Fic: Some place where there isn't any trouble, part 3/? in the Oz series
Some place where there isn't any trouble
3200 words, SPN Dean/Castiel slash. Spoilers for all of season 4.
Thanks to zelda_zee for continuing beta and indulgence.
Continuing my Welcome to Oz series. Master post of links here.
The rest of the house is not nearly as homey or well put together as the kitchen. In fact, if the stacks of cardboard boxes are any indication, it looks like whoever lives in the building .
Some place where there isn't any trouble
Day 1
The rest of the house is not nearly as homey or well put together as the kitchen. In fact, if the stacks of cardboard boxes are any indication, it looks like whoever lives in the building is either coming or going.
Dean moves down the narrow hallway connecting the kitchen to the foyer and nearly trips over several flattened boxes propped up against the walls. They’re labeled ‘Kitchen - utensils’, ‘Kitchen - dishes’ and etc. Castiel grabs Dean’s elbow to steady him and after an awkward second, lets go.
The foyer’s packed full of moving boxes, all labeled in the similar neat template of ‘Room - category of items’. Dean opens a box titled ‘Bedroom - clothing’, half expecting an explosion of lacy pink little girl’s clothes; he’s even got an easy joke lined up. To Dean’s disappointment, however, it’s a box full of men’s clothing including new and unopened packages of underwear. He roots around the box for only a few more moments before pulling out a faded pair of jeans and a light blue polo shirt that actually might be around Castiel’s size. “I wouldn’t say today’s your lucky day yet, but it’s definitely looking up,” Dean says as he tosses the underwear and clothing to Castiel.
Castiel catches the garments and fumbles his way into them in the hallway, clearly as skilled in putting things on as taking things off-which is to say, not very. Dean glances away as he changes, scans the surprisingly empty first floor of the house. There’s a living room, a bathroom, and the foyer-all of which are bare of decoration or personal items, and only contain the most basic of furniture.
“Dean,” Castiel says and Dean turns around. “Is this configuration correct?”
If seeing Castiel naked and in various states of undress was weird, seeing him in a new casual outfit which somehow fits perfectly-although some of it is backwards-is yet more bizarre. “You’re uh, you’re on the right track,” Dean says. He gestures at Castiel’s fly, which is open, and makes zipping up motions until Castiel figures out how to mimic it correctly. “Your shirt’s on backwards too. Just turn it around.”
“I see,” Castiel says as he tries to shimmy out of his shirt, to no avail.
Dean chuckles despite himself as he takes the bottom hem of Castiel’s polo and pulls gently upward. “You’re worse than Sam was as a kid.”
“How will I know which way is backwards or forwards?” Castiel asks once he’s got the shirt on right.
“The tag always goes in the back. Back of your neck, back of your pants, tucked in so no one can see.” Dean steps back. “Didn’t they teach you that in angel finishing school?”
“No,” Castiel replies seriously. “Before, I had access to some of my vessel’s memories to assist me. Now it’s just…” he trails off.
“Yeah,” Dean says as he thinks of Sam, wonders where he is. “Jimmy’s not coming back, huh?”
“No,” Castiel says. He looks down at Dean’s jacket on the floor, where he dropped it. “Here.” Castiel leans down to pick it up and hands it to Dean.
“Thanks,” Dean says. Their fingers brush, but Dean pretends not to notice. “Now let’s figure out what the hell is going on here.”
Now that Castiel is fully dressed again, they take some time to fully explore the rest of the house. It doesn’t take long--the building turns out to be a modest house with two bedrooms and two baths on the second floor. One bedroom is clearly the master with a king sized bed, and the other appears to have been converted into a home office with a desk, chair, shelves, and a small two seater couch. Overall, it seems like a nice, normal, soon-to-be home. No spooky auras, no magic symbols, no animal sacrifices in the empty basement.
“Organized move,” Dean comments as he idly browses the books contained in the ‘Living Room - books’ box. “Guess whoever lives here got their heavy lifting done and then took off. Maybe went off to celebrate before having to deal with all these boxes.”
“That means they could return at any moment,” Castiel says. “We should move on.”
