A/Ns: Sorry for the delay from my usual Sunday posting time. Truth is, I've been off work for a while to recover from burnout/stress/depression, and I go back for the first time tomorrow. I thought I was doing okay until I woke up as a giant, seething, writhing ball of anxiety and anger, stomach somewhere in my lungs, lungs competing in a speed race with my heart. Fun times! I probably should have realized something was gonna happen when I didn't get this chapter edited at all this weekend or doany of the stuff I have to do before returning to work tomorrow.
Reviews: Uh, on that note, if you all could be extra kind and giving today (if you're able to spare it) I would really appreciate it. I haven't gotten back to any of you yet, but I'll pencil in another chapter on the to-do list, and I *will* get to it. Lately every time I open up my laptop to reply to reviews, the Muse is like, 'Free time? Let's WRITE.' Not the end of the world, certainly, but it does mean I'm very behind on answering any of you (but well ahead of my chapter stockpile, which is GREAT considering a return to work is gonna seriously limit my free time)
P.S. On the subject of reviews, we're only 25 reviews away from out back-to-back chapter reward over on ff dot net. So if you all want to overwhelm me with reviews, you'll get something out of it, too! :D
Poking: Thanks for those that nudged me today. Always feel free to do it, guys, I never mind. On occasion it's a memory lapse (like over Christmas), but more often than not a missed or late update usually means something's up in my world, and I will never take you guys reaching out as a negative thing (unless you're just being rude or demanding about not getting an update :P But none of you have been that way at all) I love that you like this story enough to actually seek it out (it really improves my headspace and always will) and those of you that reach out to make sure I'm okay are incredibly appreciated.
Alright, enough A/Ns, let get this story rolling!
Chapter Warnings: Gordon's prepping preparations, Dean's opening doors, and Cas is very much surprised about many things. Oh, and Uriel's a pussy ;)
Actual Chapter Warnings: Cas and Dean have a heart-to-heart guilt fest that is totally ruined when Cas asks how just how exactly Dean got to Heaven.
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The Road So Far (This Time Around)
Season 2: Chapter 60
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Gordon crossed the length of the back door incredibly carefully, stretching the second trip wire tight across the entryway, only an inch and a half above the old, rotting floorboards. He twisted in his crouched position, very slowly securing the end of the wire to the second grenade he'd positioned about six feet further into the room than the first.
Sam was a good enough hunter to spot the first trip wire, Gordon figured. He wasn't one to underestimate his enemy, after all. Also, if that demon had been telling the truth, than the kid might be as psychic as his brother, and Gordon needed to prepare for that possibility.
But no one ever expected the second, and that's how he'd get him.
The hunter withdrew from the setup slowly, double checking the concealment and security of his trap from a safe position several feet away. Satisfied, Gordon returned to the main room of the house, what had probably once been a living room. He picked up his rifle from a dangerously leaning dining room table, the thing rocking with the weight change. Grabbing the most stable chair he'd managed to find in the house, Gordon dragged it over to the wall beside the kitchen entrance. That wall, dilapidated as it was, would serve as both cover from Sam Winchester when he entered through the back door and protection from the grenade, should any debris make it so far. Gordon settled into the rickety thing, a Winchester M70 rifle in lap (a fitting – almost poetic – choice of guns to take out the last of the Winchester hunting line, Gordon figured), and started idly cleaning it with a cloth.
He checked the time on Dean's phone, still covered in the Winchester's dried blood. Sam had shot a quick 'On my way.' back about thirty minutes ago now. Which meant he'd be scoping the building any time now. He'd spot Gordon waiting with his rifle, eyes on the front door, and decide to try his luck with the back entrance.
All Gordon Walker had to do was wait.
-o-o-o-
"This is the approximate location of where I last sensed Uriel," Rachel announced when they were about a quarter of the way down their most recent hallway. The G's, apparently.
