"Smoke…on the water— a fire in the sky…."
"Good morning out to the people watching 104.5-FM The KRRO! Continue to listen for the greatest hits, weather, and traffic stations! I'm Zed—"
"—and I'm Alex! Today it is going to be a record high for September, reaching a low of eighty-two degrees…"
Dean groaned, tossing in what felt to be the seat of his car. Baby— boy did he miss her. The Impala hummed quietly under his feet and back, soothing the throbbing pain rippling down his chest and right shoulder. The whole interaction with Zachariah had become a vague question, head pounding and slightly dazed. His hands curled in, wincing quietly. If he was in the Impala, this meant either two things:
The deaths of his brother and Castiel; making a deal with that bastard was just some fucked up nightmare—
Or, he was back in the past.
He snapped out of his pondering, jolting awake. He frantically whipped around, constricted by the seat belt wrapped around his waist, locking his movements.
"Woah! Woah! Dean, relax." Sam had one hand on the wheel. The car roared, returning to the constant rattle in seconds. His brother had a hand extended, right in front of his chest, stalled in mid-air as if to try and help his sudden terror without crashing. The car ahead (maybe twenty feet) spat from its exhaust.
It was Bobby's car.
Dean allowed the magic of the rock music to soothe and calm his nerves, "Finished with my woman—'cause she couldn't help me with my mind—" Dean leaned back into the black leather seats, back to his home while flashes of their deaths filled his head. Every time he glanced at his brother, all he could see was Sam's dead body. Staring into his soul, burning it from the inside and out.
"—People think I'm insane because I'm frowning all the— time." Dean was alive, he was back a decade. Sam was driving, worried eyes peering away on occasion. So, Zachariah was true to his word. He now had an opportunity to change fate, to fix his mistakes.
"Dean? You alright?" Sam's eyes were glued to the road, to Bobby's car bumper, breaking at a stop sign. The dark canopy of trees brightened with the rising sun.
"Yeah, yeah Sammy." He tried, but every word was stifled, shaken, and wrung out of his body.
Now, Dean had to focus on remembering what happened. Ten years ago— he was raised from Hell. By Castiel. So if this was before, that left only a few days' window of opportunity. The path was familiar, and the turns and music choices were familiar.
"All day I think of things, but nothing seems to satisfy—"
His right arm was aching, like he'd run a thousand miles, killed a thousand demons, and had three cups of coffee in one day. His legs curled together, curving his head to the window. This is real, this is real. He continued to repeat. "Where are we headed?" He asked, curious.
"A friend of Bobby's," Sam's brows knitted together, "I told you that a few hours ago,"
"Oh," Dean chuckled softly, relieved to make a sound without the glass shards embedded to his side. But it still ached. A friend of Bobby's? That was a long list. But this was years ago so that handful of hunters and close friends he considered family thinned down to one and nothing. "Psychic?"
Sam shrugged, "Dunno,"
Time flew past, Dean's mind contemplating— figuring out a plan. He now backtracked ten years of progress, fighting the urge to tell Sam or Bobby he was from the future. The knowledge he gathered from the last decade— or, decided to keep his mouth shut until he could tell someone who wouldn't freak out. Cas wouldn't freak out, right? He never freaked out when he met him in 2014. He was high as a kite though, which didn't help.
It'd been a solid while since he had seen the house of Pamela Barnes. What she'd done so selflessly to save his brother and Anna. The door to her house swung open, and her bright smile accompanied a laugh. Oh for God's sake, he missed that laugh.
"Bobby!" She grinned, embracing the hunter with a tight hug, growling with amusement before letting go.
"You are a sight for sore eyes, ya know that?" Bobby laughed.
Dean didn't realize he was staring until she shared that smile, looking the brothers up and down. "So these are the boys you told me about?" Her arms were folded along her chest, her blue gem-chained necklace falling within the vee of her neck.
"Sam, Dean— meet Pamela Barnes." Bobby introduced, and Dean's lungs lost all air and sense of function. "The best damn psychic in the state." he continued to explain.
So this was the day Zachariah dropped his ass off? Great.
Sam squinted momentarily, he was so caught off guard by Dean's sudden jolting awake, that he completely forgot his brother had mentioned something about a psychic in the car. Maybe it was just some lucky guess—
Dean noticed his brother pondering, eyes focused and distant without resolve. "Hi." he and Sam greeted; Dean's mouth forming an awkward line.
