D/C BB: An Angel in Wonderland - Chapters Three & Four
Chapters One and Two
Chapter Three - What Time Is It?
The Hatter led Castiel along the paths of the rose garden and into a small forest. It was small, both in the number of trees and their size. They seemed proportionate to Castiel's current size. He was really quite glad that he had drunk the unknown liquid, since everything in Wonderland seemed to be as small as he was now. If he had been his vessel's usual size, he probably would have ended up trampling everything under his feet and he did not think that would have been very helpful to his cause.
Neither the Hatter, nor Castiel spoke again until they were out of sight of the garden. Then the Hatter said, "We should hurry. I was having tea when the Cheshire Cat came by to tell us about you. It'll probably be cold by now. Cold tea is disgusting. Especially when it was hot to begin with. Then again, I find all tea disgusting."
Castiel tilted his head confusedly. "Then why do you drink it?" he asked.
The Hatter sighed deeply. "Because it's always frickin' tea-time," he said. He clearly thought this was a perfectly reasonable explanation.
Castiel disagreed. "What do you mean?" he asked. "How can it always be tea-time?"
The Hatter sighed again. "Because Time won't move on."
"It stands still?" Castiel asked. To many people, this would have seemed odd, but Castiel was an Angel. He knew that time moves differently in different places. Admittedly, he had never before been in a place where it stood still, but if that were the case in Wonderland, it would not be the most surprising aspect of that place.
"Not always," the Hatter answered. "He's angry with me and he won't move past it."
Castiel blinked. The reply did not seem to fit the question. He was beginning to understand why the Rabbit had told him that the Hatter was mad.
"Who is angry with you?" he asked.
The Hatter gave him a strange look, as if he was the one who did not make sense. "Time," he said. "Pay attention, man!"
"Time is angry with you?" Castiel asked. He felt that this required clarification.
The Hatter rolled his eyes. "Yes," he said. "I did something to upset him and now he holds a grudge. That's why it's always tea-time. Because he knows that I hate tea."
Castiel thought about this for a while. "Do you have to drink tea?" he asked.
The Hatter gave him another strange look. "Of course I do," he said. "I told you, it's tea-time. What else am I supposed to do?"
Castiel thought some more. "Can't you drink something else?" he suggested.
"Of course not," the Hatter said. "It's tea-time. It isn't milk-time or water-time or lemonade-time. How can it be tea-time if you don't drink tea?” It was obvious that he found the idea absurd. Castiel found it quite bemusing how he could find the idea of drinking something other than tea at tea-time absurd, and yet accept such things as people made of cardboard and angels falling down wells with equanimity. He chose not to remark upon this, however, as he feared that it would only provide the Hatter with further proof of his ignorance.
"Of course,” the Hatter said, having apparently thought over what he had said, “you can drink other things at tea-time, as long as you drink it with your tea. For example, I sometimes pour whiskey in my tea. Although, to be perfectly honest, it isn't really just sometimes. And some people, such as the March Hare, would probably argue that I don't really put whiskey in my tea so much as I put tea in my whiskey. You shouldn't listen to him, though! That just happened once. I'm usually quite good at spelling, but k and t look very similar, you know, and with all the whiskey I'd been putting in the tea, I really don't think it's that strange that I put ‘t’ in my whiskey.”
Castiel blinked. He had only rarely spoken to Dean when the latter was truly drunk, but he was fairly sure that even a heavily inebriated Dean made more sense than the Hatter was doing at the moment. The only thing that he had really got out of the Hatter’s speech was that he now understood why the Rabbit had been drunk.
Because their current topic of conversation seemed particularly convoluted, Castiel decided that it hardly seemed worth it to continue to pursue it. Instead he reverted to their previous topic, by asking, "What did you do to anger Time?"
He was not really surprised that the Hatter had managed to make Time angry. Even if the Hatter was not actually Dean, the two of them still seemed to be very much alike, except for a few obvious differences, and Castiel had the greatest faith in Dean's ability to provoke anyone. It was not such a far leap to suppose that he could provoke anything, as well. He was more curious about how exactly the Hatter had done it.
