Chapter Text
The drive back from their latest hunting mission is exhausting, both physically and mentally. Dealing with Sam and his nonexistent soul only adds to the crossfire, as Dean was practically left to solve the case all on his own.
Well, okay, that wasn’t true, Castiel was there too. Still remorseful over raising Sam without his soul, he took it upon himself to assist Dean as much as he could. This left him with a lot more personal time with the angel…which was fine.
They’re friends, this is what friends are supposed to do.
Definitely didn’t make him feel even more confused about himself and his identity. Definitely didn’t cause Dean to hear a voice berating him in the back of his mind anytime the Angel got too close. And that voice definitely didn’t sound like John Winchester. Nope. None of that nonsense. Dean was an independent man now, and he could make his own choices without dealing with his fathers opinion on them.
Like right now. As they pull into a motel parking lot, Dean considers drowning himself in alcohol and blurry women after the two of them settle in for the night. Sam’s probably going to be a nerd about the artifact they plucked from said hunt, and may be researching well into sunrise. Sammy gets an activity to do, and Dean gets drunk. It’s a win-win situation.
As Sam opens the door to their room for the night, Dean frowns as his brother almost immediately heads for the shower first. Asshole. Didn’t even have the decency to play Rock-Paper-Scissors like they always do.
Dean sighs and lays on the bed, glancing at the orb they’ve plucked from their job of the day. They’ll have to take a drive to dad’s storage unit and keep it there for good measure. Even so, it shines bright and orange inside the cloth bag they’ve tucked it in, and threatens Dean’s curiosity.
It was a total case of Thirteen Going On Thirty in the town, with children discovering it in the woods, messing with it, and then going missing as word spread to other kiddos around the area. Somehow, by the time Sam and Dean were able to retrieve it from a little girl in her home, all the missing children were able to just…find their way home.
Dean didn’t ask how they managed to bring themselves home. Sam was getting antsy after screwing around town, and by the looks on their very traumatized faces, it seemed like all the children had all learned their lessons. A true Jennifer Garner move.
Still, it doesn’t quite explain their older versions just…appearing out of nowhere all throughout town. That was the tricky part about all of this, just when Sam and Dean were attempting to get to the bottom of things, the mess just sorted itself out.
The little girl he convinced to give the artifact to him, Clara, had wishes for discovering what school she’d attend ten years from now. Right before she applied the coordinates to the device, Dean had to talk her down from going through with it. Still, it looked pretty tempting to just…play with. He’d get why all the kids were so eager to use it for their own amusement.
He sighs and begins roaming through his luggage for some clean clothes. It’s summertime, and as cool as the motel bedroom is, the temperature is going to be much warmer the second he steps back outside.
Laying in bed, he thinks about what quips he’s going to use. His brain skims through the book-full of flirting tips he’s given himself over the years. Hopefully, he can find a cute girl with ocean blue eyes and full, luscious, gloriously pink lips. If he thinks too hard about that desire, he might get sick with nerves, so instead, he stands up and begins cleaning his weapons.
After what feels like forever, Sam leaves the bathroom with a trail of hot steam following behind him, only wearing the towel around his waist. Dean gives him his privacy as he turns away and hears the zipper of Sam’s personal bag open.
“So…you thinkin’ of opening that computer of yours and researching this artifact we found? I bet your nerd brain is so eager to read up on the lore of this thing.” The older man chuckles at his own quips, while Sam continues to dress himself.
“No. I’m going out.” His brother responds, coldly and bitter.
Dean whips his head around to see Sam already eagerly tying his shoes and frowns. “Aw what? Dude, who else is gonna look up all this shit? We’re gonna have to tell Bobby about it too, we can’t just give him nothing to work with.”
The younger man sighs and roams through his things before tossing Dean his heavy laptop and charger. “It’s gonna die soon. You’ll have to plug it into an outlet.”
“Ugh, dude, I don’t research anything unless I have to. You enjoy this kind of stuff!” He’s kind enough to get up and charge it anyways. It really was his turn to sit at home while Sam blew some steam. “Besides, I thought you were trying to remain all celibate after the whole ‘Ruby’ fiasco anyways.”
