[FIC] A Very Gay & Blasphemous Carol, by TehOpheliac

Title: A Very Gay & Blasphemous Carol
Author: tehopheliac
Recipient: watermaline
Rating: R (for foul language and a little violence)
Warnings: Crackfic, tit cookies, bonbon addiction, AU, AUfuture!Dean, AUfuture!Castiel, kidfic, future!fic, Selfcest (flirting only), kinky (tiny) dominant!Castiel scene.
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?

“Cas is a ‘wild thang’ in bed,” not-Dean said, laughter in his voice. Dean knew immediately that he’d been caught. He glared up at not-Dean defiantly, challenging him with his eyes and resisting the urge to punch that smug smirk off his face.

“You two obviously don’t have a problem with the kids overhearing you,” Dean said, emphasizing the word kids.

“Okay, enough with the bullshit cockfight,” not-Dean said, losing his temper. “Just because Cas and I have a sex life, doesn’t make us bad parents, you douchenozzel. Maybe when you finish sticking your head up your ass you’ll realize that we’ve taken precautions so Alli and Austin never have to see or hear anything. Cas soundproofs the room when we fuck, the kids don’t hear a thing.”

Dean growled at his future counterpart, taking a threatening step closer and opening his mouth to put him in his place. Before he had a chance to say anything, however, not-Dean had invaded his personal space, pressing their bare chests up against each other and backing Dean up against the front door. “No,” he snarled. “Don’t say anything. Just shut your fucking mouth for once and listen to me.”

Dean’s mouth snapped shut with a clack and he swallowed past the lump in his throat, as he looked off to the right. He felt trapped (which immediately put him on the offensive) and unable to escape conversation. “No,” not-Dean said again, roughly grabbing Dean’s chin with his thumb and forefinger and jerking his head around to face him. “We’re done playing this game.”

Not-Dean’s face was millimeter’s away, his expression furious and his cheeks flushed as he scowled at Dean. It was disconcerting to see another person wearing his face, using his voice and, hey, was that how he looked when he was angry all the time? Because, wow, he was kind of sexy in an intimidating and manly sort of way. A sharp jab to the chest shook him from any narcissistic fantasies he may or may not have been fantasying about.

Not-Dean paused, waiting until he had Dean’s full attention before continuing. “You will lose everything if you stand by and do nothing. How can you expect to gain anything if you don’t even try? Think about it. Your greatest weakness is also your greatest strength. If you want even the slightest chance at beating the Apocalypse, you're going to need every shred of strength you can get.”

Dean stared at his counterpart in muted horror, storing the advice to go over later, but unable to get past the thought, ‘Oh god, I’m having a chick flick moment… with myself.’

Noticing the expression on his face and recognizing it for what it was, not-Dean shook Dean roughly and shoved him away, “Oh, shut the hell up! Is it really so shocking that I’d be more open when I have to deal with traumatized children all the time? I may not enjoy this philosophical BS, but it keeps my kids from crying.” Despite not-Dean’s excuse, a pink flush was taking precedence on his face.

Dean stumbled backwards, biting the inside of his lip to suppress the frenzied laughter bubbling up inside of him. What was the world coming to? Was the future really worth living if he had to become such a pussy? It was a tough call.

Throwing himself down on the porch, Dean seated himself on the top step and let his feet hang down onto the snow-blanketed pavement. There was an awkward silence and a ruffling of clothes before not-Dean heaved a frustrated sigh and sat down next to him. "Have you figured out who sent you here yet? I thought it was fairly obvious."

"You knew? You knew and you didn't bother to say anything?" Dean said, gaping at not-Dean like he had at that girl from the truckstop who turned out to be a dude, that one time.

Not-Dean looked at him like he was the stupid one. "Of course I know. Been there, done that. This is the future, remember?"

Oh, well… it’s hard to argue when it was put like that. Still. "Why don't any of them know, then?" Dean asked, referring to Sam, Bobby and Castiel.

"Cas knows, I told him. We never actually told Sam or Bobby, though— not even that you’re here right now. This isn’t the first time an alternate me has just shown up before, though, so they’re kind of used to it. Anyhow, why do you think the cell phone number you called from is still active?" not-Dean said.

Jackpot. It was something that had never even occurred to Dean, but now that it was pointed out, he realized that it should have. He swallowed down the ugly feeling of self-disappointment and sighed. “Who sent me here and why? How do I get home?”

Not-Dean cracked a knowing smile at him and gave Dean a few manly slaps on the back. “Cheer up, buttercup. For once, there aren’t any negative consequences involved. Unless you make the wrong choice.”

When Dean’s only response was a blank stare, not-Dean gave him sheepish look and coughed. “Okay, look. It’s like the Christmas Carol, only you’re not visited by anyone, ghost or otherwise.” Pause. “Which is weird because you’d think Gabriel would show up to gloat. Uh, anyway, you’ve been sent into the future to see what it could be like if you make the right choice. And— okay, you know what? Fuck it. It’s nothing like the Christmas Carol.”

“The Trickster! Yeah, that fits perfectly: the bizarro alternate timeline, being trapped in the future,” Dean exclaimed, smacking his hands down onto his thighs. “Wait, shit. No, that doesn’t fit. The Trickster likes to fuck with people. He isn’t some celestial matchmaker.”

“You’re forgetting Gabriel isn’t actually a Trickster. Occasionally he does… well, I wouldn’t call them good things, but they sometimes end up helping. Don’t worry about it, you’ll only end up here for 24 hours,” not-Dean said with a smirk that renewed Dean’s desire to punch him in the face. He wondered if it happened to everyone or if it was just him. It would certainly explain a lot.