The Hatter shrugged, as if it was of no consequence. "I got him wasted," he replied.
Castiel tilted his head again. "Time was wasted?" he asked.
The Hatter nodded. "Yes," he said, "and let me tell you, man, he does not like it when that happens. I think he's afraid he'll run out."
"Yes," Castiel said. "That seems like a valid concern."
"I guess," the Hatter said. "Anyway, I told him that I thought he should slow down. I mean, if you're afraid of running out, the best solution seems to be to just stay still. You can't run anywhere, either in or out, if you're standing still." He scratched his nose, looking a bit sheepish. “I admit that I didn't really think that one through, but I wasn't really expecting him to take my advice. He's a contrary bastard, that Time. The only reason he did as I told him was to teach me a lesson. So now it's always tea-time."
Castiel nodded. He understood now. "Time has always been difficult to control," he said. "That is why time travel is so hard.”
The Hatter stopped to stare at him. "You can travel through time?" he asked in a hopeful voice.
Castiel frowned and tilted his head. "Yes," he said. "At least I can on Earth. I'm not certain if the same rules apply here."
"Oh, I bet they do," the Hatter said. His eyes were shining. It was remarkable, Castiel thought, how their color could compete even with the unnaturally bright verdure of the Wonderland forest. "I bet you can get Time to change for me. Come on!"
The Hatter grabbed Castiel's arm eagerly and dragged him hurriedly along the path. Even without his powers, Castiel had no doubt that he could easily have broken free of his grasp, but he found that he had no desire to. Instead, he was more than willing to let himself be led wherever the Hatter wanted him to go.
It was not long before they reached a small house in a clearing in the forest. The house was really more of a cottage and it was built of wood. It had been painted in bright colors, with ribbons around the door and windows. Above the door hung a sign with a hat on it. The high chimney was also in the shape of a hat. It looked cozy and comfortable, but as with the Hatter's hat, it was not a house that Castiel could imagine Dean living in. Castiel was forced to reflect that despite all their similarities, there were some things that set Dean and the Hatter apart. It was not a happy thought, since Castiel was sure that his current predicament would have been easier to bear with his friend at his side. Still, the Hatter was like enough to Dean to provide him with some comfort and Castiel hoped that the differences would prove largely superficial.
On the lawn in front of the house, a table was set up. It was a long table with many chairs around it. In front of each chair was set a cup and a saucer. There were also a couple of teapots, three half-eaten cakes and a tiered cookie stand, with only a few cookies left on it. It was obvious that these leftovers were the remnants of a very long tea-party. Castiel also noticed three empty pie dishes. Clearly, the differences in taste between Dean and the Hatter did not extend to food.
Two guests were sitting at the table. One was a Hare with very long ears and a familiar, disgruntled expression on his face. Castiel had wondered if he would be meeting Sam here in Wonderland as well. He was glad to see that even here, the brothers were obviously friends, even if their different species made him doubt that they were actually related. Although, considering all that he had seen of Wonderland, he did not entirely rule out the possibility.
Beside the Hare sat a small Dormouse, who appeared to be asleep. His head was resting on the table, so Castiel could not see his face, but he thought he could guess who the Dormouse was anyway.
When Castiel and the Hatter approached the table, the Hare looked up and his disgruntled expression changed to one of relief. "Oh good!" he said. "You still have your head."
"Not only that," the Hatter said. "I was able to make sure that this Angel kept his head, too, so now we have two heads, which, as we all know, is better than one."
"Well," the March Hare said, "I think it's really one and a half, considering that one of the heads is yours, but still, you're right. It is better than one."
The Hatter glared at him. "Just for that," he said, "I'm tempted to let this tea-party continue, but that would punish me just as much as it would punish you, so I won't."
"What do you mean?" the Hare asked. "You sound as if you had a choice."
The Hatter grinned. He released Castiel's arm and put his hand on his shoulder instead. "I do," he said, "because this Angel here can bend Time to his will."
The Hare's eyes widened. "Really?" he said breathlessly, staring at Castiel.
