Chapter Text
He hadn’t been aware that he was falling until he’d already hit the ground. The air would’ve rushed out of his lungs, if he was using them. Sitting up groggily, Castiel becomes aware of multiple things at the same time. One, he has evidently just crashed through the ceiling of some flimsy building; two, there is an ominous growling noise; and three, he isn’t alone. Dean Winchester stands in front of him, brandishing a rifle. But he looks… wrong. Well, not wrong, but different. Younger than he remembers. He has a light in his eyes that Castiel hasn’t seen before. It was gone by the time he gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. He wonders if he forgot it when he rebuilt Dean’s body.
He realizes after a dizzying moment that Dean- young Dean, he looks so young- is trying to get his attention.
“What?” He says, watching as Dean sighs and repeats himself.
“I said, you have to get out of here, man, it’s not safe.” He says, eyes scanning around the warehouse before falling back on Castiel.
His heart gives a pang, an emotion he’s unfamiliar with. It seems that, even in the past, Dean was always caring about people.
“Hey, did you hear me?” Dean snaps, and Castiel blinks, finally getting to his feet.
“Hello, Dean.”
“How the hell-” Dean starts, raising the rifle to point it at him. “How do you know my name?”
Castiel raises his hands imploringly, trying to be nonthreatening. His trench coat flaps around his shins, his tie actually facing forwards for once from the fall. He readjusts it so it faces backwards.
“Why’d you just do that?” Dean says, face scrunching up into something that Castiel knows is confusion. He feels a lot of that lately. Mainly right now.
“It’s supposed to be like this.” Castiel responds, tone deadpan as he looks down at his tie, before looking back up at Dean. He smiles despite himself, before remembering that this isn’t his Dean.
“What- no, it’s-” Dean starts, before getting cut off by a low growl from somewhere behind Castiel. “Watch out!” He yells, lunging forwards to shove Castiel behind him. He allows it, in habit, stumbling forwards before flipping around. Dean faces off against a giant, black dog. Thankfully it’s not a hellhound, although it took a moment for Castiel to realize it’s just a Black Dog.
“Your rock salt isn’t going to do anything against this.” He says, walking forward towards the snarling dog.
“Wait, what are you-” Dean starts, incredulous as he watches the angel walk up to the mass of fur and coiled muscles.
It lunges for him, snarling and slobbering, but he merely sidesteps it, beginning to speak. “Our Father who art in Heaven,” He starts to recite. The dog lets out a vicious howl, lunging for him again. “Hallowed by thy name. Thy kingdom come-” He cuts himself off as he dodges the attack, his eyes catching on Dean’s shocked face. “Thy will be done in earth, as it is in Heaven.” The dog yowls, an unearthly sound of anger but Castiel merely continues speaking. “Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive-” He falters, forcing the words past the sudden lump in his throat. “Forgive us our debts… as we forgive our debtors.” He feels almost sick, saying these holy words. He doesn’t know why they struggle to crawl out of his throat. “And lead us not into temptation…” The dog has crumpled at this point, howling and snarling as it tries to snap at Castiel, who stands before it. “But deliver us from evil… Amen.”
The beastly figure of the Black Dog bursts into flame, accompanied by unearthly growls as it disappears. There’s a silence, before it’s being absolutely imploded by one Dean Winchester.
“What in the hELL WAS THAT!” The words burst out of him like he’d said them in Enochian, his eyes wide and shocked.
“I was killing the Black Dog.” Castiel explains, shoulders raising in a shrug.
“Who even are you?” Dean’s incredulous look barely softened as he jabs the rifle at Castiel imploringly.
“I am Castiel.” The angel replies, tilting his head to the side.
“Okay, and you’re human?”
Castiel paused, squinting slightly. Future Dean had hardly reacted well to the news that angels exist, and he doubted that young, naive Dean Winchester would take it any better. And he didn’t really want to get shot right now. He’d had enough of that from Dean and the man with him, along with the knife in his chest.
“Yes.” The angel replied, lying.
Dean squinted at him, slightly suspicious, but decided not to fight it. For now, Castiel assumed.
“And you said your name is…”
“Castiel.”
“Castiel? What kind of name is that?”
