The Cave Mistake
Jensen x Reader (platonic); Dean x Reader; Sam Winchester, Castiel, Anael
A/N: This is for @idreamofplaid‘s Bunker Challenge and for @spndeanbingo. This idea came from the above-mentioned angel, Robin, and I just sort of ran with it. As she originally put it, think a Reversed French Mistake. This is my first time at anything like this, so please, take it with a grain of salt (or you know, buckets of salt). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!
Summary: Reader goes to look for Dean when he stands her up for their date, only to find someone that looked familiar in his place.
Bunker Room: Dean’s Cave
SPN Dean Bingo Square filled: Supernatural
Warnings: Language, bit of angst, bit of floof
WC: 6K
“Dean?! Dean, I know you’re here you son of a bitch!” you screamed, angry and hurt that he stood you up. It wasn’t like him, and even though you had a bit of a disagreement the day before, you didn’t think it was enough for him to blow you off.
Three hours you waited for him at that damn bar. Earlier that day, he promised you a night off of hunting and a good time. Something you both needed, together. As far as you knew, there was no hunt, Dean always calls you to tell you when they were leaving for a job; always.
The bunker was quiet. No Dean. No Sam. Not that that was unusual, but it was creepy quiet. The entire place was ensconced in the red glow of the emergency lights, and there was the slightest hint of something witchy in the air.
Withdrawing your gun from the inside pocket of your leather jacket, you held it out in front of you as you carefully checked each room, only to find them all empty. As you made your way back around to the library, a sound from far down the hall caught your attention. It sounded like it was coming from…
“Dean’s cave. Dammit. I swear… If you are passed out drunk in there--” you muttered as you angrily stalked down the long corridor. “I will whoop your ass, Winchester…”
Once you were outside the door, it was quiet again; so much so that you almost turned and left, but then you heard it again. It sounded like a moan…
Closing your eyes and praying that you weren’t about to catch Dean shitfaced on the floor, you slowly opened the door to Dean’s man cave, and found it empty of the eldest Winchester. In fact, there was no one in there at all, at least that you could see.
Slowly you walked around the room, gun up, finger near the trigger. It wasn’t a big space; easily checked with a quick glance around—or so you thought. Just as you were about to lower your gun and leave, you heard the moan again. Over in the small space between the foosball table and the wall, you saw them… A pair of shoes were sticking out from the legs that disappeared into the shadows.
You set the sight of the gun on the body laying there, ready to shoot it if it charged. You got closer, and gingerly nudged the legs to see if they would move. The owner of the body groaned, deep and raspy, and started to move. That’s when you noticed that whoever it was, they were wearing weird looking shoes and khaki shorts.
Keeping your target on the calf of the intruder, you waited until they were almost sitting up. When their head breached the top of the foosball table, and you thought you saw a familiar face, you lowered your gun. You cocked your head to the side and stared in a curious fashion and he continued to stand up.
“Dean?” you asked, staring at the man who was the identical twin to your boyfriend, but somehow looked nothing like him. “What… Who? Who the Hell are you?!”
“What?” he rasped and brought his hand to the side of his head. The man grabbed onto the side of the foosball table and used it to support himself to stand up. At his full height, his back was still facing you and being unable to see his face in the ambient light of the room, you lifted your gun again.
“Who are you?”
He finally turned around, just as the lights came back on. The stranger wore Dean’s face alright, right down to the green eyes and freckles across his nose.
“What?” he asked again. “Where the fuck am I?”
You clicked the hammer back and put your finger closer to the trigger.
“I am not gonna ask you again, asshole. Who are you and why do you have my boyfriend’s face?”
“Your… my face?” he shook his head, but the confusion didn’t falter. “Just give me a minute… where…” he looked around and realization dawned on his face. “I’m on set. Why am I on set…” he paused again. “HOW am I on set. I’m not even IN Vancouver right now…” his voice trailed off over the last few words as he stepped out from behind the foosball table. That was when he finally noticed the gun that was currently keeping him in its crosshairs.
“Jesus lady! What the fuck!” he yelled and went to grab it from your hand.
In one swift movement, you stepped out of the way, got behind him, grabbed one of his arms twisted it up to his back and pressed the gun to the back of his head.
“Oww! What the Hell is your problem?!”