"I can try," Castiel said. It was true that he would have liked to. Unfortunately, he did not know where to begin, so he simply stood there without knowing what to do.
The Hatter and the Hare stared at him for a long time, clearly expecting him to act. When it became apparent to them that he would not, they exchanged a confused look. Then the Hatter seemed to realize something. "Oh right," he said. He pulled something out of his pocket. "I guess you'll be needing this."
He gave the object to Castiel, who examined it. It was another pocket watch, like the one that he had seen the Rabbit wear. It was not working. Castiel turned it over in his hands and examined it, but he could find nothing wrong with it. "Have you wound it ?" he asked the Hatter.
The Hatter blinked. "Have I wounded it?" he asked. "Well, I suppose I have. I mean, Time did seem rather hurt."
"Not wounded. Wound it ," Castiel corrected. The Hatter and the Hare stared at him blankly. He assumed that that meant that they had not indeed done so. Examining the watch again, Castiel located the winding crown and turned it in a clockwise direction. The watch immediately began ticking.
"Is that...?" the Hare said. "Is it...?"
The Hatter took the watch from Castiel and stared at its face. "It's working," he said. "Time is moving again." He grinned wildly at Castiel. "Is that what an Angel does?" he asked. "Do you rule Time? Is that Lord you mentioned some kind of Time Lord? Or do you cure Time? Like a doctor? Is that why asked about wounding?"
Castiel shook his head. He was pleased that the Hatter seemed pleased, but he was somewhat bewildered at how simple the solution to the problem had been. "No," he said. "I'm a soldier."
"Oh." The Hatter thought this over for a few minutes. "Well," he said, shrugging. “I guess that makes sense. I mean, you did get Time marching again. “ He looked at the pocket-watch. "It's still six o'clock," he said. "I'm guessing it will be for a few more seconds. Do you want some tea?"
Castiel accepted the offer. He and the Hatter joined the Hare and the sleeping Dormouse. Castiel wondered why no one woke the Dormouse. He looked awfully uncomfortable, sleeping on a table like that. However, neither the Hatter, nor the Hare paid him any attention. Instead, they poured each other cups of tea and the Hatter poured one for Castiel. They also offered him the cookies that were left and some of the cake. While they ate, the Hatter and the Hare told Castiel a bit about Wonderland.
They told him about the Queen. Her greatest interests were apparently to play croquet - "If you ever play against her, let her win, or she'll have you beheaded" - and to order beheadings. This explained why the Hatter had been so worried that Castiel would lose his head if he met her.
"Although," the Hare said, "to be fair, I'm not sure anyone has ever actually been beheaded. She's always shouting at her soldiers to cut someone's head off, but they're so incompetent that they never get it done. Besides, as soon as she turns her back, the King always reverses her order. Good thing, too, or they'd be out of subjects, by now. And then what would they talk about?"
There was the Cheshire Cat, who had told the Hatter and the Hare about Castiel's arrival in Wonderland. Apparently, he liked to talk in riddles and often showed up around tea-time - "for the cake. You know what cats are like when there's cream." He had visited them quite often lately, since it had always been tea-time. The Cheshire Cat seemed to know everything that went on in Wonderland.
"It's probably because he can turn himself invisible, the lucky bastard," the Hatter said. "Makes it easy to spy and eavesdrop on everyone. I wonder if he’s ever watched the Queens bathe.”
“Probably,” the March Hare said, rolling his eyes. “I mean, he’s just as big a pervert as you, isn’t he?”
Then there was the Duchess, who was the lady in the fine clothes that Castiel had seen.
"She's the Queen's best friend," the Hare said.
"When the Queen isn't shouting to have her head cut off," the Hatter added.
“I don't know,” the Hare said. “I think she's still the Queen's best friend even then. I sometimes think that's how the Queen shows affection. And anger. And any other emotion. For someone who wears her hearts on her sleeves, she could really work on different ways to express her feelings.”
The White Rabbit had a house not far from the Hare's home. He was the court herald - “which is probably why he loves words so much,” the Hatter mused. When Castiel told the Hatter that the Rabbit had seemed drunk, the Hatter merely shrugged.