Somehow, Sam manages to snatch Dean’s keys from under him when he wasn’t looking, and dangles them tauntingly as he opens the door. It leaves the Hunter slightly jaw dropped as Sam manages to catch the final say in their argument.
“Celibacy is overrated. Don’t get killed, I’ll be busy.”
And with that, Sam shuts the door loud enough for the cheap walls to rattle and leave Dean alone with his own thoughts. He stares down the state of the room now that he hears Sam start up the Impala. Rude. Couldn’t even let Dean shower or tag along. Even worse, Sam left his moist towel all over his bedsheets.
Well, jokes on him. Deans just going to leave it there while he does research!
Research. Right.
How the hell is he going to bring himself to do that? It’s not like he doesn’t know how, but he’d rather avoid it at all costs when Sam and Bobby are right there. Dean’s never been a reader kinda guy, and he never will be as long as he’s still living.
Begrudgingly, he sighs anyway and opens the laptop. As he waits for the device to load up, he raids Sam’s bag for some snacks, because God knows he’s not going to bring back any dinner for Dean from the bar.
One small snack mix of nuts and cheese, a bottle of water, beef jerky, and the Strawberry pop tarts Dean was going to eat anyways were then placed on the small table in the corner of the room as he began googling things about the time rift. Actually, he should probably take a look at the thing while he’s at it. It’d be better than going off on vague details he can barely recall.
He scoots up, opening the bag of sugary goods as he walks over to the bed the orange globe resides on. Carefully, he removes it from the bag as it gently rolls onto the mattress. Dean sets his dinner down next to him as he gently pokes and pawns at it before eventually turning it up and setting it correctly on the area.
At first glance, it looks as if a lava lamp and a snow globe had a baby. The glass ball glowed orange as Dean watched a swirl of thick plasma move inside it. Gently, he shook it, stifling a laugh as the plasma did in fact move around like he hoped it would. But as he glanced at the rim sealing the globe, his interest grew more, desperately calling to it.
It’s only then that Dean notices the interchangeable numbers in replacement for what would usually be a label on the stand of the globe. His eyes glance at the date displayed on the bottom of the orb.
‘AUG 1 2021’
Geez, that’s gotta be over a decade from now. Dean furrows his brows as he tries to move the date back to 2010, but grows frustrated due to the lack of moveability that the numbers offer him. “How the hell did so many kids open this shit?” Dean whispers to himself as he twists the globe around, searching for answers against the square stand of the object. He rotates the whole thing around four times until he dumbly focuses on the ginormous clue engraved next to the interchangeable dates.
A circular nub, no bigger than a quarter, was engraved and curved into the side of the globe stand. Even with something that looks like it was produced during the beginning of time, fingerprint biometrics seemed to be the answer to identifying everything. Dean takes a bite of his untoasted pastry before hesitantly pressing his thumb into the small crevice of the object. As he predicted, the rim of the lower stand lit up with white light as the bands of numbers began rapidly turning. Inhumanly, the numbers continue to rotate at a fast speed until it stops back at the original date Dean found it on.
Without thinking of the action this might cause, Dean keeps his thumb on the pad as he’s finally able to move the whole thing around. He shifts through the days of the month until he lands on the twenty first of August. The whole thing continues to glow brighter and brighter until Dean notices a bit too late. From the outside of the hotel, his room becomes overwhelmingly bright as it shines with an abundance of coral light. In an instant, the Dean of 2010 transports to 2021, switching lives with his future self and abandoning the half eaten pop tarts on his bed.
From there, an unconscious, retired, and much older Dean Winchester lays on the stiff motel bed, clinging onto a pillow as the orb remains by his side.
𖤓
Dean lands on a much softer bed. He grunts as he feels himself suffocate between several bedsheets and many, many pillows. Seriously, who the hell would ever need this many pillows in their life. He actually counts six separate pillows all throughout the bed as he struggles to sit up. It’s ginormous, a king sized bed, he thinks, as he’s finally able to stand up and get off the large mattress.
Actually, compared to the shitty quality of beds he usually sleeps on, he kind of misses the warmth of the fancy one already. He counts four layers of soft blanket fabrics as he tries to tidy up the whole area, but the thought of curling back in them is just so damn tempting. Which doesn’t make a lot of sense, considering it’s supposed to be August, but the room doesn’t even feel hot.
