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The night hangs on a silver blade. That last glimmer of the day hovers over the trunk of Dean’s 67 Chevy Impala as he leaves Sioux Falls behind him. Dean glances into the rearview mirror, his forehead wrinkled and his eyes dark. There was something in his gut screaming at him not to drive away. Not now. And yet he follows the instructions of an angel… Cas. He doesn’t chase after Sam. Instead, he leaves Bobby unconscious but breathing on that matted red sofa of his and heads towards the desert.‘Dammit Cas,’ he growls, slamming the heel of his hand into the steering wheel. ‘Why now?’ he pleads but doesn’t know to who. He’s been driving for an hour, letting this conflict build up. His chest grows tighter; he clenches his jaw. Then, finally, slamming on the brakes, the chevy squeals to a stall. ‘I can’t,’ he sobs. ‘I need to turn—’ he reasons at himself, the back of his hand wiping dampness from his eyes.Dean exhales shakily, and condensation escapes from his lips. The soft rumble of the engine is now silent. Focusing on the highway in front of him, his hand reaches for his colt laid out on the seat. The Chevy’s warm yellow light seems to only reveal a few metres ahead of him. Anything could be out there.Lifting the gun from the seat, Dean swings open the door. The air feels so much colder than he expected. It’s as if it’s frozen in the space. He moves his fingertips gently, and something shifts. ‘Show yourself!’ Dean demands hoarsely, raising the shotgun. The air changes again. Goosebumps crawl up Dean’s arms.‘It’s dark.’ Castiel remarks, standing there with his crystal blue eyes staring intently at Dean.Dean lowers the gun, ‘Cas, what am I doing here?’ he asks weakly.‘Dean, there's something I have to tell you,’ Castiel’s eyes shift from side to side. ‘We haven't much time.’Dean catches a glimpse of silver at the edge of Cas’s wrist, a weapon? ‘What’s wrong?’‘It’s not important.’ Castiel jerks his head behind himself. His chest rises and falls rapidly.Dean steps forward, ‘It is important, you’re scared, Cas, more scared than I’ve ever seen you.’‘—The sixty-six seals—’‘What about them?’‘It’s the Angels. Different angels, they’re after me.’ Castiel grits his teeth. ‘It’s not important; I need to keep you safe, Dean. Safe from them. The only way I can.’ Castiel begins to reach towards Dean’s forehead.The realisation of what this is about to become hits him, ‘Woah, wait a second.’ Dean steps back, ‘I’m not being zapped anywhere, I have to find Sam, stop Ruby… Stop the apocalypse. Or have you forgotten that? I also think it's pretty damn important if you keep mentioning the word!’‘Dean, I haven't got time. If they catch me, the world will most likely end. I can’t protect myself and you.’ Castiel closes the gap between them again; there’s a metallic clunk as Dean’s back shoves against the car's passenger door. The surroundings are silent. Dean can hear his boots scrape on the disintegrating tarmac. ‘I serve Heaven, and my orders are to keep you safe until they call for you. You made an oath Dean, or did you forget that?’ Castiel tilts his head, refusing to break eye contact. Why does he keep doing that? Dean wants to shout.‘Screw the oath, let me help, I’m supposed to be this grand champion of Heaven, but all you seem to let me do lately is cower in the dark.’ Dean straightens to his full height, towering over Castiel. He may be just a human with no powers to speak of, but he was taller. He had presence.Castiel nods, backing off. ‘You’re right, Dean. Of course, you’re right, but things are in motion now that can’t be changed, and I have my orders.’ He added the last part more gently now, and Dean could feel regret between them.‘Please, Castiel, don’t do this.’Castiel places a hesitant hand on Dean’s shoulder, unconsciously splaying his hand against the still raw scar. His handprint. ‘Goodbye, Dean. My hope is that we see each other again.’ He seems to mean every word.
Dean blinks, and he’s falling through white light. It hurts his head. He groans, trying to focus on something, but all there is, is whiteness and blue light fluctuating and jutting across his eyes. He closes them in an attempt to shield himself from the external forces. But he can’t control the lurches in his stomach like a never-ending roller coaster. He knows he can’t stay conscious for long. He wonders if Cas wanted him to see this. He thinks about Sam. His head. Waves of darkness fill his brain, and he—
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Pink. The kind of hot pink that makes Dean think of bubble gum and motel curtains.Peeling his face away from the pillow, he grimaces at the sensation of overwashed cotton against his lips. His eyes not focusing; all he could concentrate on was the turquoise lettering of 7:29 from the digital clock on a bedside table. White light flashes in his brain. ‘Damn clock.’ He barks, pressing his eyes against the pillow. He breathes in deeply; the scent of something floral lingers on the fabric. It’s faint but soothing, like it's part of the very weave of the cotton, not a dense layer on the surface. Reaching his arms around the pillow to bring it closer than before, he tenses at the dull ache on the side of his hip, just making itself known. His eyes close again.One minute later. Well, that’s what the clock says as the alarm blares in his ears. The shrill buzz and burr or a digital alarm clock- that won’t shut the hell up! Dean’s eyes spring open. Sitting bolt upright. ‘Cas!’ He gasps. He scrambles back against the wall kicking at pink sheets, ‘Cas, where am I? Cas?’ he yells helplessly into the room. Deans’ hands clench the fabric as he attempts to breathe steadily; shaky breaths escape his lips. Buzz. He was safe. Cas said he was sending him somewhere safe. He’s safe. He thought over and over again, trying to turn sentences into reality. ‘Get a grip, man,’ he whispers quietly but kicks angrily at the rest of the duvet until it tumbles to the floor. He rubs too harshly at his eyes in an attempt to see more clearly. Blinking a few times, he finally concentrates on the room. Buzz. It was pretty small was a muted purple carpet, posters littering the wall, and, in the corner, an antique mirror draped with jewellery. There is only one window in the room where net pink curtains hang softly.Dean gradually gets to his feet, becoming increasingly entranced with the window. But unfortunately, the curtains just obscured the scene outside, letting in the only light. ‘Talk about a Rose-tinted view,’ Dean jokes to himself, the corner of his lips lifting just slightly. He pushes back one side of the fabric with his fingertips. A cool white light basks his skin, and he exhales calmly for the first time this morning.The view outside didn’t look like anything Dean hadn’t seen before, but there was also something… wrong. Buzz. Two or three tower blocks surround the one he was probably in. they weren’t particularly tall, with small brownish-yellowish bricks and dirty white window frames. Clothes hung from washing lines on small balconies. A row of four shops hid, tucked behind pillars on the ground. They were shut, probably— possibly, they were too far away for Dean to be entirely sure. He isn’t sure why he is so absorbed in the openness of a shop up until his stomach grumbles noisily. How long had he been asleep? He couldn’t know, especially when it came to Cas and his stupid zapping. For all he knew, the final seal could be broken by now, and whatever thing Cas was trying to escape from could have caught up to him. He can’t wait for someone to get him. He needs to find Sam and Cas fast.Letting the curtain drop, he turns and marches towards the door; there’s no lock. It's just closed. Dean wasn’t being kept here against his will unless it was some kind of sick joke. He could leave. Buzz. He could just walk out of here, find a car and get back to Sioux Falls. Nothing was stopping him. Dean’s hand wavers for a moment, hovering over the white wooden pannel. A mental instruction persistent in his head. He knew this was Cas’s doing, one last thing to keep him protected from everything. It was odd to him the idea of ignoring the words seemed simple; he’s dealt with a lot worse than a nagging sensation but the fact that Cas had done all of this in the first place. Cas must have risked a lot seeking Dean out like that. Maybe it would be best to stay here where it’s safe.He relinquishes, dropping his hand to his arm to his side and pressing his head against the cool door. It was still early. He should wait here, where it's safe just for a while and when he was ready— when would that be? He presses harder. ‘Safe… safe… sa—’ he murmurs. Buzz. ‘Why am I so damn concerned? Unless…’ Dean bites his bottom lip, struggling to kick his brain into gear. Dean Smirks, ‘Son-of-a-bitch. Cas, your mind tricks nearly got me, but I’m leaving, man, and I’m coming to find you like it or not.’Buzz-Burr. Buzz.Dean yanks the door handle open and comes face-to-face with a blonde woman in her mid-forties?Holding two teacups in her hand and wearing a satin pink dressing gown. Remnants of blue eyeshadow smudged just below her eyelashes. Dean looks at her with utter confusion. She offers him the cup with a teddy bear, ‘Mornin' sleepy head.’ She’s British? ‘Where do you think you’re going in your Pyjamas?’ Dean glances down to see his outfit has transformed into blue stripped PJ’s. He sees his sock has a hole in the toe with his shoes gone. Buzz. ‘And let’s switch off that alarm clock, shall we?’‘I um,’ he begins but doesn’t have the right words. So, he takes the cup, unsure what else to do. Examining it. The cartoon bear is holding flowers and written above in childish lettering, I Luv You, Mum.The blonde woman reaches across the bed and presses a small white button at the top of the clock. ‘That’s better,’ she looks back around to see Dean and adds, ‘My daughter, Rose, got me that mug for Mother’s Day a few years ago now,’ affectionately.‘Err, thank you,’ Dean replies gruffly, taking the cup to his lips and sipping. It’s tea. Dean can’t remember the last time he’s had tea.The woman smiles with surprise. ‘You’re American, aren’t you. But, you know, I wasn’t sure when I heard mumbling in your sleep and all.’‘Yeah, I guess I am.’ He lifts the cup up. ‘Thanks for the tea.’ and takes another sip. ‘And you’re British. Are we in London?’‘Yep, that’s right. You're in the Powell Estate, London. I thought you would have known. You passed out blind drunk right outside my door. Moaning about how all Angels were dicks and asking for your brother.’Dean looks sheepishly into his mug cursing his loose tongue, ‘I did, did I? And you just let me crash here? That could hypothetically be dangerous. I could have been some kind of creep.’‘I don’t know, something just told me to help you, and you were right there in the freezing rain-catching your death. I couldn’t leave you.’ Her eyes glaze over for a moment, she blinks, ‘And anyway, I was right, you seem like a decent bloke.’Dean finishes his tea quietly, unsure what to say or even do. He was in a stranger’s flat, and she trusted him. It felt strange, like a situation that would never occur, but here he was. He places the tea on the side desk and wrings his hands, suddenly he realises he doesn’t know her name, ‘Does my hero have a name?’She takes a seat, ‘I’m Jackie, what’s yours, sweetheart?’ she pats the side of the bed as a gesture for Dean to sit down.‘I’m Dean. Do you know what date it is- how long I’ve been asleep? I’m a bit muddled right now.’ He asks reluctantly, but he’s already let enough weakness through the cracks and Jackie didn’t seem to mind. Dean could feel this maternal warmth that reminded him of his own mom.‘Well, Dean, It’s the fifth of November,’ she smiles.Dean looks at his left hand, counting the days in his head, ‘May thirtieth, to November two thousand and eight. Five months. Or it could be backwards...’ he looks up for a moment. ‘Bit of an odd question, but what year are we in?’‘How much did you drink?’ she chuckles lightly but then begins to look at Dean differently, like there was another alternative drunkenness. ‘It's two thousand and six.’‘Two years,’ he whispers. ‘I have two years.’Jackie stops smiling and places her hands on Dean’s. ‘What did you say? Two thousand and eight?’‘What? No!’ he bluffs, pulling his hands away. ‘Because then I’d really be a crazy person, wouldn’t I?’‘No, you really wouldn’t, because, by some miracle, I think you’re in the only flat in England where you wouldn’t be crazy. Please.’ She grabs his hands again, ‘Be honest with me, Dean.’He opens his mouth, ready to lie, then closes it again. ‘Yeah, I’m from two years in the future, at least that’s what I think. I’ve done this time travel thing once before, but I’m pretty new to all this.’ He gestures to the flat like a time travel portal was right there in the room with him.She lets go, satisfied with Dean’s answer, her smile returning. ‘Right then. Today I have two reasons to make a phone call. Dean, don’t worry, I’m phoning you some help.’She stands up, leaving Dean by himself. Scanning the room, he looks for any evidence of clothes and finds neatly folded and hooked on the back of a chair. He pulls a black t-shirt over his head and yanks up his jeans. They feel slightly looser on his hips. He spies his navy-blue shirt and puts that on too. His leather jacket is hooked behind the door, and he chooses to leave it there for now. He checks at his reflection in the mirror. Running his fingers through his matted hair, deciding he looks presentable and with a shrug, he steps out the bedroom into a small living room where the woman had a white, large landline phone pressed to her ear.He listens closely to ensure the details are correct, which he tells himself, but he is really nosey. ‘Rose? It's me, I know I wouldn't usually call, but there's a problem... no, I didn't break the TV... what no!’ her voice radiates irritation. ‘Will you listen, Rose Tyler! Now let me explain. A man appeared on my doorstep a couple of nights ago, he looked pretty out of it, and he was soaked through, poor thing, but anyway, I was going to send him on his way this morning, but he said something you might be interested.’ She pauses. ‘He said he was from two thousand and eight, the future.’ her tone changes back to her usual chirpy voice. ‘So, you tell that Doctor of yours to get his TARDIS over here and give me some help... yes, love you too, see you in a bit.’ The line goes dead, and she places the phone back into the holder.Dean coughs, and Jackie spins, flustered. ‘Doctor? Doctor who?’ he asks. The rattle of a key in the lock is the first indication that this Doctor and Rose are here. Dean sits up expectantly, his nerves a wreck. Jackie had told Dean to wait in the room so she could introduce him at the right time, whatever that meant. The door slams shut, and there's shuffling.‘Mum, it’s us! We’re back.’ Another woman’s voice with the same London accent shouts out. It could only be Rose. He hears Jackie complaining about why she never phoned, but she doesn’t sound angry, just relieved to see her at all. ‘Oh, I love you!’ she says joyfully.Jackie states gleefully, with more rustling, ‘Oh no, you don't. Come here!’ and a kissing sound? ‘Oh, you lovely big fella! Oh, you're all mine.’A male voice with another British accent. This time Dean isn’t sure where it could be from, protests, ‘Just put me down.’ He clearly didn’t like the kiss, Dean smirks.Everything seems kind of domestic Rose handing over washing for her mum to clean, the hugging and cheeriness gives Dean the impression they were an average family. This is until Rose gifts her mum a Bazoolium from an asteroid bazaar. ‘It's made of, er, what's it called?’ she asks enthusiastically.‘Bazoolium,’ The Doctor replies.‘Bazoolium.’ Rose continues, ‘When it gets cold, yeah, it means it's going to rain. When it's hot, it's going to be sunny. You can use it to tell the weather.’‘Yeah, and I have a window and the news.’ Dean mocks quietly.Jackie doesn’t seem interested in the gift either, as she swiftly changes topics. ‘I've got a surprise for you and all.’‘Oh, I get her bazoolium; she doesn't even say thanks,’ Rose grumbles.‘Guess who's coming to visit? You're just in time. He'll be here at ten past. Who do you think it is?’Another guest, was Jackie having a party or something?‘I don't know.’‘Oh go on, guess.’ Was this Jackie’s way of introducing Dean?He gets up and starts to walk towards the door again, pacing.‘No, I hate guessing. Just tell me.’‘It's your granddad.’Grandad? Why couldn’t he have just said hello at the door? His hand clutches the handle as he presses his ear to the wood. As Jackie’s voice trails off as he heads to the kitchen. ‘Granddad Prentice. He's on his way any minute, Right, cup of tea!’ In a hushed tone, Rose hisses to The Doctor, ‘She's gone mad.’‘Tell me something new.’ The Doctors reaction was something similar to Dean’s dry wit. However, considering Rose is worried- they both might be missing something here.‘Granddad Prentice, that's her dad. But he died, like, ten years ago. Oh, my God. She's lost it. Mum? What you just said about granddad.’Dean’s breath hitches. Safe my ass. A spirit here. Now. Maybe Jackie had lost it a little.Everything was getting harder to hear as they all stepped away from the corridor.Any second now.’ Jackie continues assuredly.Rose voice gets softer like the possibility of this was, well, impossible. ‘But he passed away. His heart gave out. Do you remember that?’Definitely a ghost. Dean pushes at the door barging through the corridor swiftly past Jackie. And heads straight for the kitchen cabinets. Pulling open drawers and reaching inside the cupboard, his hands frantically groping for salt. ‘Salt! Where’s your salt?’ Dean slams closed the doors and moves on to the next section. ‘Or iron, do you have anything made of iron?’‘Who are you?’ The Doctor demands?‘Listen, Doc, I don’t have time for introductions. We can do that after I've fixed the spirit problem. So where is your damn salt?’ He shouts.Rose, sensing Dean’s resolve, picks up the large salt container from the bottom cupboard next to the oven. ‘Here’s the salt.’ She places it in his hand. ‘Why do you need it?’‘Dean, what are you doing?’ Jackie cries.‘Jackie, what time is the ghost coming?’‘Ten past. I’-Dean pops open the plastic lid and starts pouring a large circle in the centre of the room, his hand cupping the side to create an even line. ‘Look, I have about thirty seconds before this ghost gets here, so please just do as I say, even if it sounds dumb. Just stay inside the circle. The Doctor doesn’t seem to hesitate and hops quickly into the circle, his hands casually in his pockets. Rose, following The Doctors movements, joins him tentatively inside.‘Doctor why is this bloke pouring salt in the middle of mum’s kitchen?’‘To stop the ghost, obviously. Come on, Jackie in the circle. Humour… Dean, was it?’‘There’s nothing to fear Dean. There have already been a few times my dad’s been here. He’s even been in Rose’s room.’ She replies but gets inside the circle too.Dean’s eyes widen. ‘You mean to tell me you just let a ghost stroll into that room whilst I was asleep! Look, we don’t have time right now.’ Finishing the circle, he keeps half left just in case things get violent.‘Doctor,’ Rose presses, grabbing his arm. ‘Why are we in a ring of salt?’‘Like I said, the ghost. You see, Rose people have been using salt for centuries to ward off ghosts and spirits. Before any religious text that you lot are aware of. The idea of its “powers”,’ The Doctor air quotes, ‘Goes across the religious spectrum.’Rose leans in closer. ‘But there's no such thing as ghosts. You keep telling me this.’‘Oh, it's absolutely scientifically impossible.’ The Doctor grins. ‘The second law of thermodynamics proves that all entropy of any isolated system must increase with time. So, entropy is like a disorder of a system. The destination will always be disorder, which will always, in the end, become heat. I just think the quicker both realise they’ve gone insane, the quicker we can fix this.’‘Oh yeah, Doc, so what do you call that?’ Dean’s eyes travel to the far wall. An ethereal six-foot humanoid shape presses through the wallpaper. Its jagged movements reaching out like it was in pain. It had no face. Instead, its body glitched like TV static. This was something Dean hadn’t seen before. It was wrong.‘What?’ The Doctor puts on a pair of rectangular glasses. ‘What?’‘Here we are, then. Dad, say hello to Rose. Ain’t, she grown?’ Jackie invites the figure towards them.‘Jackie, what are you doing? We want to keep the ghost away from us until we know what we’re dealing with.’ Dean instructs.Not acknowledging Dean, the figure starts to shift towards them— its arms outstretched. In a panic, Dean chucks a proportion of the salt at the ghost, hoping to make it vanish at least for a moment. Instead, the salt hits the figure, some bouncing off the surface. Yet most of the grains fall through it, cascading to the ground. The ghost keeps moving.‘Damn it! Vanish you son of a bitch!’ Dean chucks the salt again. History repeats. ‘I don’t understand….’‘This isn’t possible.’ The Doctor answers removing his glasses. ‘Jackie, please tell me it’s just one ghost.’She shakes her head.The Doctor grows silent, his eyes transfixed to the figure.‘Doctor, it can’t be real, can it? Doctor?’ Rose repeats, trying to bring The Doctor back into the room.‘No.’ He states simply and sprints from the flat. The door hangs wide open behind him. Rose starts to follow. Dean grabs her shoulder tightly. ‘You need to stay in the circle.’‘I’m sorry, Dean, but I don’t think your salt circle is going to work.’ She looks at him sympathetically and follows The Doctor out of the door. Jackie dithers for a moment, reluctantly following The Doctor and Rose. She glances at Dean with a similar feeling. That what she knows is about to get ruined.He’s alone in the kitchen, Just the sound of a ticking clock and the floating figure. Each movement echoed by a whomping resonance. He can’t understand it. Everything used to be so black and white. Rules of the job always stayed the same. He hadn’t seen anything that changed how he thought things worked (except for the Angels). Shard-like footsteps over the salt line. Dean breathes short, shallow breathes, his chest rising and falling as the dark figure comes face to face with him. Dean bolts. His feet clashing heavily with the metal staircase. With every step, his movements speed up until his boots hit the sidewalk.‘Dean! Look out!’ Rose shouts, but one of the entities collide with Dean. His whole body reacts like a gag. Lurching sideways, straining from the sensation. But it sticks to him only vacating when it decides. Dean gasps, clutching at his knees. Rose runs towards over. ‘Are you okay?’ she asks him earnestly.‘I’m fine.’ Dean hisses. ‘I mean, I’ll be fine, just give me a sec.’‘Yeah, of course.’Jackie shrugs. ‘It's not very nice when they do that, but what can you do? They haven't got long. Midday shift only lasts a couple of minutes. So, they're about to fade.’The Doctor pulls out a metal device from the inside of his pocket and points it at Dean. A blue light pulses and whirs. ‘What do you mean, shift? Since when did ghosts have shifts? Since when did shifts have ghosts? What's going on?’Dean whacks The Doctor’s hand away, irritated. ‘Stop with the bleeping Doc. Ghosts can have patterns, times they appear. But not altogether. Not like this. It’s too uniform.’He places the device back in his pocket and turns his attention to the figures around him. Intermingled with them were a few people walking around calmly. Children playing rope. The so-called ghosts integrated with everyday life.‘This is so wrong.’ Dean states scared.The Doctor stands beside Dean, both watching the same scene playing out before them. ‘I agree. Very wrong. Why is no one's running or screaming or freaking out?’‘Oh, he's not happy when I know more than him, is he?’ Jackie vaguely directs towards Rose and Dean. ‘Why should we?’ She glances at her watch. ‘Here we go. Twelve minutes past.’As strangely as they appeared, the ghosts fade in on themselves, vanishing completely.Rose, becoming the voice of compromise and reason, says, ‘I think we should go back inside and talk about this properly. Mum, you have some explaining to do.’ Dean finds himself sitting timidly in an armchair with a cup of tea in his hands. He was starting to like tea; there was something calming about how it smelled, especially when it was served in novelty teacups.Rose and Jackie are next to each other. Rose’s legs pointing towards Jackie attentively waiting for her explanation. The Doctor is cross-legged on the floor, his glass pressed against the bridge of his nose and his face pressed to the small grey television screen. Flicking through television channels. A show called Ghostwatch is hosted by a posh British guy with no hair. He shuffles blank pieces of paper and begins to speak. ‘On today's Ghostwatch, claims that some of the ghosts are starting to talk, and there seems to be a regular formation gathering around Westminster Bridge. It's almost like a military display.’‘Of course, they should be able to talk. Ghosts can speak, depending on the right circumstances. They were people.’ Dean gripes silently. ‘Why are they appearing all at once at the same time? Is it some kind of ritual?’‘What the hell's going on?’ Shouts The Doctor making everyone jump. He flicks to the next channel. This time it’s a weather map, but these cheesy cartoon ghosts cover England instead of sunshine and stormy clouds. The weatherman sweeps his arm across the screen, highlighting the dense ghost areas. ‘And tonight, we're expecting very strong ghosts from London, through the North and up into Scotland. The Doctor keeps flicking from reality shows to adverts to soap dramas nothing, but ghosts populate the screen. Using the device again, The Doctor does something to the TV and shows from India and Japan replicate what Dean saw here.‘It's all over the world!’ The Doctor exclaims, switching off the TV. He gets up with a strained sigh and faces Jackie. ‘When did it start?’ he demands.‘Well, first, Peggy heard this noise in the cellar, so she goes down—’‘Er Jackie, I think he meant like worldwide.’ Dean interjects.‘Oh.’ She nods with understanding, ‘That was about two months ago. Just happened. Woke up one morning, and there they all were. Ghosts, everywhere. We all ran round screaming and that. Whole planet was panicking. No sign of you, thank you very much.’ she jabs at The Doctor. ‘Then it sort of sank in. It took us time to realise that we're lucky.’ she smiles.Rose shifts uncomfortably, not sharing her mum’s feelings; she asks, ‘What makes you think it's granddad?’‘It just feels like him. There's that smell, those old cigarettes. Can't you smell it?’