Dean started as if from a dream, and the walls of the barn came into focus all around him. Sigils painted everywhere, and the metallic smell of paint still clinging to the air. He ran a hand slowly through his hair, trying to process what had happened. One minute, he’d been in the bunker, researching ways to take down Chuck, and the next he was here. He knew exactly where he was, he wouldn’t soon forget this place. But why? And how? And most importantly–
“You alright, boy?” He turned his head and saw Bobby standing in the corner, touching up one of the symbols on the wall.
“Dean, we’re going to figure this out. Whatever evil son of a bitch did this to you, he’s gonna die.”
Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The only way this could have happened was Chuck. Chuck messing with his little toys again, playing his stupid game. And the one thing they knew for sure about Chuck was that he wanted his happy ending. He wanted the boys to play their part, to play along. So, if he was getting out of this, then he had to play along.
Bobby did the ritual and they waited. Dean remembered saying something, mouthing off to Bobby last time, the first time. But there was no need. He knew he did the ritual right. He knew the angel of Thursday was coming.
The barn overhead started shaking and he glanced at Bobby to make sure he was alright. This place, this moment, he thought about it more than he cared to admit. The first time he was here, he was so lost. Scared, confused, alone. But not willing to admit any of it. He didn’t want to be like that Dean. The Dean that locked up his emotions and pushed away his family. Was that what Chuck was trying to show him? How weak he’d become?
Sparks flew as the lights exploded and the barn doors were flung open to reveal Castiel. But not his Castiel. He struggled to focus on that thought. This Castiel was a soldier. An angel who followed orders and would slaughter him without a second thought. This Castiel did not care about Dean.
As the angel walked toward them, he saw Bobby raise his shotgun, and he hurried to do the same, knowing that it wouldn’t do anything. Appearances had to be maintained.
Bobby cast a nervous look at Dean when Castiel kept walking, unbothered by the storm of lead. Dean set his shotgun aside and picked up the demon knife.
“Who are you?” he asked, even though he knew. He knew better than anyone else.
“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” Dean had to fight to keep the smile off his face. Cas had been such a tightass.
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