Dean couldn't believe people – modern people, given the dates on the doors – were still naming their kids Garfield. You'da thought that shit would have stopped after the fat cat cartoon. Definitely after the Bill Murry movie.
"It is likely Castiel is hidden in one of these Paradises. We will split up to search and meet in the middle."
Rachel took wing before the hunter got any say in the matter. She vanished in the blink of an eye according to Dean's 'limited' human perception, reappearing about fifty doors down. Within seconds, she disappeared again, this time into one of the paradises. Dean gave an irritated grunt – angels – and turned towards the first door on his left, mumbling about flabbiness. He reached out, fingers curling hesitantly around the silver knob.
"Don't be gay porn, don't be gay porn," Dean muttered under his breath, mental fingers crossed as well before he twisted the knob and pushed the door in.
Well, there weren't moans, panting, or anything wet sounding in the room, so that was a good first step. Hesitantly, the hunter stuck his head in just past the door edge, glancing around at the Paradise. It was nice, actually. A warm and inviting and totally, utterly normal living room free of orgies of any sort. A family was seated the dining room table in the next room for what looked like Thanksgiving dinner. No, Christmas; there was a tree in the corner across from the door Dean was hiding behind. Much better than Humphrey's happiest (read: humpiest) memory, that's for sure.
But empty of an angel. Dean scanned the room: the neatly organized coffee table with a set of treys and a decorative box on the bottom shelf, the L-shaped couch with perfectly positioned pillows and a throw tossed over the back, the bookshelves that lined the wall with a half desk in between, the tree with unwrapped presents tucked beneath in neat piles, one for each member of that family currently sitting at the dining table.
No angel, no signs of a struggle, nothing suspicious in the slightest,
Dean hesitated, hand still wrapped around the knob, body partially hidden behind the safety of the door. He didn't know why, but he had the distinct urge to search the room. Almost like the room was drawing him in, though the hunter was pretty sure that was just his conscience trying to get him out of searching more (potentially mentally traumatizing) rooms. That, or maybe human memories were designed to pull you in or something.
(Nope, no, nope, not that. That definitely wasn't a thing. Dean hadn't felt anything resembling pulling on that last door he'd opened. Abso-fucking-lutely not. He'd gone sprinting as far from that room as physically possible as quickly as possible. There was no pull.)
But maybe Uriel had hid Cas's body or something. Alive, Dean added hastily. Definitely alive, just hidden. In case someone came looking for the angel. It was worth checking, right?
Feeling like an intruder (which was total bullshit because how many houses and lives had he broken into with complete confidence (and the person who owned this one was dead)), the hunter slipped into the room quietly. He was careful not to shut the door, worried he might not find it again (it sounded like a silly thing, but Dean knew these memories didn't always function like you expected them to. Sometimes you closed a door only to re-open it to a completely different room. He didn't have time for some Labyrinth level crap right now). So he grabbed an umbrella stand – the closest thing to him – and shoved it between the door and the frame with his foot. Then he started poking around carefully, just to make sure there wasn't an angel hiding behind a piece of furniture or locked in a back room.
If Dean was trying to hide Cas from everyone else, he wouldn't just leave her tied up on the couch to be found by the first person to open a door.
(Him tied up? Damnit, he'd just gotten a handle on the friggin' pronouns and Rachel had to go and fuck that up for him too.)
Of course, Dean wasn't Uriel (translation: he wasn't a dick), so he didn't expect to actually find anything when he rounded the edge of the couch. He definitely didn't expect to have his legs taken out from under him by a blur of tan and black flying out from behind the piece of furniture. It collided into his lower half with the force of a damn bulldozer.
Dean went down hard and that ball of tan went with him.