‘I wish I could, mum, but I can't.’ Rose bites her bottom lip, stopping herself from saying more.Dean knew he didn’t smell anything either. These things had no human qualities to connect them to a life once lived.‘You've got to make an effort. You've got to want it, sweetheart.’The cogs start turning in The Doctor’s brain. Piecing together the information. ‘The more you want it, the stronger it gets?’ he proposes like a question.‘Sort of, yeah.’His lips part, quietly ah-ing to himself, ‘Like a psychic link. Of course, you want your old dad to be alive, but you're wishing him into existence. The ghosts are using that to pull themselves in.’‘You're spoiling it.’ Jackie whispers, her eyes tearing up.‘I'm sorry, Jackie, but there's no smell, there's no cigarettes. Just a memory.’ he announces, forcing all delusion away. He comes across as harsh, but Dean knows that sometimes the quickest way to get people on board with an idea is to just be straight with them.‘But if they're not ghosts, what are they then?’ Rose asks, maybe noticing The Doctor already has an answer.‘Yeah, but they're human! You can see them. They look human.’ Jackie exclaims.‘She's got a point. I mean, they're all sort of blurred, but they're definitely people.’ Rose agrees.‘I don’t think so.’ Dean answers with confidence. ‘I may just be some insane salt wielding man to you, but where I’m from, ghosts have motives, emotions, reasons for what they do. They can’t just appear and be content. I couldn’t even feel anger. Just emptiness. And the fact the salt didn’t work! I don’t know, man? They’re no ghosts to me.’‘…a footprint doesn't look like a boot.’ The Doctor explains. ‘Perhaps something is trying to force its way into this reality, but it doesn’t need to be a ghost.’Dean gulps at his tea whilst listening to The Doctor’s explanation. The Doctor ruffles his hair frustratedly, ‘This is a lot to work with, even for me… and you, Dean!’Dean chokes. ‘What about me?’‘Why are you here? Why now? How did you get here? And who even are you?’Dean furrows his brow, ‘Four excellent questions, but I can only answer two.’ He places his cup on the table. How is it easy. It was Castiel that much, I'm sure.’‘How do you know?’ The Doctor asks quizzically.He sighs. ‘Well, he touched my forehead, and now I'm here. It's not the first time he's pulled a stunt like this.’‘This has happened before?’‘He isn't exactly what you'd call… human. And well, he's sent me back to see my dad just to prove to me that I can’t change my destiny. The thing is, he always has a reason for sending me places. And here, I just don't understand. This place? I’ve got no god damn clue.’ He lets out a shuddery breath, the susceptibility of sharing so much with people he didn’t know scared him. But he didn’t have a choice.‘Is your friend an alien too?’ Rose replies with calmness. She sweeps her hair back from her face, lifting it softly from the back of her neck. Dean catches The Doctor captivated by Rose, even amongst this insanity.‘What? No. Aliens? No. That’s impossible. Cas is an angel. You know wings, harps, deadly solider. Sensible shoes.’ Rose is beautiful, it hadn’t escaped Dean. But as he witnesses the two of them together, the way they interact. Their constant closeness… well. There wasn’t much need for a cocky grin.The Doctor leans forward, his elbows resting on his brown pinstripe trousers, hands clasped together. ‘You know Dean, our two perspectives of how the world should behave are very different. It’s been nagging at me for a while.’‘What? You don’t like that our cheese comes in a can?’ Dean jokes, trying to deflect.Rose laughs.‘No, not that you’re American. It’s like your world's fundamental building blocks are different from ours. Rose informed me that you believe your angel, Cas, sent you two years into the past. These ghosts or whatever they are forcing their way through the cracks what's to stop you from slipping through two whilst everything is at its weakest. Maybe ours and your world are on top of each other.Maybe, Dean, Cas didn’t just send you back in time. I think you're in a parallel universe.’Stunned, Dean’s eyes widen. ‘Everything feels wrong,’ he mouths.‘Think about it, Dean.’ The Doctor encourages with gravity. ‘Unless you are completely misguided, I can’t see any other reason why you’d be a ghost hunter or even have ghosts. Do you remember anything about your trip?’‘I, I remember falling; everything was this bright white light. I couldn’t keep my eyes open long.’‘Did it happen before that the other time?’‘No, before it was just as quick as flicking a switch, I was there, and then I was someplace else.’The Doctor leans back in the chair with a slight hum.Rose’s eyes brighten as she listens, ‘How does he do it?’ she demands to know excitedly.‘Cas uses his…. grace,’ Dean begins faltering for another word. ‘It’s kind of like the source of his powers, but it's not just that it's like his soul or somthin’. If he uses too much at once, it weakens him.’‘Could it be that Cas’s grace is like your regeneration energy? Maybe it’s the same way you could charge the TARDIS cells, isn’t it, Doctor?’The corner of The Doctor’s lip lifts slightly, a proudness, Dean, stipulates? ‘Chronon— It’s a different kind of power,’ The Doctor encourages, ‘but yes, same concept. A Time Lord and an Angel isn’t quite the same thing. Or at least I don’t believe they are.'‘Time Lord?’ Dean scoffs. ‘That’s the second time you’ve mentioned aliens, and I still don’t believe you.’‘I was waiting for you to remark on that,’ he beams. ‘You’re taking it well, brilliantly, in fact.’‘Yeah, well, I learn to deal quickly. This isn’t my world like you said, Doc. I wish to God you were an Angel, then maybe I could get back. But, if you haven't realised, I've got an Apocalypse to get back to.’'Figuratively?''No, it's pretty damn real.''What Archangels and hell? No... Really?''Really.''I can see why you need to get back, although I don't know why you'd want to.' He scratches his neck.Need and want were two very different things. What he wanted, well. I don’t think there was time to think about what he really wanted. Maybe a holiday? To get on with his brother again? To have everyone back together like before. Need. He needed someone or something to help him. Properly help him stop all of this.‘Can’t you just take him home in the TARDIS?’ Jackie speaks up.‘No. The walls of these worlds are supposed to be sealed. It should have been impossible for Dean to even be here. If I was to take Dean back in the TARDIS, who knows what would happen, I could shatter the border into these realities, and two worlds would collide! This is the worst outcome.'Wrapping a strand of bleached hair around her index finger Rose says, 'And, at the best?'‘We get stuck in Dean’s world, and the TARDIS dies.’ He answers bluntly.Dean sinks back into the chair defeatedly, ‘That can’t be it. Why would it even do that?’The Doctor’s eyes flash to the clock on the wall, narrowing slightly, before returning his attention to Dean. ‘The TARDIS is a living thing, best ship in the universe. But its power is drawn from this universe alone. We would need the same energy that Cas used to get you home. Something from your reality.’‘And a phone battery ain’t gonna cut it?’The Doctor frowns apologetically.‘So what you’re saying is that we need an Angel, as in Castiel. I’d have to wait for Castiel to show up, and I don’t see him coming to get me. I’m not sure he even knows where I am. So, I’m stuck here, aren’t I?’ He jeers at no one in particular.'For now, yes. I’m sorry, Dean, but this wasn’t meant to be a permanent solution anyway, from what I can gather. Your angel should come back.'‘He’s not my angel,’ he huffs. 'But seriously, Doc, someone was chasing him! He was scared, really scared. I mean, you should have seen him. Normally this guy has the look of perpetual poker face, but… please, we’ve got to do something.’‘I’m sorry, Dean.’ Rose replies softly. ‘We’re going to need you to hang in there a bit longer.’‘You really did pick the worst time.’‘I didn’t decide anything; that’s the problem here. Heck, I can see this place seems to have its own collection of crap,’ he bites back angrily. ‘But I’m so done waiting around for the world to end.’‘You’re going to have to wait, Dean.’ The Doctor responds coldly. ‘I physically can’t sort out two messes at once. These cracks in time— ripping open the universe, threatening to destroy everything. This is what takes priority here and now.’ There's this quality to The Doctor. That makes you listen to how he speaks with low stern gravity. Dean couldn’t change The Doctor’s mind. He doesn’t even know if his world was one The Doctor cares about. Dean was inconvenient here. An unwanted side character.Dean’s teeth press harshly into his bottom lip until he tastes blood. Or maybe he didn’t care enough about here? This world had the protentional to be in just as terrible a situation, and all Dean had zeroed in on was his family. He had to think about this like a hunter should. One issue at a time. Build a plan for later.All three of them were looking at Dean expectantly now, waiting for an outburst. A breakdown. He couldn’t let that happen. He releases his lip, ‘Let me help then.’‘No.’‘But I want to help,’ He growls.‘No.’They glare at each other like a Clint Eastwood standoff.‘I’m not some useless sidekick Doc. I can help.’‘I can’t have you interfering with this reality.’‘Rose, help me out here.’Rose winks at Dean, subtly conspiring with him. ‘Doctor, let him help for now. As soon as we have to go to whatever evil headquarters were supposed to be going to. None of us knows anything yet. What if one attacks him, is he supposed to just stand still?’ She argues with a hopeful determination, watching The Doctor’s harshness melt a little.‘Aahh…’ he groans. ‘I suppose a little human curiosity never hurt anyone. You must stay within the Powell estate, though.’‘I’m not some freakin’ dog,’ He responds, still a little angry, not correcting himself to the fact The Doctor’s mind had been changed so suddenly.‘Dean,’ The Doctor speaks sternly.‘Fine, Fine.’ That was the closest The Doctor was going to get to an apology. Doing what he was told.The Doctor leans forwards, propelling himself out from the chair. ‘Alright then, let’s go. Come on, everyone, grab your coats, keys. Check to see if you left the gas on. Tape that Cliff Richard special. Come on, come on.’ He ushers them out of the living room.Rose gets up and waits beside The Doctor all sunny, ‘|Ready when you are Doctor.’ She mock salutes.‘You didn’t even need to unpack,’ He replies coly, grasping her spare hand, their fingers interlocking.‘Well, I chucked some clothes in the washing but always ready for an adventure, I am.’ She leans into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder for a moment.’‘I’m glad to hear it.’‘Oh, and Thank you,’ She whispers before catching Dean staring. He turns away quickly, his cheeks red. Dean goes into what he now can say for sure is Rose’s room, immediately unhooking the leather jacket from the back of the door. He checks the pockets for anything that could possibly be useful, twisting his hand to fit his knuckles past the smaller inside pocket. Successfully he retrieves an old FBI badge and his colt M1911A. Noticing one last pocket sagging slightly his hand, he reaches in and pulls out his emf made from an outdated Walkman or was it in date now? Did they even have Walkman’s here? If he looks closely enough, he can see where he’s opened it up and put in a bunch more wires. The workmanship is a little rough compared to what he can do now, but he still has this nostalgic pride. And in the past, it works even better. Satisfied with his collection, he places the items back into their original spots and slips the Jacket over his shoulders, turning the collar against his neck. Scanning the room, a final time, he closes the door.He meets Jackie, Rose, and The Doctor at the front door. Half expecting them to have left without him based on The Doctor’s opposition to Dean accompanying him on anything. Instead, his eyes widen, ‘You waited.’‘I said you could come along, and I meant it. Anyway, I see you as the type to chase me down even if I did leave without you.’‘You’re damn right I would.’They all funnel down the spiral metal staircase, like some kind of misfit A-Team. Rose and The Doctor marching ahead, Jackie Trailing behind, that reluctance Dean got from before. Jackie had been living with these ghosts for weeks, and she seemed happy with them being there. Now The Doctor was spoiling everything. And it hurt, despite being right. Dean slows his pace waiting for Jackie.He walks in unison with Jackie, Dean opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, trying to figure out what to say. ‘It’s tough, isn’t it, when the way things are change.’‘Mhh. But you’re coping well, Sweetheart. Like The Doctor said. You adjust quickly.’‘Yeah, I ‘spose, but I was more talking about these ghosts. You still think he’s your pop?’‘I don’t know anymore; it’s like the spells broken now The Doctor’s here. It’s funny The Doctor shows you all this mystery and wonder about the universe,’ She gazes down to Rose with conflict. ‘I think that’s at least partly why Rose is so drawn to him. But he can also take away a lot of the fairy-tale. Everything boils down to science with him. I can see it in his face— he doesn’t like that you exist.‘I thought we got on okay. I’m very charming.’