“We?” Dean says. “Aren’t you going to do that magical poof thing that you do?”
Before Castiel can answer, the doorbell rings and is accompanied by several firm raps on the front door.
“The neighbors must have seen us moving around,” Dean says.
“They may think we are intruders.”
“We are intruders,” Dean says. “You’d better get out of sight and let me do the talking. If it’s police at the door, I can convince them I’m lovable cousin Harry who came to help with the move, but no way can I can convince them that I brought a lovable posse to help and not home invade.”
“If they attack, I stand ready to assist.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Dean mutters before pulling back the deadbolt and opening the door. “Hello?”
“Why hi there, neighbor!” An older couple in their early sixties stands at the door, holding a platter of cookies. “Welcome to the neighborhood! We’re the Rockwells. I’m Norma,” the woman points to herself and then at her husband, “and this is Ray. You must be James.”
“James?” Dean coughs and tries to figure whether it’d be better to pretend to be him or a long lost cousin. “What makes you say that?”
The smile slips off the Rockwells’ faces a little bit at his question. Norma’s wearing a pink cardigan twinset, with short salt and pepper hair and a lanky, tallish frame. Ray’s a balding man with laugh lines, a beer belly, and an intensely green Hawaiian print shirt. “James Novak? That’s who we were told was moving here today,” Norma says uncertainly. “If you’re not James, then who-”
“Oh Jimmy! Jimmy Novak!” Dean says loudly. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to anyone calling old Jimmy-bean James anymore. Besides his mother.” Dean grins his most charming grin. “My name’s Dean Hardy, and I’m a longtime friend of Jimmy’s. Came up to help him move.”
“I see,” Norma says. “You must be a very good friend to have come all this way.”
“Ah, well,” Dean shrugs and smiles. “I do what I can.”
“Now, Dean,” Ray says as he tries to peer past Dean into the house. Dean moves to stand more fully in the doorway. “Is there any chance we could meet the mystery man himself? My wife has been dying to see what our new neighbor is like.”
“Of all the bad timing,” Dean snaps his fingers. “He stepped right into the shower a minute before you rang. I’ll be sure to pass on the message that he’s got some friendly neighbors waiting to meet him though-” Dean tries to shut the door but Ray puts a hand out to stop him.
“That is a shame,” Ray says. “But not to worry-we came over to invite him to the party we’re throwing over at our house.”
Norma points at the crisp, white and blue painted house across the street. “It’s a welcome to the neighborhood soiree.” She giggles, “I was hoping to get a sneak peak at the guest of honor before he arrived, but I guess I’ll have to wait just like everyone else.”
“The party sounds great, guys. But to be honest, we’ve spent the whole day moving heavy boxes and I’m not sure Jimmy’s really going to be up to a whole big to do.” Dean tries his best to seem apologetic.
“Oh but you have to come, both of you!” Norma says, dismay evident on her face. “It’s no welcome to the neighborhood if the welcom-ees aren’t present!”
“Come on, Dean,” Ray says, punching Dean lightly in the arm. “It’s gonna be a humdinger!” It’s becoming readily apparent that neither Ray nor Norma are going to leave without either seeing the fabled James Novak or extracting a promise that they’ll see him later.
“I tell you what,” Dean says and leans forward conspiratorially. “I’ll talk to Jimmy. See what I can do.”
“That’s more like it!” Ray says and goes to punch Dean on the arm again before seeming to think better of it.
“It’s in an hour across the street. Now don’t be late,” Norma says, handing the cookie plate over to Dean before turning to head back towards her house.
Dean watches Norma and Ray disappear into their house and shuts the door. “You heard all that?”
“They know my vessel’s name,” Castiel says. “They were expecting him.”
“Freak coincidence?” Dean suggests. “How many guys are named James Novak anyway?”
“Not enough,” Castiel says.
“Looks like your vessel is the proud owner of a shiny new slice of the American Dream from beyond the grave,” Dean says. “Too bad he can’t come back and claim it now.”
“I don’t know what he was doing here, or why he’d own a house,” Castiel says. “If I had access to his memories I might have some answers but as it is, I don’t recall him ever even thinking about this place.”