"He usually is," he said. He frowned. "Although it is possible that he was drunker than usual when he left here earlier. I don't think whiskey is what he usually drinks. He's more of a wine fellow. Always complaining about something."
"You mean he likes to whine?" Castiel asked.
"Yes," the Hatter said. He gave the Hare a contemplative look. “You know, you two are a lot alike,” he said. “I don't know why I haven't seen it before. You both like to whine and dine on the same type of food. I'm surprised you don't hang out more often.” A teasing glint appeared in his eye. “Is it because his ears are floppier than yours?”
The Hare merely glared at him. Castiel noticed, however, that his ears twitched irritably and as soon as the Hatter turned his back, the Hare gave one of them an experimental tug.
The Hatter and the Hare also told Castiel about many other people and creatures that lived in Wonderland, such as the Caterpillar, the Gryphon, the Mock Turtle and the Dodo.
"I think there's something going on between the Dodo and the Duck," the Hare said thoughtfully. "They say they're just friends, but friends don't stare at each other like that and invade each other's personal space as much as those two do."
The Hatter, who had been grinning at Castiel, started at that. He hurriedly moved one seat down the table, so that he was no longer sitting right next to Castiel. Castiel did not immediately understand why, but then he noticed that the Hatter had merely moved closer to one of the cakes. He had also turned his face away, so all that Castiel could see of him was part of his profile. He noticed that the Hatter's ear looked red and he wondered if maybe the Hatter's hat chafed.
They sat there talking for so long that by the time that they had finished their tea, it was no longer tea-time. In fact, it was already bedtime.
"I guess we'd better get going," the Hare said. "There's a new day tomorrow." He looked happy to be able to say that.
"We'd better wake the Dormouse," the Hatter said. "Can you imagine how upset he'll be? He always says that if he naps at tea-time, he can't sleep when it's bedtime."
The Hare's grin did not look very sympathetic. "He won't be getting any sleep tonight," he said. "I did warn him. I told him that he shouldn't disrupt his schedule and that he would regret it once Time started running again."
The Hatter gave the Dormouse a sharp nudge. "Oi," he said. "Wake up! You're leaving."
The Dormouse gave a loud snort and opened his eyes. "What are you idjits jabbering about?" he asked crankily.
"It's bedtime," the Hare said, "and we're leaving."
The Dormouse raised his head to scowl at the Hare. "Are you insane?" it asked. "How can it be bedtime when Time's standing still?"
"We found a way around that," the Hatter said cheerfully, "thanks to our new friend, the Angel. Look!"
He showed the Dormouse the watch. The Dormouse stared at it blearily for a moment, then his eyes widened and he looked suddenly wide-awake.
"Well, I'll be," he said. "It is bedtime." Then he scowled again and his little nose twitched angrily. "And you two idjits didn’t wake me up. I'll never be able to get back to sleep now."
"Don't say I didn't warn you," the Hare said in a sing-song voice. "Now let's go! Some of us have been awake for far too long."
Chapter Four - Murder Most Foul
Castiel did not usually need to sleep. However, whether it was because of the loss of his powers or of the world in which he found himself, that evening he felt sleepy. He gratefully accepted the Hatter's offer to sleep on his sofa. As they lay there in the darkness, Castiel listened to the Hatter's steady breathing and thought of Dean. It was not strange that his mind wandered in that direction, not while he was so near to someone who looked so much like Dean. Even when he had no such reminder, Castiel's mind had a habit of straying towards his friend. He often wondered what Dean was doing, as he did now, and wished that he could be with him. He also imagined trying to tell Dean of this experience. It would no doubt prove a daunting task to convince Dean that it had truly happened.
What the Hatter was thinking was not known to Castiel, until he suddenly spoke. Castiel was then surprised to discover that their thoughts had moved along similar paths.
"You called me Dean," the Hatter said.
"Yes," Castiel replied.
"Why?"
"I thought you were him."
