#her hair and wardrobe seriously improve so much in just a couple episodes

[daisy-johnson]

i’d like to thank whoever on the veronica mars team realized that logan’s hair needed to be dyed before he and veronica got together. they knew what we all know to be true. that veronica would simply never kiss a man with frosted tips.

[satan-chillin]

Fair Game

(Chapter 1/2)

Summary: Sam and Dean encountered a completely different version of themselves. An AU of Episode S15E13 "Destiny's Child".

Pairings: Destiel & Samwena/Samwitch

Rating: T

Also available in Ao3

The heavy and ornate mahogany doors opened at exactly 12:30 in the evening and came in a couple dressed handsomely, their cheeks streaked with redness from one too many flutes of champagne from the evening celebration they came from.  

  “Remind me not to wear this outfit again,” the man muttered. He wasn’t one to normally voice his complaint, thinking he would sound whiny, but it seemed that the alcohol was loosening up his tongue. “I look ridiculous in purple. Like… Like Barney.”  

  The woman raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you seriously comparing yourself with a purple dinosaur?” Her sigh was fond. “You should have seen yourself in the mirror, dear.”

  “I mean, I did? While you were helping me with the pocket square.” He idly touched the handkerchief. “I don’t know. I thought it’ll be nice, but, er, I might have stood out too much earlier.”

  “And that’s a bad thing? To stand out on your own book signing event?” the woman snorted. “Honestly, you’re the only person I know who doesn’t want the spotlight even if he earned that right.”

  The man shrugged. “That's me.”

  “Aye. I know you too well.” The woman walked closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I know as well that you deserve everyone’s attention the most, you humble giant.”

  With their difference in height, she has to tiptoe to peck his cheek, though the man eagerly met her halfway to give her an eskimo kiss in return, making her giggle a little uncharacteristically. 

  It only served to make her endearing to him.   

  “Thank you, though, for helping me pick,” he said earnestly. He let his hands stay on her slim waist, nuzzling the top of her head affectionately. “Should I get used to this from now on?”

  “Well,” she began, patting his chest teasingly. “If you haven’t realized it yet that I’m gradually improving your wardrobe, then you’re not paying attention, dear.” She smirked at his mild indignation and pulled herself from his hold. “Although, if I have to choose,” she made a show of running her eyes from his head to toe, “My favorite will always be getting you out of your clothes.”

  The man went red from root to tips, much to the woman’s utter amusement. 

  “Come join me upstairs if you’re willing to let me do so tonight,” she said, flicking her long red hair over an exposed milky shoulder. She walked up the stairs, sashaying her hips, knowing full well that the man's eyes followed her and the sway of her lacy black dress that seemingly molded itself with her curves. 

  As the man stood there dreamily and thinking what a damn lucky man he was to have someone so beautiful not only on the outside but also on the inside, someone who understood all his quirks and accepted him for what he was, he couldn't help but finger the small velvet box he was keeping inside his pocket. 

  Tonight, he promised himself. He would ask the big question tonight. 

  He could have done it during tonight's event, but then again he wasn't really into big gestures. He was in his element in moments where it was quiet with just the two of them sharing a blanket of comfortable silence. 

  Well, springing out the question right before he was about to get sex was not the romantic scene he was aiming for either, but… anymore prolonging and he would butcher this one out.

  He knew her and been together with her for three years now, and yet he found his hands shaking and sweaty in nervousness. She loved him back, of that he was sure of, but what if she didn't want the same? Would she think that they were moving too fast? He didn't want her to think that he would limit her freedom and independence once they were legally bound together. 

  The man was roused out from his thoughts when a black mass of fur rubbed itself against his leg. He picked up the cat and scratched it behind the ear. 

  "Do you think your mom will say yes, Merlin?" the man asked anxiously. 

  Merlin merely purred in response at the attention it was getting, closing his eyes in bliss. The man humored him for a bit if only to delay a rejection he could possibly get. 

  Oh, god, I'm being a coward, he thought. An indecisive coward. 

  Merlin perked his head up and stared at the man. The cat seemed to agree with him, he thought gloomily. 

  The cat jumped back to the ground, sniffing the air and looking around. The man watched Merlin's odd movements before he broke into a run to the kitchen and out in the back. Puzzled at Merlin's sudden bolting, the man followed the cat sedately to the backyard. 

  "Merlin?" he called when he heard a loud and almost incessant yowl from the cat. Must have scented a prey, he thought. 