“Is it possible he was leading a double life?” It’s a long shot, but at this point nothing’s making much sense anyway. “Scamming his wife with another woman, getting ready to run out on his family?”
“No,” Castiel shakes his head. “My vessel was a pious and virtuous man, absolutely devoted to his family. He would never leave them without good cause.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Dean says, thinking back on the last-and now only-time he’d met Jimmy. Poor son of a bitch never saw this angels and demons crap coming. “What about your orders? Any clues on what the hell we’re supposed to be doing in a house your vessel bought?”
“I have no idea,” Castiel says. “All I know is that I was sent here; I didn’t arrive by chance.”
“And that stunning revelation leads us back to exactly where we are, which is nowhere,” Dean sighs irritably. “You know what I think? I think this place is too perfect. Sam and Suzy Sunshine are too damn perky, these cookies they gave me smell too damn good, and this whole damn town is probably one demon infestation away from Hell on earth. So I say, let’s get the hell outta Dodge.”
“I agree.”
“So?” Dean stares at Castiel expectantly. “Time to make with the teleportation, Cas. Poof, angel wing sounds, fingers to the forehead?”
Castiel’s brow furrows in concentration, and for a minute Dean thinks he looks seriously constipated. “I can’t. My wings are not responding.”
“What are you, a penguin? Those damn things for show now?”
Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Maybe it’s this place hampering my ability but I can no longer-I can’t even jump from room to room, much less leave this town.”
“Oh for the love of-” Dean throws his hands-cookie plate and all-into the air. A rain of cookies falls down on both their heads and the plate clatters to the floor, miraculously intact. “You telling me your angel mojo is broken?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Castiel says and runs a hand over his face in distraction.
“Yeah, seems you don’t know a lot of things now.” Dean braces himself against the wall. “Let’s leave the old-fashioned way then: drive like the goddamn wind.”
Dean opens the door a crack to check if the Rockwells-or any of the other neighbors living in this development-are out and about. All he sees is house after perfectly painted house, lawn after manicured green lawn. Satisfied that the coast is clear, he opens the door more fully and steps out into the warm afternoon sunshine. However, instead of his beloved Impala glinting in the driveway like she should be, there’s a powder blue Ford Focus, sitting alone and dejected. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Dean says. “This place just gets worse and worse.”
“You should probably drive,” Castiel says.
Dean laughs. “So says the guy who put on his shirt backwards.”
“Do you need keys?” Castiel asks once they reach the car and find the doors unlocked.
“Nope,” Dean says as he slides in and begins to hotwire the car. “All I need is these two hands and a lack of police supervision.” After a minute or two, the car rumbles to life and Dean backs out of the driveway.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Castiel asks as Dean drives through the development until they hit an intersection with a road called ‘Main Street’.
“Not a clue,” Dean says as he makes a right onto Main Street. “How about you? You guys come with Angel Compass like birds?”
“Yes, something like that and no, it is not currently functioning.”
“Yeah, because that wouldn’t be handy or anything right now,” Dean says as they drive past what appears to be the main strip of town. There’s a diner, several restaurants, an ice cream parlor, a movie theater, a florist, a doctor and dentist’s offices, and a few stores, all titled hokey names like ‘Fork N Kork’ or ‘Gale’s Grocery and Goods’.
Once they’re through the main drag, the buildings disappear and give way to corn and wheat fields. After about ten minutes, the cultivated fields end and become woods, and then finally grassy fields. A sign says, ‘Leaving Mountaindale: We’ll miss you!’ and then a second sign a few feet past it says, ‘Slow: Cloudtop Scenic Overlook up ahead’.
The paved road abruptly changes to gravel after the Scenic Overlook sign and then after a mile, even the gravel road disappears into the grass.
“What the hell?” Dean says as he slows the car to a halt. “Where’d the road go?”
“I think we should exit the vehicle,” Castiel says as he unbuckles his seat belt and climbs out. He walks a few feet away and then stops. “You should see this.”
Dean gets out of the car and walks over to Castiel. The breath is nearly knocked of him when Castiel’s arm jerks up to block him from stepping further forward. “What are you-” Then Dean looks down.
