Fire.
That's the first thing he feels followed by agonizing pain.
He tries to open his eyes, but he can't.
He tries to scream, but he can't.
He can't move.
His heart is pounding quickly, adrenaline spiking.
He tries to listen, but all he hears is muffled voices.
Where is he?
Does anybody even know he's there?
Is he going to die?
He tries to curl in on himself only to realize that he already is.
The fire dies down only to be replaced moments later with the most frigid cold he's ever experienced.
It burns almost as bad as the fire.
The voices grow louder and he thinks if he can concentrate hard enough, he can make out the words. But the chance never comes.
The voices fade.
It's quiet.
The only sound he can hear is his heart beating rhythmically in his chest.
God, it's so cold.
He wants to shiver, he wants to rub his arms, he wants to do anything but sit there.
But he can't. His body is unresponsive.
He hears faint muffled noises again, voices? He's not sure.
They get closer.
Will they help him?
Behind his closed eyes he can see the brightest light, can hear the deep voice that accompanies it.
It's the most beautiful light he thinks he has ever seen.
Help! He tries to signal the light, tries to let it know he's here and he needs help. The light flitters around the edges.
It grows closer.
It's so close now he can actually make out the words it says to him.
"...Hope you don't mind Cas."
Dean jumped awake as if water had been splashed on him. He felt chilled to the bone and shivered violently for a few seconds until he could focus on how warm his body actually was.
If that wasn't the weirdest dream he's ever had, it had to have been in the top three.
Why the fuck would he even have a dream like that in the first place? He knows why, because he's working in some creepy ass sci-fi horror movie waiting to happen.
He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling roughly and looking over to his alarm clock. Sam would be home shortly from work.
Dean shook his head again, trying to dislodge the weird sensation of bitter cold seeping through his body.
He's not one to pay too much mind to dreams but this one has shaken him so thoroughly just by how vivid it was. Like it was him experiencing all of that and not just some conjured up fucked up fantasy from his mind.
The last thing he heard was what he's pretty sure were the first words he had said to his experiment.
He paused, staring ahead and pondering on that before scoffing with an audible 'yeah, right.'
He flipped his covers over and swung his feet out of bed, wincing slightly when they met with cool wood. He went over to the bathroom, took a quick shower and got dressed for the day.
Dean went to the kitchen, wrote a note to Sam telling him he wouldn't be home for dinner and grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out to his baby for a needed drive where he could lose his thoughts and himself in his loud music.
Three hours later and a nearly empty tank of gas saw him pulling up to the large, bland building where he was currently employed. He walked into the building and was headed to his wing when he heard the sharp click-clack of heels and two voices.
Ones he quickly recognized as Naomi and Samandriels'.
He knows he shouldn't, but he ducked into the supply closet and pressed his ear to the door. There was something fishy about those two and maybe it could be chalked up to the weird vibe in the lab but maybe it was because they were just plain shady.
He listened intently as they grew closer.
"And with him? How is he dealing?"
"Still no response, ma'am. Mr. Shurley writes of a response but I feel him grow ever more still. He locks himself from us. I am unable to get a clear read from him."
The two walked right by the closet, and Dean could only listen to so much before they had walked too far once more.
He released a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding and pushed open the door to continue his way to Thursday.
He guesses they were talking about one of the experiments, but isn't Samandriel a cleaner like him? They weren't supposed to worry about the experiments, they were there the he disinfect and clean up after a bunch of nerdy adults who couldn't do themselves. Maybe he had another purpose to his job, it wouldn't be unusual. People were given additional tasks to complete along with their primary work all the time. There was no reason for him to find it weird at all that he might have a supplementary reason to be here other than to clean.
Hell, his cleaning might be the secondary purpose even.
And what's going on with the lock deal? Is somebody hiding from them in a room? Aren't all the locks code accessible?
As he listened to the woosh of the large sliding doors open, he stepped into the rather cold area of the Thursday wing. Goosebumps immediately raised on his arms and he instinctively looked around for a thermostat.
For a split second, all he could think of was the burning cold that had run through his veins before he woke. Dean shook his head and rid himself of the thought.
He gets that it's supposed to be cold for sanitary purposes, but this was ridiculous. He was freezing, here! And he hadn't even been in here a damn minute!
He spotted the same scientist from the night before frantically jotting down notes.
"Hey man, you mind turning the heat up in here? Didn't bring my scarf and gloves."
The man flinched at his voice before nodding quickly. He was so twitchy and just plain weird that Dean kind of felt bad for the guy. Seriously, who could live being so wired?
"Yeah, uh. Sorry about that. Just part of the tests." He muttered as he went over to the wall and pressed some buttons to turn the thermostat up.
As if realizing what he said halfway through his task, he froze.
Dean didn't miss what he said and didn't think his superiors would be all too happy if they thought he was telling the janitor secrets. Not that he was, but bosses are assholes and that was something Dean had learned from his previous places of employment
"Don't worry, man. I ain't gonna get you in trouble." He said easily to the small guy. He nodded.
"Thanks. Appreciate it." He replied quietly.
"The name's Dean Winchester." Dean said, holding his hand out to shake.
"Chuck, you can call me Chuck. Uh, Shurley." Chuck reached out to grasp his hand, frigid fingers wrapping around his larger hand. They gave a firm shake as Dean nodded his head toward Castiel.
"If you don't mind me asking, what's up with him?"
"Oh, uhm number Five? He's one of the experiments here. But you already knew that, right? They had to have at least told you that much." After Dean had introduced himself, he noticed that Chuck wasn't so twitchy. Good.
"Yeah, man, I'm asking about why. What's the point?"
