[FIC] A Very Gay & Blasphemous Carol (R) 1/2 for Watermaline

[deancas_xmasmod]

Gift type: Fanfic
Title: A Very Gay & Blasphemous Carol (1 of 2)
Recipient: watermaline
Author: tehopheliac
Rating: R (for foul language and a little violence)
Warnings: Art Inside, Crackfic, tit cookies, bonbon addiction, AU, AUfuture!Dean, AUfuture!Castiel, kidfic, future!fic, Selfcest (flirting only), kinky (tiny) dominant!Castiel scene. (Highlight the "blank space" to see the warnings / spoilers.)
Spoilers / Wordcount: Seasons 1-5 (up to episode 8) / 20,000 words
Summary: Dean and Castiel are not-so-secretly pining for each other. It's enough to make Gabriel roll his eyes and want to retch! They need to fuck and get on with it already- there's an Apocalypse going on! If they want to survive, they need to stop making goo-goo eyes at each other and actually fight. To accomplish this task, the Trickster comes up with a devious plan...

Author's Notes: Finally, the full version of the author's notes! :D First things first, the new art for this fic! :D It's not completely finished, but it's at a point where I'm willing to post a link to it so you guys can see it. This version was drawn with pencil and paper by Ph1shF00d. She's going to be redoing it digitally and coloring it, so if you check in here or on my LJ, you can see the completed version shortly. :D

This fic really got away from me. Originally, I'd only intended for it to be about 2k or so (since I'm new to writing SPN). I'm not really sure what happened. The plot just sort of exploded and ran me over. It was the fic that never wanted to end and since I write really slowly, it consumed my life. I was actually getting really worried that I wouldn't be able to finish it in time. As it is, I had to rush the ending (I hope it's not too noticeable) and the beta-ing process (so if there are errors or plots holes, it's because we ran out of time). Sorry about that! Oh, and, there's the possibility of a sequel (mind you, it would be a smallish selfcest/Cas threesome fic) if there's enough interest (and I can come up with a plot).

Alright, now it's time for a bunch of thank you's and crediting. There are a lot of people that I need to thank for helping me with this fic. First off, I'm going to thank the artists. Thank you, thisfishflies, for the beautiful wings/halo spacer inserts that you bribed me with (also, thanks for the help, encouragement, and general enthusiasm). Thank you, Ph1shF00d, for the gorgeous illustrations.

First off, here's the most important and the biggest thank you of all. Thank you, trill_gutterbug ! This awesome person? Is my beta. I would be so very lost without her. Really, you have no idea. xD She was there to help me through this fic, encourage me, fix my errors, point out plot holes / things that don't make sense and make suggestions. This is, by no means, a small feat. There's no way I'd have been able to write this fic without her. xD She was my lifeline! <3 SO, YES. THANK YOU VERY MUCH!! <3

Next, I'd like to take the time to thank c00kie for helping to give me the initial concept of the children, Alli and Austin. Without her help, I can honestly say I'd be missing about 1/3rd of my plot and the kids would probably have ended up boring (or annoying-- or both).

Thank you, entangled_now, for giving me the slap on the hand as well as encouragement when I wanted to give up. She gave me the motivation to barrel on and finish the fic when the deadline was running close and I was being overwhelmed.

A huge thank you to spilled_notes without whom there would be no plot to speak of. She was there to listen to me babble, encourage me, and help out with a few ideas of her own. <3 Talking to her helped me to organize my thoughts and plot out the events of the fic in my head so I could write them out. Also? I wouldn't have dared to use the Trickster without her encouragement.

I'd like to give a big thanks to fairyeyez27 as well. Not only did she encourage me to write the fic, but she also took the time to write out the rough initial version of dominant!Castiel/not-Dean scene that Dean walked in on. With her permission, I revised, edited, and rewrote it to fit my writing style in the fic. <33

Finally, I'd like to thank wendy_bird. She was one of the first people I went to with the fic's plot and she listened to me complain and blather on about it for an extended period of time. xD THANK YOU-- ALL OF YOU!






There was nothing on TV.

Gabriel had been flicking through channels for ten minutes now and none of the scenes flashing by looked even remotely interesting. How boring. With a put-upon sigh, the Trickster leaned over and picked up a bonbon, popping it into his mouth with a deep groan. "Delicious," he said, licking the residue off his fingers and eying the dish of heavenly treats.

After the disaster of his most recent run-in with the Winchester boys, Gabriel decided the only way to cheer himself up was to spend a few weeks in luxury. He was clad in a garish gold robe made of the finest silk and the softest cottons. It wrapped loosely around his waist and splayed open at the chest, revealing skin sprinkled with crumbs.

Speaking of the Winpesters, Sam and Dean were probably out ruining some poor villain's hard work while Castiel hovered nearby, waiting to help. Gabriel rolled his eyes and picked up another bonbon. As he bit into it (Jesus, God! So good!), the Trickster snapped the fingers of his free hand and tuned in to watch when the TV screen flickered and zoomed in on Castiel.

"CAS!" Dean cried out. His voice resounded through Gabriel's top brand speaker system as he lunged towards the angel, just barely managing not to be shot through the heart. Again. Instead, the bullet grazed his shoulder and the two of them hit the ground rolling. In the background, Sam could be seen dramatically vanquishing some vampire.

"Once again, Dean makes a rash decision that almost gets himself killed. I'm sick of all this drama," Gabriel said, wondering why the idiot didn't realize that Castiel didn't need saving. He could have easily deflected the bullet-; he was an angel for God's sake. "Christ, what is this, Days of Our Lives? I've seen better acting on VH1!"

Dean lifted his head, his body draped across Castiel's, and stared down at the angel. Castiel's expression was lined with tension and his brows furrowed. "Dean," Castiel said, his voice tight as he gazed up into Dean's eyes.

"Oh, please, you two couldn't be more obvious if you were Simon and Paula. No wonder Dad went missing," Gabriel remarked, sucking on his fingers. He pulled off with a lewd pop and bit into another bonbon. "I'd rather be at the ChuckCon."

"Uh... hey guys?" Sam's weak voice interjected. The camera swung around and panned in on him so fast Gabriel felt motion sick. Sam stumbled over in the lovebirds’ direction, bleeding profusely and clutching his stomach. "Some help here?"

"Good lord!" Gabriel slapped a hand to his face (ow) and peeked between his fingers to watch as Dean practically threw himself off Castiel and stumbled over towards his little brother. Tsking, the Trickster wiped his sticky hand on his robe and said, "I think I should be nicer to Sam. He deserves a reward for having to put up with these schmucks 24/7. I'd have killed them by now."