“My problem?! Buddy, YOU’RE the one with the problem. I will ask you ONE more time… then, I’ll put a bullet in you. WHO are you and HOW did you get into the bunker?”
“Jensen… my name is Jensen, okay? And I work here. This is the set to a show! My show! But I don’t… I don’t know how I got here. I was in Nashville playing golf. We were about to head to the hotel to change for a panel and then, everything went black.”
His voice was strong, not wavering in the least, but you could still tell he was scared. It could have been due to the gun you kept pressed to his neck, but you certainly weren’t going to take any chances.
“Panel?” you asked, confused by the whole situation. Why did this guy look just like Dean? Well… the clothes were definitely off, and this Jensen guy had a nearly full beard, otherwise, he was Dean’s doppelganger.
Slowly, you lowered the gun and began to ease the tension on the arm you had up around his back. He shook you free and stepped away exasperated.
“Seriously, what the fuck is going on?!” He seemed panicked and bordering on manic. Before you could tell him to stop, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He was muttering to himself as he opened his contacts and scrolled til he found who he was looking for. But when he hit call, you could hear the tone beeping through his receiver and the operator come on to tell him it wasn’t a valid call.
“Come on,” he groaned and tried again. Then another contact, and another, until he reached the conclusion that there was no one to call. Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily, brought the phone to his forehead and rested it there.
The whole thing would have been funny if it wasn’t sorta sad. “Look, buddy, I don’t know who you are, but you look just like my boyfriend, Dean--”
“Winchester,” he said finishing your sentence. “Yeah, I know him… I AM him.”
“What? No, you’re not. Dean wouldn’t wear clothes like that, especially not khakis and a Polo shirt… and are those kleets? He certainly never grew a beard,” you challenged.
“Yeah, I know, they’d never let me,” he muttered. “And these?” he pointed to his feet. “Golf shoes… I was somewhere on the back nine last I remember. Besides the point, I play Dean Winchester, on a show, called Supernatural. My name… its Jensen Ross Ackles. I was born on March 1, 1978. Dean was born--”
“January 24th, I know. I have celebrated his birthday with him every year for the last few years.”
“Years? What? No… no! The longest Dean ever had someone was Lisa, and he was only with her a year.”
You watched in horror as this stranger with your boyfriend’s face recanted Dean’s history to you; every minute detail, every little scrap of his life… this guy knew all about it. Well, except for you. Apparently, you were the wild card.
“And when did Dean get another girlfriend?!” he finally finished, raising his hands in the air then slapping down against the outer part of his thigh. “Fuck me I need a drink.”
Jensen continued to pace, and as he whipped out his cell phone again.
“Are you willing it to give you a different outcome?” you asked, not without sarcasm.
“I--no. I just… here, I’ll show you.” He navigated to the internet and typed his name into the search bar. Nothing. No results. “That can’t be.” He tried again, and nothing.
“Look, whoever you are, you are not in Vancouver. You are in Lebanon, Kansas. This is Men of Letters bunker, currently inhabited by The Winchesters. This is--”
“No!” he exclaimed with a note of fear. “This is a television show set, in Vancouver, Canada, and you’re a PA who Misha probably set up to prank me,” he said, his nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed, but as the thought left his lips, he seemed to relax.
“Misha? Who the fuck is Misha?”
Jensen sighed and looked at you with an air of annoyance. “You probably know him as Castiel.”
You nodded slowly, and finally decided it was safe enough to stow your gun back in its rightful place. “I do know Cas, but… he’s not been to Earth in a few years now. He returned to Heaven after…”
“After, what?” Jensen asked in mocking fashion.
“You know what? Fuck you. I don’t have to explain myself. YOU are the stranger here. Not me.”
“Yeah, okay lady. Tell Misha I said he got a great actress, okay? He wins. Prank war, over.”
“Ok, I’ve had enough. Come on, pretty boy, let’s go,” you said and motioned towards the door.
“Go where?”
“Out into the bunker. Show me where the ‘set’ is supposed to be, hm? Or the cameras… where are they?”
“Fine. I will,” he replied, an arrogant smirk on his face.
His resemblance to Dean was scary, they were identical in their mannerisms and tone of voice. But this guy was different, it only took a few minutes to see that. He was lighter and much less… haunted.