Pamela chuckled again, scanning the hunter for a second time around. "Out of the fire and back into the frying pan, huh?" she paused, "Makes you a pretty rare individual."
He shook his head, nodding. "Something like that." The psychic allowed the three into her home, but her gaze lingered within Dean's reach. She patted Bobby on the shoulder, the door closed behind him.
"So you hear anything?" Bobby asked, turning to her.
"Well, I Ouja-ed my way through a dozen spirits— they have no clue who or what broke your boy out."
Castiel broke him out and raised him with an iron grip out of the pits of Hell. It was definitely an out-of-body experience for Dean. He had to watch everything replay from day one and not say a word. Because if he did— things would alter, and will have an even bigger target along his back. Just to be patient, he prodded to keep himself silent.
"So what's next?"
"A séance, I think." Pamela proposed to the group, a glint of determination and an urge for adventure boiling in her blood. "See if we can see who did the deed."
Sam nodded in agreement.
"You aren't going to summon it here, right?" Bobby protested.
The long debate gave enough juice for Dean to swipe out of reality, and he walked around the room. Feeling the chairs, the specks of dust collecting on the tables and staircase railings. What had she said that day? Something along the lines of: 'I'm going to just peek at who summoned Dean, like peering into a crystal ball without the crystal'? She lost her sight from just merely peeking at Cas—
The next thing he knew, they were all preparing for the séance.
"Who's Jesse?" Dean asked, he sounded so stupid, even in his own ears. But he had to play by the book, the rules. Eyeing the curved spot just below her belt, the cursive font is large.
Palmela cackled, "Well, it wasn't forever."
"His loss then." He agreed before she strutted up to him, only inches apart. She knew something. She had to have it.
"Might be your gain," her hair folded along the swoop of her back, and he exchanged that same grin.
Sam and himself both swiveled, "Well,"
"Yeah, she's gonna eat you alive," Sam mused, licking his teeth before recoiling back in his chapped lips.
"Nah," It felt like he was reliving his whole life, his teenage years. When things weren't as complicated as they were.
"You're invited too, grumpy," Pamela effortlessly flirted, floating past the brothers. Winking courageously at Sam. He grinned.
They all sat down, hands flat and around the table; equally spaced an arm's length from one another. Pamela was to Dean's left, Sam was to his right, and Bobby was across. The table had a usual neutral summon, carved with white chalk and six littered candles in the center. Bobby's hands were already palm-flat along the rim, waiting for the séance to be over and done with so he could go back home.
"Alright, take each other's hands," the psychic breathed, arms conjoining with her's and the other hunters. Dean shivered at the touch of two people he knew were dead. Long dead in the future. The fear melted once Sam's fingers intertwined with Dean's, warming the chill to a minimum. Her eyes scanned for a moment, before she aligned with his gaze. "And I need to touch something our mystery monster touched," her hand glided down to his leg, squeezing it firmly. Dean's leg sprung up, kicking the underside of the table— forcing it to shutter.
"Woah! Hey, he uh— didn't touch me there.." Dean swallowed hard, eyes darting around the room.
She recoiled her hand, chuckling sheepishly, "My apologies." her head tilted to the side, surveying him with laced suspicion. "Still jumpy from down under are we?" She prodded sarcastically. Pamela was testing him. Which was not a good time, so if he answered wrong (if not already beforehand) he could be in serious trouble. Bobby cleared his throat, and both Dean and Pam's head snapped to the hunter. She blinked, and held a palm gingerly on the table.
"I guess so," He excused briskly, warily eyeing her, before her velvet lips curled into a thin line.
"How about you help me grab a carnelian from the pantry? Stretch your legs?" Was that a flirt or threat?
Dean rose up in lieu, prowling with a lead to the living room. Yes, this wasn't particularly how he remembered the summoning going the last time, but it could have easily been because of the time travel. He was in the same body, but that didn't mean some small, halfhearted jokes didn't strain the little details.
"So this rock, it'll help you track Ca— the thing that raised me?" Dean really had to strain the urge to say the angel's name so upfront. It was so subconsciously used for the last nine years that he'd grown accustomed to Castiel's presence— he didn't realize just how much he said it until he was no longer present, by his side at all times. He felt empty, like a chunk of him was absent from the world; detached and waiting to be glued back together. A day longer and he might as well snap in half.