Barely a foot in front of them is a sudden drop-the grassy field simply comes to an end and there’s a near vertical cliff face beneath them. The name ‘Cloudtop’ is aptly given considering the thick layer of cloud cover obscuring the ground at the base of this apparent mountain. From what Dean can tell, the fall would be miles, maybe hundreds of miles down.
“You do not want to fall,” Castiel says.
Dean backs away from the edge as quickly as his legs can take him and feels his heart race with the touch of vertigo. “What the hell is this place? We’re on top of a mountain?”
“It would seem,” Castiel says as he backs away as well. “Although the climate here does not match that of normal location this high in altitude. It is most irregular.”
“Forget irregular, this situation is seriously fubar, Cas,” Dean says. “Your vessel bought a house on top of a mountain with no way down?”
“Maybe if we drive in the other direction, the road continues downwards,” Castiel suggests. So they do. They drive back all the way to the other side of town and meet with the same result: a road which ends in a scenic overlook of Cloudtop.
“How is this possible?” Dean asks as he kicks a stone off the side of the mountain and watches it disappear into the milky white haze. “Do the people living here know they’re trapped on a goddamn mountain?”
“There must be another way,” Castiel says, but he sounds uncertain. “There must be another way up and down.”
“What, by rickshaw?” Dean says. “By mountain goat? By blanket-covered donkey-cart?”
“We need answers,” Castiel says. He turns to Dean, who is sitting on the ground, ripping up handfuls of grass petulantly. “We need to speak to those neighbors.”
“The punch is going to be the blood drained from a hundred virgins,” Dean says dourly. “No one is that perky without virgin blood being involved somehow.”
“It’s probably a trap,” Castiel agrees. “But I do not see any other option if we want answers.”
“If Sam was here with his laptop we could google this place and he’d probably find an elevator to the bottom of the mountain or something,” Dean says. He checks his pockets for his cell phone, wallet, or keys but comes up with nothing. Everything’s empty. He hadn’t seen any phones back at the house either. “Maybe they’ll have a phone at the neighbor’s we can borrow.”
“It might be best if I pretend to be my vessel for now,” Castiel says. “I don’t know what this place is, but we should probably avoid raising suspicions for however long we’re here.”
“Stealing the identity of the dead meatsuit you’re wearing’s only slightly disturbing,” Dean says and shrugs, “but what ain’t, these days?”
Castiel looks away. “This body is not dead. My vessel’s soul has merely... moved on.”
“Was there a light?” Dean asks with a thin and sardonic smile. “Did his life flash before his eyes?”
“I hope so,” Castiel whispers to the ground.
“There wasn’t for me,” Dean smiles humorlessly. “But I guess I went under special circumstances. Let’s hope Jimmy found his way to that other place.”
Castiel turns to walk back to the car. “We should go.”
“Whoa there, Captain Bodysnatcher,” Dean says. He stands and brushes some of the dirt off his jeans. “I was thinking I should probably fly solo on this one. You can hang tight in the fortress of doom.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you had a meltdown in the kitchen of a strange house a little over an hour ago,” Dean says bluntly. “If there’s a part II or a repeat performance in the works, you should probably have it in the privacy of your vessel’s home.”
Castiel’s voice is cool and steady. “It will not happen again, I am certain.”
“Still a bad plan,” Dean says. “If it’s a trap-which it almost certainly is-I’m going to need backup when the situation goes sour. Someone to pull me out.”
“That’s why I need to be there,” Castiel says. “They are expecting me and I can-“
“Keep them in suspense for another act,” Dean interrupts. “Who cares what they expect? It’s the anticipation that people love, not the actual reveal.”
“If it’s an ambush and I am not with you, I won’t reach you in time,” Castiel says coldly. “They will kill you, and your life-along with my work to restore and preserve it--will have been a meaningless waste. Then they will probably come for me too.”
“What a fucking ray of sunshine you are,” Dean says, taken aback.
“When will you understand that you are free to take pointless, reckless risks with your life,” Castiel gets back into the passenger seat of the car, “so long as I take them with you?”
Dean finds himself almost smiling at that. He opens the car door and slides in. “Alright, Cas. But it's your funeral.”