  And upon walking out to follow, what greeted him was…

  A line. 

  The man stared, stupefied. Line was putting it mildly. It was glowing in an orange hue, for god's sake! It was floating, he supposed, like a tear of some sort in the middle of—he didn't know, space, maybe? 

  "What the hell?"

  Merlin continued to yowl on the ground, encircling the line. If the man didn't know better, he'd say that the cat was excited at the discovery, like it was just handed a new toy. Merlin's pupils were round, illuminated by the reflection of the orange light. He looked up in wonder and awe. 

  It was unnatural, indescribable by words—and the man has plenty of those—yet his hand itched to reach out, to touch and see how it would feel. 

  Curiosity killed the cat, they said, though in this case, its victim was the man instead. 

  "No, Samuel, don't!"

  The last thing he heard was Rowena's warning that came a little too late. 

  ***

Dean woke with a pounding headache. 

  He groaned, sitting up from the cold hard floor and…

  Where in the world was he? 

  Dean looked around his surroundings wildly and noticed that not far from him was someone lying face down and—God, the guy wasn’t dead, was he? 

  He was saved from the trouble of checking for a pulse when the man twitched and shifted on his back, groaning aloud and blinking awake before shooting up in a sitting position and finally noticing Dean. 

  “You too, huh?” Dean said. 

  “What?” the man asked. “What do you mean by that? Where are we?”

  “My guess is as good as yours, man. I just woke up a minute earlier.”

  The man made a move to stand, straightening on his feet. He was tall, and Dean himself was tall. Dean respectfully didn’t take note of the atrocious purple suit and the hideous man-bun that got messed up. 

Just when Dean was having the impression that the man was posh with the getup and all, he approached Dean and stooped down to lend him a hand. Dean thanked him, patting away the dirt from his coat. 

  He got a better look of the area once he was standing and woah, the number of vintage cars he could see everywhere should be enough to trigger some kind of familiarity; it didn’t. They seemed to be in some kind of a large, rich man’s garage. 

  “Battery’s dead,” he heard the man mutter while tapping on his phone. 

  Dean checked his. “Mine too.” 

  His watch was ticking at 7:42 PM, and the last time he checked it had been somewhere around 11:30 PM. Dean couldn’t believe he was out cold for almost a day. Whatever tranq they administer to him, it must have been enough to knock out at least a baby elephant.

  “Are we kidnapped or something?” he asked aloud, mostly to himself. 

  The man ran his hand through his hair, his loose man-bun gone. “It’s what I think as well but the lack of bindings and the presence of a kidnapper suggest otherwise.”

  “Or this is some kind of Saw shit,” Dean suggested. At the man’s puzzled expression, Dean waved his hand. “Nothing. It’s a bad joke.”

  “Are you alright, at least? No injuries on you?” the man asked. 

  “Headache from waking up that’s ebbing away, thankfully,” Dean answered honestly. “Other than that, nothing that I know or can feel on me. You?” 

  “Mild headache. Nothing more,” the man said. He closed his eyes briefly. “Um, I know this is a weird situation we find ourselves in, but if we’re going to work together, might as well get to know each other’s names.” He extended out his hand. “I’m Sam.”

  “Dean.” Dean shook the hand. “Dean Winchester-Novak,” he said fully before he could hold himself back. Force of habit. 

  Sam frowned. “Winchester?” He smiled amiably. “Are you the Winchester one? Because my name is Sam Winchester.”

  “Seriously? Yeah, I’m the Winchester. What are we, some kind of distant relatives?”

  “Maybe? I don’t know. Lots of Winchesters in the States alone, but, yeah, that’s some coincidence.” 

  “I don’t know, man. It’s interesting to find out. Sucks it’s this way, though,” Dean said regretfully. He spotted a door at the far end of the garage. “Think that one’s locked?”

  Sam followed his line of sight, deep in thought. “Only one way to find out.”

  Apprehensively, they approached the door. Dean kept his eye open for any traps because you’d never know; better be prepared, right? There weren't any visible cameras that he could see at a glance so there was that. 

    Dean twisted the knob, half-expecting an explosion or poison spikes or whatever this possibly rigged doorknob could release. 

  Nothing came. 

  Sam peered at the long hallway ahead and gave an all-clear sign. Tentatively, they exited the garage and traversed the corridor whilst frequently looking behind their backs. It was eerily quiet and a bit dark, and it felt like they were actually the one trespassing in someone else’s property. It was ridiculous. 