Hunter instinct and years of fighting for his life kicked in immediately. Dean rolled his assailant until he'd pinned the guy beneath him. He didn't have a weapon up here in Heaven, but Dean had been a hunter a long time, now; his body could be the weapon, need be. He pressed his forearm down onto the throat of his attacker, his other hand fisting in black hair. Messy, black hair and blue…. Blue eyes. The bluest blue that stared up at him with such shock, so wide and almost innocent but never quite innocent enough, that Dean froze, just staring into them. He knew those eyes. Knew that blue that he still dreamed about some nights. Those were Jimmy Novak's eyes, set into Jimmy Novak's face, on a Jimmy Novak body, complete with blue tie, black suit, and tan trench coat. Just like Jimmy Novak.
The man from the future could only stare, shocked brainless, at the face of his best friend still pinned beneath him.
"D'n!"
His bound, gagged best friend, who he was currently straddling, hair fisted in his hand, and arm pressing down dangerously hard on his neck.
"Holy shit. Cas!" Dean pulled back as the world suddenly sped up, his brain kicked into overdrive to make up for its pathetic delay, and the world decided to make sense again. He scrambled off the angel, who was restrained at the wrists, torso, legs, and ankles, all wrapped in at least five coils of glowing rope. There was a fold of fabric secure around his mouth and neck, effectively muting him.
Dean hesitated for a second, hands hovering over his friend's body, searching for injuries he didn't even know if he'd be able to see here.
Damn Rachel for getting into his head with that shit.
Oh, right. Rachel.
"Rachel!" Dean hollered, stretching his neck to get his head above the side-sectional, which Cas had tackled them behind. "He's in here!"
The hunter started tugging at the glowing ropes around Cas's wrists, not waiting for the other angel. He didn't even know if Rachel would hear him from a good fifty feet down the hall. She probably wouldn't if she was in one of the Paradises. But he didn't have time to worry about that now.
"Rayful?"
Dean cursed, realizing the ropes around Cas might be a priority, but the gag was limiting. He reached for what looked like normal fabric and frowned when he couldn't find a knot anywhere. Dean started with the back of Cas's head, becoming increasingly confused as he moved his hand along the cloth and couldn't find any sort of tie or bind of any kind.
What the hell?
"Full!" Cas tried to say, but it was utterly muffled by the fabric. He tossed his head, pulling out of Dean's hands. When the hunter tried to grab the fabric again, Cas tossed his head once more, and Dean frowned. "Full!"
"Damnit, Cas, I can't understand you. That's why I'm trying to take the damn thing off in the first place," Dean growled, latching onto the gag once more. This time, Cas pulled his head back quickly and Dean froze as the fabric stretched. Like it was putty.
"What…the…"
Dean didn't waste time asking any more questions. Pull. Cas was telling him to pull. Blue eyes met his and the hunter nodded. He grabbed either side of the gag and stretched the thing – which had definitely been tight across Cas's lips – up and over the angel's head.
Cas coughed as it came free, licking his lips and taking deep breaths through his mouth. Dean looked at the fabric in his hands, which had somehow defied physics seconds ago but was now back to being just fabric. When the whole thing started to shimmer very suspiciously, Dean dropped it like a hot potato. It dissolved into nothing more than light, which fizzled down and out against the carpeted ground, like friggin' fairy dust.
"Okay, what the hell!"
"Grace," Cas supplied, trying to sit up and failing given how constrictive the bindings here. He was tied up like rope had been on sale. "Uriel bound me with his grace. Whatever you are seeing it as, it isn't."
"Yeah. Rachel warned me about that," Dean muttered, rubbing his hands on his jeans like he could wipe off the reminder of touching Uriel's grace. The dude definitely seemed like the type you could catch something from.
"Rachel," Cas repeated again. Now that he could speak, the confusion and incredulity were clear. They were pretty damn clear in those big, blue eyes, too, but Dean didn't have time to be making eye contact. He was busy trying to find a knot in a knotless coil of rope around the angel's wrists.
"Yeah, Rachel. I had to call one of your buddies to come get you. Rachel's the one that answered." Dean's tone was chiding and Cas was momentarily distracted from the fact that Dean was here, in Heaven – that Rachel had gone to Earth, collected Dean, and brought him here – by the fact that Dean was chastising him for being unreachable.