Onto the next chapter: Behind the moon, beyond the rain
3200 words, SPN Dean/Castiel slash. Spoilers for all of season 4.
Thanks to zelda_zee for continuing beta and indulgence.
Continuing my Welcome to Oz series. Master post of links here.
The rest of the house is not nearly as homey or well put together as the kitchen. In fact, if the stacks of cardboard boxes are any indication, it looks like whoever lives in the building .
Some place where there isn't any trouble
Day 1
The rest of the house is not nearly as homey or well put together as the kitchen. In fact, if the stacks of cardboard boxes are any indication, it looks like whoever lives in the building is either coming or going.
Dean moves down the narrow hallway connecting the kitchen to the foyer and nearly trips over several flattened boxes propped up against the walls. They’re labeled ‘Kitchen - utensils’, ‘Kitchen - dishes’ and etc. Castiel grabs Dean’s elbow to steady him and after an awkward second, lets go.
The foyer’s packed full of moving boxes, all labeled in the similar neat template of ‘Room - category of items’. Dean opens a box titled ‘Bedroom - clothing’, half expecting an explosion of lacy pink little girl’s clothes; he’s even got an easy joke lined up. To Dean’s disappointment, however, it’s a box full of men’s clothing including new and unopened packages of underwear. He roots around the box for only a few more moments before pulling out a faded pair of jeans and a light blue polo shirt that actually might be around Castiel’s size. “I wouldn’t say today’s your lucky day yet, but it’s definitely looking up,” Dean says as he tosses the underwear and clothing to Castiel.
Castiel catches the garments and fumbles his way into them in the hallway, clearly as skilled in putting things on as taking things off-which is to say, not very. Dean glances away as he changes, scans the surprisingly empty first floor of the house. There’s a living room, a bathroom, and the foyer-all of which are bare of decoration or personal items, and only contain the most basic of furniture.
“Dean,” Castiel says and Dean turns around. “Is this configuration correct?”
If seeing Castiel naked and in various states of undress was weird, seeing him in a new casual outfit which somehow fits perfectly-although some of it is backwards-is yet more bizarre. “You’re uh, you’re on the right track,” Dean says. He gestures at Castiel’s fly, which is open, and makes zipping up motions until Castiel figures out how to mimic it correctly. “Your shirt’s on backwards too. Just turn it around.”
“I see,” Castiel says as he tries to shimmy out of his shirt, to no avail.
Dean chuckles despite himself as he takes the bottom hem of Castiel’s polo and pulls gently upward. “You’re worse than Sam was as a kid.”
“How will I know which way is backwards or forwards?” Castiel asks once he’s got the shirt on right.
“The tag always goes in the back. Back of your neck, back of your pants, tucked in so no one can see.” Dean steps back. “Didn’t they teach you that in angel finishing school?”
“No,” Castiel replies seriously. “Before, I had access to some of my vessel’s memories to assist me. Now it’s just…” he trails off.
“Yeah,” Dean says as he thinks of Sam, wonders where he is. “Jimmy’s not coming back, huh?”
“No,” Castiel says. He looks down at Dean’s jacket on the floor, where he dropped it. “Here.” Castiel leans down to pick it up and hands it to Dean.
“Thanks,” Dean says. Their fingers brush, but Dean pretends not to notice. “Now let’s figure out what the hell is going on here.”
Now that Castiel is fully dressed again, they take some time to fully explore the rest of the house. It doesn’t take long--the building turns out to be a modest house with two bedrooms and two baths on the second floor. One bedroom is clearly the master with a king sized bed, and the other appears to have been converted into a home office with a desk, chair, shelves, and a small two seater couch. Overall, it seems like a nice, normal, soon-to-be home. No spooky auras, no magic symbols, no animal sacrifices in the empty basement.
“Organized move,” Dean comments as he idly browses the books contained in the ‘Living Room - books’ box. “Guess whoever lives here got their heavy lifting done and then took off. Maybe went off to celebrate before having to deal with all these boxes.”
“That means they could return at any moment,” Castiel says. “We should move on.”
“We?” Dean says. “Aren’t you going to do that magical poof thing that you do?”