Gabriel stood up from his comfortable recliner chair, brushed the crumbs off his chest, and stretched. "I'm going to have to do something about this," he said, snapping his fingers and turning off the TV. "It's just not healthy. Besides, it will be... entertaining." A devious grin tugged at Gabriel's lips as he changed his outfit to something more suitable for the task at hand.

"But first..." Gabriel reached out and stuffed another bonbon into his mouth with an orgasmic moan. He really shouldn't have killed that cook. It was going to be very upsetting when he ran out of bonbons. With a smirk, Gabriel snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Poof. A few seconds later, the Trickster popped back into the room. With a cry of, "Oh fuck it, I'm addicted!" he grabbed the tin of bonbons and winked out of existence.



“-research. Bobby said that it might be a... are you guys even listening to me?" Sam asked with not a small hint of irritation. His half-eaten dish of chicken salad (what a girly meal!) was pushed off to the side and ready to be boxed for leftovers.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean murmured without looking away from Castiel, who was staring at his pasta as though it was alive and out to get him. "Bobby." He’d inhaled his burger and fries within minutes of receiving them and his plate looked like it had been licked clean.

Castiel, who had yet to try his pasta, carefully set down his fork and looked over at Sam's bitchface. "I am sorry, Sam. I was preoccupied with... What did you say this was called, again?" he asked, gesturing to his noodles with a vaguely unimpressed look.

"It's spaghetti and meatballs," Dean cut in before Sam could do more than open his mouth. Leaning over table, Dean picked up Castiel's fork and twirled some spaghetti onto it before putting the utensil back into Castiel's hand with a small smirk and a longing look. "Just try it."

Castiel gave Dean a doubtful look, but took hold of the fork and put the food in his mouth with mechanical efficiency. Some of the marinara sauce splashed the corners of his lips and Dean had to manfully resist the urge to lean forward and lick it away.

Even Sam couldn't stop himself from smiling when Castiel's eyes widened at the first taste of pasta. The angel swallowed and smacked his lips together a few times, trying out the taste. "This is good," he told first Sam and then Dean, as though he had been expecting poison or something equally horrible.

Before anyone could respond, a busty red-haired waitress appeared at Dean's elbow and settled a plate of cherry pie in front of him. "It's on the house," she explained at his confused expression, giving him a sultry 'come hither' look. "I saw you eying it at the front counter when you walked in."

"Why, thank you." Dean gave her an easy grin, running his eyes over her small form and lingering on her breasts. "Maybe we could get together later tonight... Say, when you get off work?" he asked. Nameless one-night stands were a good replacement for unavailable angels.

The red-head, whose name was Sherrie, according to her name-tag, giggled and twisted a strand of her curly hair. "Definitely! I get off at-”

"Dean," Castiel interrupted, his voice cold. Dean glanced over at him and found pleading blue eyes and a stiff posture. "We do not have the time for this. Remember why we are here." The smear of sauce at the corner of his lips was distracting and it took Dean a moment to realize what he was referring to. The mysterious killings, the hunt. Damn, he'd have to take a rain check.

"Ah, shit. You're right, Cas." Dean turned back to Sherrie and was surprised to find her glaring fiercely at Castiel. He raised his eyebrows at her and wondered if maybe it wasn't a good thing that his plans had changed. "I'm sorry, Sherrie. I do have important plans for the night. Maybe if I could just have your number, we could reschedule sometime...?"

Sherrie's expression morphed into something overly sweet and hopeful as she pulled out a pen and scrawled her number on a clean napkin. "Here you go! Give me a call sometime, Dean." She gave Dean a wink and walked away, her hips swaying and her short skirt giving teasing glimpses.

Sam's pointed cough pulled Dean's eyes away from her ass and he turned to his brother with a lecherous grin. "God, Sammy. You're such a prude. No wonder you never get laid." Sam stared at him incredulously and said nothing. Dean had the distinct impression that his brother was wondering where all his brain cells had gotten too.

"Well," Dean said, picking up his fork and using it to break off a piece of pie. He glanced over at Castiel and, sure enough, the marinara sauce was right where he'd left it. "Cas, you have sauce on your face." He scooped up the cherries and pie crust and shoved it into his mouth, savoring the taste as he watched Castiel try to wipe it off.

"No, you're not..." Dean said, still chewing on the pie as he dropped his fork and leaned across the table. "It's right here..." He reached out, ignoring the sharply indrawn breath as his fingers brushed the stubbly skin of Castiel's chin when- pop!

Abruptly, there was a weird twist behind Dean's navel. He felt like he was being turned inside out and spun around before being tossed unceremoniously to the ground. Dean choked on his pie, spitting it on the dirty rubble beneath him and turning onto his side. "Ow… ouch, what the fuck?" he rasped, coughing and sucking in breaths of air.

Dean panted and pushed himself upright, dropping a hand immediately to his waist and pulling out his gun. He looked around, the mall’s walls cracked, crumbled, and destroyed. A majority of the building consisted of rubble, ruins, and a shaky ceiling overhead that made Dean nervous. God only knew how it managed to support the structure's weight instead of crashing down and squashing him like a bug. What the hell had happened? One minute he'd been sitting in a diner with Sam and Castiel... the next he was laying face down in the middle of what had once been a mall.

Getting to his feet, Dean clicked the safety off his gun and began to explore the ruins. For the most part, the decrepit mall was empty. Every once in a while Dean would come across the remains of some useless broken merchandise that may have once resided on a shelf years before. It begged the question: What had happened to all the people?

Ten minutes later found Dean exiting the building into a winter wonderland with nothing but rubble as far as the eye could see. He stopped dead, staring at the snow blankly for a long moment and trying to process it. It had been a sunny hot day in Florida not even a half-hour before and now Dean was surrounded by ankle deep snow without a coat? Granted, it was Christmas Eve. But still- this was Florida! ...Unless it wasn't.

That was ridiculous, though, wasn't it? After all, Castiel had carved those angelic symbols onto their ribs. There was no way for any creature -angel, demon, or the Trickster- to locate them. They'd been careful with their current hunt and had been doing research, laying low so as not to be recognized. So what in the hell... unless this had to do with their current hunt? Was it something they'd missed? Dean couldn't know for sure until he got a hold of Sam and Castiel.

Dean dug around in his pocket and pulled out his phone. As he flicked it open and held down three, he stepped back inside the ruined mall and shivered, wishing he'd kept his coat on at the diner. The phone rang three times before Castiel picked it up. "Dean...?" he said, sounding confused and a little suspicious.