  There was another long hallway when they turned at the bend, though this time there was a light at the far end of it. Cautiously, they approached the room, a little emboldened since they haven't encountered anyone or anything so far, and noticed that it was a kitchen with a man standing there, his back turned as he prepared coffee. 

  When the man turned around, Dean couldn't keep down his relief. "Cas," he said with a wide grin and rushed to meet him in a tight embrace. 

  Cas was taken aback, a deep frown etched on his face and was about to ask when Dean had beaten him to it. 

  "Cas, what's going on? Where are we? I woke up in the garage of this place with Sam here. Oh, yeah, this is Sam. Sam Winchester—can you believe it?" The words rushed out of Dean. "Sam, this is Castiel Novak. Cas for short. He's my husband."

  "I'm your what?"

  Sam genially extended a hand in which Cas shook dumbly. "Nice to meet you, Cas."

  Cas glanced confusedly between Sam and Dean, studying them carefully as if trying to figure them both, particularly the one they were wearing. "I don't understand. Is this what you call a prank?"

  "What? What you mean pra—"

  "Hey, Cas, you done there?" came a male voice from outside. "We're just—"

  Sam and Dean turned to the source of the voice and found two men standing there. 

  Two men who have their faces. 

  What the hell. 

  ***

  “This is like The Invasion of the Body Snatchers, isn’t it?” Cas heard the other Dean say. 

  “What part of the alternate universe you don’t understand?” Dean retorted. “You and the Sam here with you are our alternate versions.”

  “I think it’s like in the comic books,” Sam in the purple suit said. “For example, Peter Parker is the Spider-Man in his world but there’s another world where it’s his girlfriend Gwen Stacy who’s the Spider-Woman instead.” At the blank stare he got from the other three, he sheepishly added, “It’s a popular thing in our world. I used to be a fan when I was a kid—which isn’t the point, right.” He cleared his throat. “So. You said that you’re our counterparts, and you two are brothers?”

  “Yeah,” Sam said. “Aren’t you?”

  “We just met today, actually. I think Dean here is from another separate world that is not from where I came from.”

  "Alright, stop. This is going to be confusing. I am Dean, and my brother here is Sam. Other Sam, we're calling you Sammy. Other me, you're Squirrel."

  "Why am I called Squirrel?"

  "I didn't make the rules."

  "You just did."

  "Dean," Sam interrupted with a sigh. "Sorry. Is Deanno fine by you?"

  "That's much better."

  "Yeah, you look like a 'Deanno'." Dean snickered. 

  Sam leveled his brother a stare.

  "What's the deal with you two, anyway?" Deanno asked, ignoring Dean. He gestured around himself. "Like, is it your family's thing to kidnap your counterparts?"

  "What? No. No one's kidnapping anyone," Sam defended. “Look, like you, we honestly don’t know how you got here either. What’s the last thing you remember before waking up?”

  “I was driving home from an event,” Deanno recalled. “I might have stopped on the road. It was, uh—I thought I saw something.” 

  “Saw what?”

  “Wait,” Sammy cut in. “That thing you saw… It didn’t happen to be a line, right? Like a tear in space or something.”

  Deanno snapped his fingers. “Yes! That was it. Big orange line thingy!”

  Sam and Dean shared a look. 

  “It was a rift,” Cas spoke for the first time. “You two encountered rifts in space, portals to another world which is… here.”

  “What happened on our side then? Did it remain open?” Sammy asked Cas. 

  “I checked the garage. There are no rifts open there. It’s safe to assume both are closed,” Cas answered. 

  “That’s good.” Sammy sighed in relief. “I mean, my girlfriend’s probably worried to death after she saw me touching the rift, but at least she didn’t follow and possibly landed somewhere.” 

  “And my husband’s bound to be doing the same by now after I left a voicemail I was on my way home and did not arrive.” Deanno rubbed his face. “Fuck.”

  “Woah, wait, husband?” Dean reacted. 

  Deanno gestured at Cas. “Yeah, him.” 

  Dean whirled incredulously at Cas. “Hey, Cas is nobody’s husband!” 

  “Well, not him exactly, but my husband’s name is Castiel Novak. I suppose he’s my Cas’s counterpart then.” Deanno addressed Cas. “But are you really not my Cas? ‘Cause I have to say, you got his character from that adorably confused frown and the trenchcoat.”