Before Castiel can answer, the doorbell rings and is accompanied by several firm raps on the front door.
“The neighbors must have seen us moving around,” Dean says.
“They may think we are intruders.”
“We are intruders,” Dean says. “You’d better get out of sight and let me do the talking. If it’s police at the door, I can convince them I’m lovable cousin Harry who came to help with the move, but no way can I can convince them that I brought a lovable posse to help and not home invade.”
“If they attack, I stand ready to assist.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Dean mutters before pulling back the deadbolt and opening the door. “Hello?”
“Why hi there, neighbor!” An older couple in their early sixties stands at the door, holding a platter of cookies. “Welcome to the neighborhood! We’re the Rockwells. I’m Norma,” the woman points to herself and then at her husband, “and this is Ray. You must be James.”
“James?” Dean coughs and tries to figure whether it’d be better to pretend to be him or a long lost cousin. “What makes you say that?”
The smile slips off the Rockwells’ faces a little bit at his question. Norma’s wearing a pink cardigan twinset, with short salt and pepper hair and a lanky, tallish frame. Ray’s a balding man with laugh lines, a beer belly, and an intensely green Hawaiian print shirt. “James Novak? That’s who we were told was moving here today,” Norma says uncertainly. “If you’re not James, then who-”
“Oh Jimmy! Jimmy Novak!” Dean says loudly. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to anyone calling old Jimmy-bean James anymore. Besides his mother.” Dean grins his most charming grin. “My name’s Dean Hardy, and I’m a longtime friend of Jimmy’s. Came up to help him move.”
“I see,” Norma says. “You must be a very good friend to have come all this way.”
“Ah, well,” Dean shrugs and smiles. “I do what I can.”
“Now, Dean,” Ray says as he tries to peer past Dean into the house. Dean moves to stand more fully in the doorway. “Is there any chance we could meet the mystery man himself? My wife has been dying to see what our new neighbor is like.”
“Of all the bad timing,” Dean snaps his fingers. “He stepped right into the shower a minute before you rang. I’ll be sure to pass on the message that he’s got some friendly neighbors waiting to meet him though-” Dean tries to shut the door but Ray puts a hand out to stop him.
“That is a shame,” Ray says. “But not to worry-we came over to invite him to the party we’re throwing over at our house.”
Norma points at the crisp, white and blue painted house across the street. “It’s a welcome to the neighborhood soiree.” She giggles, “I was hoping to get a sneak peak at the guest of honor before he arrived, but I guess I’ll have to wait just like everyone else.”
“The party sounds great, guys. But to be honest, we’ve spent the whole day moving heavy boxes and I’m not sure Jimmy’s really going to be up to a whole big to do.” Dean tries his best to seem apologetic.
“Oh but you have to come, both of you!” Norma says, dismay evident on her face. “It’s no welcome to the neighborhood if the welcom-ees aren’t present!”
“Come on, Dean,” Ray says, punching Dean lightly in the arm. “It’s gonna be a humdinger!” It’s becoming readily apparent that neither Ray nor Norma are going to leave without either seeing the fabled James Novak or extracting a promise that they’ll see him later.
“I tell you what,” Dean says and leans forward conspiratorially. “I’ll talk to Jimmy. See what I can do.”
“That’s more like it!” Ray says and goes to punch Dean on the arm again before seeming to think better of it.
“It’s in an hour across the street. Now don’t be late,” Norma says, handing the cookie plate over to Dean before turning to head back towards her house.
Dean watches Norma and Ray disappear into their house and shuts the door. “You heard all that?”
“They know my vessel’s name,” Castiel says. “They were expecting him.”
“Freak coincidence?” Dean suggests. “How many guys are named James Novak anyway?”
“Not enough,” Castiel says.
“Looks like your vessel is the proud owner of a shiny new slice of the American Dream from beyond the grave,” Dean says. “Too bad he can’t come back and claim it now.”
“I don’t know what he was doing here, or why he’d own a house,” Castiel says. “If I had access to his memories I might have some answers but as it is, I don’t recall him ever even thinking about this place.”
“Is it possible he was leading a double life?” It’s a long shot, but at this point nothing’s making much sense anyway. “Scamming his wife with another woman, getting ready to run out on his family?”