"Who else would it be?" Dean snapped, glaring out into the snow and flicking the safety off his gun back on before stuffing into the back of his pants. "Look, I don't know where I am or what just happened. One minute I was sitting across from you and Sam and the next I'm kissing the ground in some torn-up mall. Think this is the work of our monster of the week?"

There was a long period of silence before Castiel said, "Dean, have you been drinking again? I know it's open mic night at the bar, and they serve free drinks, but really, Dean, this was supposed to be a family trip."

Dean's jaw dropped and his brows furrowed. "What! Cas, are you feeling okay?" What the hell was wrong with his angel? He'd been fine not ten minutes earlier. Maybe Dean wasn't the only one who'd been affected by... whatever it was that was going on.

More silence. "Dean. I am unable to locate you. Does this mall you are in have a name?" Castiel's words were said haltingly, as though he were weary of Dean's true authenticity, but unable to do nothing.

Dean glanced around the wreckage, searching for anything that could help identify the mall he was stranded at. There was nothing. "Let me take a look outside," he said, preparing himself before walking out into the chilled wind. As Dean made his way around the building, the snow wet the bottom of his pants and the wind's icy caresses swept down the small of his back. Why did this shit always happen to him?

It took five minutes of trudging around the huge ruined mall for Dean to come across what must have once been a welcome sign. "Fina-fucking-ly." The top half of it had broken off and there were deep cracks running along its length. Dean stepped forward and used his hand to wipe the snow off it, cursing at the jolt of pain that shot through his palm from the cold. He squinted at the faded letters on the sign, absently rubbing his freezing hand on his pant-leg, and said into the phone, "Okay, Cas. The only words I can make out are: York's, shops, and Columbus Circle."

"You are currently located in New York, at the shops of Columbus Circle," Castiel said, his voice matter-of-fact, but his tone tense. Dean frowned at the snow and pressed the phone into the crook of his shoulder, using his neck to keep it in place. Why was Castiel acting so strange? Sure, Dean had just up and disappeared on him... maybe he thought it was a trap?

"Yeah, if you say so." Dean hunched forward, wrapping his arms around himself and attempting to use friction to warm himself up. Silence. Dean’s teeth began to chatter. "F-Fuck, it's c-cold out here, Cas," Dean complained. "Cas?"

Castiel sighed, a sound odd enough that it had Dean eyebrows raising in disbelief, and said, "Patience, Dean. I will come get you." The connection was severed with a click.

"Fucking angels!" Dean growled, dropping the phone into his hand and snapping it shut. He stuffed it into his pocket, discomfort pushed aside in favor of annoyance. "Can't even take the time to say goodbye."

Castiel appeared in front of Dean, not a foot away and without regard for personal space. "Whoa, Cas!" Dean startled and took a step back. He was never going to get used to that, no matter how often it happened.

Dean ran his eyes over Castiel's form and frowned when he was greeted with a new set of clothes. The only familiar item in Castiel's wardrobe was the tan trench coat that Dean had yet to see him without. The rest of his outfit consisted of an over-sized black hoodie with the word "Metallica" splayed across the front, a worn-out pair of jeans, and black boots.

"Dean," Castiel said, drawing his attention back to the angel's face. He looked older than Dean remembered. There were more lines on his face and the beginning of grey at his temples. His scruffy hair was longer and had lost the "gelled" illusion. "You are not of this time line."

"What!" Dean cried out, brows drawing together and lips settling into a firm line. "What do you mean 'not from this time line'? And why the hell do you look- oh fuck me, I've been angel whammied again, haven't I?" Dean groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "Why? Why me? Why not Sam?"

Castiel frowned at him and nodded. "While the term is not entirely accurate, it will suffice. How old are you?"

An icy gust of wind swept by and Dean was abruptly reminded of how cold it was outside. "I'm thirty," he said, involuntarily stepping closer to Castiel's body heat as goosebumps broke out on his arms.

Castiel drew a sharp breath, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face too quick for Dean to identify before closing off again. "I see," he said and something about his voice sounded a little sad and broken. It made Dean's stomach twist and he shivered, but this time it wasn't from the cold.

"We must leave," Castiel said. He closed the distance between them and wrapped an arm around Dean's waist, pulling him close and pressing his face into the crook of Dean's neck. "Do not worry. This method of transportation will not disrupt your bowels."

"I- wait a second, Cas!" Dean shouted, his heart beginning to pound in his chest from the close proximity. He tried in vain to jerk away from Castiel, even when he heard the flutter of wings and the angel's shadow on the snow distorted, two huge wings unfolding themselves from his back. A gust of hot air enveloped him as the wings flapped once, twice, and they were off.

Moments later, Castiel released him and pulled away, leaving Dean stumbling backwards and disoriented in a grocery store. He stared at Dean solemnly, bowed his head, and said, "I apologize for using force, but the low temperature was beginning to upset your bodily functions. Time is of the essence."

Dean opened his mouth to shout at Castiel or demand an explanation when something small launched itself at him. It quickly attached itself to his hips with a delighted yell of "Daddy!" and held on tightly. Dean stumbled backwards to regain his balance, aware that he was gaping and unable to stop himself as the menace dislodged his gun. It clattered to the floor in front of a young boy who picked it up and pocketed it without hesitation, his expression closed off. Heads were going to roll.

"W-what the fuck!" Dean said, reaching up and disentangling the girl's arms from his chest with a grimace. What kind of future was this where random little girls attached themselves to strange anonymous men and mistook them for their fathers? "Get off me!" He pinched her right thigh and the moment her legs loosened their grip from his waist, he shook her off. Belatedly, he realized maybe that hadn’t been the best idea.

Dean watched the dark-haired little girl yelp and fall to the floor. She looked up at him with an expression of shock and... was that betrayal? before she threw her head back and began to wail. Almost immediately, Dean felt twenty-some heads swivel in their direction and stare with detached interest. He glared at them and, when that had no affect, began to feel nervous. "Now, just hold on a moment," Dean said, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. "Don't cry, little girl." And wasn't that the creepiest thing he'd ever said?

Castiel gave him a pinched, irritated look before he reached over and scooped the girl into his arms with the ease of parent. Dean watched as Castiel settled himself onto a nearby bench with the kid in his arms and began to speak to her, rocking ever so slightly. "I- Cas?" Dean said, picturing the two of them locked up in prison for child abuse and attempted molestation.