Dean chuckled weakly and stared out at the glittering white snow, shivering as the wind picked up. Not-Dean scooted closer, their thighs bumping, and casually wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Jesus Christ, he was like a fucking furnace! No wonder the bastard had been able to get away with wearing so little.

“Dean,” Castiel admonished from behind them. Both Deans turned around simultaneously to look at him. He stood just inside the doorway, his hair mussed and his face tired. An over-sized black tee-shirt practically swallowed him whole. The neckline was bunched up on one side, revealing a bare shoulder, and his knee-length red cotton boxers were just barely peeking out from beneath the shirt. “A threesome is not what this Dean requires.”

Not-Dean threw back his head and laughed while Dean choked on his own spit and stared at both them wide-eyed and speechless. “Hah, don’t you remember how much fun you had last time?” not-Dean teased. He absently patted Dean’s thigh a few times before getting to his feet and walking over to Castiel, wrapping an arm around his waist. “You look like you’re about to tip over, Cas. Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I am quite tired,” Castiel admitted. He was leaning against not-Dean, but it was Dean he looked at, his eyes half-closed and his voiced muffled. “Goodnight.”

Dean, who was still baffled by what had happened, but had gone weak around the knees at the sight of a sleepy Castiel, nodded both of them. “Night.”

Dean was jolted from REM sleep the next morning by a high-pitched squeal and a tiny force of nature throwing herself onto his gut. “Oof!” Adrenaline flooded his body, panic racing through his veins, and for a moment all he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat. There was another shift at the end of the bed, someone gingerly settling themselves down on the edge. It was enough to knock sense back into him. Dean just barely managed to restrain his instinctive urge to lash out and ask questions later.

“—Alli!” Dean said, coughing as he sat up and tried to calm his racing heartbeat. “Don't ever do that again, you hear me? I could have kil— hurt you!" Thank god he hadn't.

Alli's smiling face hovered into view, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as the sun, just barely peeking over the horizon, outlined her upper body with a light glow. Her sleep-muzzled hair was wild, sticking up at odd angles and defying gravity. “Aww, don't be so dramatic. It's Christmas! Santa came and he brought presents!" she said, sing-song, pressing hands to her mouth to smother giggles.

Just beyond her, Dean could see Austin sitting on the corner of the bed, skinny legs crossed at knobby knees. He was staring at Dean, his face solemn, but there was a content look about his face that lead Dean to believe that he was happy.

“Ah, I see. Well, Merry Christmas, Alli. Austin," Dean said, conceding her point with awkwardness. Christmas was supposed to be one of the happiest times of the year for kids. What right did he have to ruin that? Besides, what was the likelihood that he'd be able stay long enough for it to happen again? According to not-Dean, slim to none. “Where's Cas and... uh... ?"

Alli sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. “Austin and I wanna open presents, but they're still in the bed." She paused, biting her lip with indecision before she leaned forward conspiratorially and said in a whisper, “They closed the door." Like that was supposed to mean something. Kids were weird.

“Ohh, scary, a closed door!" Dean said sarcastically. He threw back the covers and stood up, ignoring Alli's surprised exclamation and protests as he left the room without a backward glance. If he had to be awake this early in the morning, then so did his counterpart and Castiel. These weren't even his kids. Yet. It was too early to deal with this shit.

Dean wrapped his fingers around the doorknob, the sound of two pairs of small feet scurrying after him as he turned the handle and pushed the door open. “Your children are about to—" Dean broke off mid-sentence at the sight before him.

Staring was the only feasible option at that sight that greeted Dean on the other side of the door. Castiel had not-Dean bound to the bed beneath him, arms tied up over his head by a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, and— had he ever heard himself moan like that?

Dean knew he could be a bit, er… controlling when it came to sex, but the greedy, demanding, moans of, “Oh, fuck. Cas, stop teasing and just fuck me already! Goddammit, fuck me now!” were going a bit far. The way not-Dean was practically writhing under Castiel's hands and his mouth... it was beyond his realm of experience.

Speaking of experience, how the hell had Dean spent even half a second looking at his counterpart when Castiel was in his naked, passionate, dominant glory? Holy fuck. Dean was transfixed, the sight of all that smooth, flawless skin and those rippling muscles… Castiel leaned down, pressing his lips to not-Dean's to muffle his sounds in a kiss as demanding and desperate as not-Dean’s moans.

Once not-Dean had been reduced passed the point of protest, Castiel pulled away, his lips lingering for just a moment to murmur, “Shut up, Dean.” The angel’s strong hands flipped not-Dean onto his knees, bracing his hands against the headboard as he pressed in close against him.

Castiel looked over at Dean then, slowly and without care that he was being watched. It looked almost as though he couldn’t process the information, like his brain was already too overloaded on it’s currently stimulus to actively do more than react. With his eyes locked on Dean’s, Castiel sunk his teeth into not-Dean’s shoulder, his deep growl mingling with not-Dean’s low moan as they walked the line of pleasure and pain together, not-Dean’s back arched.

And holy shit, he should not be watching this!

Dean swallowed thickly, gulping down oxygen and tearing his eyes away from the couple to gape at wall, his face flushed and tingling. Despite his shock, Dean was as hard as rock and more embarrassed that he‘d ever been in his life. “I, uh... sorry!" he blurted out, heart racing as he turned around and slammed the door shut. “What the fuck!"

“I told you," Ali said from behind him, her voice exaggerated and slow, like Dean was the retarded child who just. didn't. get it. “The door is closed. No one is allowed to go in there if the door is shut unless there's an emergency." It sounded like she was reciting it word for word from memory. "I guess it's okay this time, though, since you didn't know." Alli gave him a stern once-over before she took his hand in her small one and said with a smile, "Come on, let's go have a tea party."

Dean was too stunned to do anything but follow the two of them dumbly.