“No,” Castiel shakes his head. “My vessel was a pious and virtuous man, absolutely devoted to his family. He would never leave them without good cause.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Dean says, thinking back on the last-and now only-time he’d met Jimmy. Poor son of a bitch never saw this angels and demons crap coming. “What about your orders? Any clues on what the hell we’re supposed to be doing in a house your vessel bought?”
“I have no idea,” Castiel says. “All I know is that I was sent here; I didn’t arrive by chance.”
“And that stunning revelation leads us back to exactly where we are, which is nowhere,” Dean sighs irritably. “You know what I think? I think this place is too perfect. Sam and Suzy Sunshine are too damn perky, these cookies they gave me smell too damn good, and this whole damn town is probably one demon infestation away from Hell on earth. So I say, let’s get the hell outta Dodge.”
“I agree.”
“So?” Dean stares at Castiel expectantly. “Time to make with the teleportation, Cas. Poof, angel wing sounds, fingers to the forehead?”
Castiel’s brow furrows in concentration, and for a minute Dean thinks he looks seriously constipated. “I can’t. My wings are not responding.”
“What are you, a penguin? Those damn things for show now?”
Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Maybe it’s this place hampering my ability but I can no longer-I can’t even jump from room to room, much less leave this town.”
“Oh for the love of-” Dean throws his hands-cookie plate and all-into the air. A rain of cookies falls down on both their heads and the plate clatters to the floor, miraculously intact. “You telling me your angel mojo is broken?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Castiel says and runs a hand over his face in distraction.
“Yeah, seems you don’t know a lot of things now.” Dean braces himself against the wall. “Let’s leave the old-fashioned way then: drive like the goddamn wind.”
Dean opens the door a crack to check if the Rockwells-or any of the other neighbors living in this development-are out and about. All he sees is house after perfectly painted house, lawn after manicured green lawn. Satisfied that the coast is clear, he opens the door more fully and steps out into the warm afternoon sunshine. However, instead of his beloved Impala glinting in the driveway like she should be, there’s a powder blue Ford Focus, sitting alone and dejected. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Dean says. “This place just gets worse and worse.”
“You should probably drive,” Castiel says.
Dean laughs. “So says the guy who put on his shirt backwards.”
“Do you need keys?” Castiel asks once they reach the car and find the doors unlocked.
“Nope,” Dean says as he slides in and begins to hotwire the car. “All I need is these two hands and a lack of police supervision.” After a minute or two, the car rumbles to life and Dean backs out of the driveway.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Castiel asks as Dean drives through the development until they hit an intersection with a road called ‘Main Street’.
“Not a clue,” Dean says as he makes a right onto Main Street. “How about you? You guys come with Angel Compass like birds?”
“Yes, something like that and no, it is not currently functioning.”
“Yeah, because that wouldn’t be handy or anything right now,” Dean says as they drive past what appears to be the main strip of town. There’s a diner, several restaurants, an ice cream parlor, a movie theater, a florist, a doctor and dentist’s offices, and a few stores, all titled hokey names like ‘Fork N Kork’ or ‘Gale’s Grocery and Goods’.
Once they’re through the main drag, the buildings disappear and give way to corn and wheat fields. After about ten minutes, the cultivated fields end and become woods, and then finally grassy fields. A sign says, ‘Leaving Mountaindale: We’ll miss you!’ and then a second sign a few feet past it says, ‘Slow: Cloudtop Scenic Overlook up ahead’.
The paved road abruptly changes to gravel after the Scenic Overlook sign and then after a mile, even the gravel road disappears into the grass.
“What the hell?” Dean says as he slows the car to a halt. “Where’d the road go?”
“I think we should exit the vehicle,” Castiel says as he unbuckles his seat belt and climbs out. He walks a few feet away and then stops. “You should see this.”
Dean gets out of the car and walks over to Castiel. The breath is nearly knocked of him when Castiel’s arm jerks up to block him from stepping further forward. “What are you-” Then Dean looks down.