Dean was just about to head over and explain to Castiel that the social protocol for lost children did not, in fact, include physical contact, when he noticed the boy from earlier. Getting his gun back from the brat was higher on his list of priorities than saving a child from an angel of the Lord. Even if said angel was brushing a stray lock of hair back and tucking it behind her ear. In public. "Look kid," he said to the blond boy that was staring at Dean intently, his head cocked to the side in a gesture not unlike Castiel. And, yeah, that was creepy. "I need my gun back. Now."

The boy's eyes darkened and he pursed his lips at Dean, staring at him like he was a specimen under a microscope. It made Dean distinctly uncomfortable and he reacted accordingly. "Okay, kid, I'm going to level with you. That gun? It isn't a toy. It's a real gun and it could hurt people. You need to give it back to me, okay?" Dean held out a hand towards the boy, palm up and his fingers spread. "So just put it right here in my hand."

Silence. The kid didn't so much as blink at him or let on that he'd even understood what was Dean had said. Dean groaned in frustration. What if the boy didn't even speak English? Dean couldn't use force on yet another child- not after he'd just finished making one cry her eyes out. Regardless, he couldn't let the boy walk off with a loaded gun.

Dean squared his shoulders, rolling them before he crouching down to the boy's level. There must have been something in his determined expression that got through to the kid, because he reached into his pocket and grabbed the butt of the gun, pulling it up just enough to reveal the end of it. Dean smiled at him and nodded encouragingly. "Yeah, that's it. Give it to me." He held his hands out and did his best to look innocent.

What happened next was something Dean will be forever grateful that Sam wasn't around to witness. The boy dropped the gun back into his pocket, drew his foot back, and kicked Dean in the balls as hard as he could. Pain coursed through Dean and he fell to his knees, cupping his dick in his hands protectively as he let out a choked, "Son of bitch!" Dean bit back a groan of agony and shut his watery eyes tightly as he managed to spit out, "What the hell was that for?!"

"I believe," Castiel said from behind him, "He means to say: 'That was for my sister, you jerk!'" He stared at Dean for a long moment and said as an afterthought, "It is not appropriate to swear in front of children, Dean."

Dean's eyes popped open, his head snapped up, and he twisted around to stare at Castiel in flummoxed anger. "I- you mean that..." he trailed off when he noticed that the girl was standing there, just behind the angel with her hand twisted in the fabric of his trench coat. Her eyes were watery and her face red as she glared at Dean. A stab of guilt shot through him and he cleared his throat, wincing at the throbbing pain emanating from his crotch. "Look, kid-”

"My name is Alli!" the girl interrupted, her expression defiant. "And that's my brother, Austin!" She pointed to the boy standing next to her, his expression dazed and faraway.

"Okay," Dean said, studying the two of them. They had to be adopted. Alli was a dark-haired Asian girl who looked about eight years old while Austin, obviously American, had strawberry-blond hair, a small build, and was probably twelve. "Look, Alli. I'm sorry for what happened earlier. I didn't mean to scare you or-”

"I wasn't scared!" Alli said, scowling at him like he'd offended her. "I'm not scared of anything. Ever."

Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Right, of course I didn't scare you. Well, I'm sorry if I hurt you. You... er, surprised me," he said. He stood up gingerly and rubbed his battered crotch, nausea making his stomach churn. Dean glanced over at Castiel and found him watching approvingly, eyes crinkled up at the corners. Dean was startled to notice that he was holding one of Austin's hands in his. "The boy- uh, Austin, has my gun, Cas."

Castiel nodded at Dean and turned to Austin, the expression on his face as close to stern as Dean had ever seen it. "Austin, do you recall that discussion we had about hoarding? You can't take things that do not belong to you. It's called stealing and it is a sin."

Austin stared at the ground, a deep frown etched upon his face as he shuffled forward to stand in front of Castiel. He reached into his pocket, dug out the gun, and placed it in Castiel's outstretched hands with a small pout. "Thank you, Austin," Castiel said. He ruffled the boy's hair and smiled at him. Granted, it was more of a grimace than a smile, but the fact remained that it was the first time Dean had ever seen him even attempt it.

Dean opened his mouth to comment when arms wrapped around Castiel's waist from behind and a pair of hands settled on his hips. Dean felt his stomach flip when a familiar voice said, "Hey Cas. Kids treat you well?" And holy shit- that was him! That was Dean's own face, albeit more aged, nuzzling and pressing kisses into Castiel's neck! What the hell was going on here! "I got the you-know-whats. They'll be delivered to the house later."

"Dean," Castiel said, his voice a little flustered and a light blush creeping up his neck when not-Dean pressed himself flush against the angel's body. "Not in front of the kids... and you."

not-Dean glanced up and locked eyes with Dean, who glared at him and ignored the painful twist of jealousy in his gut. not-Dean didn't look at all that surprised to see a duplicate of himself hanging out with Castiel and two children. Maybe they actually knew these kids- were they were babysitting? That would certainly explain a lot.

"Hello, handsome," not-Dean said, smirking at Dean like he knew something his counterpart didn’t. Dean had no doubt that there were probably a large number of things not-Dean knew that he didn't. Nevertheless, he stood his ground and said nothing, pushing the panic back down where it belonged.

"Alli, Austin!" not-Dean said, pulling away from Castiel. He hunkered down into a crouch and threw his arms open, hands gesturing for both children to come closer and give him a hug.

"Daddy!" Alli said with a huge grin, skipping over in not-Dean's direction, much to Dean's shock. "Did you know that there are two of you? I didn't, but Father said there was and now there really are! I was wondering why you'd changed your clothes." Alli threw herself into his arms and gave not-Dean an enthusiastic hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Austin walked over at a more moderate pace and hesitantly wrapped his arms around not-Dean's neck. His hug was brief and light, whereas Alli was still hanging off of not-Dean by the time Austin had pulled away and stepped back.

Dean gaped at the public display of affection, the word 'Daddy' still ringing in his ears as the world titled off its axis. "D-daddy?" he rasped, his heart pounding in his ears. Dean was in the future- the exact date unknown. He was in the future and he had watched his future self grope Castiel and call these two children he'd practically assaulted his kids. This had to be a dream or a hallucination. It was the only plausible explanation.

Not-Dean wasn't waiting for him to catch up. Instead, he'd used a finger to tip Alli's face up was currently studying her tear-stained cheeks with a small frown. "Alli," he said gently, "why were you crying? What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Alli huffed and put her small hands on her hips with an indignant look. "I hugged other you and he threw me on the floor!" she said, pointing at Dean accusingly.

"Wha- that’s not true!" Dean protested, even though it was. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Alli, feeling childish but needing to stick up for himself. "I didn't throw her on the floor. I just sort of... dropped her. Besides, the bo- Austin kicked me in the balls!"