Jensen went to leave the room, put his hand on the door and paused. You couldn’t see his face, but the way his shoulders slumped you assumed he came to some kind of reckoning. He picked his head up and turned to face you.
“Problem?” you asked, hands firmly planted on your hips.
“Slight one. I just realized that if this were the set, that wouldn’t be there,” he said and motioned towards the wall behind the mini bar. But yet…”
“There’s a wall.”
“Precisely.”
“So, quite a conundrum we find ourselves in here… what was it again?”
“Jensen,” he grumbled, casting his gaze up to the ceiling.
“Now what? Think maybe the truth might finally work for ya?”
“Lady, I am telling you--”
“Call me lady again, and I certainly will not respond like one,” you warned, reaching for the gun in your jacket pocket.
Jensen put his hands up in relent and walked around the room towards the mini-bar. When he went behind it and found the small fridge full of cold beer, he pulled one out and popped the top. Chugging half the beer, he turned and looked at the wall curiously. You watched as he pounded on it at the seems, and tried to both push and pull on it.
“What the HELL are you doing?” you asked, unable to stay quiet.
“It’s a fake wall, right? I mean, this isn’t real. None of this is real.”
“I’ll tell you what, let’s go take that walk after all, hm? Maybe if you see that the bunker is solid and that there’s no camera crew, you can stop acting like a lunatic and help me figure out what the fuck is going on.”
Jensen considered it for a moment and agreed. “I honestly don’t have anything else so, why not.”
“Well, as you keep saying, you have played this part for years. So, get in his head and think. What happened?”
He paused a moment and you could tell he was trying, but he was coming up blank.
“Fine. let’s just take a look through the bunker. Maybe if you walk around, you’ll get an idea of how you got here.”
You lead him through the various rooms, and in each one he looked around as if he was lost in some kind of fog, mumbling to himself as he went. He went down each corridor, through the kitchen, all the bedrooms, war room, library, even the firing range, and storage. Eventually, you lead him up through the main door and up to the garage.
It was in the garage, that your concern over Dean’s whereabouts grew. He wouldn’t go anywhere without his car, and the Impala was currently parked in its usual spot.
Jensen heard you inhale sharply, and looked you over. “You alright?”
“Fine,” you replied curtly.
“You don’t look fine.”
“Yeah, well, you may have his face but you don’t look like Dean. So, where the fuck is he and why are you here?
That's where the wheels started to come off for Dean’s look-a-like. He started to laugh, almost manically and then rub his hands over his face. A thought had occurred to you, a sick one, but one you had to follow regardless.
“I’m just gonna put this out there if this is some elaborate prank--”
“But!! That’s just what I said!!” Jensen exclaimed, his face twisted into a mix of exasperation and panic.
“You said Misha was pranking you. I am saying if you ARE Dean, and this is a way to fuck with me....”
Jensen exhaled and shook his head for a beat before it snapped up and held your gaze.
“Dean has one tattoo, right? The anti-possession tattoo on his chest…”
You shrugged. “Yeah, so?”
Jensen pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal a bare spot where the ink should have been. “See, nothing. Also…” he pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal an elaborate tattoo of a bird. “He doesn’t have this.”
You stepped closer to inspect it, and when you reached out to touch his skin, he flinched. “I just want to be sure it’s real.”
“Oh, it’s real. I got it for my daughter. I am telling you, my name is Jensen. I am not from here… this is… this…” he started laughing again and just turned to wander down the path back to the bunker, but kept turning around to see if you were following him.
By the time you were back in the safety of the bunker, Jensen went right to the cave and to the beer he left sitting on the mini bar top.
“You were saying?” you said, falling into one of the recliners.
“I just… Wait. We did this…” Jensen mumbled and paced the room, eventually coming to sit in the recliner beside yours. “This was an episode, this was… fuck… season five. No, six. Shit!” He growled in frustration and continued mumbling to himself. “Do something as long as this and it all blurs together.”
“What?”
He looked at you and shook his head. “Nothing. It's just that, on our show, we had an episode like this. It was angels. Angels threw Dean and Sam into another reality. Where they were us. It was so dumb, but also pretty meta,” he snorted a laugh but when you didn’t return his humor, his face fell. “Whatever. My point is, is if this is REALLY happening, its gotta be angels.”