  Cas didn’t know what to make of the wink sent his way. 

  “Can you not—he’s not your Cas, alright? For one thing, he’s a freaking angel.”

  “So? My husband is too! He’s a saint!” 

  “I think Dean means to say that I am a literal angel,” Cas put in. “Which I am. I am an angel of the Lord.”

  “Oh,” Deanno said. “My Cas is a theology professor. He’s very much human except in bed—”

  “Dude, TMI!” 

  Hm. It seemed that his alternate self has quite a prowess in copulation, Cas mused. Interesting. 

  Sammy looked like he was embarrassed to be acquainted with the other Dean while Sam wasn’t sure whether to cringe or laugh. Cas believed it was the latter given that Sam was hiding his sniggering behind his fist. 

  “Okay, enough of that,” Sam said, thankfully. “I think it’s safe to assume that you two are our non-hunter versions.”

  “Is that what you do? Hunting?” Sammy asked. “Like professional deer-hunters?”

  “Uh, no. Dean and I are hunters of the supernatural. This place is more or less our home and headquarters.” 

  “You hunt supernatural creatures like vampires and werewolves?”

  Sam nodded. He was thoughtful for a second. “You don’t… Have you ever encountered any supernatural in your world?”

  “No,” Sammy said, eyes wide in awe. “Your job—I thought that’s only something I’ll read in books or watch in films. It sounds exciting!” 

  “It’s dangerous,” Sam told him. “We also lost our family and some friends in our line of work.”

  “Oh.” Sammy’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

  “Thank you. It’s already quite some time now. Doesn’t mean it’s no longer painful though,” Sam said, smiling tightly. A somber mood fell on them. “How about you? Lawyer?”

  “Ah, no. I thought about continuing to law before and realized that if I did, I would have plenty of lives on my hands in that line of career. I didn’t think I could handle that kind of responsibility,” Sammy said wryly. “I took creative writing instead, and now I’m a book writer with a few books under my belt.” He chuckled shyly.

  “It’s not something I saw myself as, but I’m happy for you,” Sam said genuinely. 

  “What about you, Deanno, what do you do?” Dean asked.

  “I own a small business,” Deannos said vaguely. “I used to be a car mechanic.” 

  “What kind of business?”

  “The car manufacturing kind.”

  “That’s far from a small business,” Dean deadpanned. “We get it, you two are our rich selves. We can handle the bragging.” 

  “Are you kidding me?” Deanno snorted.  “Okay, so maybe we pride ourselves in being successful, but we work hard to get to it. The same way you apparently do as well, except you two put your lives on high risk every single time. Now, I don’t know how much hunters get paid for, but I think your jobs are nothing on us.” 

  Sam fell silent while Dean looked startled before catching himself and settling for appearing chastised instead. 

  “I guess you’re not so bad,” Dean muttered. He knocked on the table. “So what now?”

  “You got beer?” Deanno asked. 

  “We do.” 

  Cas watched the four of them file back to the kitchen, smiling a little as he followed them sedately. 

  The tension was finally diffused. Now, on to the solution to get the two home. 

***

Sammy almost forgot the small box in his pocket. 

  He pulled it out and opened it. The ring remained safely settled within. He pocketed it with a sigh. Sam and Dean and Cas were good people—like men from fiction but good people nonetheless. Sammy’s imaginative brain that thrived on fantasies for future story plots couldn’t help but drink in all the knowledge Sam shared with him about this world. It was amazing, the elements of it all, from the creatures that existed aside from the humans and to the magic and beings that governed this universe. 

  Okay, so God being their present enemy was concerning, but still. 

  He would have thought that he was dreaming, but a pinch on his arm said otherwise. It occurred to Sammy he was probably the first man to discover the truth of the theory on Multiverse. He was exactly living a comic book or a fictional storyline right now. It was a paradise for a writer like him!

  And yet… And yet he just wanted to go home to Merlin and to Rowena. 

  “Oh, wow,” Sam suddenly said. Sammy noticed him looking at his pocket. 

  “It’s, um... I was actually planning to ask the big question before I arrived here,” Sammy told him. He sat comfortably in his borrowed clothes (the choices were flannels of varying colors, not that he minded) across Sam who poured two cups of coffee, one for each of them. “Thank you. I’m not really a heavy drinker. I’m a lightweight.”

  “Somehow, I can see that,” Sam said with a grin. “I drink moderately unlike Dean. He’s not hearing me whenever I say we’re not getting any younger.” 