By the time not-Dean and Castiel stumbled out of their bedroom an hour later (the former sex-rumbled and debauched, while the latter was pristine, not a hair out of place), Dean had learned things he never wanted to know. First and foremost, that tea is pretty damn good and plastic scones suck. Secondly, that not-Dean's sex-life used to be painfully inactive due to Castiel being finicky about sex with the children around. Well, up until the point he attempted (and failed) to give Alli and Austin a "What is sex and why do we do it?" talk behind Castiel's back. Even though it was ridiculous, Dean couldn't help but imagine how that conversation must have gone:

not-Dean: When a man loves another man (and is really horny)—

Castiel: *appears out of nowhere with an epic bitchface* Dean, stop perverting the children.

not-Dean: *gives Castiel his "get out of jail free" pouty face* Aww. Come on, Cas. We can't avoid sex forever, they're old enough to know!

Castiel: We have discussed this, Dean. It is not an appropriate topic for children. *unaffected*

Alli: Uh, Dad? We're not stupid. *flaps hand dismissively* We already know what *giggle* sex is and that you *giggle* do it every night when you think we're sleeping.

-Stunned Pause, both speak at once.- What! If some little bastard has— / Have you learned of coitus from your public education system?

-Some time later, after a long, embarrassing conversation-

Castiel: You have been provided with inaccurate information. When two consenting (married) adults love each other...

Dean choked on a slightly hysterical laugh as the insanity of the situation hit him like a furious bull to red. Here he was, sitting cross-legged on the floor of his (future) kid's bedroom, having a tea party with plastic scones and imagining how the sex talk had played out with his future counterpart. Could his life get anymore fucked up? It wasn't likely.

It turned out that Austin and Alli still weren’t allowed to open their Christmas presents (something about it being a family event)— they had to wait for Bobby and Sam to arrive first. Alli pouted, whining about how unfair it is before resorting to stomping her foot and running off to sulk. Austin wasn't nearly as theatrical about it. Instead, he turned his big blue puppy-dog eyes to Dean and stared at him sadly; it took only a minute for Dean to crack (and he thought Sam was bad).

Castiel and not-Dean refused to change their minds, no matter how much Dean tried to wheedle it out of them. Although, now that Dean thought about it, it was more likely that not-Dean only agreed with Castiel so he wouldn't be forced to sleep on the couch for the next week. Dean couldn’t find it in himself to blame him for that, he'd have done the same thing.

Sam and Bobby pulled into the driveway forty minutes later. Alli must have been psychic or have ESP, Dean thought, because she was the first one down the stairs and at the door, waiting to greet them with an enthusiastic squeal. "Uncle Sam! Uncle Bobby! Did you bring me presents?"

Dean watched from the doorway as Sam laughed, pulling Alli up into his arms and swinging her around. "Alli! How's my favorite niece doing?"

“Favorite?” Alli said mock indignantly, using her hands to brace herself on Sam’s shoulders. “Stop being stupid. I’m your only niece!”

Sam snorted, muffling his laughter as he carefully set her down and ruffled her hair. “Yep, definitely Dean’s kid. Nice to see you too, Alli,” he said.

The sight of Sam, happier than Dean had seen him in far too many years, chatting with his future daughter squeezed his heart and tugged on some distinctly mushy strings. Dean wasn’t having any of that. Things had gotten way too chick flick for him in the last 24 hours. Dean was done— he’d reached his maximum quota (and far surpassed it).

Dean stepped into Sam’s line of view, his gait manly and his expression smug, just as Bobby walked up behind Sam. Bobby had walked up behind Sam. Dean’s eyes practically bugged out of his skull and his jaw dropped. “I— your wheelchair! What…?” was all he was able to choke out.

Bobby rolled his eyes at Dean and muttered something like, “Oh, Christ. This is, what, the fourth time now?” before he glared at Dean and snapped, “Stop standing there like a gaping cow, ya idjit! You’re letting all the flies in.”

Sam, on the other hand, stopped dead halfway through the door and stared at Dean suspiciously. It was around then that not-Dean wandered into the room. When he caught sight of Sam, his lips curved up into a positively evil expression and he changed courses, walking over to Dean and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Hey ya, Sammy.”

Dean had no idea what the fuck was going on, but he suspected it was some long-running inside joke. He was about to protest because he hated being left out of the loop and not-Dean was making him uncomfortable with how comfortable this was, when a strangled, almost choking sound emerged from Sam’s mouth. Dean felt a flicker of alarm when he noticed Sam’s face had turned bright red, a horrified expression plastered across it. “Oh fuck no. Not again,” he said, his voice weak and traumatized. Sam turned and fairly fled the house.

Dean watched in stupefied confusion for a moment longer before he shook not-Dean off and glared at him. “Okay, what was that about?”

Not-Dean didn’t get a chance to respond. Bobby stepped forward, pulling off his trucker’s hat and lightly smacked not-Dean upside the head. “What have I told you about flaunting your narcissistic sexuality? It’s disturbing enough for the rest of us— but after that last time… Sam’s gonna be useless for the next two hours, thanks to you!”

“Narcissistic— okay, what the fuck are you guys going on about?” Dean demanded, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach.

“I believe they’re referring to the last time an alternate Dean showed up and the resulting threesome that Sam accidentally walked in on,” Castiel said, Austin trailing him into the room. The angel was carrying a large jug of milk and some plastic cups while Austin had a neatly decorated tray of cookies— the ones Dean had helped make the night before, he realized with a start.

“The what?!” Dean sputtered, taking four huge steps away from the chuckling not-Dean and eying him wearily. And, okay, Dean knew he was good looking. On occasion, he’d even jerked off to himself in a mirror… but that did not mean he wanted to go and literally fuck himself. Sure, Castiel had hinted at it the night before, but Dean had just thought it was a sleep-deprived hallucination or a joke. On further review, he should have remembered that Castiel doesn’t joke. Ever.