As not-Dean scowled at Dean and left him sputtering, Castiel walked over to Austin and gave him a hug. "That was a very brave thing you did for your sister, Austin. Thank you for protecting her," he said, patting him on the back. Austin shrugged and stared down at the linoleum floor shyly, scuffing his shoe on the ground like it was no big deal.

not-Dean pulled Alli into his arms and settled her on his hip, eying Dean like he was a werewolf and Allie the full moon. "I guess we should take him with us, Cas. Just in case he decides to, you know, try and abuse other children," not-Dean said. He gestured towards the front door and smirked at Dean. "I hope you don't mind sitting in the back of the Impala with the kids."

Dean scoffed and threw his hands up in the air. "I fucking give up! How does Sam put up with this shit?" he said, rolling his eyes and mumbling how this whole time travel thing had to be one big hallucination as he followed not-Dean out of the store. "I'm so obnoxious."

Austin watched not-Dean carry Allie out of the store and reached up, taking Castiel's hand into his with a content expression. Castiel glanced down at him and "smiled" before turning back to the two Dean's. "Tone down your language, Dean. You are teaching the kids bad habits," he scolded.



The car ride back to the house was... interesting, to say the least. Dean was gratified to find the Impala was still flawless and in perfect condition despite the addition of two children to the passenger list. He spent the first half the ride shell-shocked and sneaking glances between his future counterpart and Castiel. "No, really? A gay relationship? With kids? Domesticated?" he kept mumbling under his breath.

Austin didn't seem to notice (or care) as he picked up his black book-bag from the floor and opened it. He rooted around inside before tugging out a sketchpad and charcoal pencil. Dean glanced over at him distractedly and watched as the boy began flipping through pages: crumbling, scorched buildings; an injured woman writhing on the ground, her head thrown back as black "smoke" was ejected from her mouth; an odd humanoid creature with six wings and six eyes slaughtering an army of demons; a little boy screaming as a wendigo slaughtered his parents in front of him.

Whoa, morbid artwork for such a little kid. It confirmed the theory Dean had been working on in the back of his mind during the ride home- that Austin had seen too much and was more than a little traumatized by it. Poor kid. Dean knew what it was like to have that ignorance ripped from you at a young age. It made him wonder what Alli had seen and how she'd been affected by it.

Speak of the devil. The little monster was sitting next to him, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared death and hellfire at him. Dean raised his eyebrows and scowled back at her. She pouted and stuck her tongue out at him. Dean was not impressed; he leaned over and poked her in the side. Alli gave a small yelp and jumped, causing Castiel to click his tongue and glance back at them warningly. Dean had never tried to look so innocent and nonchalant in his life.

By the time they pulled up in front of a tan, one two storey house, Dean and Alli were engaged in all out war. There had been poking, slaps fights, name-calling, a few bouts of "I'm not touching you!" in a singsong voice, and once Alli had even leaned forward and whispered to him, "I know what you're up to, impostor! Sleep with one eye open tonight because I'll be watching you!"

Austin left the car calmly, not the least bit fazed by the secret, but not-quite-silent war that had been ensuing in the back seat. He walked over to the hood of the car, wiped off the snow, and carefully set down his sketchbook (plastic side down) before he resumed drawing. Dean and Alli practically tumbled out of the Impala, scowling and eying each other wearily. "This isn't over," Dean told her, shaking his finger at her.

"Oh, for god's sake," not-Dean said, climbing out of the car and shutting the door. "Did I really used to be that annoying?" He looked over at Castiel and frowned when he saw what Austin was doing. "Austin, the hood of the Impala is not a drawing board. Go inside and use a table."

Castiel, the only one able to exit the car with grace and dignity intact, watched the group's interactions with faint amusement (not that most people would be able to tell). However, when he caught a glimpse of Austin's sketchbook, he grew serious, his brows creasing at the corners. "May I borrow this?" he asked Austin, tucking it against his chest when he received an affirmative. "Thank you. Alli, Austin, please go inside. We will join you momentarily."

Dean watched the children troop inside with an odd pang in his chest. When they disappeared from sight, he turned back to not-Dean and Castiel, watching curiously as the angel set the sketchpad down on the Impala.

"Dean, we have already discussed this. Austin is not allowed to watch horror films," Castiel said, crossing his arms over his chest and making a bitchface at not-Dean. It was the first time Dean had ever seen that expression on the angel's face and he took the time the be amused by it, since it wasn't being directed at him. Okay, well, technically it was being directed at him, only... not current him. Wow, that was confusing.

not-Dean sighed and picked up the sketchbook and flipped through the pages, his expression dark and a little broken. "This is nothing. When I was his age, I was already gutting demons. He needs to learn about the world," he said gruffly, hollow eyes fixed on the sketch of the wendigo and its victims.

Castiel hesitated, faltering for a moment at the expression on Dean's face. He took a step forward and cupped the back of Dean's neck and when he spoke, his voice was gentle, but firm, "Dean, he is not you. Watching those movies give him nightmares about... He has enough to deal with right now and this is clearly not helping." He made an expansive gesture at the sketchbook as if to say, "Look what those nightmares are doing to him."

Dean looked away from the two of them, feeling awkward and out of place watching such a personal moment. It was ironic; he had every right to watch this- he was involved, only he wasn't. God, time-traveling was one big mind-fuck.

When Dean glanced over again, he found the two of them locking lips with a painful desperation that made his chest ache. not-Dean had framed Castiel's face with his hands, thumbs rubbing the angel's cheeks in slow circles as Castiel pressed himself close. The hand on the back of not-Dean's neck was half buried in his hair while Castiel's other hand was tangled in the cloth of not-Dean's shirt.

Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat and turned away. It was too painful, too personal to watch this. Quietly, he headed into the house after the kids, giving not-Dean and Castiel some privacy.



Dean rolled onto his back and frowned up at the ceiling. He'd been given the guestroom for the duration of his visit and had immediately holed himself up in the room. He needed time to think and process everything that had happened. According to Castiel, he was in an alternate future (five years from his time, to be exact). In this future, he was in a relationship with the angel and they were as close to married as was possible. They had adopted two traumatized war orphans almost three years ago and this was their first real Christmas. Dean couldn't decide if this was more of a nightmare or a fantasy.

Before he'd exiled himself to his room, Castiel had asked Dean if he'd like to participate in making dinner with the rest of the family (it was tradition, apparently). Dean had never been one for cooking. It was girly (and he was manly!) and buying take-out food was so just much easier. It shocked him that his future counterpart was somehow so similar and yet so different at the same time. Dean had politely declined.