  Sammy chuckled. He was an only child himself, but he thought that if he had an older brother he would either be like Deanno or Dean. There would be no in-between.  

  “How long have you been together?” Sam asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “Three years,” Sammy said fondly. “We’re already living together and have a cat.” He glanced down on his drink. "I miss them, but to be honest, I don't know how to pop the question when I come back."

  "I don't think there's a formula on how," Sam offered sympathetically. "It's not easy, but if you already made up your mind to ask, then it should come to you naturally."

  "Thank you," Sammy replied sincerely. "If my Dad is still around, I would've asked him for advice. Bobby was helpful with this kind of thing." 

  Sam perked up in surprise. "Your Dad is Bobby Singer?" 

  "Pretty much. My real Dad, John, died of a heart attack when I was six months old. Bobby was a family friend and raised me with his wife, Karen, and my mother, Mary. It sounded weird but they made it work between themselves," Sammy told him. “Bobby was the one who got me into books, mostly sci-fi, fantasy, and mythology. That might have influenced me into being a writer as well.”

  “Bobby, huh? We had a Bobby Singer too, and like yours, he was our surrogate dad. He died eight years ago, and John five years before him,” Sam shared. “Mom’s case was a bit complicated. She died when I was six months old and got resurrected four years ago and died again last year.” Sam’s mouth twitched into a smile. “I told you, it’s complicated.” 

  “I shouldn’t be surprised by now,” Sammy murmured. “I know I’m only saying this because I don’t live here, but the writer side of me actually finds this world fascinating already based on what you told me so far. It’s like there’s an itch in me to explore this world.” 

  “I understand,” Sam said. “It’s not the safest place, but I love it. This is our world, and it has seen a lot of close calls in the last few years, but this is home, you know? Dean and I don’t see ourselves wanting to replace it with a better one, a more normal one. It’s funny because I used to think it hated us with everything life had thrown us so far. Then you find out that it’s not the world or life, but it’s God himself.” 

  Sammy nodded solemnly. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this but I don’t doubt that you’ll give God hell.” Sam's expression lightened. “I’m lucky to lead a different life because if I’m in your shoes, I don’t think I can have the same lifestyle as you do. Frankly, the brave one between my girlfriend and me is her. She’s more decisive and confident, and she’s the kind of independent woman who learns and moves on easily from her mistakes. It’s the main reason why I’m uncertain to ask her to marry me. What if she doesn’t want to be tied down? Or, say that it’s fine by her, but is it okay if it’s with me? I’m not like her or you, Sam. I honestly still think she could have done better.”

  “But you’ll never know if you don’t ask her,” Sam reasoned. “You can’t let your insecurity eat you from within. It sounds to me that you two are fine in terms of communication. Maybe you can open this up to her as well.”

  Sam, who was fully aware that he couldn’t hold a decent length of relationship with a woman without his life as a hunter hindering it, couldn’t believe that he was hearing himself giving advice in romance. To another version of himself even. Strange times. 

  “Is it Jessica?” Sam decided to ask; he was curious, sue him. “It’s ages ago since I’ve been in a committed relationship myself, but Jessica is the last woman I saw myself having a future with.”

  Sammy frowned. “It’s not her, though I recall knowing a Jessica back in college.” He reached for his wallet to show a picture of Rowena. “Actually, her name is—”

  The bunker’s siren suddenly blared, and the kitchen was illuminated by the warning red lights that darkened the room and lit the hallways. 

  “What’s going on?” Sammy asked when he stood abruptly with Sam. 

  “It’s the bunker’s alarm,” Sam told him, pulling out a gun from his waist. “Stay close to me. I think we got an intruder.”    

***

Deanno whistled at the impala. “This is your ride? Sweet.”

  “That’s my Baby.” Dean stood straighter in pride. “Been taking care of her for as long as I remember, even before Dad passed her down to me.”

  “Inherited cars are often the most taken care of and loved,” Deanno said factually. “Well, I’ll be damned. I don’t think I’ve seen this kind of model back home. I should propose this.” 

  “What kind do you drive then?”

  “A ‘78 Lincoln,” Deanno said, much to Dean’s utter distaste. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. My husband chose it.”

  “That’s equivalent to Cas’s pimpmobile.”

  Deanno laughed. “Pimpmobile is the endearment we have for it, alright. What can I say? It’s reliable. And at least it ain’t a Fiat.”