“I do not believe an in-depth discussion is appropriate at this time,” Castiel told him seriously, referring to the children. Dean had to admit it was probably for the best. He wasn’t sure he was ready to admit that he might be secretly hot for himself.

No matter how much not-Dean, Bobby, or Castiel asked (or begged) Sam to come back inside, he absolutely refused to even consider it. In a desperate bid to relieve himself of the traumatic mental images assaulting his brain, he’d taken to locking himself in his car and ignoring all who came by to talk to him by blasting his emo music.

In the end, they were forced to send Alli and Austin to go clean up their mess. Alli was more than happy to help and immediately put her dramatic theatrics to good use. Everyone watched nearby from the front porch as Alli all but skipped over to Sam’s side of the car and stopped in front of his window. When Sam refused to look up or acknowledge her, she sent Dean a sneaky look and dragged Austin over to stand beside her.

Dean watched Alli whisper something into Austin’s ear. He gave no way sign of hearing her, but Dean knew he was listening. Before his eyes, Dean saw Alli’s whole body droop forward and hunch in on itself, her shoulders shaking a little. He must have made a small exclamation of worry or something, because Castiel rested a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. “Just watch,” he said.

So Dean did… and damn, but she was going to be a fine actress one day. Alli reached up and gave two solid, loud knocks on the car window as she looked up. Her hair fell about her pink face in disarray as she stuck out her lower lip and wibbled, eyes brimming with tears and sniffling like someone had just shot her dog. Sam never even had a chance, the poor bastard.

All it took was one glance at Alli’s red, upset face and Austin’s sad blue eyes for Sam to turn off the car and open the door. Sam unfolded himself from the vehicle and loomed over them just long enough to shut the door. He crouched down in front of Alli and Austin, wrapping his big arms around each of them and pulling them both in for a hug. “What’s wrong?” he asked in concern.

Alli gave a great heaving sob and said in a wavering voice, “You don’t want my cookies!”

Sam furrowed his brows and stared at her as he occasionally did Dean when he managed to say something smart and useful. “Of course I want your cookies,” he said slowly, as though he were on unfamiliar grounds. “Why would you think that?”

Alli’s face scrunched up and she looked like she was in severe physical pain for a moment as she tried to ‘get a hold of herself.’ “Because,” she said, crocodile tears dribbling down her chin, “you won’t come inside. I… sob …can’t take bring them out here or they’ll be ruined!”

Dean saw her discreetly nudge the back of Austin’s calf with her knee and raised his eyebrows, impressed and suspicious at the same time. How often did she manage to get away with shit because of her superb acting skills?

As if reading his mind, not-Dean said in a quiet voice, “That’s my girl. This skill of hers has saved her from suspension many times.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, “Suspension? What, like, school? Why would they suspend her?”

Not-Dean chuckled, but it sounded wrong and bitter to Dean’s ears. “She beats the snot out of everyone who bullies Austin. An eight-year old girl beating up a twelve-year-old boy? It’s social suicide at school. They’re finally beginning to get the picture and leave him alone after she broke the last guy’s nose.”

Dean swallowed thickly and said nothing. He ignored the heavy sensation in his gut and turned back to the scene at hand.

Austin was scuffing his shoes on the ground, looking down and rubbing at his eyes with his left fist. His acting wasn’t anywhere near as good as Alli’s, but it didn’t need to be. Sam was a sap and he’d fall for anything. Every. Damn. Time.

As expected, Sam’s kicked puppy-dog face appeared right on schedule and Dean had to smother a laugh at Sam’s predictability. Not-Dean wasn’t as kind. “Okay, don’t worry,” Sam said placating, rubbing both of them on the back. “I’ll go inside and eat some of your cookies.”

Alli let out a squeal of triumphant, her tears drying up instantly. She turned back around and bounced up and down a few times, beaming at the large group of people shivering on the front porch. “I did it just like you asked!” she shouted, ignoring Sam now that she’d gotten the desired result. “Can I open my presents now?”

Both Dean and not-Dean face-palmed simultaneously, turning away from the mutinous look of dawning rage on Sam’s face. Castiel winced and shut his eyes while Bobby threw his head back and roared with laughter.

Sam stalked up to them, his long legs making it difficult for Alli and Austin to keep up with him. He stopped in front of not-Dean and scowled at him, and cuffed his lightly upside the head. With a huff of frustration, Sam gave not-Dean one last bitchface before he strode inside, tossing a last smartass remark over his shoulder. "Using your kids to get your way isn't very manly, Dean."

And that was how Sam found himself sitting on the edge of the couch, a plate of cookies in his lap and a cup of milk nearby as Alli and Austin tore open the presents under the Christmas tree. Their enthusiasm was refreshing and it relaxed everyone within visible distance— even Sam, disgruntled as he was.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean kept an eye on both Sam and Bobby. He could hardly believe that they were both still here, alive and doing better than good. At first, he’d simply assumed that future Sam wasn’t alive (why else wouldn’t he be around?).

When Dean had first heard that Sam and Bobby were coming for Christmas, he’d been elated (and relieved). Dean wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been for both of them to be so happy and healthy looking. Being here, knowing that this future was a very real possibility, both frightened and relieved Dean. Not that he’d ever admit it.

Sam absently picked up one of the cookies on his plate, a soft look on his face as Alli ripped the wrapping paper off an especially big present and squealed in delight at the dollhouse inside. Dean’s eyes widened and his head jerked around to stare at Sam in muted horror (at the impending explosion of Sam's temper) when he caught sight of the familiar shape. Sam, unaware that he was about to eat Dean’s tit cookie, lifted it to his mouth and took a large bite out of the nipple.