He had not fled from the situation and taken to hiding in his room like a pansy- no matter how much not-Dean tried to insist he had. He was just... tired and this was the most suitable option to rectify it. It wasn't his fault that his brain was too active to let him sleep and regain his energy.

Speaking of pansies, Dean couldn’t help but wonder how Sam was doing and if he was stuck in some weird bizarro timeline too. It was improbable (all the weird shit always seemed to happen him), but not impossible.

Whatever. Dean had no doubt that Sam would be able to take care of himself. Besides, he had his weird freaky demonic powers to fall back on and Castiel would be there too. He’d help, probably. Dean did his best to ignore the nagging sensation of doubt in the pit of his stomach.

There were more important things to worry about right now, like how Dean was supposed to get home and who the hell had done this to him. Castiel had promised to give Sam and Bobby a call (they were on their way over for Christmas anyway) to explain the situation. In the meantime, all he could do was wait… and think.

The next two painstaking hours dragged by so slowly that it was almost a relief to hear the small knock on door. "Yeah?" Silence, whispering from the other side of the door. "Come in," Dean offered, shifting up onto his elbows for a better view of the door.

"Okay!" Alli said, the floor creaking as she opened the door and all but bounced inside. Austin followed at a more sombre pace, his eyes focused on the floor. "WANNA COME DECORATE THE CHRISTMAS TREE WITH US?" Alli shouted, her voice deafening in the quiet of the room.

"Uh," Dean said, stealthily scooting backwards on the bed, away from the crazy little girl in all her hyper glory. "No. No, I'm good. Thanks for asking." He glanced over at Austin, muttering under his breath, "Member of the fucking lollipop guild, Jesus Christ..."

Austin must have heard Dean because his head snapped up and he began to stare at him. Dean shifted, feeling Austin's intent gaze as strongly as he would have the sun's rays warming his skin. Holy shit, that was just creepy and uncomfortable. Dean looked away from Alli's pouting face to Austin's riveted stare and smiled weakly at him. The boy didn't so much as blink. "Spock," Dean said between fake coughing fits.

Alli frowned at him and put her hands on her hips. "You know you're being a big baby, right?" she said, her lips pursed. Behind her, Dean was surprised to see Austin nod his head in agreement. "My Daddies don't put up with that crap and neither do I!"

Dean raised his eyebrows at her and felt his lips twitch in amusement, "Is that right?" he asked, admiring her spunk and tenacity.

Alli rolled her eyes at Dean and stomped her right foot to emphasize her point. "You're being really stupid! Even if it hasn't happened to you yet, you're still my Daddy and you should still be there to help me and Austin decorate the Christmas tree. Aren't we good enough for you?"

Something like shock jolted through Dean, the realization that Alli was absolutely correct stunning him. Whether he was willing to admit it to himself or not, Austin and Alli were his children. They were not hypothetical- they were living, breathing kids with feelings and his rejection was hurting them. "I... of course you are!" Dean said, dropping his head into his hands. "It's just, I need some time to think, okay Alli?"

Dean wasn't expecting her to accept his answer so simply, but these kids were anything but normal. "Okay," Alli said with a nod, looking both sad and superior as she turned to Austin and took his hand. "Come on, Austin, lets go help Father and Daddy set up the Christmas tree!"

Austin gave her an absent nod and followed Alli to the door, holding it open for her and following her out of the room. Alli turned around and grabbed the doorknob. Just before she shut the door, she hesitated and said, "Please don't leave without saying goodbye."



Dean rubbed the back of his neck and peered into the living room, feeling foolish. Alli was right, he was acting immature and stupid. The whole situation might be awkward and weird, but when would he ever get the chance again? As best as he could understand, this was only a possible future for him. There was no guarantee that it would ever really come to pass. Besides, who knew how long he'd have to spend in this alternate reality? It could be days, hours, weeks; there was no way of knowing. Dean needed to make the best of it while he was still able to.

The breath caught in his throat as Dean glanced up and watched the scene unfold around him. not-Dean was stringing multi-colored Christmas lights around the top of the tree, slowly working his way down as Castiel straightened the tree skirt. Alli was giggling to herself as she ripped open cardboard boxes and chose various forms of decorations that she handed off to Austin with a grin.

There was a painful pressure in Dean's chest, squeezing his heart so tightly it was hard to breathe. Unbidden, suppressed longing rose up in Dean, hidden away for so long that he hadn't even realized it was there. He wanted this, all of it, so much it hurt. Dean wanted a loving family to celebrate the holidays with, to protect, to cherish. He could only vaguely remember a time when his life had been like this.

Dean watched as Castiel stood up and turned to not-Dean, opening his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a string of garland wrapping around him. He frowned at not-Dean, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth turning down at the corners in that "I am not amused" look that Dean loved to coax out of him. "Dean, this sparkly decoration is itchy and uncomfortable," he said.

not-Dean laughed, adjusting the garland so it was even more tangled around the angel. "There. Now you're all sparkly and pretty like that pussy vampire in that bullshit chick flick," he said, grabbing the ends of the garland and using them to tug Castiel close.

Castiel huffed and gave him a disapproving look, "It is unwise..." he began, but was cut off by not-Dean leaning forward and kissing him. Dean's heart began to pound as Castiel kissed back, lips hungry and sweet. It was like watching one of his biggest fantasies come to life right before his eyes. Heat swelled in his groin (which was just wrong when there were children nearby) and Dean found he was unable to look away.

Alli saved him from a potentially humiliating experience when she picked up one of the plastic Christmas baubles and threw it at not-Dean with a cry of, "EWWW, THAT'S GROSS! YOU'RE GIVING FATHER COOTIES!"

not-Dean pulled away from Castiel with a laugh and waggled his eyebrows at the little girl. "Well then, I'll just have to give you some cooties too!" Alli screamed as not-Dean lunged at her and began to tickle her.

"Dean," Castiel said, untangling the garland from his body and noticing Dean lingering in the doorway. "I am glad you have come to join us."

Dean's stomach twisted as everyone looked over at him. Alli grinned and wiggled out of not-Dean's grasp. She ran over to him, pretending to give him a hug but actually taking advantage of the angle to say in a loud whisper, "I'm glad our talk knocked some sense into you."

Dean shook his head in disbelief and gave her a wry grin. "You're really something else, you know that?" He gave her a playful swat on the behind that sent her scurrying across the room laughing.

not-Dean stood up and dusted himself off before turning to face Dean with a smirk. Castiel stepped forward and held out the long string of garland, his hair littered with fragments left behind from his former mishaps. "Would like to assist us in decorating the tree?"