In response to Castiel’s blank look, Dean sighs, muttering under his breath. “Never mind.”
Dean lets the shotgun swing at his side, pointing downwards at the concrete floor of the warehouse.
“So… how’d you get here?” Dean’s tone is suspicious, but he doesn’t seem to be outwardly hostile.
“I don’t know. I just appeared.”
Dean squints at him, unconvinced, but seeing as he had randomly appeared in front of Dean, he has to give him some credit at least, right?
Castiel stands in the warehouse, glancing around him. There’s old, dusty machinery everywhere, cluttering the floor and making the building seem more like a maze. He takes a step forward, not bothering to pause when Dean points the shotgun back at him. He looks around a bit, reaching out and touching some of the rusted machines. Dean follows him, his footsteps shuffling across the ground as Castiel walks.
“How do I know I can trust you?” He says, shotgun raised and aimed at him. It’s only rock salt, but it’s not like actual bullets will do much damage either.
“I suppose you don’t. But I trust you, and that should be enough for now.”
Dean squints at him, considering his options. He lowers the shotgun, readjusting the oversized leather jacket he wears.
“And now what? You gonna stick around?”
Castiel blinked, slightly startled by the question. He stares as he thinks, tilting his head slightly. Dean Winchester, the man he was commanded by Heaven to retrieve from Hell and watch over, and he was asking if he was ‘gonna stick around?’
“I intend to stick around, if you will have me.” He replies, stepping closer. He holds unwavering eye contact, even as Dean looks around and rocks back and forth on his heels.
“Great. Sounds great. Uh, you got a car?”
“No, I do not have a car.”
“That’s fine. I do.” Dean has a strange expression on his face, one that Castiel can’t quite understand. “Let’s go.”
He walks beside Dean, trenchcoat fluttering around his shins. His steps make sound on the concrete floor, and he glances down at Dean’s feet, matching his pace, how he steps.
Dean leads him through the warehouse, pushing open a large door to the outside. The metal hinges creak, loud in the night. They step out onto a dirt road, surrounded by trees. Castiel follows Dean, following the path lit by the moon up above.
The trees around them are filled with the noise of crickets and insects, leaves rustling in the soft breeze. He can’t keep his eyes away from Dean, constantly glancing at him.
“So where are you from?” The question comes out of nowhere, and Castiel blinks, glancing over at Dean to find him staring straight ahead. He thinks for a moment, tilting his head.
“Pontiac, Illinois.”
“Cool, cool.”
Castiel feels a strange feeling in his chest, almost heavy. Jimmy’s home town was the only town he could think of at that moment, and it seemed like the smartest answer he could give. The man was devout, faithful. He hasn’t really been paying attention to it, but there’s been an empty feeling since he appeared in the warehouse. He doesn’t know if Jimmy is still with him. If he isn’t, where would he be? Heaven? Castiel hoped that at least he was happy. He deserves that.
Eventually they come along to Dean’s car, a ‘67 Chevy Impala. Its sleek black exterior shines in the light of the moon, reflecting the stars in its paint. Dean walks over to it and pops the driver's side door open, sliding in smoothly. Castiel copies him on the passenger side, settling into the comfortable seats.
“This is a nice car.” He comments, looking over the interior. Dean smirks and practically tosses his hair, smug.
“I know, isn’t she? This is Baby.” Castiel doesn’t really understand the concept of naming a car an infant, but Dean seems happy with the name, so he doesn’t ask.
The engine rumbles to life, and Castiel glances around as Dean starts to drive, the dirt road bumpy under the Impala’s wheels.
“Hey, grab that box of tapes in the back, would ya?” Dean’s voice breaks him out of his observance, and he reaches into the backseat to grab a cardboard box. It’s heavy, filled with little black boxes that Castiel assumes must be ‘tapes’. “Pick one you like.”
Castiel blinks and grabs one at random, labeled ‘Led Zeppelin- Physical Graffiti’ and passes it to him. He inserts it into a little space that opens up to swallow the tape, turning the volume up as it starts playing. It’s not unpleasant, and Castiel watches as the landscape passes by through the window. A few minutes in, Dean starts to hum, and the angel finds that he doesn’t mind the sound much. He sets the box back where he found it, folding his hands and resting them in his lap.