  Dean was inclined to agree with the last one. He wouldn’t be caught with a ten-foot pole with that vehicle. 

  “Everything in here belongs to you, your brother, and Cas then?” Deanno gestured at the other cars. 

  “They’re all here when we inherited the place,” Dean told him. “We use them as spares.” 

  “And you call me rich.”

  “You’re the one with a large business.”

  “We expanded just recently,” Deanno allowed. “But we’re not there with the big players yet.”  

  Dean grunted. Business wasn’t a forte of his, though that was largely because he never bothered to find out. Who knows? 

  Deanno was fine, Dean supposed; a little uncharacteristic for Dean to consider him another self but then again their circumstances were vastly different too. 

  On their way back inside, Deanno told him that he was raised by Mary after John died in a car accident. Mary was a handy woman who learned the rudimentary of car mechanics after John passed and left the startup company he had invested in. It had been a rocky start for both the family and the business, but with some help from friends like Bobby and his wife, Jody, they managed to make it into a stable business. 

  Deanno was put in college, initially for a degree in mechanical engineering until he had thought long and hard and went for business administration with a major in marketing instead. He said that it was the best decision he made since that was also how he met Cas after a series of girlfriends and random hookups.

  “Right,” Dean said flatly. “Your husband.”

  “I don’t get why it’s such a big deal to you, Dean,” Deanno said seriously. “This is not homophobia, is it?”

  “Of course not,” Dean replied shortly. No, it wasn’t that at all. 

  “Then what is it?” 

  He was spared the chance to answer when Jack walked in the war room, staring between the two Deans that he was seeing. Cas was close behind him, nodding at them. 

  “Hello,” Jack greeted them indifferently. 

  “I explained to Jack the situation,” Cas said. “He wanted to help but Billie specifically told him not to use his powers.” 

  “But we can still look for an alternative to bring you and the other Sam to your respective worlds,” Jack said. “Although it might take some time.”

  “Not like we have a choice, right?” Deanno smiled wryly. “Don’t sweat yourself, kid.”

  “I’ll be talking to Billie for the next step,” Jack told them, excusing himself. “Later.”

  “I’ll come with Jack,” Cas said. “If you need me, simply knock on Jack’s door.” 

  "Sure, Cas," Deanno replied on behalf of Dean. He mock-saluted, grinning from ear to ear as he watched Jack and Cas go. "We'll be here too if you need anything," he hollered after them. 

  "Can you stop doing that?"

  "Doing what?" Deanno asked innocently. 

  "That." At Deanno's straight face and the raised eyebrow, Dean elaborated, "The flirting."

  Deanno snorted. "C'mon. All in good fun."

  "You have a husband."

  "And I'm flirting with someone who's technically him but an actual angel." Deanno paused to consider for a moment. "Wait. Is that why?" A smirk formed on his lips. "You're jealous."

  "I most certainly am not," Dean said a little too quickly. 

  "See, that's the thing. You won't be doing that if you already bagged him," Deanno pointed out pityingly. 

  "Alright. That's it. No more of this topic."

  "Eh. Fine by me," Deanno allowed easily. "So who's Jack?"

  "It's a long story."

  "You can summarize," he suggested. 

  Dean sighed tersely. He should get this out of the way. "He's Lucifer's son biologically. Cas is the Dad he recognizes," he said gruffly. "He's half-human and half-archangel, and he doesn't have a soul right now."

  "Oh."

  "Yep. That's our lives."

  "Yeah. Sorry man, I won't be touching that subject too much," Deanno muttered. "I just thought the kid is yours and Cas's."

  "Cas's, not mine," Dean reminded him tersely. 

  "No, like, Jack was from both you and him."

  "What?" Dean exclaimed once he understood what Deanno was implying. "Where in the world are you getting these ideas?"

  "Hey, now. You're the one who said he's an angel."

  Dean wanted to bleach his mind when it began forming a certain image. "Jesus Christ. Cas is a guy! And he's wearing a male vessel!"

  "How about angel magic?"

  "Angel mag—" At this point, Dean believed that Deanno was sent to make his day even more difficult. "Okay. If that is even friggin’ possible, Cas and I are not together that way.”

  “Why not, Dean?”

  “He’s my best friend.”

  “Weak argument. My Cas is also my best friend. What’s your better excuse?”