Which, given the panic that had been in the back-to-back prayers the man had sent him endlessly for many days, at least, Castiel couldn't really find fault in that.
"I'm sorry," were the first words out of his mouth, rather than the far more pressing matters they really should be discussing.
Dean's fingers faltered on the rope, stilling as he stared at his friend's bound hands. He finally looked up, green meeting blue, and swallowed roughly. All that fear he'd been feeling, all that panic he'd been desperately pushing to the side this past week and a half, came gurgling up. He'd been right to be afraid. Cas had been in danger, he was friggin' tied up and hidden away for god-knows-what Uriel had planned.
But right now he was alive. Okay. And right there, in front of Dean and going home with him.
The hunter wrapped his arms around Cas before he had time to talk himself out of it, pulling the angel into a crushing hug.
"What did I tell you about talking to strange angels, man?" he muttered into his friend's neck, a fresh wave of emotion over-coming him at the familiar – and missed – texture of Jimmy Novak's trench coat.
Castiel, who seemed to miss the bitterly sarcastic edge to what was supposed to be a joke but had missed by about a mile, lowered his forehead against Dean's shoulder, unable to reciprocate in any other form while bound. "Uriel's betrayal was…unexpected."
The guy's tone was crushing and Dean closed his eyes, beating back that second round of emotion. He remembered the way Cas had looked at him lying in that hospital, while he was wired up to more tubes and drugs than he'd ever been before. That angel had been stunned, having to acknowledge his brother's betrayal. Stunned and hurting.
Which sounded right about on track with the angel in his arms now.
"I'm sorry, too, Cas," Dean tightened his hold for a second, taking a deep breath before he pulled away from the angel. Lucky for him, this Cas didn't know the appropriate length of man hugs, so he wouldn't have anything to say about this one going on for far too long. And no one else was around to see it, so as far as Dean was concerned, they could all just fuck off.
Deep blue eyes were still locked on him, leaning back against the couch since Cas couldn't keep himself upright without Dean's assistance. There was a serious uncertainty in those eyes telling the hunter he didn't understand why Dean was the one apologizing.
"I should have warned you," he clarified, throat all sorts of clogged with self-loathing and frustration. "I should have told you about Uriel, remembered that he was a threat. I should have given you a list of angels you can't trust."
"Would Malachi have been on that list?" Cas's bitter growl was low, his gaze ducking away in frustration of his own. The angel had had plenty of time, tied up and expecting death, to be disgusted by his own poor judgement.
"The anarchist guy?" Dean countered with a raised brow and clear skepticism in his voice, which immediately drew the angel's attention back. Cas honestly hadn't expected him to know Malachi's name. "Yeah, Cas, he was on the list. What, the anarchist part didn't give it away?"
Cas looked away, this time in definite shame and self-loathing. As Dean went back to pulling at the rope around his wrists, the angel muttered, both defensively and bitterly, "Uriel trusted him."
Resisting the urge to sigh, Dean closed his eyes for a moment and reminded himself that this wasn't the Cas he knew. This wasn't his Cas, even if he (she?) looked like him. Not yet, anyway. This place was still this Cas's home. Those angels were his family and he wanted to believe in them. Knowing everything Dean and Sam had conquered because they were family, the hunter couldn't really be angry at his friend. Angry this had happened, sure, but not because Cas wanted to believe in his brothers.
"I should have given you names," Dean muttered again, countering Cas's guilt with guilt of his own. Well, anger, in this case, but it was backed by guilt and they both knew it.
"It likely wouldn't have mattered." The angel's voice sounded resigned. Dean found his gaze darting up again, but Cas was still staring at his bound wrists. "Given your lack of surprise at Uriel's betrayal…. Time is asserting itself to make sure the same things happen that should happen. It is likely that even if you had warned me, a confrontation with Uriel was inevitable."