Castiel heard the Hatter shift in his bed and he imagined that he could feel the weight of his stare on his face, although the darkness made it impossible to tell.
"Who is Dean?" the Hatter asked.
Castiel thought about this. There were many different answers to that question, but none of them seemed adequate. In the end, he settled for the one that felt most true. "He is my friend."
The Hatter was silent for a while. Then he asked, "Is he a good friend?"
Castiel's face softened into a smile. Before he had met Dean, he had never used to smile. He had had little reason to. "Yes," he said.
"Is he an Angel too?" The way the Hatter pronounced the word made it sound bizarre and unfamiliar.
"No, he is human."
The Hatter was silent again. "That doesn't tell me anything either," he said. "Why do you give each other such weird titles?"
"He is also a hunter," Castiel told him. "He hunts evil and protects his world."
The Hatter made a noise of approval. Apparently, Castiel had finally given him a word that he understood. "So he’s brave, the Hunter?"
"Very much so. He is brave and good and kind."
Another pause followed. The previous ones had been thoughtful, but this one felt more hesitant. "Do you like him?" the Hatter asked finally. His voice was soft and almost wistful.
"I do," Castiel replied sincerely.
"And I’m a lot like him?"
"You are," Castiel affirmed. He wondered what the reason was for all these questions. "You look exactly like him and I believe your personalities are similar, as well. However, Dean is less..."
"Mad?" the Hatter suggested.
"Exuberant," Castiel said. "He is more reserved. Maybe if his life had been different, Dean would have been more like you."
The Hatter made another soft noise, but this one was impossible to interpret. "So if you like Dean so very much," he said, "and I'm so very like him, does that mean that you like me too?" There was a teasing smugness to his tone, but Castiel thought that he could detect a note of sincerity underneath it, as if the Hatter truly wanted to know, but did not want Castiel to know that he did.
Because of that, Castiel took some time to think about it seriously. It seemed like a logical conclusion, but he did not feel certain that it was entirely accurate. After all, the Hatter was not Dean, but it was too soon for Castiel to be able to tell just how great the differences was. "I believe so,” he replied finally, “although I feel that I should get to know you better before I can be entirely certain. At the very least, there is a very good chance that I may come to like you."
The Hatter huffed out a soft laugh. "Good enough for me," he said. He did not say anything else for a long time and Castiel was beginning to think that he had fallen asleep, when he suddenly spoke again, so softly that Castiel almost did not hear him. "For the record," he said, "there's a good chance that I'll like you too."
*****
The next morning, Castiel woke to the sound of someone pounding on the door. It took him a while to remember where he was. It is often disorienting to wake up in a strange place, but it was even worse for Castiel, who was not used to sleeping and therefore not used to waking up anywhere. He could hear someone muttering from somewhere nearby. At first, he thought it was Dean, since it sounded like his voice, but then he remembered.
Castiel sat up on the sofa and looked over at the bed. The Hatter was sitting up too and looking over at him. He looked sleepy and disgruntled, as Dean often did on the mornings when he had not got enough sleep. "I should have known that Time wouldn't give in that easily," he said.
Castiel frowned. "What do you mean?"
"He didn't need to hurry so," the Hatter said. "If he'd moved a bit slower, we could have got more sleep."
"I don't think that's Time's fault," Castiel said. "I think it's more due to whoever's at the door."
The Hatter looked surprised. He glanced over at the door as if he had just now realized that someone was knocking. Castiel did not understand how he could have missed it. Whoever it was was both loud and insistent.
Dragging himself out of bed, the Hatter went to open the door. He was only wearing a pair of tartan pajama pants, but on his way to the door, he took down one of the many hats that hung on hooks on the walls and put it on. The hat was even taller than the one of the previous day and it was striped in yellow and black. When he noticed Castiel's look, he shrugged.
"Marketing," he said. "Whoever's out there may be here to buy a hat, so I should show them what I've got." He narrowed his eyes. Then he took down three more hats, which he put on top of the first one. He grinned at Castiel. "This should give them a better idea," he said.