“Angels. Angels are gone, man. I guess your show didn’t cover that?”
“Well, sort of. They’re almost all gone,” he replied.
“I’m calling Sam. He’s gotta be able to help. Or at least know where Dean is.”
“Yes! Call Jar--Sam. Good call,” he smiled and leaned forward, resting his elbows along his legs and nervously rubbed his hands together.
You pulled the cell from your pocket and found Sam on speed dial. His phone didn’t ring, just beeped like the old house phones used to when they were busy.
“Damn. I’ll try Dean, again.”
Same problem.
“Shit.”
“No luck?” he asked.
“Clearly,” you replied and held up the darkened screen of the phone. “I wonder…” you went back to your contacts and dialed Rowena.
No answer.
“Fuck!”
Frustrated, you got up from the recliner and went back to the mini bar grabbing two bottles. As you walked back to the chair, you handed one to Jensen even though he didn’t ask.
“I’m not Dean, remember. I certainly can’t drink like he does.”
“Yeah, well, suck it up buttercup. Down the hatch. You’re gonna need it.”
Jensen laughed. “I gotta ask you… shit… I don’t even know your name.”
You eyed him suspiciously. There had been some weird shit that went down around Sam and Dean over the years, but this was a new kind of cuckoo.
“Y/N,” you said and went back to trying to figure out what to do next.
“It's very odd to meet you, Y/N. Mind I ask you something?”
“Why not.”
“How did you meet Dean?”
“Oh, I’m not on your show?” you couldn’t help reply with a heavy dose of sarcasm. Jensen simply shook his head in response. “Too bad.”
“So? How did you and Dean end up together?”
“What do you care?”
“Because I AM him. I am. I have played that character for damn near fifteen years, and now that it's all coming to an end…” he trailed off, his expression growing distant and sad.
“Jensen?”
“Uh? Sorry. I drifted. I’m just curious. Regardless of whatever the hell this all is, Dean is clearly living a life that I’m not apart of and I want to know how he met a girl like you.”
“A girl like me?” you didn’t know if you should be offended or not.
“Spunky. Fierce. Not gonna lie… a little scary.”
You shrugged demurely and smiled. “Aw, ain’t you a charmer.”
“Let’s not forget sarcastic.”
“It’s the language of my people.”
“Yes, Dean’s too. So, tell me. How?”
“We met on a job. I was the job. He was the hunter. Simple as that.”
“What kind of job?”
“Jesus, Jensen. Does it matter?”
“It does to me, okay?”
“It was a haunting, and they showed up out of nowhere. I had no idea what it was but I was scared, and it was coming after me every night. They guys showed up, claiming to be paranormal researchers, and asked if they could check the place out. I said yes because I wanted whatever it was to get out.”
“Did they do it?”
You nodded quietly. You didn’t want to talk about the case. It was personal and hard to discuss with anyone that wasn’t Dean; even a man who wore the same face.
“Dean stuck around afterward. Made sure I was ok. Then, I don’t know one thing led to another, and now here we are a few years later and…” you shrugged.
“You’re still together.”
“Yup.”
Jensen’s expression changed and despite the craziness of the situation. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked almost peaceful.
“Holy shit!” he said and jumped up out of the chair. “I remember!” He placed the beer down on the floor next to the recliner and went over to where he woke up by the foosball table. There, on the wall was what he had thought of. “Look, see!”
You got up and walked around to see what he was pointing at. On the bottom of the wall was a small sigil, painted in a dark red substance you were pretty sure was blood.
Jensen touched it, then wrinkled his nose and quickly wiped his hand on his far-too-clean khakis. “Oh God, I hope that's just painted on… in paint.”
Rolling your eyes, you pushed him out of the way to get a better look. It had been a long time since you had seen anything Enochian, but it was a symbol you knew well. “Fucking angels,” you groaned as you studied it closely. “Dammit.”
“See, I told you!” Jensen smiled, proud of himself, but still trying to get the red mark off his fingers.
“Good for you, you get a gold star,” you replied half-assed, ignoring the glaring look Jensen gave you.