Dean snorted, unable to stifle the laughter welling up inside of him. He slapped his knees, practically howling with laughter. The look of alarmed confusion on everyone’s face only made the situation that much more hilarious for Dean. He pointed at Sam and managed to gasp out, “Ow, my nipple! Sam, you fiend! I didn’t mean for you to literally take a bite out of me.”

Not-Dean was the first person to understand what Dean was talking about. Being his future counterpart, he, of course, found it just as funny and added his own laughter to the mix. Dean wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have heard Bobby chuckling at some point (but that might have just been his imagination).

It took them ten minutes to calm down. Sam’s cry of, “What the fuck! This cookie… DEAN!” had only served to start them back up again, along with Castiel’s disapproval at Sam’s choice of language. Every time Dean started to calm down, he’d glance over at Sam’s face or not-Dean’s and end up cracking up again. It was refreshing, invigorating, to be able to laugh like this.

By the time Dean had managed to stifle his laughter to chuckles and wipe the tears of mirth from his eyes, everyone had already turned back to watch Alli and Austin open their Christmas presents. Dean grinned at not-Dean and waved at Sam, who had his arms crossed over his chest, but was reluctantly grinning at them in amusement.

There weren’t that many Christmas presents for the kids (money was scarce after the Apocalypse), but Alli and Austin seemed happy enough with them. Austin had received a new sketch pad, a large box of art supplies, a science kit, and couple canvases from not-Dean and Castiel along with a remote controlled car from Sam and a couple physics books from Bobby.

Alli had gotten a dollhouse, a couple of superhero action figures (she popped the heads off of barbies), and a model car kit of the Impala to put together (she was a real grease monkey). Sam had given her the boxset to the entire series of Stargate: Atlantis and there were a couple of books on old cars from Bobby.

Of course, the kids had wanted to take everything out of their boxes and play with them. Dean watched in amusement as not-Dean, Sam, and Castiel struggled to open the old lady-proofed boxed toys until Castiel used his angelic mojo to simply banish the packaging. “That’s cheating! You need to do it the manly way,” Dean said.

“Pffft.” Dean glanced over at Sam and the torn packaging strewn around him. Okay, so maybe he didn’t need Castiel’s powers, brute strength was always a great alternative. “Aww, look at Sammy! You’re all grown up and opening boxes by yourself. How precious.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean and gave him an easy smile. “Better than you can say, old man.” Dean guessed that was Sam’s way of telling him that he was forgiven. That was all well and good, but there was no reason to be cruel about it.

“Bitch,” Dean and not-Dean said at the same time before glancing over at each other with a slightly creeped out look.

“Jerk,” Sam said automatically. He eyed the two of them suspiciously, his lips twisted into some between a frown and a sneer. “Also, never do that again. It was bad enough last time when you both came…” he trailed off, shuddering and looking haunted.

Sometime around 11AM, Alli threw aside her new presents, paused SGA in the middle of an episode, and announced, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be outside making snowmen.” Without giving anyone a chance to respond, she sauntered out of the room. Austin stopped in midstroke, carefully set down one of his new charcoal pencils, and ran after her.

“You will require weather appropriate clothing,” Castiel said, standing and ignoring not-Dean’s grabby hands. He strode over to the hall closet, opening the door and pulling out gloves, scarves, hats, ear muffs, and snowsuits. “Put these on so you do not weaken your immune systems.”

Alli groaned and gave Dean a look that clearly said, ‘Parents. What are you gonna do?’ before accepting the outfit without complaint. Dean grinned, remembering how gruff and protective their Dad had been the few times he’d let Sam and him out to play.

Dean stood up, brushing the cookie crumbs off his pants (the tit cookie had been delicious) and said, “I’m in. Just let me go get my jacket.” Alli grinned and clapped her gloved hands together in excitement while everyone stared at Dean like he’d lost his mind.

“What?” Dean snapped defensively, staring at not-Dean, Bobby, and Sam. “How long has it been since we got to go out and play in the snow like normal human beings? …Besides, I’d like a chance to try out some snowtits.” Chuckling, he turned and ran upstairs.

Five minutes later, Dean was surprised to find everyone struggling into snowsuits and looking as though they were preparing themselves for a blizzard. Well, everyone except Bobby, who was sitting across the room and nursing a thermos of whiskey.

Alli was ready to go and bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet. Castiel was immaculate, dressed up head to toe and looking positively ridiculous (like a puffed up penguin) with a somber expression as he zipped up Austin’s coat. “…the hell?”

Bobby snorted from across the room and said with a chuckle. “Castiel insists that everyone be prepared since it‘s ‘human tradition.’ Wear the outfit or be stuck inside. Personally, I’d rather stay right where I am.”

Dean glanced over at not-Dean and found him bickering with Sam over who the bigger wuss was as they stuck their arms into the sleeves of their coats. “You’re both huge pussies. You’re whipped,” he said to not-Dean, ignoring his sputtering and turning to Sam, “and you were always a pussy. It’s in your nature.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean and zipped his coat up. “You do realize you just called yourself a whipped… loser, right?” he said, glancing over at a highly unimpressed Castiel. The angel sighed and told the kids to go get started without them. Alli gave a whoop of joy and tore out of the house, Austin following at a more sedate pace.

“No, I called my future-self whipped. This future is only a possible future. I may not end up whipped in another one,” Dean said smugly. In all honestly, though, Dean didn’t mind the idea of being whipped by Castiel. If it meant he got to keep all of this, it was a small price to pay. He’d never tell Sam that, though.

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Castiel interrupted him. “Put this on, Dean,” he said, heaping yet another huge pile of snow gear into Dean’s arms.