Barely a foot in front of them is a sudden drop-the grassy field simply comes to an end and there’s a near vertical cliff face beneath them. The name ‘Cloudtop’ is aptly given considering the thick layer of cloud cover obscuring the ground at the base of this apparent mountain. From what Dean can tell, the fall would be miles, maybe hundreds of miles down.
“You do not want to fall,” Castiel says.
Dean backs away from the edge as quickly as his legs can take him and feels his heart race with the touch of vertigo. “What the hell is this place? We’re on top of a mountain?”
“It would seem,” Castiel says as he backs away as well. “Although the climate here does not match that of normal location this high in altitude. It is most irregular.”
“Forget irregular, this situation is seriously fubar, Cas,” Dean says. “Your vessel bought a house on top of a mountain with no way down?”
“Maybe if we drive in the other direction, the road continues downwards,” Castiel suggests. So they do. They drive back all the way to the other side of town and meet with the same result: a road which ends in a scenic overlook of Cloudtop.
“How is this possible?” Dean asks as he kicks a stone off the side of the mountain and watches it disappear into the milky white haze. “Do the people living here know they’re trapped on a goddamn mountain?”
“There must be another way,” Castiel says, but he sounds uncertain. “There must be another way up and down.”
“What, by rickshaw?” Dean says. “By mountain goat? By blanket-covered donkey-cart?”
“We need answers,” Castiel says. He turns to Dean, who is sitting on the ground, ripping up handfuls of grass petulantly. “We need to speak to those neighbors.”
“The punch is going to be the blood drained from a hundred virgins,” Dean says dourly. “No one is that perky without virgin blood being involved somehow.”
“It’s probably a trap,” Castiel agrees. “But I do not see any other option if we want answers.”
“If Sam was here with his laptop we could google this place and he’d probably find an elevator to the bottom of the mountain or something,” Dean says. He checks his pockets for his cell phone, wallet, or keys but comes up with nothing. Everything’s empty. He hadn’t seen any phones back at the house either. “Maybe they’ll have a phone at the neighbor’s we can borrow.”
“It might be best if I pretend to be my vessel for now,” Castiel says. “I don’t know what this place is, but we should probably avoid raising suspicions for however long we’re here.”
“Stealing the identity of the dead meatsuit you’re wearing’s only slightly disturbing,” Dean says and shrugs, “but what ain’t, these days?”
Castiel looks away. “This body is not dead. My vessel’s soul has merely... moved on.”
“Was there a light?” Dean asks with a thin and sardonic smile. “Did his life flash before his eyes?”
“I hope so,” Castiel whispers to the ground.
“There wasn’t for me,” Dean smiles humorlessly. “But I guess I went under special circumstances. Let’s hope Jimmy found his way to that other place.”
Castiel turns to walk back to the car. “We should go.”
“Whoa there, Captain Bodysnatcher,” Dean says. He stands and brushes some of the dirt off his jeans. “I was thinking I should probably fly solo on this one. You can hang tight in the fortress of doom.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you had a meltdown in the kitchen of a strange house a little over an hour ago,” Dean says bluntly. “If there’s a part II or a repeat performance in the works, you should probably have it in the privacy of your vessel’s home.”
Castiel’s voice is cool and steady. “It will not happen again, I am certain.”
“Still a bad plan,” Dean says. “If it’s a trap-which it almost certainly is-I’m going to need backup when the situation goes sour. Someone to pull me out.”
“That’s why I need to be there,” Castiel says. “They are expecting me and I can-“
“Keep them in suspense for another act,” Dean interrupts. “Who cares what they expect? It’s the anticipation that people love, not the actual reveal.”
“If it’s an ambush and I am not with you, I won’t reach you in time,” Castiel says coldly. “They will kill you, and your life-along with my work to restore and preserve it--will have been a meaningless waste. Then they will probably come for me too.”
“What a fucking ray of sunshine you are,” Dean says, taken aback.
“When will you understand that you are free to take pointless, reckless risks with your life,” Castiel gets back into the passenger seat of the car, “so long as I take them with you?”
Dean finds himself almost smiling at that. He opens the car door and slides in. “Alright, Cas. But it's your funeral.”
Onto the next chapter: Behind the moon, beyond the rain