Dean made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat (a growl, it was called a growl, only Dean didn't want to admit he was growling at the angel he was currently rescuing. Well. Trying to rescue). The weird rope wrapped around the angel was not stretching and pulling like the gag no matter how much the hunter tugged. He shook Cas's wrists with it until the angel met his eyes. "Hey, don't start talking about inevitably and destiny or any of that shit, alright? Cuz I don't believe in that crap and neither should you."
His angel just stared at him and Dean smirked.
"We're re-writing the book, remember?" Then he went back to pulling at the damn glowing rope. There was just no give on these. Didn't Cas say they were made of the same stuff, damnit? "How the hell do I get these off you, Cas?"
"They are made of grace," the angel repeated (what Dean already knew, the hunter muttered unhelpfully). This time though his tone sounded a lot more matter-of-fact about it and Dean got a bad feeling. "Only another angel can undo it."
"Bullshit. I got the gag off, didn't I?"
Cas huffed and Dean was happy to hear a little bit more of that holier-than-thou angel he knew and loved. He didn't like seeing the more subdued version of his friend, talking about events they couldn't escape no matter what they did. It rang with the bitter taste of a deadbeat dad and an entire liquor store consumed in one go.
"That is not the same thing," Cas argued, still huffy. All the better for it, Dean thought. "The gag was…the equivalent of a balled up cloth shoved in my mouth. All you had to do was pull it out."
Dean glared pretty damn deadpanned at his unhelpful (and ungrateful) angel. He held up Cas's wrists by a single finger hooked under the rope binding them together. "So how do I pull this one out?"
Blue eyes glared right back at him for being purposefully difficult. Which, hey, Dean didn't think was fair. He was not the one being difficult, here. "You can't. Grace is…intent, Dean. It is not untied, it is…'canceled out' with a different intention. Only another angel can do that."
"Yeah, well, we'll just see about that," Dean bit out between clenched teeth. He decided if he couldn't slide the rope over Cas's hands like he'd been trying, maybe he could break it. It wasn't really rope after all, right? The human wrapped his hands around two sections and started to pull in opposite directions.
"Dean, stop, it is physically imposs-"
The rope snapped in half almost immediately, enough so that Dean ended up on his ass from a serious misjudgment of force and balance. Cas's wrists came apart as the rope dissolved into lights and fairy dust once more.
Dean sat back up in a flurry, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. It morphed into a grin in no time, and he scrambled back to his knees, shoving a finger at Cas, who was staring wide-eyed at his wrists. "Ha!"
The last of Uriel's grace dissolved, leaving the angel sitting, stunned, in four more coils of the glowing restraints. But his arms were free, which shouldn't be possible. Blue eyes focused past his freed limbs to lock on his human charge and, apparently, his rescuer. "How?"
"Uriel's a pussy."
Castiel did not know what a pussy was, but given Dean's wide grin and the context, he was fairly confident the human was calling his brother weak. "I assure you he is not."
Uriel was one of the strongest angels in Castiel's Flight. The only reason he could best the larger angel in a fight was due purely to Castiel's speed and skill with a blade.
"What does it matter?" Dean shrugged, already reaching out for the next set of bindings. But Castiel stopped him. His now-freed limb shot out to spread, palm outward and flat, across Dean's chest. The hunter froze, breath catching, as he waited (prayed) for that flare of something inside him to respond. He waited for the usual front flips and back flips and that warmth he'd desperately been missing for a week and a half now.
Nothing happened.
Dean clenched his fists to hide the fact that his whole damn arms trembled with loss. Cas didn't seem to notice. The angel, bound as he was, could not currently access his grace, which meant he could not sense Dean as he usually would. He could only go off of what he could see in the human soul before him.
"Perhaps…" The angel shook his head, withdrawing his hand. Dean tried and failed not to expect the flagging complaint from his chest on the withdrawal. He was severely disappointed when he didn't get it, and brutally shoved that feeling down as damn deep as it could go. "Perhaps the sliver of grace is enough to break Uriel's binds. But I am very surprised."