“No,” Dean said firmly. There was no way he could accept any of this clothing without looking like a hypocrite (even if he was). It was a matter of pride. “I’m not from this timeline. You can’t use sex to persuade me.” Castiel’s eyes widened and, for a moment, Dean thought maybe he’d gone too far and the angel might hit him (which was honestly ridiculous, Castiel would never strike anyone, much less Dean).

“Very well,” Castiel said, looking resigned and maybe a little hurt. He took the clothing back from Dean and hung it back up in the closet. “But you will wear these gloves to avoid injuring the nerves in your hands.”

Dean ignored the onslaught of guilt, took a look at the amused expression on Sam’s face as well as the worry on not-Deans, and said a little gruffy, “Fine.” Pause. “Jesus Christ, why do you have so much snow gear anyway? Where is it all coming from— Narnia?”

“I was given to understand that it is good to be prepared.” Castiel ignored the reference to Narnia (or, more likely, he didn’t get it) and handed Dean the gloves. As he watched Dean slip them on, he stepped forward and pressed the palm of his hand to Dean’s forehead. “This will help you to keep warm,” he said before Dean could ask.

A jolt of heat shot through Dean’s body and settled in his abdomen, leaving him heady and toasty warm. There was a burning in his belly not unlike the sensation that drinking large quantities of alcohol on an empty stomach provided.

“Whoa,” Dean said, feeling a little tipsy and weak behind the knees. “This is weird.”

Not-Dean smirked and clapped him on shoulder with more force than necessary, a warning. It was probably something like: ‘I don’t care if you are me. You hurt Cas’ feelings again and I will fuck you up, bitch.’ Dean’s knees threatened to buckle beneath him, but he somehow managed to resist. “You get used it really quickly.”

And, wow, suddenly everything made sense with startling clarity! This was why not-Dean hadn’t needed any extra clothing last night and had been practically radiating warmth. Actually, that was kind of cool. Dean was going to have to ask his Cas about it sometime after he got back.

Bobby wished them all a pleasant time freezing their asses off, sounding a little tipsy himself, as they trooped outside to join the kids. “Not whipped, my ass,” Sam muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Dean to hear as he watched Castiel and not-Dean head toward Alli and Austin, who were in the middle of making a snowman.

Dean looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Sam, smirking like he knew the world’s greatest secret. “At least I’m not dressed up like retard in the ‘nippley’ weather,” he said, raising his hand and crooking a finger at him.

Sam scowled at him and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Only you would be immature enough to make ‘tit cookies,’ Dean,” he said, curling his nose up at the unsavory word.

“Bring it on, bitch,” Dean said mockingly, pretending to look bored.

“Oh it’s so on, you jerk!” Sam said before he tackled Dean into the snow. They began to tussle, wrestling around on the snow and laughing as they tried to shove snow down each other’s shirts. Adrenaline coursed through Dean’s body as he tried to get the upper hand.

As much as he hated to admit it, Sam usually won due to his greater strength. There was no way Dean could compete with his brute strength or size if his brother managed to get him pinned. If Dean wanted to win the match, he had to use his street smarts and his speed to catch Sam off guard.

Dean rolled to the left and just barely managed to avoid getting the breath knocked out of him (where he’d be subsequently pinned down and lose the match). Jumping to his feet, Dean took a few steps back, his eyes fixed on an advancing Sam when he slipped on a patch of ice a fell backwards… into the snowman the kids had been trying to make.

The snowman was split in half by Dean’s head cutting through the middle, the snow falling inward and piling atop his face. Oh, holy shit! That was fucking cold and painful! Angelic heating power or not, plunging your head into a large pile of snow gave you a horrible brain freeze!

Dean groaned, sitting up and brushing the snow off his face with a plethora of high-pitched curses and wheezing when he noticed the unnatural silence. He froze, lowering his hands in his lap and looking around him.

Alli and Austin stood to his right, staring down at him with wide eyes and open mouths. Not-Dean and Castiel were on his left, looking worried and emotionless respectively. Sam was in front of him, gaping and guilty. What the fuck? Why did everyone look so upset? It was just a snowman! They hadn’t even finished putting the three balls of snow together yet, so, what the hell…?

There was a small sound on the right. All eyes snapped over to Austin, staring as though they were anticipating the worst. Austin was looking down at his feet, his hands clenched into fists and his breathing increasing until he was practically hyperventilating. Wheeze, gasp, gasp, silence… repeat.

Dean shifted, unsure of himself, but certain that it had to do with Austin. The boy was an artist. What if he got really upset if someone ruined his art? “I, look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your snowman,” Dean started. He was cut off by an odd, rasping, hoarse noise. It started off small, quiet, and thready. It was barely noticeable at first, but it grew with strength until it was a deafening in the silence.

With a shock, Dean realized it was laughter. Austin was laughing… out loud, using his voice. The boy dropped to his knees, grinning and chuckling as he looked over at not-Dean and Castiel, his eyes sparkling. Alli squealed and threw herself at him, pulling him into a tight hug as she said, “Austin, you made a noise! I heard your voice. Thank you. You need to do it more often, okay?”

Dean’s throat closed up at the sound, his heart pounding and feeling like it was about to explode. Not-Dean was choked up, his face twisted into something between pain and happiness. He was blinking rapidly, as though he were holding back tears, and Castiel… Castiel had a weird expression on his face. It was unlike anything Dean had ever seen before and he couldn’t put a word to it.

“Yes,” Castiel said, his voice raw, “I would like to hear it again too.” Not-Dean nodded, apparently too choked up to speak.

Dean shifted, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. It felt like he was intruding on something personal and intimate that he wasn’t meant to be a part of. He got to his feet and walked over to Sam, who had a dopey smile on his face, and shoved his hands into his own pockets.