Chuck began shaking his head.
"Can't tell you. But I can tell you that he's supposed to help the world or something. Naomi calls them her Angels." He had this little nervous tick of tapping his fingers anxiously on his thigh and looking around frantically.
Dean nodded his head in understanding.
"That's quite the thing to call a bunch of people floatin' in fish tanks."
Chuck let out a short burst of a laugh.
"That's one way you could look at it."
Chuck's face went pale and his body rigid a moment later when the air in the room grew dense and heavy.
He opened his mouth to say something but Dean was walking past him with his cart and already speaking.
"Glad to see you too, Cas." Was his easy response. Chuck visibly blanched when the air abruptly returned to normal. He looked like a fish with the way his mouth kept opening and closing.
"Y-you?"
Dean turned around and gave Chuck a weird look as if to say 'go on'.
"Me?"
"You talk to him? He responded to you?" He sounded as if he couldn't believe it, which confused Dean because from day one fish boy was messing with him.
But Dean felt a fierce protective streak suddenly and did not say the truth and instead played dumb.
"Oh, that? Thought that was nerves from workin' in this creepy ass place." He tried laughing it off, playing it down, but it was clear from how anxious Chuck was acting that it was anything but common occurrence. Suddenly, Chuck grabbed his hand and pulled him to the back of the room and glanced over his shoulder.
"Tell no one." Was all he said before he heard the doors open and the sharp click of heels announced their newcomer.
They both glanced over at the light haired brunette.
"Evening, gentleman. Is there a problem?" Came her even voice, ever formal and ever grating on Dean's last nerve that something was seriously wrong with this chick.
"Everything's fine, Miss Naomi. Charles here was just telling me to be more careful with the equipment." He wasn't sure why he felt the need to lie or cover anything up, but Dean knew that he should not tell her the real reason.
Tell no one echoed through his head and it was as if his suspicions were confirmed and now he knew he had to be on guard.
Seeing as Chuck was the one who told him, he supposed that the twitchy little guy was probably not on their side.
"Is that so?" Cold, calculating eyes landed on the scientist and his movements were once more frantic and anxious as he nodded his head.
"Yeah. Yeah. Found a scratch on beaker today." He supplied, licking his lips nervously.
"I'd suggest you exercise more caution with the equipment, Mr. Winchester. It's all very expensive." She seemed to look down her nose at the two before gesturing for Chuck to follow her. "If you'd be so courteous, Mr. Shurley."
He nodded once before following obediently, glancing back to Dean once more before leaving the room.
The instant the doors closed he was surrounded by warmth and he swatted the air around it.
"Cool it, Cas. Glad to see you too." He narrowed his eyes at the door before setting off to work mechanically.
"M'telling you, man, there's some freaky shit happening here." He said offhandedly to the experiment, shaking his head.
He worked quickly again, making light one-sided conversation here or there to keep Castiel pacified.
He talked about his dream of being a mechanic. He talked about Sammy and how proud he was of him. He talked about his Uncle Bobby, and even brought his old man into the picture.
"Man, there wasn't ever a damn thing that could stop that man when he was after something. Big hunter. He traveled for it. I always wanted to go, but I had to look after Sammy." He paused, remembering briefly before shaking his head. "Good ol' Dad. Meanest sonofabitch out there, but he did all he could for me and Sam."
When he left that night, he said a fond goodbye to Castiel, even calling him 'buddy' as he walked out the door.
As his head touched his pillow, he was unaware of what awaited him.
The sun felt pleasantly warm on his skin, the beer in his hand cool and the wind blowing was faint.
It was his favorite dream.
He sat at the end of a wooden dock, fishing line in the water and rod secured in his hand.
He could hear the birds chirp pleasantly at one another. The lake was large and a deep, dark blue and he knew eventually he would catch a nice sized bass.
He sipped his beer before an increasingly familiar pressure unsettled the peaceful air and he instinctively looked to be sure he wasn't in the lab.
A rapid clicking from his reel signaled to him that he had a fish hooked and it was running with his line, fast.
He grabbed his rod to bring it in, quickly cranking the reel until the line went taught.
He didn't have a chance before he was pulled into frigid water.
He fought to get back to the surface, kicking his legs and swinging his arms madly but the fish was swimming down and pulling him further.
He released the rod to swim harder, he wasn't sure why but he felt such unbridled panic at what was waiting for him in the water.
It wasn't safe in the water and the freezing cold that surrounded him only served to deepen his panic.
He's gone swimming in this dream before and never, ever has the water been anything but a pleasant cool to chill him after a nice day of fishing. Never before had he been pulled in.
Never before had he been so terrified.
Suddenly he was naked and felt tubes and wires tangling his arms, he had get to the surface!
His lungs began to burn with the effort of holding his breath but his efforts did not slow.
Hushed and murmured voices surrounded him, only confusing him further in his struggle.
He was going to drown.
He was going to die.
They were going to kill him.
One of the tubes tugged at his skin before fire began to once more race through his body.
The pain was agonizing.
He opened his mouth to scream but choked on water.
He was going to die.
He wanted to thrash harder against the pain but found himself curling to the fetal position again.
Pure fear worked through his body and mingled with the blazing fury that sought to destroy him from the inside out.
He couldn't wake up.
He couldn't get out.
He couldn't wake up.
He felt a sharp nudge to his mind, a sudden smothering feeling of heaviness before his panicked thoughts all cleared and the only thing that ran through his head was a single word.
A name. Spoken from a voice so deep, but so soothingly rough and quiet that it immediately calmed him. It called to him and he felt safe, he felt protected despite the confusing turn of his now nightmare.
"Dean!"