And concerned. It was bad enough that a fraction of his grace had entangled with Dean's soul enough to live symbiotically in his human body. But Dean did not have a body right now, yet there was Castiel's grace, still curled within the Hell-Scar that marred Dean's soul. The edges of that sliver blended in with the brilliance of the soul enough so that Castiel had to look just to see it at all.
The attachment his future self's grace seemed to have taken with the Righteous Man's soul was…disconcerting. For both for them.
It did explain, at least in one possibility, how Dean was able to break Uriel's bindings. With the presence of grace within Dean's soul, the human might register as another angel, at least to Uriel's detached grace. An angel's grace was not sentient in such a way that it would be able to determine Dean as an imposter when confronted with enough of Castiel's essence entangled within him. It would also explain Dean's presence in a human Paradise that was not his own or his soulmate's (Sam, in this case.)
Disconcerting indeed, Castiel thought.
Dean seemed to agree. When Cas returned his focus to his rescuer, he realized the hunter was staring at him with more intensity than he'd displayed so far. His hand had closed the distance between them, grabbing at Castiel's freed limb with a desperately tight grip. Cas frowned at the distressed human. Perhaps he was finally realizing the dangers that sliver of grace presented.
"You mean…" Dean couldn't breathe right. He shouldn't even have to breathe here, but he definitely didn't seem to be doing it right. "He's still in there? Chest Cas is still alive?"
Castiel's look immediately shifted into something like confusion and uncertainty. Like he wasn't sure which to address first: the question or the name given to his slivered counterpart. "Yes. Nothing can kill an angel but another angel. What would make you think he was gone?"
The hunter practically deflated. In surprise, elation, joy, relief, and straight up annoyance because, "Are you kidding me?" Cas blinked at the exclamation, and Dean gestured wildly to himself. "You friggin' drained me like a battery, Cas! I got a black hole sitting behind my sternum! Of course I thought you'd absorbed him all or…something."
The angel, realizing his misstep that had led Dean to believe his…friend was gone (even if that friend posed serious risks to the human's soul and humanity), attempted to be more sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Dean. It is true that I took as much as I could; it was paramount to do so to defeat Azazel at the time. I know it was of great discomfort to you, but I did not realize you would think I had…taken my counterpart….um, chest…Cas from you."
"Dude, stop talking."
Cas followed the request, which was good because Dean couldn't take much more embarrassing chatter and heartfelt apologies. From either party, since he was pretty much just as guilty. The feels in this place must be contagious (it was Heaven, he supposed). Dean dropped his eyes and hands back to the next set of ropes. They came apart as easily as he had the first ones.
"I'm not mad. I'm glad he's still in there." Thrilled, even, not that he'd ever admit it, because feels. Dean hesitated, manly inner manliness telling him to shut up and mouth trucking right on ahead. "And that you're okay, too."
Contagious and unstoppable apparently. Good grief. It was like forced confessions of a dead, time traveling hunter up in here.
Cas watched him as he pulled apart the next set of restraints like the angel knew there was something else Dean wasn't saying. The hunter didn't know if it was about the hole in his chest or the fact he was relieved to still have an angel soul all up in his. So Dean didn't ask and, thank fuck, Cas didn't push.
"I am more concerned how a sliver of grace that never should have been there in the first place is apparently so wrapped up in your soul it accompanied you to Heaven." The wide eyes, blank face of a Cas who hadn't figured out facial expression yet was almost comically. Dean snorted but opted not to comment. Would probably just get himself in trouble.
Cas allowed Dean to pull him upright. With just his thighs, knees, and ankles still wrapped up, the angel was able to hold himself in a sitting position without assistance while Dean finished undoing the last of the restraints. In the meanwhile, the hunter was trying his damnedest to ignore the current topic of conversation.