Wracking your brain you moved away from the sigil and began to pace the cave, running your fingers along the bars of the foosball table. Chewing your bottom lip, you tried to figure out what to do next. Angels had left Earth years before, right after Chuck had come back and saved humanity from a very ugly ending. Calling on them now may prove difficult, but it was the only choice you had.
Sitting in the recliner again, you closed your eyes and let your fingers intertwine with each other, clasping them together tightly. “Dear Castiel, I know its been a long time, but, if there is any way you can hear me if you can hear any part of this prayer… I need your help. Dean and Sam, they’re gone. I need--”
“I know,” you heard from the doorway right after a rush of wind lifted your hair from your face. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know where they are and I am working on getting them back.”
“Castiel,” you breathed as you slowly stood up. “You’re here.”
“I am. I’m sorry I’ve been, MIA, as Dean would say. Heaven is once again falling into chaos--” he stopped as he noticed Jensen standing near the table. “Who…” Castiel paused and in a flash was standing behind Jensen, making him jump. Cas inconspicuously sniffed the air around Jensen’s head, frowning before flying back to where he had been. “Despite looking very much like him, this is not Dean.”
“No, Cas. It’s not. That’s what I am saying. Dean was gone and in his place…” you motioned towards Jensen, “This.”
“Hey,” Jensen whined.
“So, you said you know. What do you know? Where are they? What happened?”
“It's another angel, she’s…” Castiel trailed off and gestured vaguely. “She’s causing trouble. She wants me to help her, claims she has a vision of how God wanted humanity to be. Claims he left her with it the last time he walked the Earth.”
“After Jack?”
“Yes,” Castiel replied.
“Oh, yeah, the Jack story. Huh,” Jensen smiled. “That was a crazy one man, I liked how--” he stopped talking when he realized both you and Castiel were staring at him strangely. “Just saying it was a cool way to wrap... up… that... I’m just gonna finish my beer now.”
“Good idea,” you said to him and turned back to Castiel. “Alright, so which angel?”
“Anael.”
“Oh! I remember her!” Jensen butted in again. “On the show, my wife played Anael. Pretty cool, right?”
“What is he talking about? What show?” Cas muttered, leaning in close so maybe Jensen wouldn’t hear.
“Long story for another day. Can you get to her? Find out why she did this?”
“She wants me to help invoke her vision of the new heaven. I told her no. She claims I owe her one and told me she would torture my ‘favorite humans’ if I refused her,” Cas sighed and dropped his arms to his side after using dramatic air quotes.
“Meaning Dean and Sam.”
“Yes.”
“Well, she followed through. So, go find the angel bitch now, get my boys back, Cas.”
“I’ll do my best, Y/N.” With that, he was gone.
“Wow,” Jensen whispered loudly. “To see it really happen. Amazing.”
“Yeah, its Aces.”
You went back to where you left your beer and finished the bottle in one long pull. Making your way back to the mini bar, you grabbed another.
“So,” Jensen said, trying to hard to be casual, and strolled over to where you were standing. “Can I ask you something else?”
“What?”
“It's personal.”
You looked at him, exasperated and tired. “What, Jensen?”
“Do you, uh… I mean, are you in love with Dean?”
The question made you snort a laugh and sigh. “I’m not going to answer that.”
“Why?”
“Because it's personal.”
“Yeah, but see, in my world, Dean is mine. He’s me, in some form. And in my world, the show is ending. I have to say goodbye to him soon. This whole thing, which I'm still not convinced isn’t some kind of bad fever dream, or I don’t know… feels more like a bad acid trip, but either way, it's happening. It happened right before we finished up the show. For good.”
“Oh,” you said, and suddenly worried what may happen after that. “If you end the show… what happens here? Do we keep going?”
“God I hope so,” he sighed. For the first time since the entire debacle started, you felt an odd connection with him. Maybe it was that the expression he wore, it looked the most like Dean's, even with the beard and country club look. “When we film that last episode, just knowing that Dean Winchester is still out there, somewhere, living his best life with his brother, his car and his best girl at his side…” Jensen trailed off and shrugged. “That would make it just a little bit easier to close that chapter of my life and move on.”
His words hung in the air and seemed to suck the breath from your lips. The weight of all that was going on finally hit you hard enough to have to hold onto the bar for support. Jensen wanted to know if you loved Dean. It wasn’t something you and he had ever said, but you always felt it from him.