He rubs at the side of his head, glancing around at the pretty bedroom. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of. Everything about it. From the ivory walls, to the pretty curtains, even the messy bed, now that he’s really looking at it, looks well loved and well used. It’s nicer than Lisa’s smaller house, but still modest enough to build a life in.
The bed is centered in the middle of it all, with baby blue bedsheets, and matching shades of bed decor. The wooden bedside tables, way too nice to not be handmade furniture, display an array of different items and knick knacks.
On the wall of one side of the bedroom, Dean notices an abstract portrait hung proudly against the pale wall. Modern art swirled around by differing shades of purple and orange and pink and yellow to create something similar to a sunset. Below the hung portrait is a framed sticky note written in handwriting he cannot recognize.
‘Thanks for everything. Love you lots. -Claire’
Something in his brain knows who that person is, he just can’t match the face to it. Perhaps a hunter they’ve helped along the way. The hunter suddenly glances down at himself. At least he had the decency to take his shoes off back at the motel. Every piece of clothing he had on his body remains the same. He grabs at his face, limbs, midsection, and hands to make sure his body has been intact. But now that he’s conscious and taking in his entire situation, he pouts at the sudden realization of his biggest loss.
“Aw! I left my pop tart on the bed!’’
Hunger pain creeps up into his system as he slaps a hand over his mouth. The late afternoon creeps into the window and creates a shadow across the bedroom. Judging by the amount of things exactly in the room, it makes Dean panic. This is not his house. This is not his room. Someone clearly lives here, and is about to walk in on Dean, a total stranger, standing in the middle of their apartment like an idiot.
“Dean!” A muffled voice calls out. Actually, he’d recognize that gravelly voice anywhere. Of course. Somehow, Castiel must have figured out what happened in the motel room, and is coming to save him and transport him back home. Wonderful, hopefully his dinner will still be in the motel room by the time they come back.
A pair of shoes creak against a staircase as someone walks further and further towards the closed door. He bites the bullet and decides to meet the angel halfway there as he walks towards the door and slams it open. He takes three steps, expecting to see his angel in his regular trenchcoat and business suit. In a rare moment of surprise, however, Dean stands frozen in the middle of the hallway as Castiel pauses in his movements too.
Both of them remain there for a long period of time, much to Dean’s growing discomfort. Castiel doesn’t breathe, he has no purpose to do so as an angel just borrowing Dean’s body. But the hunter feels himself suffocating on his own throat, too tongue-tied to say or do anything.
Even worse, Castiel is wearing something completely different to what Dean’s usually seen him wear. Actually, it makes Dean feel scandalous as he squirms around in his own skin. Seeing Castiel wear anything else other than the usual tax worker outfit is somehow the equivalent to seeing the man naked.
It’s just not right.
And he actually looks really good. It’s a crime for him to look that good. Pulling off the casual look of a rolled up long sleeved shirt, plain shirt, and jeans that hug his waist in all the right places.
And holy shit, his arms, his figure?? When did Cas start heading to the gym and bulking up? He looks amazing! All tanned skin and strong thighs and muscular forearms that really make Dean wonder if he should feed his own angel some of Sammy’s protein shakes every now and then.
Wait.
His brain catches up to the situation he’s brought himself into as he recalls the orb. He runs back into the bedroom, finds it nowhere in his sight, and runs back outside to the angel waiting for him to speak. “Uh…hey Cas?”
“Hello Dean.” The angel smiles in a way that feels too familiar to Hippy Cas. Dean glances between the doorway and the other man, wondering how he’d explain the information of the fact that he just broke into Future Cas’ house without causing the other man to smite him.
“Um, Cas…this is gonna sound really weird, but I don’t think I’m in Kansas anymore.”
The angel tilts his head, all birdlike and so so so familiar, before he actually lets out a laugh. Perhaps Dean caught the guy in a moment of weakness. Or maybe the angel just finally snapped. Either way, he awkwardly stands there and wonders whether he should hug the man or not before he actually wipes a stray tear from his eye and takes a moment to breathe in front of Dean.