"I... no. I'll watch, thanks," Dean said with an awkward smile. His heart was heavy, confused, half wanting someone to insist he help out and half wanting the topic to be dropped completely.

Therefore, it came as a complete surprise when Austin walked over and grabbed his hand. The boy flipped it over and pressed a smooth round ornament into his palm, using his small fingers to wrap Dean's hand around it. Dean's heart skipped a beat when Austin looked up at him with hopeful eyes, his lips curling into a tiny smile. "Alright," Dean said, his resolve melting. "I'll help decorate the tree, but no more chick flick moments."



Hours later, when he's warm and snuggled up on the guest-bed, Dean's still completely baffled (and more than a little embarrassed) by how domestic the rest of the night had been. It was as if the floodgate doors had opened the moment he'd agreed to help decorate the Christmas tree and nothing, not even Lucifer himself, would have been able to force Dean to deny these kids.

Alli had begged him to help make Christmas cookies for Santa and Dean hadn't been able to say no. He'd followed Austin, Castiel, and Alli into the kitchen, ignored the smartass comment from not-Dean, and plopped himself down onto a nearby chair to watch. All it had taken was two sets of soulful puppy-dog eyes (they must have learned that trick from Sam) for him to cave in and accept the cookie dough. Dean had taken care to keep his eyes fixed on the dough he was pressing shapes into and pretend he wasn't doing anything ridiculous or girly.

It had worked up until the point Austin had wandered over, eyed his work critically, and abruptly taken the rest of his cookie dough (plus his current creation) from him with a disapproving scowl. It startled an incredulous laugh from Dean (really, the sculpted tits hadn't been that bad) and he'd glanced up to find Castiel watching him with a fond look.

Dean had hightailed it out of the kitchen so fast he'd tripped over the couch and hit the floor at not-Dean's feet. not-Dean had raised his eyebrows as he stared down at Dean, dropped his stinky feet on his back, and said with a smirk, "Oh good, a foot rest. I've been meaning to get myself one of these." Needless to say, the ensuing fight afterwards had not been one of the prouder moments in Dean's life.

Waiting for cookies to finish baking was a tedious process when you're a kid (or Dean). Castiel had given his antsy family a knowing look and turned on a Christmas movie to entertain them for the duration. It really shouldn't have surprised Dean when he was woken with a start to find Castiel crouched down beside him, squeezing his shoulder.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, perhaps apologize for falling asleep, when Castiel pressed a finger to his lips and gestured for Dean to follow him into the kitchen. Dean nodded at him and stood up, using the flickering light of the TV to look around as he trailed Castiel out of the room.

not-Dean was asleep, his back against the foot of the couch and a slumbering kid curled up against each side. Someone, probably Castiel, had wrapped a blanket around the three of them and- ouch. Dean winced at the position not-Dean's neck was in, reaching up and rubbing the back of his own in mirrored sympathy.

"Dean," Castiel said as they entered the kitchen. "We need to talk." He picked up two steaming mugs from the kitchen counter and held one out towards him.

Dean took it gratefully, squinting against the bright light and ignoring the pangs from his eyes as they adjusted. "Look, if it's about the cookie tits from earlier-"

"No, this discussion does not feature misguided cookie anatomy," Castiel said. Despite the angel's serious expression, Dean saw his eyes flash briefly in amusement and relaxed a little. "I imagine there are questions you want answers to."

Dean nodded, took an absent sip from his mug, and almost choked at the overly sweet taste. "I- What- that's not coffee!" he sputtered, staring down at the deceptive coffee-like liquid.

"Hot chocolate," Castiel corrected as he reached over and dropped a handful of mini-marshmallows into Dean's mug.

"Uh, thanks... I think," Dean said, setting his hot chocolate down on the counter as he watched Castiel empty a third of the bag into his own mug. He'd never taken the angel for having a sweet tooth, but it sort of made sense. Dean made a mental note to introduce his Castiel to hot chocolate when he got back to his own time.

"So, what's wrong with the boy?" Dean asked without preamble. It had been on his mind all night. At first he'd just assumed that Austin was shy and didn't talk very often, but as time passed, he came to realize that he didn't speak at all. That alone was worrying enough. Coupled with his obvious past trauma and his morbid artwork... well, Dean was concerned.

Castiel's eyes darkened and his lips turned down at the corners. He took a large gulp from his mug and swallowed slowly before he spoke. "Alli and Austin are war orphans. We adopted Alli two years ago and Austin eleven months ago, as you already know." He hesitated for a long moment, expression conflicted. "It's the first time we've been able to celebrate Christmas together."

Dean's stomach clenched at the words. God, he didn't know if he could deal with all this. Did he really want to know? ...He did. He had to know. Silently, he urged the angel to continue as he stared into the dim room just outside the kitchen doorway, imagining the three of them sleeping peacefully.

"Austin is mute," Castiel said, his voice raw. "Physically, he has all the capabilities of speech, but his mental trauma impedes his ability to allow himself." Pause. "As far as we can discern, he witnessed the massacre of his loved ones and endured hours of torture. He has never fully recovered."

Dean's mouth fell open in horror and his stomach flipped, roiling with nausea and something else. Something dark and bitter, like bile, that tasted of a hatred and fury he hadn't felt in himself since his time in Hell. He knew that shit like this happened all the time- that evil had nothing against, sometimes even preferred, tormenting children. But how fucked up did you have to be to leave a child broken, in agony, and alive?

"Jesus Christ," Dean choked, fists clenched and nails biting into the palms of his hands. Blood trickled down his fingers as he fought to shove back the rage, the desire to rip apart the planet in his search to torch the evil son of bitch that had dared to fuck with his kids. His future kids. Whatever. "Jesus Christ," he said again.

Castiel wrapped his fingers around Dean's wrists, sliding them down and cupping his fisted hands in his palms. "Calm yourself," Castiel said, his thumbs running across the bloody wounds with a gentle pressure, healing them as he had Dean's body when he'd first rescued him from Hell.

A jolt of electricity zapped Dean and heat began to uncoil in his stomach, welling up inside of him. So close. Castiel was so close, not even a foot away. Dean could feel the heat radiating off the angel's body, threatening to consume him. He wanted to lean forward and kiss him. He wanted to run his hands all over Castiel's body and fuck him into the floor, rough, desperate, and needy. Castiel would let him do it, he knew. Dean could see it in the angel's body language, could feel it as Castiel pressed himself closer, his body leaning towards Dean's.