‘No, not like that.’ She nudges her shoulder into his. ‘Your world you’ve come from and all. It doesn’t have a lot of science.’‘We have plenty of science. Everything weird is just a hidden underbelly if you know where to look. Where I’m from. My brother and I, we hunt ghosts and monsters, but no one normal believes in all that.’‘Oh. Okay then.’ Accepting Dean’s word readily, she continues, ‘You’re a lovely young man Dean, it’s a shame you’re on the road you are. Especially with such a handsome face.’ She pinches his cheek.Dean lightly knocks her hand away. ‘You’re a cool lady Jackie Tyler. You’re like the English, if not a slightly sassier version of my—’ He clamps his mouth shut. ‘Never mind.’‘Well, I hope it was a nice comparison. Those to just love to tease me.’‘It was the nicest.’‘Well, that’s good then.’The Doctor looks behind himself, half expecting Dean to be on his heels, ‘Keep up, you two.’They make their way past the shops and down a stone path on either side blocked by red railings. The park is smaller and has less stuff than anticipated. There's rust on the sea saw and a swing missing a seat. Graffiti marks any surface it can find, an amalgamation of nonsensical names and swear words.On the outskirts of the park is a blue box. It looks old, ancient even. Deep blue wood faded by sunlight, each panel straight and robust as it would have been however many years ago. Small frosted yellow glass panels rest at eye level. Emitting warm light. A black pane at the top of the box at the small retro yellow light with the words POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX. 'I didn’t know England still had these.' Dean says in admiration. He rushes forward, placing his hand against the wood. Heat gently radiating from the grain. ‘She’s beautiful.’‘Ah, I think you lot have the odd one or two, but this isn’t one of them.’ The Doctor meanders over smugly. ‘Dean, what she is, is my ship. The TARDIS.’The TARDIS hums back.‘This? No way! She’s awesome, Doc. Bit small, though,’ he chuckles.‘I don’t think in my nine hundred years I’ve ever heard the TARDIS be described as awesome. Awe-inspiring perhaps.’‘Wait till you see inside.’ Rose replies with a mysterious smirk. ‘He might be a bit more textbook then.’ She whispers in a hushed tone in The Doctor’s ear.The Doctor delves into his inside pocket to reveal a silver key. He places it into the lock; the movement is seamless. The door opens with a slight creak, beckoning Dean in like the call of a cheesy haunted house ride. ‘Take a look for yourself.’‘I can?’ ‘It won’t explode a sun or anything?’‘Dean, the TARDIS is the safest place for you. If I could, I would just keep you in there until everything blows over. However, she is needed right now. And I can't have you following me.’‘Awesome.’‘Again with the awesome… Americans,’ he sighs fondly.The door swings back entirely, the golden glow condensing into the ice blue light of the central console. ‘Okay, a little roomier than I thought.’ Deans’ feet clatter against the metal grating, substituting the floor. Steel handrails follow Dean up the steps, either side wrapped in beige foam as if there had been a few instances where heads had been hit. The slim entrance funnelling up into this vast space. The origin of the blue light becomes clear as he makes his way past tree-like columns, the sparkled slightly— an indoor avenue. ‘It’s like sci-fi Lord of the Rings here.’Disks of light move up and down gently inside the glass trunk, the TARDIS groaning softly in the empty space. Fanning outwards the circular console. Each section is crammed with buttons, dials and levers. Some flashing, some dormant and others looking as though they were an emergency replacement. A wooden handle and a bicycle bell; just a couple of examples. Dean reaches out flicks the bell. It’s sound delicate and light, like bird song.‘No, don’t do that!’ The Doctor calls out, running over and muffling the sound with his hand. ‘Why did you do that?’‘I don’t know… curiosity, I guess...Is that a plunger handle?’Defensively he replies, ‘Yes, So?’ He lifts his hand away, then reaches around for the screen, peering at the circular symbols with furrowed brows.‘What do you think of the TARDIS, then?’ He asks, finally dragging his eyes away.‘Well, it’s a hell of a lot bigger on the inside.’ Staggeringly bigger.‘Yes, it is a bit. Stunning isn’t she. This isn’t the only room either. I’ve never actually been able to count how many. They keep moving too. Went looking for the library once and tripped into a swimming pool.’Rose almost skips up the steps. ‘He did, I saw. He comes into the console room soaking wet, holding a copy of a Calvin and Hobbes annual.’ She laughs.‘Man, I love those comics,’ he trails. ‘Okay, I just need to grab something.’ The Doctor lifts a section of the metal grating and chucks it to the side. He lies on his stomach, reaching into the hole and dragging back out a collection of wires, tubes, and cones. ‘I need this and this, oh yes!’ he drawls, strapping on an oversized backpack with protruding wires and a kind of hosepipe device; jumping up, he sings, ‘Who you going to call?’‘Ghostbusters!’ Dean shouts eagerly. ‘It’s Ghostbusters... That’s who you call.’Rose and The Doctor look at each other bemused.‘What?’Film buff, are we, Dean?’ she giggles.‘…And back to work we go.’They exit the TARDIS together, ‘When's the next shift?’ The Doctor asks Jackie impatiently. Dropping three cones on the floor, evenly spaced, as a triangular shape. Between these cones runs wires connecting them together.‘Quarter to. But don't go causing trouble. What's that lot do?’‘Triangulates their point of origin.’Rose places her thumb to her lip; the pale blue cuff covers her knuckles. ‘I don't suppose it's the Gelth?’‘Nah. They were just coming through one little rift.’ The Doctor begins adjusting settings on the backpack. Each movement releases an electric whine. ‘This lot are transposing themselves over the whole planet. Like tracing paper.’‘You're always doing this.’ Jackie stands with her hands balled into fists. ‘Why can't it be real? Just think of it, though. All the people we've lost. Our families coming back home. Don't you think it's beautiful?’‘I think it's horrific. Rose, give us a hand.’ The Doctor lifts the giant cable, its weight causing The Doctor a bit of trouble as he attempts to plug it into the TARDIS console. Dean comes over, picking up part of the cable dragging against the metal. And the cable plugs in successfully. He hadn’t noticed Jackie entering the TARDIS until the door clicks closed. The Doctor, engrossed by the screen, didn’t register it at all. He taps the glass a couple of times and hands. ‘Rose the as soon as the cones activate if that line goes into the red, press that button there. If it doesn't stop,’ He hands her the metal stick. ‘Setting fifteen B. Hold it against the port, eight seconds and stop.’Her thumb feels its way across the device before resting on a button. ‘Fifteen B, eight seconds,’ she imitates back.The Doctor closes the space between so that to press anything, he’d have to reach around her. ‘If it goes into the blue, activate the deep scan on the left.’‘Hang on a minute, I know. Push that one,’ She responds playfully.‘Close.’She points again, extending her arm slightly, ‘That one?’‘Now you've just killed us.’ He smiles.Rose turns her head, light blush flares across her cheeks. ‘Er, that one.’‘Yeah! Now, what've we got. Two minutes to go?’It was befuddling to Dean, seeing how The Doctor and Rose were around each other. The closeness, the inside jokes and that little bit of awkwardness. It was like holding up a screwed-up mirror to himself and Cas.Dean’s shoulder is nudged again.‘’ere.’He glances behind himself to find Jackie. He sniffs, ‘Hey.’She takes his hand and he feels something cool placed in his palm. ‘I want you to feel at home whilst you’re not. It’s not the key to the TARDIS, but it means you can come and go from my place as you please.’He grips it in his hand tightly, ‘Thank you.’ and he pockets it.A gust of wind blows inside the console room. ‘Dean, come and look! Any second now!’ The Doctor shouts from outside. ‘Rose, how are we doing?’‘It's all right. It's holding!’ Rose replies, trying to make her voice carry through the mechanical sounds and distance.‘Here we go!’ he exclaims gleefully.‘The scanner's working. It says delta one six.’He runs through the doors, anticipation fizzing in his fingertips. The contrast in light blinds him for a moment. Then, shielding his eyes, he walks over to where The Doctor is standing. Electric blue sparks fly out from the cones, colliding into a point as the figure begins to form inside.The Doctor stood with the same eagerness Dean felt inside himself. Hopping on his toes, scanning any slight changes. ‘Come on then, you beauty!’ It was like The Doctor described; they weren’t just materialising from nowhere. Instead, the shape was forcing its way through an invisible gap, struggling but succeeding. As soon as the figure was as human-shaped as it could be, it became aware of the trap The Doctor had placed, writhing inside the field.‘Don’t like that much, do you? Who are you? Where are you coming from?’ A fist smashes against the field. ‘Whoa!’ They jump back. The figure besieged, the movements sharp and solid. It smashes against again, Dean instinctively reaches for his gun. But as the flashes fade, the field remains intact.Into a different pocket, Dean pulls out his emf meter.‘That's more like it! Not so friendly now, are you?’ he puts on a pair of blue and red 3D glasses and takes them off again. Then, seeing Dean with the Walkman, he puts the glasses away and asks, 'You know emf machines mostly just pick up on electrical waves of the towers. Nice work, though. Is that an old MP3 player?'‘Walkman. I made it a few years back. I know it can have a lot of interference, but if, theoretically, that was a problem, I can eliminate it. A before and after thing.’‘Very true. That’s a clever idea, Dean.’‘Mmm, not really. If Sammy were here, he’d probably be able to help you out with all the geeky computer stuff.’The Doctor raises his eyebrow at the self-deprecation but doesn’t remark on it. ‘Are you getting any interesting readings from it?’‘Nah… like you said, there’s too much electrical interference. I didn’t expect much I just wanted to be sure. You?’‘I was right! Those ghosts have been forced into existence from one specific point.’ He cups Dean’s face in his hands, grinning elatedly. ‘And I can track down the source.’‘Alrighty then, let’s go!’ Dean beams back.The Doctor’s arm’s drop to his side. ‘Actually, Dean, this is where we have to leave you.’‘Oh yeah, right.’‘But there is something I can do for you. Have you got a phone?’‘Yeah, but the signals dead. I can’t get anything.’ He pulls it out of his back pocket anyway.‘Rose, bring the sonic here, will you?’ he shouts.Rose emerges from the TARDIS sonic in hand. ‘Is this another phone upgrade?’‘Just a small one.’ The Doctor opens his palm, and Rose places the sonic in his hand. ‘Give it to me.’ The Doctor gestures to the phone.‘Why.’‘Just give it to me. Hurry up.’He hands it over reluctantly. ‘Don’t break it,’ he grumbles.The Doctor opens up the phone’s casing, acknowledging the slightly more modern design, and replaces the battery with something new. The screen flares, hissing the heat intensifying. It buzzes, and sparks jump out. ‘Easy now,’ he mutters, switching on the sonic and pressing it against the phone. The light dims, and Dean assumes whatever he did worked. ‘You’ve got yourself a minor paradox in there, so be careful with it.’ He places the case back on and inputs a number. ‘This is my number for the TARDIS; call me as soon as something happens. Look, we have to go.’ The Doctor and Rose step into the TARDIS, half closing the door. The Doctor then opens it again and says, ‘And please, I would really love it if someone actually did what I said and stayed here just for a while, and as soon as we get back, we’ll figure something out.’‘See you around, Doc,’ Dean nods, fighting every instinct to chase after them.The doors slam shut. The wind pushes, and Dean staggers back. Wheezing groans travel through the air, which must be the sound of the engine. A looping echo dissipates gradually as the TARDIS fades. Dean is left with a chill against his skin.‘Right then, Jackie.’ He eventually speaks, slapping his hands together. ‘What kind of food have you got?’Silence.‘Jackie?’No sincere smile or pink tracksuit. No jokes or sass. No one was there. He was alone
