yeah actually we removed the big bad wolf from the little red riding hood story because portraying violence against minors is really messed up. yeah. yeah also the wolf narrative was really predatory and had had some icky grooming vibes and a fable meant for literal children shouldnāt have implied p*do shit and grape so now little red riding hood goes into the woods and nothing happens and she goes to grandmaās house. donāt worry our kids will still stick to the path and know not to follow to wolves implicitly because we told them to and children should always do as their told. just like little red riding hood does now.
Thereās a knife in Deanās hand that shouldnāt be there. The wooden handle is cool under his calloused grip, solid and so familiar. His palms are littered with invisible scars from repeatedly, pointlessly, tearing at his chains in Hell, and he can feel them all running across his skin in burning lines, as if the knife knows.
His ears are ringing, and his head is pounding, but he grips the handle tighter.
āYou're the most caring man on earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.ā
āWho are you?ā Deanās mouth moves, but he barely recognises the voice that comes out, barely registers the words.
āIām the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.ā
That voice. He knows that voice. Doesnāt he? But theyāre only just meeting. He canāt-
āYou changed me, Dean.ā
āYeah,ā Dean says, though he doesnāt even know what heās saying. āThanks for that.ā
In one fluid motion he slams the blade into the heart of his target. It slides in with no resistance, only stopping when itās buried to the hilt, as far as it can go, but it has no effect.
Dean looks up into a strangerās face thatās so familiar he could pick it out of a crowd of a million people. Eyes so vibrantly blue he wants to drown in them. A self-satisfied smirk that makes him want to punch the guyās face, even as a phantom pain of broken knuckles bursts over the back of his hand.
The ringing in Deanās ears increases in pitch and volume and he staggers back from the sound, holding his head in his hands.
āGoodbye, Dean.ā
āCas?ā Dean whispers, finally feeling in control of his voice.
The stranger ā his best friend ā pauses at that, and his head tilts to one side as he pulls the blade free from his chest and drops it to the ground with a loud clang.
Dean barely registers Bobby taking a swing, and the easy way he goes down after a quick touch of his forehead, because it feels like if he lets go of his head it might explode.
āCas?ā Dean says again, looking into the face of a man that he both doesnāt know and knows better than anybody. Thereās an almost ghostly reflection overlaid onto him, except this version looks older, with deep crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and heās both crying and smiling. It makes Deanās chest ache fiercely.
Donāt go. Donāt leave me. I love you too! Why canāt I say it!
Like an elastic band snapping into place, the ground suddenly feels solid under Deanās feet and the ringing sound vanishes, leaving him finally clearheaded. He gasps in a desperate breath and for the first time realises where he is.
It canāt beā¦
Itās the barn where they met.
Shards of glass from the broken lights are scattered across the floor, glittering in the shadows, sigils and protective charms have been hastily painted along the walls, and there he stands amongst it all, drowning in his trench coat ā Castiel, Angel of the Lord.
The last thing Dean remembers is sitting on the cold, hard floor of the dungeon, choking on his own sobs, while his heart shattered inside his chest.
Howā¦
Casās eyes narrow as he stares intensely at him, and his eyebrows scrunch together. āYour soulā¦ itās older than your bodyā¦ thatās not possible,ā he rumbles. āAre you time travel-ā
Heās cut off as Dean lunges at him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and burying his face into the crook of his neck. He smells so strongly of ozone that it makes Deanās sinuses hurt. But heās here. Itās Cas. Heās alive.
Dean laughs wildly, afraid that heāll cry if he doesnāt let out some of the energy crackling inside him. āMaybe!ā he almost yells into Casās coat collar. āFuck, maybe Iām time travelling, maybe Iām dreaming, maybe I died on that fucking dungeon floor, but you were- and I just-ā He thinks of Casās contented smile as he was sucked into the black void of the Empty and holds on even tighter.
Cas feels like a living statue beneath him, but the pulse in his neck kicks up a notch just before he throws Dean off and steps backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.
It had always been that way with Cas ā the cracks in his faƧade, the imperfections, the humanity. Even now, even when heās as perfect a soldier as he can be, there were always cracks.
āYou should-ā Cas starts, straightening up to his full height, and clearly trying to shake off how much this interaction is clearly not going how he planned.
āShow you some respect? Buddy, you donāt know how much of my respect you have. God, I never even told you. I should have told you. You thought-ā Dean says, barely coherent, running a hand through his hair, ā-you thought you were always the player that could be swept off the board and nobody would care. Well, I care! You son of a bitch!ā
Cas stares at him like he canāt understand a word heās saying, which is fair, he supposes, heās not making much sense.
How can he be back here again, with all his memories intact?
Dean stares hard at the younger Castiel and the fierceness of his love almost takes his breath away. It doesnāt matter that Cas doesnāt know him yet, it doesnāt matter that heās still loyal to Heaven right now, it doesnāt even matter that Dean still has no idea how he got back here ā none of that matters.
If this is his second chance to do better by Cas, to stop him from dying, or from taking in the Leviathan, from losing his mind helping Sam, being a vessel for Lucifer, making that stupid deal with the Emptyā¦ If this is his chance to tell him how much heās loved, to know how much heās loved ā Deanāll take it.
Casās eyes widen.
Dean doesnāt know if heās reading his mind or looking at his soul, but whatever Cas sees has him flee in a flurry of wingbeats. Gone.
Even that feels achingly familiar, and Dean has to laugh again, trying to convince himself that the tears he rubs away fiercely with his arm are just from laughing too hard.
If heās really in the past it means heās got a second chance to stop the impending apocalypse and keep Sam from the Cage too.
Heās going to have his cake and eat it, dammit.
Besides, itās already happened once by total accident, and this time Dean knows what heās doing and what heās feeling ā how hard can it be for Cas to fall for him all over again?
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