“It's okay,” he continued. “You don’t have to answer.”
“Yes,” you replied suddenly and before you could stop yourself. “I do love him. I think I have from the minute I met him.”
Jensen’s face softened, and he tried to hide his grin, but you saw it anyway.
“And you guys… you’re happy?” he asked.
“I mean, yeah? He drives me crazy constantly, drinks too much, drives too fast, is reckless on hunts, always uses all the hot water and is very bossy. But, yeah. I’m happy. I wouldn’t want anyone else.”
Before Jensen could speak, the sound of fluttering wings filled your ears. You turned around quickly, ready to pounce in case it wasn’t Castiel. That’s when you saw her, her upper arm held firmly in Castiel’s grip.
“Anael, I presume,” you said, trying to keep yourself calm.
She didn’t reply but just stared daggers into you.
“Yes, Y/N. This is Anael,” Castiel answered for her.
You casually turned back to Jensen and saw the look on his face. He was both scared and captivated, unable to take his eyes off the angel in front of him.
“That’s your wife?” you whispered.
“Well, that’s what she looks like,” he said and swallowed thickly. “But that ain’t her.”
His eyes grew wide as Anael tried to bring herself up at full power, but Cast was able to reel her back in before she could blind both you and Jensen.
“Enough, Anael!”
“Fine,” she sighed. “What do you want?”
“I want my boys back!” you yelled, but she wasn't scared, she just laughed.
“Ok. As soon as Castiel agrees to help me. It's pretty simple.” She was cocky, just like you remembered the angels being. It made you want to find the closest angel blade and use it to wipe the smirk off of her face.
“Fine. He’ll help you. Now go get them and put this one back where he belongs,” you motioned towards Jensen who stepped behind the safety of the mini bar and continued to watch it all play out.
“Y/N,” Castiel commanded. “I will not help her. What she wants to do--”
“I don’t CARE!” your voice roared through the cave, bouncing off the concrete walls and piercing through the angel’s ears. Turning your sight onto Anael, you walked closer to her, and without asking or warning, you slipped your hand into Castiel’s coat and retrieved the angel blade that you knew lived there. Before he could grab it back, you had it at her throat, pressing it taut against her host’s skin.
“Go ahead, then see how easy it is for you to get your precious boys home. Then you’ll just be stuck with that one over there. The one who only pretends to be Dean Winchester.”
“You know what, red? Here’s what you’re gonna do. Knock off the bullshit, go retrieve Sam and Dean wherever the hell you stashed them. Then, return Jensen back to his rightful place. Only then, will you get what you want.”
“Hmm, I don’t think so,” she said, still very calm and collected. “Simple trade. I get Castiel’s word he backs me in Heaven, and you get the Winchesters back. He ”
“And, me?” Jensen asked, raising his hand halfway up. “What happens to me.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Anael said and winked at him. “I’ll be sure you get home safely. Just as soon as Castiel gives me what I want.”
“I don’t owe you anything, Anael,” Castiel replied stoically.
“Don't you? Remember when that little Nephilim problem was out of control? I helped you find a way to talk to God. And God returned, didn’t he? He came in time to stop that Nephilim from destroying the world. Sure, it got us put in a Heavenly time out for the last couple of years. But, I helped you. Now, it's your turn.”
“If I remember, I gave you jewelry--”
“Listen here, you bitch…” you growled, pushing the blade down on her harder ignoring their pointless banter. “I don’t give a shit about what Castiel owes you. You will go and retrieve Sam and Dean or I will make sure you suffer.”
“Do you really think calling me names is the way to get what you want?” she laughed despite the gash of light that was starting to form on her throat.
“Look me in the eye and see if I give a shit. Now. Bring them back, or I slit your throat. Then, I’ll make it my mission to hunt down every angel in heaven, even if that means booking myself a one-way ticket up there just to torture all of you feathered dickheads. Or, you could just return them, send Jensen home and I will see what I can do about getting Castiel to assist your mission.”
You immediately gave Castiel a warning look to just stay quiet. The tension in the room was thick with animosity, as you and Anael held each other’s gaze; one waiting for the other to break. It took more than a minute, but Anael must have weight her options, and you saw her expression falter.