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Dean Stares at his cell, no calls, no nothing. Not a damn thing. He lets the cell drop to his chest. What did he expect? He half anticipated a bunch of missed calls from Bobby and Sam, but, just maybe, he was a little out of range. He lies on the sofa, now entirely having made himself at home. His boots resting on the sidearm. Rubbing his eyes, He turns his head to the dead TV, revealing to the black screen one side in matted clumps and dark circles so deep they looked like cliff edges. He tugs at the cuff of his flannel and wipes it under his eyes in a lame attempt to erase them. ‘I need a beer,’ he decides.Lifting himself up from the sofa, he makes his way to the refrigerator, weaving around pieces of a microwave that littered the floor. He had started fixing it last night when he heard a prominent strange sound whilst heating up a corner store burger. He’d get back to it. He couldn’t leave this place a mess for Jackie to deal with once she returned. He yanks open the fridge door, the artificial light-catching of the shapes of the dimly lit room. The metal pieces glint softly. In the door was a single beer can. Its white and gold label stands out. He picks it up, reading the back. ‘Hmm, mango. What’s that doing in a beer?’ He shrugs, closing the door, and the room goes back into darkness.Dean opens the can and takes a swig; mango wasn’t so bad after all. Manoeuvring back round the discarded parts, holding the beer at the right angle to ensure it didn’t spill, he successfully reaches the sofa. The can rests on his knee. Discovering the remote on the seat beside him, he settles into the chair and takes another sip. Vibrations and Dean’s beer falls to the floor with a splatter, the golden liquid seeping into the carpet.. ‘What the hell?’ Dean clutches the arm of the sofa, attempting to steady himself.Glass blasts from the windows, shards sweeping across the room in a wave. Diving to the floor too late, a jagged piece slices against his cheek. ‘Fuck.’ He grits, wiping the blood with the back of his hand. He lifts his head and peers around the room. Nothing. Catching sight of his jacket and gingerly grasps hold of the leather, snatching it close to himself.With the windows gone, the first cries and screams of people nearby make their way to him. A bang shakes the floor thumping into Dean’s chest. He gasps as the air’s knocked out of him. Multiple footsteps marching as one in the distance, progressing closer and closer.Dean whimpers rolling onto his back; he removes his gun from his pocket, clutching it against his chest. His breaths are short. Sweat clings to his forehead. His hands shake.A silver hand punches through the cheap wooden door, the painted orange wood splintering. Dean shudders. The skeletal hand does it again, the door falling forward, slamming against the ground. Two metallic figures file into the corridor. Dean catches sight of their heavy military feet from a small gap under the sofa and holds his breath.‘You will become identical. You will become like us. Surrender or be deleted.’ They speak in unison, their voices pierce at Dean. Cold and empty.He gasps. The robots turn. Dean flicks back the hammer, drawing the colt up, his index finger hovering against the trigger. He lifts himself from the floor; crouching on his feet, he shuffles around for a better shot.‘Surrender or be deleted.’‘Go delete yourself, you dick.’ He instructs, pulling the trigger.The closest robot lurches back as it’s hit squarely in the centre of the head. But the bullet drops to the ground parting from the body with no physical damage. Its hands lock jaggedly to its head handles with disorientation. Once again, the two robots advance forward, black eyes facing his direction. He knew they were looking at him.‘Delete.’‘Why can’t things die like they’re supposed to anymore.’ He grunts, pulling the trigger a second time. Again, he hits the head, but the robot doesn’t react.‘Delete. Delete.’He searches for something he could use against them, panicking, Picking up a lamp and chucking it towards one. The bulb shatters against its head, exposing the filament. Electricity stuns the metal man into a lightening seizure. ‘Ahh-zzzah!’‘Wait a sec. You guys are robots. And if I know my robot movies….’ He dives to the ground reaching for an unprotected magnetron and chucking at the second metal man. The magnet collides on the embossed C of its chest, clinging on. The robots scream, jarred convulsions wrecking through their casing. Dean opens his phone, dialling The Doctor. ‘Doctor! Where are you?’ he shouts. ‘I think I’ve found out what those ghosts are, freakin’ robots! My gun doesn’t work; I don’t know how long I can hold them off. You better be doing something clever!’A whooshing sound flies past, and Dean is forced to hang up. He ducks; New strangled voices screech, ‘Exterminate!’ cerulean light pulsating.‘What are you doing, Doc?’ Dean whispers. He looks up at the robots, the power failure on the devices used. They’d be closing in on him in no time. A coolness prickles up Dean’s arm, and there is silence. Goosebumps run up his neck, he shudders, attempting to diminish the sensation. Dragging his fingers through the air, he gasps. There's this viscosity, a stillness that he remembers. ‘It can’t be.’ The same feeling. While free of their electronic prisons, the robots now hung like rag dolls in the air. Their arms swaying as crude hinges. Dean was reacting as well—weightlessness. A force pulling him away. The robots flew out the window, moving faster than Dean’s eyes could keep track. ‘Oh no. That’s not happening to me.’ The air dragged at him vehemently. He tries to grip hold of the armchair, but his fingers slip against the leather. ‘Doctor!’ He’s yanked back again. Dean yelps but manages to grab hold of the coffee table, his nails piercing into his own palms. The legs scrape, the friction of the carpet is not enough. ‘Cas! Help me! Please.’ The pull was becoming too strong; now, he could sense his grip loosening. One by one, his fingers peel away from the post. Dean screws his eyes shut in anticipation. He lets go.There's a fluttering reverberation as he falls through the air; his head hurts as his body hurls itself from the window.Dean collides with a cool material with a dull thud. The impressions of arms wrap around him. A heartbeat. ‘It’s okay, Dean, I have you,’ speaks a gruff voice.‘Cas?’‘My apologies. I’ve been looking for you.’ Castiel gently removes Dean from the threshold of the window, guiding him into a corner of the room. ‘Dean, you can open your eyes.’Dean’s eyelids gradually part, the beige trench coat engulfs him. The rumpled dirt-stained coat bristling in the general direction of the window. And Cas is there, his hands on Dean’s shoulders, pinning him against the wall. He looks at Castiel’s face. He seems exhausted. Deep lines have settled in his forehead, a crimson gash exposed against chapped lips. ‘What’s happening?’ A bruise blossomed on his left cheekbone.‘I was supposed to have sent you back to that week holiday you and your brother had in two thousand and six, so you went to see a concert and—'‘That doesn’t matter right now. What’s happing right at this moment?’Castiel hesitates. ‘You had- have the same background energy as these creatures. When you travel between different universes, you collect it. Normally it’s completely harmless, but your friend is using it to drag them into hell. He weaponised it.’‘Did he not think that I might- never mind, it was probably the only option The Doc had.’ Then, tentatively, the wind begins to die down, the tugging sensation surrendering.Castiel’s head tilts in puzzlement. ‘He’s closing the breach as we speak. I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.’Dean slumps to the floor, breathing raggedly. ‘I can’t take this, Cas. You’ve got to take me back.’‘That’s impossible. I can’t.’‘I know it’s dangerous. I just thought since you’re back, maybe the worst of it’s over.’ Castiel holds out his hand for Dean to take. He ignores it, clambering to his feet on his own.‘It’s not. But that’s not the only problem. My grace, it has weakened significantly getting here. I’m cut off from Heaven in this universe.’‘Does that mean you’re out of mojo then, are you stuck too?’Cas sighs, ‘For now, yes. Until the other Angels become aware of my absence.’Dean bites the inside of his cheek. Being stuck together wasn’t so bad. ‘You staying here then?’‘I don’t think that would be a good idea. I need to get as far away from you as possible.’‘Oh.’‘Tell me, Dean, do you have the bus timetable?’ His words start fading, and he sways exhaustedly.Dean ducks under Cas’s arm, catching him just in time. ‘Cas, you’re wiped out, man. Can’t you just stay here for a bit, and once you’re better, we can think of a plan.’'Perhaps I could stay, just for the night and regain my strength,’ he replies wearily, slouching against Dean.'See, that's more like it, buddy. I have beer in the fridge and pie. So, all we need to do is wait for The Doctor.’‘That would be nice.’ Castiel stumbles. ‘But...’Dean wraps his arm around Cas’s waist and leads him to the sofa, brushing away the broken glass. ‘It's okay. Just rest here a moment, and I'll clean you up. Let me just’— He runs to the bathroom, collecting a towel, soap, and warm water in a washing up bowl. Carrying it back carefully, his feet dancing around the microwave parts. Why did he have to start fixing it today? Dean places the bowl on the table. The soapy water sloshing lightly. Pushing up his sleeves and then picking up the towel, he dips a corner of the fabric into the water.‘This isn’t necessary. I will heal completely in a few days.’He lifts the towel out, droplets of water falling down his forearm. ‘Yeah, well, tough. Let me help.’Dean pats at the blood surrounding the gash on Castiel’s lips tenderly, nervous of hurting him further. Cas doesn't flinch; he sits there silently.‘What are you running from Cas? What's got you this scared?’ Not realising he had spoken out loud.Castiel stares at him. ‘You know I can't tell you.’Dean lifts the towel away, folding it over and repeats the ritual of dipping it into the water. ‘Hands.’ Dean instructs. Castiel holds out his hands, exposing grazed knuckles. Dean presses the towel against them, the texture catching on the scabs. ‘Yeah, yeah. I know. I just think you have too much blind faith for upstairs.’Castiel grows silent, retreating his hands back like Dean had said something wrong. ‘If I didn't have faith, what would I have left?’ His eyes unadorned. ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Dean apologises.‘I know.’Dean drops the blood-stained towel on the table. ‘See much better. Do you want something to drink? I know Angels don't need anything, but I figure since you're on low battery.’ He straightens up, stretching back his shoulders. ‘Tell you what, I can make you a tea. I'm getting to really like tea Cas. Do you drink tea?’‘I can drink tea, Dean.’ The corner of his lip rises.‘Okay, two teas coming up.’‘…Although it will just taste like molecules. Everything is just molecules.’We find Cas in philosophical mode this evening, apparently. Dean puts some water on the kettle and takes out two mugs. A plain duck egg blue one for Cas. He's still unsure if he should add the milk first or just water. So, he adds the milk first, pouring too much in Cas’s mug. And then there's the dilemma of adding sugar. He puts in three. Finding a tray tucked behind a cabinet, he sets it down, placing the two mugs on it. He then picks up a blueberry pie from the counter and puts that on there too. Why the hell not? He shrugs.Reaching behind the sofa, he slots the mug into Castiel’s open hand. ‘Here we go, tea.’Cas brings it up gingerly and studies the liquid before taking a sip. ‘It's very sweet.’Dean quickly switches the mugs, Castiel takes another sip.‘Better?’Castiel doesn't respond with words but takes another drink. He waits until Cas has completely finished the tea, putting the mug onto the table, before asking him the questions he desperately needs to answer.‘So er...’ he begins as about as casually as a teenager trying to hit on someone. ‘Do you have any news about Sam?’‘No.’ Damnit. ‘He's completely hidden from us. We believe Ruby has something to do with that.’More eagerly now, ‘And the final seal?’‘Surprisingly still intact.’‘We still have time then,’ he sighs. Sinking down into the leather with slight relief.‘Dean, we have two years.’He furrows his brow, considering how to phrase his thinking. ‘It's just like, I don't know. Everything still feels as though it's happening now. And every day I'm here, the closer to the end we are back home. Does that make sense?’ He’s just spoken gibberish.Castiel shifts in the seat to face Dean properly, despite his exhaustion. ‘We each have our own personal timeline wherever we are in the universe. You’re still you, even in the past— in a different universe. So yes, I understand.’‘And you’re still you.’‘I am.’ He mutters, eyelids fluttering closed.‘Hey, don't go to sleep yet,’ Dean pleads, forgetting himself for a second.‘Angels don't sleep, Dean.’Dean prods Castiel. ‘Then why are your eyelids closed?’‘I’m simply resting my eyes.’‘Yeah, sure you are.’ He replies with forced calmness that then develops into authenticity. ‘I’m gonna let you rest your eyes for a bit, okay?’ Castiel had already made contact with a cushion, his face pressed awkwardly against it. Dean rolls his eyes fondly, picking up Cas's legs and laying him out the best he could on such a small space. He goes into Rose’s room, not turning on any lights intentionally, and fishes out a blanket from her wardrobe. Cas doesn’t make any sound as he sleeps, neither is there any apparent movement in his face. It’s almost like watching someone meditate rather than sleep. He droops the blanket over Cas and picks up the tray heading back into the kitchen. Humming No Quarter with a screwdriver resting thoughtfully on his lip, Dean makes a near-final adjustment under orange lamp light. He sets the screwdriver down and picks up his glass, taking a sip of whiskey when a foot connects with his thigh.‘Oh.’Dean looks away from the nearly completed microwave and up at a dishevelled Angel. ‘Hey there, clumsy. You feeling any better?’‘Yes, much, thank you.’He looked at it too. The bruise was gone from his cheek, and the cut on Cas's lips had almost faded completely, leaving behind a thin silver scar. His coat even looked cleaner.