"Dean, the amount of influence it seems to have over your spiritual manifestation is dangerous. It's possible-"
"Hey, it's saving your skin right now, so just drop it," Dean growled defensively. Whelp, so much for ignoring the topic. Yeah, Dean had never been so great at keeping quiet or knowing when to shut up. He ripped apart the glowing grace rope from around Cas's thighs with a bit more viciousness than strictly needed, even for a douchenozzel like Uriel.
"I don't have skin," was the angel's response in exchange for 'dropping' it.
Dean froze, hands going for the rope around Cas's knees. Nope. Nope, nope, nope, he still wasn't going there. Still didn't want to know. Still just thinking about Cas looking like a human woman. Er, man. Whatever.
Luckily, Cas was not paying close enough attention to notice Dean's pause. "How did you get here, Dean? You appear to be just a human soul, but with my grace bound, I can't properly see you. Where is your body, and why would Rachel bring you here? That was an incredibly reckless decision."
"Wasn't Rachel's call." Dean unwound the fizzling light rope from Cas's knees, perfectly avoiding the angel's gaze with the task he didn't actually need to do considering the rope would dissolve itself completely. But if he was busy, maybe Cas would ignore what he was about to say. "I went and got myself killed."
He felt more than saw Cas go rigidly still. So much for that hope and dream.
"You…what?"
Dean shrugged, still refusing to look up even though he wasn't moving on to the other rope yet, either. It didn't help that Cas had drawn his legs into his chest in a defensive attempt to force this human to have this conversation. "Woke up here, figured I'd come looking for you. It's no big deal."
"You…" Castiel was starting to understand how Dean got angry when he was concerned. Cas was feeling very angry himself right now at the human's stupidity and, worse, indifference to said stupidity. "Are you insane?"
Green eyes snapped up to his with those words, brow furled angrily. "Me? Who the hell went up to Heaven with no back up, injured, and no ears on!"
Cas tried to hold that gaze, righteous in his own justified anger, but he could not. He was quickly learning that he was defenseless against those eyes when they were filled with such hurt and concern.
"I prayed for weeks, Cas." Okay, that was a slight exaggeration. It had only been a week and a half, but Dean didn't think he'd gone a whole ten minutes without praying that entire damn time. That, if nothing else (and there was so much else), made it feel like weeks.
"I…time moves differently here," Castiel said quietly, a pathetic defense and he knew it. "It has only been a matter of days. And I- I did not expect Uriel to…"
In front of him, the hunter deflated, anger fleeing in the face of Cas's guilt and regret. Dean's shoulders sagged and he finally looked away too, just as guilt-ridden for entirely different reasons. He really needed to learn to reign in that temper of his. Not that that was likely to happen anytime soon. "I know, Cas. Look, let's just get out of here before Uriel comes looking for you, alright?"
"Yes," Cas agreed with a nod, straightening his legs back out so that Dean could reach the binds wrapped around his ankles. "That would be best. Depending on how much attention he is paying to his grace and my own, Uriel may already be aware his restraints have dissolved."
Those hands froze on his ankles once again. When he met his charge's eyes, Dean was back to glaring. "Are you kidding me right now? Lead with that next time, Cas!"
The hunter frantically grabbed at the ropes, urgency now in every line of his body.
"It is very unlikely that he will be watching that closely-"
The door to the Paradise around them – the one Dean had propped open with the metal umbrella stand – burst open hard enough to bang into the wall and bounce back. Uriel stopped its movement with a meaty fist, expression furious as he took in the disturbed human memory of an empty living room and a family dining in the next room.
Behind the side sectional, Dean and Cas were frozen. The two of them currently hidden by the length of couch, he was pretty sure, but that wasn't gonna last long. All Uriel had to do was move about four feet to the left and they were gonna be in serious trouble.
His hands still wrapped around the last of the glowing rope, Dean clenched his teeth. Green eyes met Cas's shocked blue. Keeping his voice really low, Dean hissed out, "You were saying?"
Castiel's breath quickened as the hunter tore apart the last of the restraints binding his being. Grace flowed back into his wings with the sudden freedom, into each of his limbs and all of his being. Without hesitation, Castiel shot forward, wrapping himself around Dean in the kind of grip reserved for raising a soul from Perdition.