“Fine. Release me, Castiel. You can take the blade away, honey. I’ll go retrieve your boys. This was fun for a while but honestly, it's just sort of pathetic now.”
You reluctantly took the blade from her throat and stepped back. You gave Castiel a slight nod and he let go of Anael’s arm. She smoothed out her clothes and primped her hair before looking from face to face.
“Give me a moment, I’ll be back with the boys. You,” she said and pointed at Jensen, “Let’s go.”
Before you could say another word, Anael and Jensen were both gone. A second went by, the bunker lights flickered off and on rapidly, finally sending the emergency lights back on. The red glow in the cave gave it an ominous atmosphere causing a moment of panic to settle in. It lasted only a minute, and the lights corrected themselves just as there were two loud thumps that came from the hallway.
You and Castiel just looked at each other, then turned your heads in unison towards the door to the cave. You could hear movement coming from the other side. Unsure of what it could be, you handed Castiel back his blade and withdrew your gun from your jacket one more time. The handle started to turn, both you and the angel ready to fight if need be.
As soon as it pushed open all the way, light from the hallway trickled in and you could see Dean and Sam’s silhouettes against it. Overcome with relief, you laid your weapon down on the foosball table and jumped into Dean's arms.
“Holy Hell… baby, it's good to see you,” he breathed, burying his face into your neck. His arms were hooked around your waist and he had no plans of letting go.
“Sam, Dean… are you alright?” Castiel asked, and began to look Sam over.
“We’re fine, Cas. It's good to see you,” Sam huffed, and grabbed Castiel’s shoulder, giving him a familiar squeeze. “Been a while, huh?”
“I’m sorry it was under these circumstances. Anael--”
“There’s time for that later, Cas,” you said and looked back up at Dean. “Where were you?”
“I don’t even know… it was… weird. I mean, even for us, weird.”
“Weird how?”
Sam rubbed his arm and looked like he’d just been through it. “It was awful. We were in this place… another damn TV Show. We thought it was the trickster at first.”
“Was it Supernatural?” you asked, and they both looked at you curiously.
“No, not this time… How did you…?”
“Another long story,” you said with a sigh of relief.
“It was this place called Stars Hollow. Apparently, I was Dean,” Sam snorted, “and this one… they kept calling him Jess…”
“We had to smile at people constantly. One day there I feel I’ve been bad touched all over,” Dean groaned. “Seriously, I need a shower.” He looked up at Castiel really seeing him for the first time. “Cas… it's good to see you.”
Dean embraced his old friend quickly, then immediately returned to you and pulled you into him again, holding you tight like you were his anchor holding him bound to where he belonged.
“Good to see all of you. I guess, all things considered, maybe I should start coming around more often. With Anael in the wind…” he shrugged.
“You shouldn’t have left,” Dean said quietly. “You’re family, Cas,” Dean said and squeezed you tighter against him. “You’re our family. Right guys?”
You and Sam both agreed and the angel blushed. “Thank you. After everything ended… I just needed time.”
“Understandable. But now, you’re back. So stick around a while, alright? I owe my girl here a night out, and then we can get into all those long stories you two seem to have.”
“That can wait, Dean.”
He gazed down at you, his eyes soften and his smile warm. “It can’t. I didn’t know if I’d see you again, and that killed me. Right now answers sound great, but being alone with you sounds better.”
You knew when to argue and when not too. Now was not the time. “Ok.”
Dean kissed the top of your head and turned to his brother. “Sammy, you gonna be alright?”
“Yeah man, you and Y/N go out, unwind. We’ll all compare notes tomorrow. That shower sounds like a good idea.”
Giving both Sam and Cas a hug, you and Dean walked out of the cave and down the corridor of the bunker. You couldn’t help but stare at him, and then remember Jensen. They really were physically identical, and yet it amazed you at how different they were.
Dean felt your eyes on him and scowled. “What?”
“Nothing,” you said then proceeded to slowly look him up and down. “Have you ever thought about playing golf? I’d be you look really freaking cute in those shorts.”
“What? No! You hit your head or something?”
“No, concussion-free. Just got to thinking…”
“Well stop it. Unless you’re thinking about how you can make that up to me later. Golf… she says.” Dean shook his head and grabbed your hand, pulling you close and ushering you down the hall and out of the bunker for your long-awaited night out.
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