“That’s alright. I imagine that waking up in the future would be quite difficult for you to understand at first.”
It takes him aback as he recalls everything. Oh god. He’s a dumbass. He’s a dumbass who just wanted a piece of his pop tart and now he’s upset the timeline of his own life.
“You’re supposed to be here. I’ve been— I was—“ Castiel closes his eyes to find the right words. “You’re not endangering yourself or Sam.” The relief makes him immediately relax. He’s not sure how true that statement is, but at this point, he’ll take any advice he can get.
“Glad to hear that. Uh, I might need a little help with going back home.” Dean stares down at his socked feet.
Castiel nods understandably before glancing at his watch. “It might take a while to sort your situation out. We were supposed to head out for dinner, but I guess I’ll order in instead. How do you feel about takeout pizza?” Dean gives this Cas a small smile and a nod as he ushers to Dean to follow him downstairs. “You must already be hungry though, knowing you.”
This must be Castiel’s house, Dean ultimately decides as he continues to glance at the rare photos that were displayed in the house. People he didn’t know, birthday parties of unfamiliar faces, it all felt so domestic.
In ten years from now, would he even be alive to see all of it?
Castiel shuffles through the fridge, bending down to find something for Dean. And damn, Dean should really consider buying jeans for Cas when he manages to return home. Clearly, they’re working for him.
And doing something to him too…
He crosses his legs as he takes the opportunity to sit down at Cas’ dining table. He feels his ears burn as he tries to focus on anywhere else but the angel. The blonde eyes the carpeted living room as he tucks his hand over the side of his face, attempting to hide the blush he already knows is forming on his cheeks. Suddenly the entire room feels too warm for comfort, and Dean should leave now before he gets sucked into this adorable suburban home.
The whole house remains filled with coziness as Castiel pulls a half eaten pie tin from the fridge. It perks his interest as Dean raises his head to try and get a better look. Nevermind all that. Castiel chuckles as he opens a drawer to grab a cutting knife. “It’s apple pie. Made it from scratch.”
Castiel in the future is so cool. The hunter can’t help but feel giddy as he sees him cut a pretty slice of a lattice designed crust on top of the pie, a sign of perfection, as he then slides it on a plate. The pie gets thrown into the microwave, and even though it’s not freshly baked, the aroma hits him almost immediately. The angel walks over to Dean and slides the plate in front of him.
“Oh, sorry, I’ll get you a fork right now.” Castiel notices before Dean even says anything. Honestly, he doesn’t even need the fork. Dean would rather scoop it all up like an animal. The pie crust is golden brown, and looks flaky just from the touch of it. The apples look tender, but still remain strong enough to hold shape in the triangular form, and Dean can’t stress just how good the spices smell.
A hand gently clasps his shoulder as Castiel hands him a fork, of which he generously takes before properly turning to thank him.
“Thanks Cas, this thing looks gre— gah!”
The angel grabs Dean by the jaw and leans down. For a moment, Dean stops breathing and his eyes widen. He can’t help but be drawn to those shockingly smooth and perfect lips as he freezes in the seat. Castiel tilts Dean’s head from side to side, as if examining the whole area before finally letting him go and sighing. His grip on Dean wasn’t even that strong, gentle at the most, but he’s so shocked that he couldn’t move out of the way.
Usually he’d yell about personal space, but Castiel has already walked away while talking down the hallway. “Dean. Are you aware of the ginormous cut across the side of your forehead?”
His green eyes widen in shock as the hunter dabs at his face until he can feel the exposed cut across the side of his temple. The blood that appeared to be around it has now dried up, and leaves flakes against Dean’s grimy hands.
At first glance, he can’t recall what he did to have caused that scratch, but then he remembered the several things thrown at him when he was breaking and entering into Clara’s home. It’s not like Dean thought she’d be there in the middle of school though! He would’ve used the teddy bear doctor excuse had he known.
And Sam didn’t say anything about it either. What a douchebag. He hates this version of his brother.