The angel burst out from behind the couch, human soul in his arms, and barreled past Uriel hard enough to send the angel flying back into the hallway with a thunderous crash.
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A/Ns: Omchuck, I don't think I have any notes. I can't tell if that's the anxiety or I just straight up doing have anything to say for once.
(...it's gotta be the anxiety. I don't know how NOT to talk.)
Up Next: I suppose I could do one of these. Hmmm, let's see. Dean and Cas are fleeing Heaven, Uriel is hot on their heels, Rachel is hot on his, and one of them isn't gonna make it. The gate's gonna take a beating, so is some poor field in Nebraska (or...somewhere). Cas is definitely still injured, Uriel's done giving him second chances, Rachel's in a completely different world of hurt, Dean's pulling his best Captain Kirk, and Sam's setting off grenades.
And, oh yeah, next chapter would be a most excellent time to get back-to-back posts. Because if all that ^ sounds like a lot, it absolutely is and it's gonna end abruptly, leaving you all like "WHERE'S THE NEXT ONE, DAMNIT" (I'm just guessing. I could be wrong ;)) So bring it on, ff dot netters! Get us over that milestone :D
A/Ns: There it is. There's the talking. See, half an hour focusing on this story, getting a chapter up and I already feel better. You guys are like my heroin or something (does heroin make you feel better? Ecstasy, maybe? You guys are my ecstasy)
(...Nope, nope, that sounds wrong. Let's stick with heroin.)
Till next time!
Cheers,
Silence
ADDITIONAL A/N, 12/21/2020 - Sam and Dean as soulmates: This is the problem with forgetting what you're going to say in your A/Ns. You forget to add stuff about important things, like calling Sam and Dean soulmates *facepalm*. Okay, so here's my reasoning on this (after several reviewers have been like "Hold up, wait a second! Explain yourself!")
First, I'm sure hoping the last 600,000 words have displayed little to no interest in Wincest on my part. Even with the slowest of slow burns (which I am now known for), you'd still have picked up plenty of such a vibe. I've never been good at keeping undertones out of my writing XD
Second, I very strongly believe that soulmates can be platonic. Friends, siblings, cousins, and so forth. As someone who identifies as ACE and possibly Aro (still figuring that bit out), relationships that aren't romantic or sexual in nature are incredibly important to me and I often lament the fact that western society spares so little focus on those bonds.
Third, and most importantly, I really threw this into the story here and now because it was an itty bitty (potential) plothole in the show and I love filling in holes :P In the episode where Sam and Dean go to Heaven and follow the road to find Joshua, it did not make sense that Dean could leave his Heaven and find Sam's. Especially as they later point out that navigating paradises is hard and Ash's hacking of heaven's system is quite an impressive feat (a feat I very much loved!). They also specify that every soul has their own heaven, with a few exceptions of shared paradises, like in the case of soulmates. My head canon therefore accepted that Dean and Sam share a paradise, which is how Dean was able to cross into Sam's memories (and it makes sense that even when sharing a paradise, two people could have their own memories from time to time, reliving a cherished experience where the other wasn't present). Therefore, Sam and Dean must be soulmates. Which, honestly, with everything the show has showed us about their unending loyalty, love, and co-dependency on one another, really isn't all that surprising.
So, in conclusion [cuz this is obviously an essay], this story will remain Wincest free, as it is not a pairing I'm particularly fond of. However, it is a pairing I am particularly fond of making fun of, poking with a stick, handing that stick off to every other character on the show, etc. Some of my favorite spn moments definitely come from other characters mistaking the boys as a couple or Crowley endlessly making fun of the two for their codependence. I love those bits. So, while there will be no Wincest in this story, there will be plenty of characters poking fun at it now and then and I won't be shying away from the close (platonic) relationship they have and the fact that the show itself (sort of?) made them soulmates.
Cheers (again),
Silence