great," he said. "Just great. Freaking time travel."
Both Owen and Cas watched him in confusion.
"I thought you said he was a friend," Owen whispered, moving up beside Dean. "I don't know what you think the definition of a friend is, but I can tell you right now that a friend isn't usually so willing to pull a knife on you."
Dean swallowed. "This isn't the right Cas."
"You know more than one angel named Cas?"
"No," Dean said.
Owen sounded panicked. "Don't tell me you summoned an enemy. What's going on?"
Dean took another deep breath. "This is Cas from the past."