  “How about: this is a different world, with me living a different life with different circumstances,” Dean said a matter-of-factly. “I am not you, Deanno. I am not some kind of business man with a college degree and a peaceful married life where the most exciting thing that happened to him is accidentally jumping in a portal to another world.”

  A small empathetic smile was the last thing Dean expected to get. “And doesn’t that tell you something that despite the completely different lives we have, the one thing we have in common is Cas?”

  Deanno was right, Dean was aware, and because Deanno was right and his statement was forcing Dean to reexamine things that he didn’t want to in the middle of their crisis right now, Dean was irritated and slowly but surely coming close to being mad. 

  Fortunately for Dean, he was, once again, saved by the bell. Literally. Or saved by the bunker’s alarm, to be exact. 

  Red lights fell down in the war room in an instant, alerting both of them. Amidst the siren, there were scuffling noises against metal. 

  “Dean, what’s that?” Deanno asked cautiously. Dean wasn’t sure if he was asking about the alarm or the sound along with it.  

  “Shit. Intruder.” Dean reloaded his pistol. He reached for another one and tossed it to Deanno. “Take that. We’re gonna need it.” He gestured for Deanno to stay close. 

  “I hope not,” he heard Deanno whisper. 

“And I hope that we won’t need anything stronger than a gun.” 

  Dean crept nearby the stairs leading up to the entrance. From his position, he could see no sign of forced entry. He peered upstairs for any movement. Nothing. 

  Dean was on an even higher alert, the alarm ringing incessantly in his ears. “Let’s go get the others. Something’s wro—”

  A huge black mass collided against Dean, sending him skidding across the floor and crashing him against a marble pillar. 

  “Dean!” 

  Deanno fired three shots at the… thing that tackled Dean down. It whirled at him, its attention was on him in an instant, growling and ready to pounce.  

  It was a fucking black panther. 

  “Take him down, Merlin,” commanded a voice.

  Deanno stood frozen at the huge animal lunging towards him. Its weight slammed him down on the floor where his head smacked loudly he swore he saw dark spots on his vision. Deanno fought back against the unconsciousness and was met face-to-face with sharp rows of teeth glistening with saliva and predatory golden eyes that considered Deanno as the prey.

  “G-Good kitty,” Deanno attempted. The panther snarled, its breath hot on his face. He decided to shut up instead. 

  “Where is he?” came above the same voice from before. 

  Under the red light, Deanno realized that it was a woman in a black dress. Purple lights danced around her hands, poised to attack. 

  “I won’t ask again, where is Sam Winchester?” said the woman furiously. 

  “Sam?” Deanno clarified. “You know Sam?”

  A loud piercing sound rang within the bunker, so deafening that it broke the lightbulbs and the nearby glasses. It was enough to bring the woman on her knees before she snapped her head upwards, her ears bleeding, and sent a spike of purple lightning to someone above. 

  Deanno covered his head when plasters and debris fell on him. To his amazement, though, nothing hit him and the weight on his chest lessened. 

  “Don’t touch him,” warned a different voice, a much familiar one.  

  Deanno blinked. “Cas?”

  “Dean.” Cas—his Cas, Deanno was a hundred percent sure—crouched down to check on him. “Are you alright?”

  “I am, but we’ll talk later—look out!”

  The warning seemed to be unnecessary when the purple lightning from the woman hit Cas on his back and he didn’t flinch one bit. 

  “What are you?” the woman hissed. The black panther retreated to her side, snarling ferociously at them. 

  Cas’s answer was a thin, pointed blade that appeared on his hand in a blink. A flicker of recognition flashed on the woman’s face. 

  “Impossible,” she growled. 

  “If that’s what you think,” Cas shot back evenly. 

  There was a large shadow that loomed above them, forming into the shape of a pair of huge wings that encompassed the vicinity. 

  “Stop!” 

  Jack, the kid from earlier, emerged from another part of the room with eyes lit brightly in gold. Cas turned to him with wariness but more so his fascination with the newcomer and the realization as to what Jack was.

  There were hurried footsteps that followed, and Deanno didn’t have to look to know who arrived. With the present amount of people, it was bound to be a shitfest. 

  “Rowena?!”

  The woman abruptly stopped, eyes darting past Cas and to the two men who came in. “Sam?” she whispered before confusedly glancing between the two Sam Winchesters. “Who is this fake?” she demanded. 

  The fighting had thankfully stopped, but another set of explanations was clearly needed. Again.

  Deanno groaned from the ground. He wished he was as lucky as Dean to be unconscious for all of these.