He did not expect the freezing slush of snow to hit him on the back of his neck. Dean yelped, whirling around to face the culprit, and was shocked to see Austin standing there, a pile of snow in his hand, grinning. “Wha—” he started, but was interrupted by a face full of snow. “Okay, that’s it. This is war!” he said, brushing the snow off of his face.

By the time Dean had a snowball of his own and was ready to retaliate, Austin was missing and Alli had run off giggling. The tension mounted and it quickly escalated into an all out snowball fight. Castiel wanted nothing to do with it, maintaining that fighting was wrong outside of necessity. He must have been trying to set a good example for the kids or something, because Castiel was a warrior of the Lord.

Dean made it his personal mission to best Sam at every turn— even if that meant he’d have to team up with his future counterpart of do it. After the third time Dean and not-Dean managed to tackle Sam and shove snow down his shirt, Sam retired from the snow war and went inside to change his clothes and warm up.

not-Dean and Dean high-fived each other and promptly became enemies. It was every man for himself and with sneaky children and angels around, they didn’t have the time to ignore their surroundings to see which was stronger. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t secretly have a grudge match to see which one had better tactical prowess.

Dean reached down and scooped up a fist full of snow, packing it together and rounding it off with his gloved hands. There was a flash of motion to his left and an unnatural breeze. Castiel, perfect. He'd teach the angel that using his wings was an unfair advantage and that cheaters never win (except for those times where they do). Dean looked up, meticulously scanning the horizon for Castiel when not-Dean popped up beside him and went back to back.

Not-Dean glanced over at him with a smirk. Apparently, he caught the devious look in Dean's eyes, because he grinned, catching onto the plan without a need for words. With a nod, not-Dean acknowledged Dean's brilliance and offered his skills to help in any way possible. It was around then that Dean realized he'd spent way too much time in the future. There was no way he should be able to have a conversation with anyone (not even his future counterpart) in the span of a few seconds with only a grin and a nod.

To his left, Alli peeked out from behind a tree, drew her arm back and hurled a snowball at Dean full force. He just barely managed to get out of the way in time (not-Dean wasn't as lucky). "Hah! You're going to have to do better than that to—" A ball of snow hit him in the back. Dean gave a very unmanly yelp (that he would later deny ever happened) as freezing snow splashed off the back of his neck. "The hell?!"

Dean whirled around just in time to see Austin duck back into the bushes, quiet hoarse laughter the only evidence that he'd been there. "A sneak attack!" he said, his chest squeezing at the sound of Austin's mirth. "Alli was a diversion to get me away from future-me long enough to gun us both done. Ohh, you two are good. Obviously, you've learned from the best." Dean was grinning as he spoke, pride abundant in his voice.

Dean shifted the snowball melting in his hands and soaking the material of his gloves as he glanced in Alli's direction. Castiel was standing next to her, squeezing her shoulder with a small almost-smile. not-Dean crept up behind Castiel, smirking and sending a wink in Dean's direction as he wrapped his arms around Castiel's waist and pulled him back against his body. "Hey, Cas."

Castiel leaned back against not-Dean, his lips quirked and his eyebrows raised just a little. "Yes, Dean?"

Dean fell into one of his more subtle fighting stances, making sure to discreetly pull his arm back and prepare it to launch a snowball at the angel. He was tensed and poised to attack, his ears straining as he waited for a signal. Any signal. not-Dean dropped a hand to Castiel's hip, looked up at Dean with a smile and said, "Don't forget. Make the right choice."

By the time it occurred to Dean that there was something odd about that statement, he'd already drawn his arm back, felt a tug behind his navel, and been spat back down onto the diner booth where three things happened in quick succession. Castiel jumped up and used his wings to fly back a few feet in alarm, Dean launched the snowball and smacked his hand (painfully) off the table, and Sam was thrown out of his chair at the force of the snowball hitting him in the face. "Son of a bitch!"

The diner came to a standstill, the silence more deafening than the chaos ever could have been. Onlookers watched with drawn breaths as a heavy-set man with a thick brown mustache stalked over and gestured at the destroyed chair, his face purple with fury. The calm illusion that had settled over everyone was broken when the manager began to shout, voice echoing off the walls.

As though transfixed, everyone watched in silence as two of the strange men attempted to bullshit their way out of the situation (despite how obviously baffled they were by it themselves)while the third stood nearby and watched apathetically. It didn't come as a surprise when they were asked to leave (Dean made sure to grab his jacket this time) and never come back and only Sherrie seemed particularly mournful about it.

"What the hell just happened?" Sam said the moment they were outside. He was staring at Dean suspiciously, his hand inching towards the weapon concealed at his waist. "Who are you? Where's the real Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes and glared at Sam. "Right, like I would be stupid enough to magic away the real me and leave a replacement in the presence of an angel. Really, Sam, for being so smart you sure can be pretty stupid." Dean waved a hand dismissively and scanned the parking lot for the Impala. He found it right where he'd left it and even from here he could tell that it was, as of yet, untouched by children. Bingo. "Cas would have noticed by now if I wasn't the real Dean."

"Well excuse me for being—"

"Dean is correct. He is the same Dean," Castiel interrupted, but he looked almost uneasy. "However, there is evidence of a leftover angelic residue on his person."

Dean frowned, scrunching his nose up in distaste. "Ugh, Cas, stop it. You make it sound like some angel made me his bitch, violated me, and left me drenched in invisible jizz."

"And that's a scarring mental image I'll never be rid of," Sam said with a groan, dropping his face into his hands.

Castiel raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side, appearing to consider it. Dean fished out his keys and headed for the Impala, Sam and Castiel following absently. "While crude, your analogy it is not entirely incorrect," Castiel said at last.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Dean said, ignoring Castiel's disapproving look and stopping in front of the Impala. You can do this, Winchester. You know he has feelings for you, don't worry about rejection. Five years from now you'll be practically married with two kids, he thought. Dean looked over at Sam, took a deep breath, and with a smirk, threw the car keys at him. "Heads up, Sammy!" he said.