Castiel comes back with a white box, some wet wipes, and a clear bottle of liquid. The angel leans forward again as Dean tries to relax, knowing what’s about to happen. He grabs one of the moist wipes and begins to clean Dean’s face, a quick attempt to wash whatever sweat and dirt formed by the hunt. “So, can I ask what you were doing to have caused such a mess? Was it a werewolf? A vampire? A vengeful spirit?” Castiel quips as Dean closes his eyes and lets himself be pampered.
“Little girl hit me with her dollhouse.” Dean mumbles as Castiel grabs a second wipe to focus on just the wound itself, hearing the man laugh in that low, awkward tone he’s only heard a handful of times in the two years he’s known the angel. Nice to know some things still haven’t changed.
The hydrogen peroxide burns as Castiel rubs it into Dean’s wound. It’s not the worst wound he’s ever had, Sam’s given him stitches for much worse, but Dean’s never been able to receive the proper care for those things either. Really, he should be stopping Cas. Shoving him off and then acting like it’s the biggest crime the angel could have done.
But for some reason, he doesn’t. And he kind of likes all the doting and fawning anyways, even if he’ll never tell the angel that.
“What’s the matter? You don’t wanna use your angel mojo or whatever?” Dean questions as Castiel walks a few steps back, rubbing hydrogen peroxide onto a few circular cotton pads. The angel shrugs as he leans down to match Dean's eye level again.
“Can’t really do that anymore.” He simply says as Dean closes his eyes and holds in a breath.
Oh god, maybe it is like the end of the world universe. What if Cas got into drugs and instead chose to not follow Dean? To not stand by his side in the fight against Lucifer? He’s probably going out and having orgies with women every night! Not that Dean cares. That’s none of his business. Cas can bang whoever he wants.
He knows how disinfecting cuts works, he can practically feel all the bacteria burning off his blood cells, but Dean still winces and grabs onto Cas’ upper arm and squeezes tightly. That’s kind of the wrong thing he should’ve done, because now that he’s really squeezing it, he feels even more flustered.
Castiel is bulked, the clothing doesn’t help it either, he could tell just from leaving his bedroom. But really feeling it and clinging onto the muscular limb only makes him feel dizzier. What’s his workout routine? Does he even sweat? Is he the type to wear shorts or sweatpants or shirts at all?
“Are you in any pain? You’re squeezing my arm.” The angel states as he finally pulls the last cotton pad off Dean's face. He reluctantly lets go. “Ah, sorry. Yeah, the whole area kind of…hurts.”
There’s a mischievous look in Castiel’s eyes that Dean can’t quite make out, but he refocuses his attention on the first aid kit in front of him before the other man can notice anything. “Oh Cas, I don’t need a band-aid, c’mon now. I’m a big boy, I can take anything!”
The angel goes back to cradling Dean’s face as he finally gains the confidence to look him in the eyes. Those angelic lashes blink a few times before he starts to fan a hand on Dean’s face. “I know you have. You’re brave like that, but do you think it’s smart to have open wounds in the future like this? What if you go home and take a still-born illness with you.”
“What? That’s—uh…” Shit. He didn’t think of it like that. As Cas grabs his jaw with one hand, Dean lets him apply the plain bandage on his own face. The room grows comfortably silent as his touch lingers on Dean for what feels like forever. He could stay like this and be totally, utterly happy.
And then comes the whines of a dog outside.
Almost immediately, Dean whips his head to the side, finding the doorway of Castiel’s house and immediately calls to action. Just as he’s about to stand up, Castiel presses a hand to Dean’s chest and pushes him back down. “It’s not a hellhound, that’s—she’s my dog. I was supposed to take her on a walk.” Castiel explains a bit awkwardly as he leaves Dean at the table and walks to the door.
The scratchy sounds of the dog being let inside surprise Dean as he meets the cutest thing on earth. A white terrier mix comes walking in with a dog leash in her mouth as she eagerly walks up to Dean. She places her head on his thigh as he immediately gives her all the love he can fathom with ear scratches.
“I would’ve taken you for a cat guy! What’s her name?” Dean asks as the dog continues to stare at him. She doesn’t bark, but she gives him this confused look that signals something to Dean. Her tail wags as Dean finds a particularly good spot to scratch behind her ear.