Unfortunately for the Hatter, his visitor was not there to buy hats. As soon as the door opened, the Hare barged in. He looked even crazier than the Hatter, despite the latter being dressed in his sleeping clothes and four hats. The Hare's eyes were wide and wild, he was tugging on his ears incessantly and his nose kept twitching in odd directions.
"Took you long enough," he complained. "I'm beginning to understand why Time was so upset with you. You really do abuse him."
The Hatter scowled at him. "No, I don’t," he protested.
"Yes, you do," the Hare said. "But that’s not why I'm here. The Dormouse is in trouble."
"Trouble?" the Hatter asked, his angry scowl softening into something more concerned. "What sort of trouble?"
The Hare walked over to the sofa and sat down next to Castiel. "The Queen's soldiers came this morning while we were having breakfast and arrested him. They said he killed the Cheshire Cat."
The Hatter blinked. "The Cheshire Cat is dead?" he asked.
Now it was the Hare's turn to scowl. "Obviously," he said, "or it'd be attempted murder, wouldn't it? Apparently, the Cook found him this morning. Nothing left but a paw, an ear and his tail, they said."
"Why do they think that the Dormouse did it?" Castiel asked.
The Hare turned to him, looking surprised. It looked as if he had not realized that Castiel was there, even though he was sitting right next to him. Castiel was beginning to think that the inhabitants of Wonderland were not very perceptive.
"He always argued with the Cheshire Cat," the Hare said, "and then there's the whole thing with cats and mice."
"The thing with cats and mice?" Castiel asked.
"Yes, they eat each other."
Castiel frowned. "No, they don't. Cats eat mice. Mice don't eat cats and neither do dormice."
The Hare looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "We know," he said slowly. "We're not utterly crazy."
"Yes, we are," the Hatter interjected.
"True, we are," the Hare agreed, "but we know that mice don't eat cats. No more than bones eat dogs or grass eats sheep. But just because they don't, it doesn't mean that they won't. It's eat or be eaten, and my guess is that most creatures would rather eat. Not that I've ever been eaten myself, but it seems kind of unpleasant. Maybe the Dormouse thought so too."
Castiel thought that that explanation sounded very far-fetched, but he did not say anything. Instead it was the Hatter that spoke. "Did he do it?" he asked.
The Hare glared at him. "Of course not," he said.
The Hatter shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by the Hare's glare. "How do you know?" he asked. "It is true, after all, that he really didn't like the Cat."
"Because he told me," the Hare replied, "and I believe him."
The Hatter shrugged again. "Fine," he said. It seemed to be all the proof that he required. "So what do we do now?"
"We need to prove the Dormouse's innocence," the Hare said. "I think I should go to the court and make sure that the Queen doesn’t have him decapitated before we can get him released."
"How are you going to do that?" Castiel asked. He knew that Sam, with whom the Hare shared as many characteristics as the Hatter did with Dean, had once hoped to make the law his profession and had even begun his studies with that intent. He wondered now if the Hare had, or had had, similar ambitions.
"Oh, it shouldn't be too difficult," the Hare said dismissively. "The King is the judge. He should be easy enough to distract. I just have to use big words and befuddling arguments to annoy him."
"Humongous," the Hatter said. The Hare and Castiel both looked at him, confused. "It's a big word," the Hatter explained, looking very pleased with himself. “Both in size and meaning.”
The Hare rolled his eyes. It looked rather funny. "Yes," he said. "Thank you!"
"And ask him about the raven and the writing desk," the Hatter added. "I still haven't got an answer to that riddle."
"Why should I ask him that?" the Hare asked. "It has nothing to do with the case."
"No," the Hatter agreed, "but it will lead you into a befuddling argument."
"Oh," the Hare said. "Yes, I guess it will."
"What should we do?" Castiel asked. Even though these were not his real friends, they were so much like them that the thought never crossed his mind not to help them.
"We, dear Angel," said the Hatter, "are going to solve the mystery. The best way to prove the Dormouse's innocence is to find the true culprit." He frowned briefly and looked down at himself. "But first, I should probably get dressed.”
Chapters Five and Six