Sam caught them automatically, his expression twisted in confused. "I— what?" he said before turning to Castiel and asking, "Are you sure this is our Dean? He's not acting very... Dean-like."

"Yes." Castiel pursed his lips and raked his eyes over Dean, through Dean, with an intensity that left him hot and tingling. Dean needed Sam to leave. Right now. "I am certain this is 'our' Dean."

"You know, I can hear you," Dean said, scowling at both of them and ignoring the heat pooling in his groin. "Sam, take the Impala and head back to the motel. We'll meet you there later." Dean jerked his thumb over his shoulder to emphasize his point.

"Okay, what? Who are you?" Sam crossed his arms over his chest and his bitchface replaced his worried expression. "Seriously, Dean. What happened to you? How'd you manage to become an even bigger douche than usual?"

"I've been stuck five years in the future for a few days, same old. We'll talk about it later." Dean gave Sam a pointed look and nodded at the Impala. When Sam just stood there and sputtered in confusion, refusing to budge, Dean gave a loud, put-upon sigh and said, "I tried to warn you, Sammy."

There was a small knot of anxiety building in Dean's stomach. He promptly ignored it as he turned to face Castiel and, to his amusement, found the marinara sauce from earlier was still there, dried up at the corners of the angel's mouth. With a snort of amusement, Dean stepped into Castiel's space and cupped his stubbled jaw with the palms of his hands.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time," Dean admitted, his heart beginning to pound. Oh god, what was he doing? What if this was all some elaborate trick? This was the Trickster he was dealing with. It'd be right up his alley. Only… it wouldn't be. It wasn't his style. There was nothing Gabriel would gain from this. There was no way to go back.

There was no way of knowing if there was an underlying agenda to this mess. All Dean knew for certain was that after getting a taste of a possible future, there was no way he could go back to who he was before without at least trying to achieve it. The only thing he could do was play the Trickster's game and see where it lead him.

Dean dropped his forehead to Castiel's, his thumbs rubbing circles against the skin of his jaw as he pressed himself up against the angel. Castiel stared back at him, his blue eyes wide and transfixed. "Dean," he said, his voice wrecked and needy.

From somewhere behind him, Dean could hear a vague choking noise. "I can see you two need some time to yourself. I'll see you back at the motel!" Sam said, his voice strangled. Seconds later a car door slammed shut and the Impala peeled out of the parking lot with a loud screech. Dean would have to remember to bitch at Sam about it later.

"Cas, you still have sauce on your face." Dean tilted Castiel's face up, closer towards him, and flicked his tongue out, teasing the corners of Castiel’s mouth.

Castiel gave a small huff of exasperation. "I grow tired of this foreplay, Dean," he said gravely, clasping a hand to the back of Dean's neck and pulling him down for a kiss. Their lips locked, Castiel's tongue licking into his mouth in a heated duel of dominance that knocked Dean off guard. Wow, so maybe Dean could understand what his future counterpart found so arousing about letting the angel take control in the bedroom.

With the happy sigh of a job well done, Gabriel dropped into his favorite recliner chair with a smirk... and promptly jumped back out again. "What the fuck?" he sputtered, rubbing a hand against his bruised tailbone and eying the seat for the origin of his discomfort. There was a small tin box the size of a paperback book with vivid red and gold designs, a half-crumpled piece of paper taped to the top of it.

Gabriel absolutely did not give a squeal of delight when he realized exactly what the container was. He snatched up the tin box, barely managing to suppress his glee as he ripped off the lid and popped a bonbon into his mouth. "Oh my Lord, how I have missed you," he said, closing his eyes and moaning. It had been almost fifteen hours since he'd run out of bonbons and, try as he might, none of the ones he'd forced the humans to make for him had been good enough.

Five bonbons later, the Trickster sank into his chair with a blissed out grin. Absently, he felt around for the tin's lid, ripping the paper off of it as an afterthought. He opened the note, pausing to consume another bonbon before dropping his eyes to the sheet and reading.

Gabriel,

Thanks for the help. As promised, a tin of self-replicating bonbons blessed by Michael himself.

Next time, learn to "grow some balls" (as Dean would say) and ask him yourself.

Castiel

Gabriel scoffed, rolling his eyes and sucking on his fingers as he flung the note somewhere behind him. Grow some balls, indeed. How hypocritical when the wuss himself had been too scared to make a move on Dean without an outside intervention. It was practically a challenge. Or perhaps an offer to intrude on his so-called privacy. Gabriel had never been one to back away from a challenge.

With a snap of his fingers, the Trickster turned on the TV and tuned in to the Dean and Castiel show, adult edition. The screen faded in from black. Two intertwined bodies were writhing under a sea of stars in a wide-open field, nothing but exotic flowers as far as the eye could see—"Oh for crying out loud! Could you two be anymore pathetic? Your porn is sweet enough to rot even my teeth!"

Gabriel was forced to eat yet another three bonbons to console himself. By the time he felt he could go on living without wanting to shoot himself in the face, the box had regenerated all the bonbons inside three times over. Gabriel glanced at the TV again, frowning when he realized the channel had been changed and the screen was focusing on a miserable looking Sam.

"Hmm," the Trickster murmured to himself, sucking on a bonbon as he eyed the screen with interest. "I suppose I do owe him a 'favor' for all the grief those two are going to cause him, he’s emo enough as it is. Anyway, this could be... fun." With a laugh (and a little bit of choking— always remember to swallow your food before attempting a maniacal cackle), Gabriel snapped his fingers and disappeared.

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LillithTheOddity | Fanfiction Main