‘You are aware of a missing magnetron in that microwave,’ Castiel points out bluntly.‘Yeah, I kind of chucked it at a robot,’ he chuckles. ‘But it was already broken. I’m just piecing it back together, so it ain’t lying all over Jackie’s kitchen.’Cas blinks‘And I’ll leave a note.’He yawns, getting to his feet, everything slightly blurry to him with the daylight. ‘Look, I’m going to make a coffee. Do you want anything?’‘No. Dean, did you sleep at all last night?’ he demands.‘I can’t. I’ve got some serious jet lag or something.’ failing to seem truthful, he was too tired to try.Cas looks at the whiskey bottle on the floor. ‘But you had time to get alcohol.’‘It's not like I was just sitting here drinking,’ he exclaims, gesturing to the now clear floor. ‘I was fixing things round the place.’Cas nods, acknowledging Dean’s progress. His lip’s part, eyes squinting, his words change. ‘I believe I am well enough to depart now,’ he finally speaks.Dean takes another drink, tilting his head back to empty the final drop in the glass. It was so easy for Cas to say what needed to be said. ‘Really, that’s super.’ His words are bitter. He doesn’t mean to be, but he can’t be like Cas.Cas either chooses to ignore Dean or is oblivious to the tone. ‘Yes, I will leave soon, while there’s still daylightHe needs to be tactful; he can’t just be upset and not give him a reason. ‘Cas, you have no powers and therefore nothing to protect yourself with.’ That was good. A reasonable answer.‘I have my Angel blade.’‘And that’s done a bang-up job so far.’ Dean gestures to the situation they’re both now in. ‘That’s why you’re running away. Leaving me in a flat in a different universe surrounded by aliens. I’m a pawn that so far off the chess set I’m playing Clue!’ He shouts. Crap. He bites the inside of his cheek, his eyes getting blurrier.A glimmer of something, a pained expression flashes across Castiel’s face. ‘Do you think I want to leave;’ he growls. ‘Do you think I enjoy running for my life while the apocalypse is near?’ Dean flinches as Castiel’s hand comes towards him. He gasps, but Cas simply removes the whiskey from Dean’s fingers. ‘I can’t protect you, Dean, not like this. I’m expected to be your guardian, but I think it’s quite clear I’m having the opposite to the desired effect.’ This was a choice. Castiel could stay and let whatever was chasing him catch up or leave and risk Dean being taken out by an alien instead.He brings his head up properly to make eye contact. His hands, now no longer holding anything, clench into white-knuckled fists. ‘I’m not saying don’t leave; I’m just saying don’t leave yet. The Doc will be back before you know it. If you leave now, we might never fix this.’‘Every moment I’m here, I’m putting you in danger.’‘So…’‘So?’ Cas chokes the word. ‘Dean, I don’t’—‘I understand plenty. If you get a bus, so help me, I’m gonna drag your feathered ass back here.’ He stamps one foot pointing to the floor.Cas looks down to where Dean was pointing. Then looks up in confusion. Dean guesses it’s because Cas was an all-powerful, virtually indestructible angel… well, on a good day, and Dean was just well Dean. A memory bounces in his skull; I dragged you out of hell I can throw you back in. The first time Dean had been properly scared of Cas and one of the only. ‘This isn’t a discussion,’ Castiel argues.You should show me some respect. ‘No, it's not you’re staying.’ So far, they had both come in such a short amount of time.Cas tilts his head. ‘Why?‘Because I say so. Now sit,’ he demands. Dean’s hand pointing to the floor now points in the direction of the sofa.Castiel raises his hands in a casual surrendering motion, a response he no doubts picked up from either him or Sam and delicately places the empty glass on the counter. Then he slumps on the seat, arms folded. He was sulking, but the tension between them had lessened significantly.Dean returns to the living room carrying a coffee for himself but doesn’t drink it. Instead, they just glare at each other pettily.‘You should sleep.’ Castiel speaks finally.‘What?’‘You should sleep; it’s late, and you look exhausted.’‘Yeah, well, I feel fantastic.’ He yawns involuntary. ‘That doesn’t mean anything.’‘It was a yawn, meaning your body is expressing the need for sleep.’Dean ends up back in Rose’s room with the curtains closed, lying on an unmade bed. But he isn’t quite sure how it happened. He can hear Castiel moving outside, the loud swish of fabric as he paces up and down the hall. Footsteps tapping loudly. The sounds keep fading in and out as spaces between blinks increase.The digital turquoise numbers burn at Dean’s eyes. He glowers at 04:23, tantalised by the temptation to unplug the clock. Finally, the pacing outside stops, and Dean's eyes close properly.
The mattress dips, and Dean rolls onto his back.He turns his head sleepily to the side. Struggling to focus on the shadow perched on the corner of the bed. ‘Cas, is that you?’ he murmurs, working to open his eyes. He stretches his arm, clasping at the fabric in reach.The shadow perches, unmoving.
The blankets slip away, and Dean is left exposed to the night air. A creature growls, hot foul breath wafting across Dean’s skin. He whimpers, fumbling for the sheets but is shoved back down by a slimy cold claw, pointed nails pressed against his collarbone.
‘Hello again, Dean,’ a voice snarls.
‘Alastair,’ he suffocates. How did’—‘It doesn’t matter how I’m here. It matters why,’ in a tone that could be interpreted as disappointment.’ Your times up, you’re coming back with me to the land of the bloody where guts and bone are the carpet.’ The claw presses with brutality, and Dean's bones crack in protest. ‘You can’t stop it.’‘Stop what’, Dean rasps, his hands groping for the invisible claw.‘The apocalypse Dean. You’re so pathetic that Heaven has given up on you. But, unfortunately, you’re not the one to stop it. Surely your Angel’s let you in the big master plan?’ A grey eyebrow arches.Dean tries desperately now to force the hand away.‘Ah, I see… Oh well.’ Alastair’s fist connects with Dean’s nose with a crunch. His eyes water, and his arms fall limp beside himself.
Ice cold chains clamp tightly to Dean’s ankles and wrists, blistering at contact with the skin. He hisses sharply, attempting to control his outburst. ‘I’m not here. I’m not here. I’m not here.’ He speaks quietly, but his voice is strangled.A sharp tip scratches over his shoulder blade, and Dean’s skin crawls.
Alastair blocks any surrounding images, hunched over him like a spider waiting for the perfect moment. His hollow laugh clicks and hisses at the back of his throat. ‘What do you say, Dean? I don’t really need to put these hooks in you… but for old times sake.’ The rusted point breaks the skin. White-hot pain spreads itself across his left side, and Dean screams. ‘This isn’t real! You’re dead.’‘Every time you close those eyes, you tell yourself the same thing. But it still hurts, doesn’t it? I’m very much alive…’ he taps the side of Dean’s head with the other rusted hook, digging the point in. ‘In here. And that’s all that really matters.’ The second hook trails across his stomach and plunges it into his side. Blood pools around the metal. Dean cries, gagging at the agony.
Selecting a bowie knife from a tray, Alastair considers it a moment and then chooses something smaller. The torture devices rattling on the dentist tray. ‘Ah, this will do nicely,’ he gleams.‘Stick it right up your ass.’ Dean spits at Alastair. The red blood the skin in droplets over the left half of Alastair’s face. Alastair screws his face with disgust but does nothing
‘I’d rather not, but it is an interesting idea.’ He spins the blade in his fingertip.‘Hmm, maybe I’ll just stick with the classics this evening.’ A bead of blood forms on the tip of his disproportionate bony finger, and he flashes a toothy grin.
Dean’s head throbs, struggling to focus on the images as they transgressed into smudges. Orange fires flickering around him. Alastair’s features are not quite where they should be. A white light at the corner of his eyes growing brighter.
Alastair takes his time beginning. He circles Dean like a shark, milky bleached eyes violating his soul.‘Aren’t you bored of this now?’ Dean hisses, attempting to follow Alastair’s movements around him.‘If I said yes, I’d be lying. But there’s splendour in this Dean. Because your very essence is the one doing it to yourself. You are torturing yourself. I’m just a face.’ He laughs.The features shift, becoming more structured and recognisable. A lanky grey-haired monster stood before him, but it wasn’t Alastair. It was Dean. Dean with those white sickening eyes. ‘You could have become this in just a few more years.’ He speaks to himself. ‘Such potential.’ He sighs, but then two quick movements and blood spurts from gashes in his ankles,
Dean whimpers. ‘No…’ A tear rolls down his cheek.The knife travels again, gathering the t-shirt fabric, Dean attempts to pull away, and the shackles clink, biting into his skin. The knife stops at his abdomen. Prodding the bruised flesh around the hook. Blood trickles across his skin, and the blade tears open the wound, further splitting the flesh. Dean screams in agony, his voice horse bile rising in his throat as muscle and insides are releveled to him in one deep gash across his stomach. The smile widens. The light grows more intense, so much so that it’s blinding, and everything is erased. Images and sensations are burnt away. His eyelids spring open to find Cas with two fingers placed at his temple. Dean pants heavily, sweat drenching his skin. A gust of wind breezes through the entrance where the MDF should be. He looks at Castiel then at the doorframe. Withdrawing away from Castiel’s hand. Castiel looks at Dean with pity, and it kills him.‘You’re leaving?’‘I’m not anymore.’ Castiel takes Dean by his hand, pulling him towards him, placing his palm against Dean’s clammy forehead. ‘You were dreaming about hell, weren’t you. I could hear you screaming. I had to do something to rectify this. Although, I’m afraid, I can’t get rid of your nightmares permanently.’‘I’m fine. You can leave now.’ Dean turns his head away, his chest burns.‘These dreams… are my fault If I had gotten to you in time.’‘Don’t,’ he begs.‘It is my greatest regret.’‘I said don’t.’‘You react to me as if you’re speaking to someone who wouldn’t understand.’‘You can’t.’‘I’m a soldier Dean. I’ve fought in so many wars— I’m just concerned.’ Castiel faulters.‘Look, I get what you’re trying to do but just fucking stop it.’ He spits the words severely.‘I- Very well.’ The tension in the mattress disappears as Castiel gets to his feet. He hesitates in the doorway. ‘It seems a fate we’re destined to repeat. First with hell, then Alistar… and now this. Maybe next time we cross paths, I can redeem myself.’Suddenly, Dean scrambles over the duvet to confront Castiel, ‘No! wait.’ Dan says hoarsely, unable to shout. ‘None of this is your fault. My actions choices that’s what led me here. I don’t need someone to tell me they understand when they don’t. Jus- Just don’t leave again. Please.’He nods and re-enters the room.Castiel stands over him, a dramatic silhouette basked in corridor lights. A modern visage of what Dean had always hoped Angels to be. He looks down at Dean with sympathy and kindness… and it scares him.Dean gulps. ‘You know, Sometimes I wake up, and I can’t breathe.’ His hands close loosely around his own neck. ‘I- It’s like someone has shoved fabric down my throat.’ His fingers contract, leaving white impressions against the skin.Cas's eyes widen, and Dean lets his arms drop.‘And I can’t do a damn thing about it because Sammy’s there, and I have to be strong.’‘Emotions don’t mean weakness, Dean.’‘They’re vulnerability. Say one thing to the wrong person and’—‘And what if you were to say it to the right person?’ Castiel crouches to meet Dean, removing all separation, placing his hand over Dean’s shoulder.‘I’m so tired, Cas, all the time.’‘What can I do to help?’ Cas switches on the lights in the living room whilst Dean dashes enthusiastically to the CD rack. ‘Right, what have we got here?’ he ponders, slapping his hands together. He runs his fingertip across the spines of the CDs thoughtfully. ‘Cliff, Cliff, Cliff. Spice Girls, Cliff. Ah! here we go.’ He smirks, holding the CD close to him.Crossing sneakily to the shelf, his back to Cas as he locates the button and slots the disk into the grey CD player. ‘Now I personally would have gone for a bit of Hound Dog, or That’s Alright Mama but….’ The CD player whirrs, clicks and begins to play. ‘You have to make the best of what you’re given.’ He relaxes as soon as the first note plays.He collects two coffee cups from the draining rack, moving to the music. Deans’ feet begin to tap to the music.When your heart gets restless, time to move along‘When your heart gets weary, time to sing a song’ he hums along, not really in tune. ‘Come on, Cas. Join in coward.’‘But when a dream is calling you,There's just one thing that you can do.’‘I’m not familiar with this song Dean’ he replies with a look of panic.The kettle beeps and begins to boil.‘I think the lyrics are pretty repetitive. You’ll get the hang of it,’ he gently teases.-‘You gotta follow that dream to find the love you need,’ he sings loudly.‘I do not want to dance.’‘Want or can’t. Cause I can’t either.’