"Mhm," She nodded, gesturing for Dean to open the high shelf. "It's pretty crazy, huh? Being back… must've been hard to adjust," inching a little closer, her footsteps became muffled with the sink turning on. Flowing water spitting onto the dishes that tossed and splashed.
Faster and more agile than he could react, Pamela's balled fist curled, swiping with a clean punch to the left side of his face. Knocking him to the side, causing him to fumble, leaning on the sink for support, wincing. A deep growl reverberated in his throat, recoiling back in a fluid sidestep. Pam's next hook missed by a few inches, slamming him into the wall, left elbow pressing along the collar of his jacket, The cold buttons digging into his skin—
"Now I don't know who you are, or what game you're playing, but you sure as hell are not Dean." Another wince escaped his lips, chest hitching. He wanted to fight her, to pin her down to the ground or flip the tables so he would be pinning her to the wall— but deep down he knew he couldn't hurt her. At least, not physically.
"Pam, it's me," His tone shook, breathing heavily, staring into her gilded irises.
"How the hell did you think you could slip by me? I gotta give it to you, you got me in the first half—"
"Pam!" Dean yelled quietly, "It's me, Dean fucking Winchester. I'm not a demon, Bobby can vouch." he explained, half pleading. "I'm not a shapeshifter, or a revenant, I'm me,"
The water continued to fill a cup to the rim, overflowing it to the point where water began to drip down the side of the sink. A mini waterfall that muffled their minimal exchange.
"Shit," Pamela cursed under her breath, before releasing him from her surprisingly iron grip. "Sorry, Dean."
The hunter scoffed, rubbing the side of his throbbing cheek, "None taken." they both sighed, and Pam rushed to the sink. Shutting it off and grabbing a hand towel wrapped around a hook next to the pot rack. "I'm assuming there is no rock needed?" He was desperate to change the subject.
"No," She bent down, wiping the wet floor.
A grin tugged his lips, "Smart move, using the sink."
Amused, she lifted herself up, the towel folding in her hands; tracing the crevices of the sink to remove the water. "Thanks,"
He agreed, leaning against the small island as she finished cleaning, placing the towel back down neatly folded. "Hey," he whispered, head craned to meet her eyes. It was now or nothing, "Don't go further, okay?"
Her brows knitted together in confusion, his comment throwing her on a loop. "Further in what?"
Realizing it was a bad idea to tell her, he backed away from the subtle warning, "Nevermind," Dean groaned, relocating himself back to his séance spot. They all conjoined hands once more; Pamela gripping a little tighter with Dean. It was her way of saying 'sorry', so he took it with another responsive squeeze to his Cas-printed shoulder.
Her eyes closed, her chest puffing, lungs inflating to their max capacities. Her tone became monotonous, orderly, "I invoke, conjure, and command you—appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you—appear unto me before this circle…." Pamela chanted.
Dean's closed eyes peeled open, squinting around the room for any sight or sign of the angel. The candle's flames flicked and twisted with her breath's—
The T.V, far back in the dark room powered on, static silenced to a quiet hum. "Cas," he mouthed, a smile of awe and astonishment cleansing his heart and mind. The table underneath the group groaned, trembling by an unknown and invisible force.
"Castiel?" Pamela asked, squinting. "No. Sorry, Castiel, I don't scare that easy," the psychic rejected. Don't go further, don't do it… A high pitch ringing of white noise flushed his senses, "It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back." she clarified, yelling the chant even louder. Any more and he feared the table would give out, "I invoke, conjure, and command you—appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you—show me your face!" She repeated, growing in volume as Bobby warned her.
"I think we should stop—"
"I'm almost there!" She cut the hunter off. "Show me your face now!"
Dean remembered that second. Those flames from the tiny candles envelope her face… like a flamethrower to her eyes, burning them in white holy-light. She screamed in agony, his head dipping, evading the sight. Again.
Her body soon felt limply to the side, the candles dimming back down. Bobby and Sam quickly rushed to her, housing her by the arm's while she sobbed in pain. "I can't see! I can't—" burned blood scorched the voids of her empty eye sockets, she writhed within Bobby's arms, "Oh God, Oh god…"
"Call 911!" Sam ordered him, and Dean dialed for the emergency room.