Castiel fidgets with the pie as he tries to put it back in the fridge. “Oh, she just kind of fell into my life one day. Her name is Miracle. I felt that she was too polite to pass up, so she’s lived with me for the past two years.”
Dean smiles at her as she finally gets bored and walks away to a doggy bed kept in the corner of the living room. She’s been spoiled by Castiel, clearly, as she surrounds herself with an abundance of toys and nuzzles a piece of plaid fabric.
“Uh, hey, look Cas. I’m really sorry I woke up in your bed. Not in a weird way or anything like that, but through my own faults. I had this device after a hunt, messed with it, and now I’m stuck here invading your own personal time.”
Castiel’s face remains blank for a moment before he responds to Dean. “Oh, you were uh, already here. Your car’s in the front. You were going to accompany me and Miracle for a walk.”
Goddamn, he’s still alive at this point in time? Certainly Castiel would have had to raise him from the dead a few times over the years. There’s no way Dean got here in one full timeline. “Oh cool. Okay.”
Cas sighs as he stares at the refrigerator, shuffling some things around. “Dean. Look at me.”
His gaze on the tiles of the kitchen rise back to Castiel.
“It’s going to be okay. You can stay in my guest room for the time being. It’s going to take a while for you to come back home anyways. I’ll call Sam tomorrow, and we can take a drive to go visit him. For now, you can rest here till everything sorts itself out.”
The face Castiel makes is so calm Dean wonders if he knew the solution to Dean’s issue at hand. Should he ask? Would that mess up the timeline? It doesn’t really ease his situation, so he just nods and focuses on the now cold apple pie he’s yet to have eaten. The faint smell of the rubbing alcohol still lingers in the air.
“You can eat that or save your appetite for the pizza that’s coming. I suppose it is getting a bit late for Miracle to be taken on her walk today. Perhaps we should wind down in the living room instead.” Castiel states, glancing at Dean. The hunter nods along, but he’s still too curled in on himself to move at all. He eyeballs the living room, and still remains stuck at the kitchen table.
The angel sighs and walks towards Dean before literally dragging him into the other room. “Would you like to rewatch the Indiana Jones movies until we get too tired?”
Oh god help him, Future Cas knows him all too well. Dean silently nods as he brings him to the long sofa in the middle of the room. There’s a recliner too, perhaps for Bobby when he comes to visit. He hopes Bobby still comes to visit. Castiel grabs a remote while Dean just takes everything in, and by the time he turns around, Castiel is flickering through the TV and manually scrolling through Disney movies and shows like that’s not the coolest fucking thing Dean’s ever seen.
“Woah, what the hell?” His eyes widen as Cas manages to type in the first few letters of Indiana Jones on a search bar, finds all four movies, and then sits down next to Dean like nothing. “What is that? Since when did you become so tech-savvy?” He questions a bit flusteredly as Castiel pulls out a phone significantly bigger than Dean’s own as the opening credits roll in.
“It’s a streaming service. We share a Disney subscription to soothe your inner children. It’s mostly Sam and I who use it. I’m particularly fond of the elephant with the ginormous ears.” Castiel chuckles as he flaps his hands to the sides of his face.
Of course he does. Cas looks like a Dumbo guy, but when and how and why Castiel would find the time to sit down and watch all these movies to come to that decision baffles Dean. This version of Cas is far less uptight. He’s more sure of himself and his place in the world. Whatever that means to Dean isn’t something he wants to know about too much.
“Cool. Don’t really know what any of that means, but I’m glad we can watch Indiana Jones without renting out any cd’s so often.” The hunter quips as Miracle walks over and cuddles next to Dean’s leg on the floor. To have such a hairy dog in a carpeted living room sounds like a cleaning nightmare. He can’t fathom why Castiel would even take the animal in without going over this fact.
And he’s smirking. At Dean. Like Castiel’s in on the funniest joke in the room and not telling Dean about it. It’s a crime. Truly. Not just because Dean was dumb enough to let all this happen, but because he doesn’t even mind it. He just…gets to crash in Castiel’s home and play with his dog till everything ‘sorts itself out .’
This isn’t a case of Thirteen Going on Thirty, it’s more like Back to the Future.