Keep a-movin, move along, keep a moving
‘Want. I’m an Angel. I don’t dance.’‘Fine.’ Dean pauses the music silencing the room.‘You’re upset.’‘It’s cool, Cas; you’re not a dancer.’‘You didn’t have to stop the music. You said it would improve your mood. The melody is pleasant if a little simple.’‘Yeah, well, it’s from one of his movies. Like I said, it’s no hound dog.’ He smiles meekly at Cas to let him know it is alright. He didn’t want to start another fight after Cas had finally agreed to stay. His inside pocket vibrates, and he fumbles for his cell. There was a light flashing. Four missed calls.‘It appears your mobile device has finally caught up.’‘Yeah, I guess so…’ he looks at his phone in disbelief. ‘I think it has. I have a call from Bobby.’ He presses it to his ear.‘Dean, what are you playing at you idjit. You were supposed to bring your brother back, not disappear on a date with your Angel. Call me.’ Dean listens fondly despite Bobby’s berating. ‘Dean, look, I’m gettin’ worried now. Where are you? Call me and let me in on this.’ His last call makes Dean’s gut drop. ‘Dean, I found your car two miles from the outskirts of Lawrence. Please, son, just let me know you’re alright.’There was one more message from an unknown number. Dean hesitates before pressing play. ‘Dean, it’s Sam. I know we parted on bad terms, but the way you disappeared isn’t normal. I found the car abandoned. I’m looking for you zzz- buzz- I’m in London. Find more details.’ Beep.‘Sam. He phoned.’‘Then perhaps not all is lost.’Dean raises an eyebrow at Castiel’s response. ‘He’s in London. How does he know I’m in London.’‘There must be a temporal disturbance feeding back to your earth.’‘Of course, there is.’ Dean replies, not really understanding. Staring conflicted by the number. ‘I’m gonna phone him.’ He dials.‘The number you have dialled is currently out of reach. Please leave a message after the beep.’ Beep.He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, trying to think of something to say in such a short amount of time. ‘Sam, I don’t know if you’re going to get this message, but listen to me. I’m alright, and I’m trying to get back. I’ve just run into a… snag. But I’m with Cas. Don’t do anything reckless. Just don’t touch demon... Just wait for me to get back. Please.’ He looks to Castiel for approval, but he offers nothing either way. Dean shrugs and moves on to calling Bobby. ‘Bobby, it’s me. I’m with Cas, and I’m alright; I can’t say where but I’ll be back soon as I can.’ He places the cell back into his pocket. So relieved to hear their voices, but he also had this dread. Everything was real now, and he had people worried.‘Do you think they’ll get them?’‘Shouldn’t you explain your situation properly? At least to Bobby.’‘I don’t even know if they’re going to get my messages, and I know for a fact Sam’s not going to stop looking. Hell, I wouldn’t.’ Dean feels almost proud about it, grinning to himself.‘After everything?’‘He's family, Cas.’‘I understand.’Dean steps towards him, going nose to nose. Studying the lack of expression like an inability. ‘I don’t know if you do.’Cas angles his head, ‘I have a family.’‘Yeah…’ he breathes. ‘Your brothers and sisters who turned so easily on each other and treat you like a dog. They’re real swell.’‘I still love them. The same way you still love Sam after he betrayed you.’ Wow, that was a punch if ever he heard one.‘He didn’t. He hasn’t. And love isn’t just about blood. Family is the people you want in your life, no matter what. Good or bad. Love that’s what faith is for.’‘So nothing he did complicates this bond you share?’Dean scoffs, ‘Everything is so complicated now. You were supposed to be the good guys. Sam is being poisoned by a hell bitch. You’re...’ he gestures vaguely at the entity of Cas. ‘I wanna trust you, Cas, because you’re all I got right now.’‘I want you to trust me too.’ There's just one thing nagging at him.A flash of lightning and Cas shudders.‘So, tell me, how did Sam get out? Which side undid the latch? Angel radio ain’t working no one's going hear this but you and me.’‘Dean…’‘I just need to know. This one thing. And you’ll have my trust.’ His eyes keep searching, and there it is, a flicker.‘My orders were to’—He clenches his teeth and breaths in deeply. ‘It was you… okay, fine. Thank you for telling me.’‘I didn’t anticipate this reaction,’ he whispers.Dean throws a punch, and Castiel’s face snaps to the side. The cut from his mouth reopened. Fresh blood settling in chapped lips.‘That’s what I expected.’ He faces forward calmly, and the blood is gone.‘Now we’re even.’‘That’s it?’‘That’s it.’ Dean cups his hand in pain; punching Cas's face was like hitting The Terminator; he’s glad he’ll never have to do that again.‘Your bones could be fractured, or at the very least, you’ll be severely bruised. That was very stupid.’ Castiel takes his hand. ‘They never said why; For what it’s worth.’A lot. He flexes the pain gone. ‘Don’t do that. You’re wasting energy on me.’‘I’m not wasting anything. It's what I’m supposed to do.’‘So,’ he coughs sheepishly, ‘er tell me you don’t dance or watch TV. What do you do on your days off? For fun, I mean.’Castiel glides to the broken window, looking out over the estate. The cool breeze whipping at his lapel, unfazed, he leans out. Water drops splash against his skin. ‘I watch nature. Bees have always fascinated me most of all. They’re incredible. Honey bees, of course, are the most important to you humans, but bumblebees are round and covered in bright yellow fluff with tiny pale blue wings. And they bob around lavender plants, buzzing away on a warm spring diurnal.’ He describes them in a way that Dean could almost picture them outside. ‘It was my original assignment to watch over them. Before humans. Before hell. Before you.’‘Wow, you must be the world's first beekeeper then. How does that feel?’‘Very special.’ He smiles.Dean hadn’t really considered what Cas wanted before. He just assumed that they liked doing whatever they were told. But then again, that didn’t really leave much room for Lucifer or even Anna. Maybe he could do something for Cas during this brief moment of calm. ‘I don’t think we can do much of that in the middle of London. Do you know if you’ll be able to go back to watching bees after all this?’‘I haven’t been assigned to anything with wildlife since Lucifer was cast into the cage. I doubt I ever will.’ His voice cracks. ‘However, that doesn’t stop me from appreciating my father’s creation whilst it’s still here. Earth is beautiful and intricate and wonderful. Both sides just see it as a battleground. I am aware this much.’‘Yeah, I figured….’ There must be something in this room both he and Cas could do. ‘…Tell you what though; we could see if they have one of those nature documentaries on TV.’Dean leaps onto the sofa, switching on the screen. The news channel is still on from before.‘Worldwide devastation. Hundreds dead, yet experts suggest it could have been significantly worse if not for the strange phenomenon. Scientists still can’t explain how these metal men or Cybermen and Daleks appeared and disappeared on mass so suddenly.’Castiel stares, overcome by what images he’s seeing.‘I can’t watch this right now.’ Dean gulps‘I understand it's very distressing, and you’ve been through a lot.’He keeps flicking through the channels, clicking faster on every news channel. Then, finally, he finds a documentary on the rainforest around channel sixty-three.Rain is pouring outside, and the TV acts like white noise for his ears. Dean removes his feet and brushes away any dirt. ‘You can sit down if you want,’ he suggests.Castiel seems hesitant but perches himself on the edge of the sofa, fascinated by the sun bear growling lowly.Dean smiles to himself smugly and settles down into a nest of cushions. He doesn’t realise how tired he is but the last image he remembers is of a tree frog. Dean awakes to see Castiel still entranced by the television. ‘Did you watch TV all night?’ A commercial for Cheerios blinds him with fake sunlight.Castiel blinks and turns to Dean. ‘Good morning or rather an afternoon.’ His hair is even more ruffled than usual. ‘You slept well, I’m glad.’‘My necks a bit sore from fallin’ asleep on the sofa weird, but yeah, I did.’Castiel reaches out to heal him again, almost casually.‘I don’t need any more mojo. It's just a stiff neck. What are you watching now?’He shrugs. ‘Something called Loose Women. They all have many opinions that the audience likes to cheer too. Although I don’t think I am the target demographic.’‘Buddy, I don’t think you’re even considered.’ Dean sits up, taking the remote from Cas. ‘I’m going to switch this off now and open some curtains.’Castiel opens his mouth to protest. Then doesn’t.His stomach growls, and Dean wonders the last time he ate something. Did he even it that slice of pie? His eyes travelled to the counter; there it is, the pie under a ray of sunshine. He almost leaps at picking up the piece with both hands cradling the delicate pastry, admiring it lovingly.‘I don’t think pie is considered a breakfast food Dean.’Dean scoffs. ‘It’s fruit and carbs. I’m basically eating muesli.’ He shoves it into his mouth. ‘Yep, disgusting bland muesli,’ He hums happily, spraying crumbs across the counter.After finishing the pie, Dean checks his phone, smudging blueberry jam across the button. He groans to himself, attempting to wipe it away with the corner of his t-shirt. The Doctor hadn’t even texted him. Maybe there was a sign back at the park where the TARDIS was parked. He sighs and puts it back in the pocket. ‘I’m sick of being inside. I got told to stay in the estate, not that I couldn’t leave this flat. There's a park nearby. That’s kind of nature-y. What do you say, Cas, fancy a walk?’ Dean sniffs his shirt, ‘but first I’m going to take a shower and then we’ll head out.’Cas makes a vague noise which Dean interprets as a yes.Rummaging through the bathroom cabinets looking for shower gel and a new toothbrush. Unfortunately, he doesn’t find a toothbrush and only bubble bath that smells like strawberry. He shrugs; there are worse things to smell of. Dean returns with damp hair dripping onto his leather jacket.‘You smell different.’ Cas leans in and sniffs. ‘Like artificial strawberries.’‘…That would be the bubble bath.’ But unfortunately, the word bubble doesn’t sit well on his tongue.‘It’s very strong.’‘Shut up.’They depart. Dean gently leans the MDF against the inside of the doorframe. Castiel sticks closely to him as they walk down the steps. Bright blue sky renders things happier, like Dean’s nightmare is further away somehow.‘This is more like it,’ he begins enthusiastically. ‘The sun is shining, no weird aliens.’‘Why are we going to the park Dean?’ Cas demands but continues to walk with him in his toe.‘I told you for some fresh air—’Boarded up shops. Flowers against brick walls. Missing posters.A snapshot of a ghost town from the bottom of the stairs to the end of the road. Castiel stops at an image zip-tied to a lamppost. ‘So much suffering, even here.’ He folds back the creased paper, making sure the image sits squarely before letting himself catch up.The park isn’t much unlike the streets. Flowers and posters were diligently laid out against railings, but there was destruction too. Black spray paint coats at least half the equipment in the park now, with meaningless swears and shapes. The silver slide in the centre now has the words BAD WOLF running up its spine. Castiel drags his finger down the slope, collecting pigment on the pad of his fingertip. ‘What do you suppose a bad wolf is? Wolves aren’t inherently bad. They just follow their nature.’‘I don’t know. It’s just gang culture. Kids acting out cause they're scared. I wouldn’t worry about it.’ Dean answers, his attention drawn elsewhere.The grass mound. The last place Dean knew the TARDIS was, still left with a subtle rectangular impression. He crouches down frosted grass, tickling at his cheek.‘Dean, why are we here?’ Castiel demands again.‘It was the last place I saw the Doc, alright. He hasn’t phoned back, and I’m worried. I mean, the Cybermen or whatever are gone. He should be back.’‘Are you going to look for him?’‘I want to, man, I’m tempted. But I said I wouldn’t leave the estate. I thought. I hoped for some clue but nothing other than some squished grass.’‘It's not like you to do what you’re told.’ Cas declares, bowing over him, blocking any detail on the ground.‘Speaking from experience?’ Dean chuckles, sweeping his fingers through the blades, the coolness soothing him.‘Yes.’ Cas replies, not registering the joke. ‘You’re very disobedient.’He sits up. ‘Different rules here, I guess. I don’t know what I might do if I start interfering on my own and what if I go off somewhere and he comes back to find me gone? So I have to be patient, but I still want answers.’‘It's sensible.’‘Yeah, it its.’ He replies smugly, taking out the EMF reader and placing an earbud in his ear, listening to the static.‘You’re terrible at being patient.’‘Yeah, I am.’ He smirks, even smugger.Castiel, now mindful Dean wasn’t going to be moving any time soon, takes a seat on the mound alongside him. Dean’s left hand splayed out on the grass, static in his right ear and Cas breathing softly in the other.Yellow flyers skip across the ground. ‘Do you feel… useless here?’ Dean questions, removing the earbud.‘A little ineffectual perhaps, but I did manage to get to you in time.’ They turn to face one another. ‘Is that why you destroyed the woman’s microwave?’‘Jackie’s?’ he corrects. ‘Maybe. It’s something I can do here still. Fix things for when she gets back.’ His shoulders sag.‘In theory, electronics in this world could have been made differently, and you wouldn’t have known until you pulled it apart and then couldn’t put it together again.’‘You’re not helping.’ For some reason, he can’t understand it helps a bit.‘What I mean is,’ Cas stresses. ‘You can’t be an expert on the world you don’t know. You adapt over time. It’s just as likely you could have been born an alien hunter.’‘I think Rose and The Doc have that position covered. Do you think there’s another me Sam and you out there?’‘It’s very probable you and Sam exist somewhere, but I doubt there’s another heaven— at least not in this reality.’The existence of these parallel worlds means that there’s a chance there’s a reality where everything was like the lies the Djinn fed him. Real and happy. A flyer slaps against the slide, becoming stuck. ‘Sammy could be a lawyer here, married to Jess, a kid on the way.’‘Or Sam could be a doctor with a dog named Jess.’ Cas counters.‘Right,’ he speaks brusquely. ‘Infinite possibilities. But seriously, a dog called Jess, how weird would that be?’ He can picture it. A blond floppy-haired poodle bounding up to Sam.‘You’re right. The dog could be called Dean.’His eyes crinkle, ‘Was that a joke?’ he prods at Cas, playfully with his elbow.‘Yes.’He beams at him, ‘You just made a joke?’‘Was it funny? I’m not sure. You didn’t laugh.’And then Dean starts laughing the kind of laugh that uses your whole face, and you keep laughing to your cheeks hurt. It dulls to a soft chuckle when a thought hits him. ‘Mom and Dad could still be alive.’‘Dean, be careful. This line of thought can be dangerous. Parallel doesn’t mean that they’re you or your family. They’re strangers. You can’t just go strolling up.’Dean tugs at the grass, ripping at the blades, ‘Hey, don’t worry, I have my family back home to think of. I understand they aren’t us. They already have people.’ Dirt collects under his nails. ‘It’s a nice idea that they’re happy somewhere, though.’‘Perhaps...’ Castiel responds carefully. ‘So, since there are no new clues to The Doctor, what do we do now?’‘I dunno, I guess go back to the flat, maybe fix the front door.’The wind starts to pick up again, and Dean shivers, tucking his hands around himself, under his jacket.‘A storm’s coming.’They run back into the apartment narrowly, avoiding the rain. Dean's hands slip against the wet MDF as he pashes it to the side hurriedly.‘You were right,’ Dean admits lowering the jacket from above his head, removing it, then tossing it over the back of the sofa.He glimpses at the draining rack, ‘Boy, that dirty mug pile is building up,’ he mumbles, crossing through the living room to the kitchen. Castiel shadows him closely, so much that Dean nearly steps on his toes when reaching for a plate.‘What are you doing?’ he blusters, nearly dropping it.‘My apologies, I was going to ask if you needed my help?’‘Nah, I’ve got it. You can sit yourself down.’Castiel reaches around and turns on the hot tap. His knuckles are now left with just a faint yellow bruise.Dean's eyes linger. He turns, Cas's coat swallowing them like a blanket fort. Up close, he knows scars are completely gone from his face. Eyes widening, he reacts, like they’re at an of the end, a countdown to the time they have left together. ‘You’ve nearly healed completely.’Cas examines his own hands. ‘Yes. Healing is taking longer than I thought.’ He reaches up and brushes his thumb against Dean’s cheek cut. Dean winces. ‘It looks deep.’‘I don’t really feel it.’He brushes over again, and the tenderness is gone.‘I told you to stop doing that. You need your grace to protect yourself when you get out of here.’‘Yes.’Dean tries to step back, but his hips press against the counter. Running water. Cas's blue eyes glisten. ‘Do you not want to leave?’‘Want? No. Need. Yes.’ Cas steps away. ‘The sink appears to be overflowing.’‘Dammit!’ He plunges his hand into the water.‘If your friend doesn’t return by tomorrow morning, I really will have to move on.’‘I understand.’ He doesn’t turn around, rooting through the cups to find the plug.‘I don’t know if you do.’‘I get it. You’ve explained it enough times already. You should have left last night, but you didn’t because of me.’‘Yes.’‘I still don’t want you to leave. It’s been fun having you around, getting to know you a bit more.’‘I have enjoyed your company as well.’‘The Doc will show.’ He doesn’t believe it anymore.Dean finds the plug and pulls it out; the water gurgles.Dean abandons the sink for DIY. ‘I’m gunna look for the tools I put somewhere.’‘I’ll help you.’His eyes catch the open red tool box, under the counter.They fix the door together, Castiel handing Dean tools whilst he pieces the broken pieces the best he can. ‘I’m going to have to keep the MDF on the bottom panel; it’s too chewed up to rescue properly,’ Dean explains.‘I see. What about the damaged windows? I could’—‘It’s only the one. We’ll just cover it up for now, and I’ll think of something later.’ Dean walks over to it, the fresh air on his skin. He tugs at the curtains to get better access, but something keeps catching.A glimmer of steel. A metal laser gun still latched onto the frame. Dean picks it up with trepidation expecting it to suddenly fire at him.‘They’re not coming back.’ Cas soothes.‘I know… it’s just…’ he stutters, fixed to the metal. He can’t swallow.‘If there’s a piece still in this world, what’s to stop there being a whole Cyberman?’ Dean nods. ‘It’s just metal.’ Cas teases it from Dean’s fingers, letting it drop from the window.‘Aren’t you scared?’‘What do you mean?’‘Here you are dealing with all my crap.’ Dean gulps. ‘There's this voice in my head tellin’ me to be rational about this that I’m putting you in danger keeping you here, and there’s this bigger part a selfishness that doesn’t want to let you go.’‘Dean…’ Cas speaks softly, placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder. ‘Look at me.’ He looks through sandy lashes. ‘This is my choice. If I wanted to leave, I could have done.’He's trembling. Cas wanted to remain with him? With all this responsibility and peril on his shoulders, this quiescent Angel is risking everything to stay. Want.Dean grabs Cas’s collar, pressing their lips together. They’re soft, and for a moment, he swears he could feel some kind of pressure reciprocated.Cas gasps, ‘What are you doing?’ he breathes, pulling away.Dean still has hold of Cas's collar, ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ his heart pounding.‘I’m not a woman. I’m an angel.’‘I know you keep telling me.’ Dean takes his thumb, running it across Cas's pursed bottom lip.‘This is just heightened adrenaline,’ Cas stammers, wrapping his own hand around Dean’s wrist and guiding it back down. ‘You’re scared and acting out. That isn’t you.’‘Have you not been paying attention? It's very me,’ Dean states scornfully. So how does Cas not see it?‘I don’t want this to be a mistake you can’t take back.’Dean sobers, his hands still shaking, collapsing backwards. ‘You don’t want this. I’m sorry. Fuck I’m sorry, Cas. I just figured with the lack of personal—His heel catches on a table leg, tripping back.Cas stands dazed, his mouth agape.Dean falls against the CD player, the plastic corner’s digging into his spine. His lips quiver. ‘I’ve messed up.’‘No.’ Castiel rules, speaking firmly. ‘You haven’t.’‘But I—Cas swipes a finger across the air, and the CD player plays. A muffled Elvis track plays through Dean’s torso. A slow dance song.
Angel, with those angel eyesCome and take this earth boyUp to paradise
Cas invites Dean towards him with an open hand. ‘Dance with me, Dean.’‘I thought you didn’t dance.’‘Tonight, I’m making an exception.’
Angel, may I hold you tight?Never kissed an AngelLet me kiss one tonight
Cas’s movements are clumsy, stepping on Dean’s toes as they both attempt to find a pattern.‘You still can’t dance. I was expecting you to be graceful.’ Cas steps on his foot again. ‘Ow.’His lips press into a straight line. ‘This is a gesture of goodwill, Dean.’
I'm only human, but I'm willing to learnAngel, make my wish come trueLet me be in Heaven here on earth with you
‘Here.’ Dean flattens the still crumpled trench collar before procuring Cas by the hand and placing the other on his waist. ‘I don’t care about you being in time or the right moves; all I ask is that you don’t tread on my toes anymore.’ He still sounds fragile, but he leads, demonstrating steps whilst Castiel catches up, shuffling shoes against the carpet.
Angel, never kissed an AngelLet me kiss one tonight
The wind and rain die down, but thunder still echoes far away. Cas's shuffling is now non-existent; he just holds onto Dean tightly as they sway.Dean goes to spin Castiel around. And then he sees his eyes. Terrified eyes that make it clear to Dean that this is a false tranquillity at the eye of the storm.Cas lets go of Dean’s hand.He vanishes. An angel of stone stands in his wake. A sliver of a smile behind covered eyes.‘Cas?’ he only asks once.Dean clambers away, eyes fixed to the monster that came from nowhere.It was obvious to him what had happened. That this is was what Cas had been running from. What made him so scared and now he was taken or ….His hands pat along with the headrest of the sofa, desperately feeling for his coat. His hand closes around it. ‘I’m only going to ask you nicely once.’ He lifts up his colt steadily. ‘Bring him back. Or so help me, I will blow you back to hell.’
Angel, never kissed an AngelLet me kiss one tonight
Silence. Its frozen stoic face is hidden. They didn’t speak; they didn’t move. Dean pulls back the hammer. And fires without hesitation. Bullets fly off the creates, recoiling across the room. ‘I said, Bring him back!’ He shouts, shooting again. ‘Bring him back!’ Dean yells. Sparks fly, and the lights blow. He blinks. The stone angel is closer.He keeps firing. It’s just his imagination. The gun clicks, the magazine empty. Dean tosses it away, lunging for the crowbar by the front door. He can’t kill it. It's impossible. He allows a tear to fall.The thundering noise becomes all he can hear, wheezing and groaning reverberating the room. A creak and a slam. Footsteps?Dean grips the crowbar tighter and charges at the creature.A crash.‘Dean! Stop! Whatever you do, don’t blink!’
Angel, make my wish come trueLet me be in Heaven here on earth with you