Dean's hands were already on Castiel's hips, pulling the angel flush against him. His head was bent down, mere inches away from Castiel lips when Dean saw it. Familiarity. Expectation. This Castiel... he wasn't Dean's Castiel- not yet. Maybe not ever. Dean's throat closed up and he wrenched himself away, heart threatening to implode and a chair screeching across the floor. The sound was deafening in the silence, but Dean couldn't find it in himself to care.

"I..." Dean said, his voice unsteady and his eyes focused on the wall. He cleared his throat a few times and attempted to act nonchalant as he fumbled around for the chair he'd bumped. "What happened to Alli?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Castiel wrap his arms around himself, a vaguely perturbed expression on his face. "Well," he said, his voice rough and a little breathless. "Alli lost consciousness shortly after demons began attacking her town. They either took her for dead or didn't care she was still alive. When she woke, the town was decimated, Alli, the sole survivor. She recovered with little effort on our part. Her trauma was minimal in comparison, but great on its own."

There was a burning in the pit of Dean's stomach, sharp, painful, and growing ever stronger as Castiel spoke. "Before Austin, she was cheerful enough, but unable to be left alone. Alli was terrified that something catastrophic would happen. When we found Austin, bloodied and unconscious on the side of the highway, Alli's fear became courage. They were inseparable and she's been protecting him from even the slightest threat ever since."

Like me and Sam, but reversed! Dean thought somewhat hysterically. "What about... it was the Apocalypse, right? You, future me, and Sam beat Lucifer and stopped it? How'd we do it?" Dean rasped, his breath hitching as he reigned in his emotions.

Castiel faltered, the abrupt change of topic seeming to catch him off-guard. "Yes..." he said hesitantly, his face closing off after a moment of indecision. "We stopped the Apocalypse, but do not ask me to explain. The consequences aren't worth the risk of damaging two timelines."

“What! Why can't you help me?" Dean protested. It was all he could do to keep himself in control and not take out his misguided anger on the angel.

Castiel sighed, a tick in his jaw twitching as he said, "You stop the Apocalypse, Dean. That is all you need to know. Take comfort in it."

Dean sighed. Castiel's bitchface was making a reappearance (what, had the angel been taking lessons from Sam?) and Dean could tell he wasn't going to be getting any more information out of him tonight. As interesting as it was to see a more emotionally invested Castiel, Dean missed his angel. He missed his Castiel's confusion at most things human, his baffled head tilts, his... well, his everything.

As homesick as Dean was, he wasn't ready to go back just yet. He wanted to spend more time better getting to know his children. There was a chance it could be the only time with them he'd ever get.

Dean rolled over in bed and frowned, staring at the door as he remembered the awkward silence that had followed. Eventually, it had led to Castiel clearing his throat, murmuring something about putting the kids to bed, and excusing himself from the room. Dean had followed him into the living room, watching the angel wake not-Dean with blatant affection (for Castiel).

They'd exchanged a whispered conversation, some of not-Dean's remarks earning him reproachful looks and others more appraising ones. Castiel gave not-Dean a chaste kiss, effortlessly lifting Austin in his arms, settling him against his shoulder and wrapping an arm around the thin waist, heading upstairs to put the boy to bed. Not-Dean watched him with a small smirk, taking no notice of Dean as he took Alli into his arms, bridal style, and followed the angel up the steps to presumably get some sleep himself. Dean found it unlikely.

Here Dean was, two hours later, unable to turn off his brain and get some well-needed sleep, no matter how tired he was. Never again would he bitch at Sam for being up half the night due to insomnia. It sucked enough on its own without someone bitching at you about it.

Dean threw back the covers and got out of bed, frowning down at the pajama pants he was borrowing from not-Dean. They were exactly his type (for pajama pants- he preferred to sleep in the nude, but that wasn’t a viable option with children around) and fit perfectly, but they weren’t his (okay, so, technically they were, but not yet!). It felt creepy and wrong; Dean didn’t like it.

Grabbing his shoes and jacket, Dean crept out the guestroom and down the stairs quietly, alert for any sign of movement (hey, old habits die hard). He needed to go outside, feel the cold air on his face, and just breathe it in. It was an old technique he’d learned from John a long ago. It helped him put things in perspective, make them less overwhelming and more bearable.

Dean held onto the stair’s banister, using it to support himself as he tugged on his shoes, not bothering to tie the laces. He shrugged into his jacket, opening the door and slipping out onto the front porch.

The freezing wind rushed to greet him, icy chills sweeping down his back and around his chest as goosebumps prickled on his arms. Dean inhaled sharply, closing his eyes and letting his façade slip away. Everything was so different in this future. Of course, if his past experience with time travel was anything to go by, that was to be expected.

Unbidden, Dean was reminded that this future was only a possibility, not a guarantee. Even if he went back to his own time period and confessed to Castiel, there was always a chance that his feelings might no be reciprocated. Was it really worth the risk of isolating the only friend he had (family did not count)? Definitely not. His feelings for the angel were probably only a fleeting thing anyway.

"So, how's that denial coming?" not-Dean’s mocking voice said from the doorway.

Dean jumped, swearing under his breath before he turned to face his future counterpart. "So how's that jealousy coming?" he retorted, and shit, why the fuck had he said that? It didn’t even make sense.

Not-Dean stared at him, eyebrows raised and a smirk curling his lips. "Why would I be jealous of you?"

It was a good question, one Dean didn’t have an answer to. If anything, Dean himself was almost jealous of not-Dean and the life he’d made for himself. "...I'm still sane. I don't live in Candyland.”

"But you wish you did, didn't you?"

There was no way Dean could respond to that and get away with it. Not-Dean would see right through him faster that a speeding wendigo.

Now that Dean was looking at him, he noticed that not-Dean wasn’t wearing shoes or a jacket. He stood there, clad in a thin pair of pajama pants and love-bites, looking as though all were right in the world. As if to spite him, the asshat didn’t even get cold.

Wait a minute- love-bites? Dean just barely managed to stop himself from doing a double take and giving himself away for the pathetic lovesick fool he was. As discreetly as he could, Dean cocked his head to the side and stared at not-Dean out of the corner of his eye.

Hickies littered not-Dean’s body, starting just behind his ear and scattering down his collarbone, nipples, and abs before finally disappearing past the cloth of his pajama pants. Along his hips were various series of -were those claw marks?- of different shapes and sizes. Dean’s stomach twisted and his jaw clenched as he furiously fought away the irrational jealousy rising inside of him. How fucked up was it to be jealous of yourself?

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