Chapter Text
"We need to talk."
Dean waited for...well, himself, to look up. I will never get used to that. Is that really what my face looks like?
Dean–the version of Dean that he wasn't, yet, pushed a bottle toward him. The glass was grimy, and it didn't have a label.
That was as much of an answer as Dean had hoped for. He pulled up a chair and spun it backward to straddle it. "What exactly did you mean by 'messed up situation'?"
"I meant what I said. When you need to know something–"
"Yeah. I'll know. I got that part. But here's the thing: something is different. About Cas. Now, I don't know if you made a deal with him or what–"
"Something like that." Other-Dean didn't look him in the eye.
"That, right there." Dean snapped his fingers and pointed at his future face. "I know that look. The avoiding eye contact thing, that's my signature I-don't-want-to-deal-with-this-crap look. Now, either you tell me what's going on with Cas–"
"Or what? You'll kick your own ass?" Other-Dean shot back.
"You think I couldn't take myself in a fight?" What was he saying? Whatever his future work-out regimen was, it was paying off. It would be pretty embarrassing to get beaten up by himself. It would be the ultimate "stop hitting yourself."
He swallowed, his throat suddenly thick. Whatever was in the bottle was starting to look real good, even with the thin layer of sediment at the bottom. "I just want to know what's going on. If this is going to be my life, I should at least get a heads up."
Other-Dean stood slowly, towering over his past self. "This isn't your life. Not yet. Hopefully not ever. But right now, it's mine. And it sucks, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to hand the keys over to my doppelganger."
"I'm not a–" Dean held up his hands. "All I'm asking is to know if Cas is all right. You were me, once. You know how important Cas is–was–to...us. And he's not the same."
"None of us are the same," his future-self said, scooping up the bottle. He stalked toward the door. "And you have no idea how we feel about Cas. Not yet."
He left Dean alone, that "not yet" ringing in his brain.
Dean stopped outside Cas's cabin and took a long drink to finish off the bottle. When it was nearly empty, he bashed it against the porch. It was stupid, and it was wasteful, but it felt good. Of all the things the fall of humanity had robbed him of, decent booze and expendable glass to take out his frustrations on were high on the list.
The night was clammy, like a slimy blanket wrapped around him. He pounded on the lintel and called, "Cas? You alone?"
There was a momentary silence, followed by giggles, and Cas's, "I can be."
Another moment passed before two girls hurried out through the beaded curtain, their clothes bundled in their arms.
The free love crap was genius. Five years ago, Dean would have wished he'd thought of it.
Cas lay in a mound of pillows on the floor, sweaty, naked, and unapologetic.
"I see you're dispensing some spiritual guidance." Dean toed off his boots.
Cas grinned and stretched every muscle in his lean body. "What can I say? I learned at the feet of the master." He paused, falling intensely serious. "And the pizza man. And the cable installer. And the casting agent–"
Every now and then, shades of the old Cas emerged. The goofy, clueless, way-too-literal Cas that Dean had fallen for. The one who had slipped away so gradually, Dean hadn't known how to stop it, or that it was even happening at all.
"That's...more information than I'm gonna need," Dean said, tearing his gaze away.
When he glanced back, Cas's smiled widened. He lifted an eyebrow. "I didn't realize we still had anything to hide."
Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged off his jacket. "Something is different. About Cas." There wasn't time to worry about that, now. He had an apocalypse to deal with. People who depended on him. Sammy, out there somewhere with Lucifer riding around in him like a Gundam suit. That's why he and Cas kept it so casual. No strings. No messy feelings. Nothing that could interfere with the end of the world.
Just a messed up situation.
"So, whose cabin are you 'sleeping in' tonight?" Cas made quotes around the words. He rose and padded to the bed, where an ashtray waited on the nightstand. He lifted a half-burned joint and a lighter, cupping his hands around both to spark it up.
"Jane's covering for me again." The musty, earthy smoke reached out to Dean's senses like a phantom hand.
Cas settled on the bed, an arm thrown behind his head as he took a long hit. "Nobody's covering for you. Everyone already knows." He held up the joint in offering.
Dean waved it off. "Look, I'm tired. It's been one hell of a weird day. I just want to get some sleep."
"Are you sure? Because I can get Misty and Angela to come back–"
"Cas." Dean almost felt guilty for the wounded look on his friend's face. Almost. "I said I'm tired."
He undressed and blew out the stupid scented candles Cas wasted everywhere. Looks like a Pier One projectile vomited in here. He went to the bed and climbed under the covers. A moment and a rustle of the sheets later, Cas's warm, strong body spooned up behind him.
"You know it's just you, Dean," Cas whispered in the darkness. "None of the other stuff...none of it matters. Just you."
"Yeah," Dean said, his voice low, his heart hollow. "I know."