Hiraeth- (N) A homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

One

He could hear their voices, like distant calls in the night. He just couldn't see them. Dean didn't know why that was, all he knew is he was lying on his back in the cold street. His fingers curled against the black concrete, almost trying to pick it up. He didn't believe it was real. Dean's eyes cracked open and he coughed, hard and rough. He looked up to see trees, rustling in the breeze. The sun shone down in gray streams onto the earth. It was hidden behind the low lying clouds. Dean sat up; the street he had been lying on was practically deserted. Not a single car drove down it, only down the surrounding streets and even when the cars did drive by they were almost silent, like ghosts scampering around, afraid of being caught.

Dean could hear the voices of Sam and Castiel. Every time they spoke there was an eerie echo.

"And what if he doesn't wake up?" Sam said with concern bleeding through his voice, there was the echo.

"Then we prepare for the worst," Castiel said, another echo. "But as of now, don't count your brother out Sam. He's strong. He'll make it out of this alive."

Dean stood and looked around him. Where were Castiel and Sam? They weren't anywhere to be seen. It was as if they speaking from up above him. But that was impossible…wait, maybe it wasn't? Sam's words ran through his mind again. He remembered what had happened. They'd been fighting a witch. Some nasty broad with a heart of ice, she'd slammed Dean into the wall with a twist of her wrist and almost knocked him out cold, he remembered her chanting something and this sort of white hot light shrouding him, and then all was peaceful like it was now. It wasn't the kind of peaceful Dean wanted though, this kind of peaceful was somehow scary.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. "Where am I?"

Dean felt the breeze pick up around him, he felt it blow through his hair and caress his cheeks, and it felt like an old friend. Dean shivered. He felt the breeze shoot right through his bones and engulf him. It traveled left, down the barren street and picked up in the nearby park. Dean didn't know why, but something told him to follow it. His feet started moving without his mind even telling them to and he strolled down the street, lined with house. Some were one story, some two stories, some he was sure held stories. They all looked fairly older, but not dilapidated and certainly not old enough to be considered historical. One was on the side of the trees, the others facing the woods that seemed dense and full of their own life.

The park was empty. The swings were blowing slightly back and forth. They creaked for they were made of metal. The other playground equipment, the slides and bridges all connected in an array of plastic and various colors mostly red and yellow, was marked up and written on probably by teenagers not caring the words little kids learned from their writing or saw. There were leaves blowing down the sidewalk leading to the entrance of the park which was surrounded by a short, rusted, chain link fence. Dean looked around him at the various empty benches and play areas. Somehow though, his feet led him to the swings and he sat down.

He'd never been on a swing before. Granted he knew how they worked, but he'd never had the time or the luxury to swing as a kid. There had been an old tire swing behind Bobby's house in the woods that he and Sam would sneak off to and play on when their father ran off on hunts, but tire swings were made for jumping off of. Dean never stayed on it long enough to actually swing. Dean stared down at his feet and observed the mulch underneath them. He imagined what child had sat here time and time again, enough to create a rut where their feet went underneath the swing.

He looked over and there sat a child. He jumped a little; he had sworn the park had been empty a moment ago. The child giggled a little and swung high. His eyes were closed only for a moment before he cracked them open. The child's eyes were astonishing. One eye was crystal blue, like the sky on a normal and sunny day; the other eye was a deep green like the darker grass next to the sidewalk. The child had darker almost black hair and a mess of freckles on his cheeks. He wore old and worn jeans, tennis shoes, an old vintage looking t-shirt with the bat signal from Batman on it and a red hoodie over it. The child was filled with happiness and wonder as he swung back and forth. Dean found himself mesmerized as he watched the child.

What happened next made Dean lose the ability to breathe. He saw a familiar face start approaching: his own. He looked slightly older though, he caught sight of a few gray hairs on his head, but otherwise it was still the same. He wore the same leather jacket, he still had Sam's necklace around his neck, still wore old jeans and boots. Something was different though, the way he walked. He walked without fear, without a gun, practically in hunter's terms: naked. The child jumped off the swing with the same "no fear" attitude Dean saw in himself and ran to the older him. The older him laughed and threw the child into his arms.

"Ok," Dean thought to himself. "I have a child. That's…nice. Wonder which lucky bartender I banged to get that little guy?"

"None of them," a voice said from beside Dean, but Dean was inclined to look towards the older him rather than to the voice. "You should've expected this."

Dean saw Castiel approach the older version of him and smile. Castiel looked happy beyond belief, like the whole weight of Heaven had been lifted off the angel's shoulders. He approached Dean quickly and looked down at the child in Dean's arms. He ruffled his hair and the child smiled up at Castiel. Their eyes matched, at least the child's one eye did. The other one matched…

"Yours," the voice said again, Dean turned his head towards the source. A simple looking girl who looked about twenty, she had brown hair and blue eyes. Her skin was pale like alabaster stone and her eyes shone like the sun despite their color. She wore simple clothes too, a jacket and jeans. She wore no shoes though. Her toenails weren't even painted. She smiled at Dean and sat down on the swing next to him, the one the child had abandoned. "He's yours Dean. I don't think I need to tell you much more, if you have eyes you'll figure out the rest."

"I'm not—"Dean was cut off.

"It's not about that," the girl said. "It's about love and companionship. You've found that in him."

"Cas and I were," Dean swallowed hard; the wind blew through his hair again. "Were just friends and that's all we are."

"For now," the girl commented in a soft voice and held onto the chains connecting the swings to the set. "You've got time. Welcome to the future Dean. More specifically yours, if you want it to be."

"M-My future," Dean was shocked, who was this girl and what did she possibly know about his future? "What would you possibly know about me? We've never once met, unless you were that one girl in Tennessee? Nah she was a bit heavier, only a bit."

"My name is Holly," the girl said to him, breaking his train of thought. "Holly Ander. I'm an angel."

"Of course," Dean rolled his eyes and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Another angel, listen sister whatever you're selling I ain't buying. You angels have messed with my head enough over the years. Especially that archangel brother of yours Gabriel, talk about a royal dick. So whatever lesson you're trying to teach me I'd rather you shove it."

"There's no lesson here Dean," Holly said, Dean had gotten up and turned to leave, but her words had stopped him. "There's nothing here but the future. The future you can have if you go after it."

"So is this one of those bullshit spiritual journeys?" Dean asked.

"Why don't you take the journey first," Holly stood up and stepped closer to Dean, reminding him of the way Castiel used to invade his personal space before they had that conversation. "Then let me know if it was bullshit or not."

Her words were harsh, but Dean wouldn't have expected any less from an angel who probably didn't get out much. They were all sort of robots up there. Dean swallowed hard, feeling her eyes staring him down even after he turned around. He could leave right now, walk until he ran out of street, until the wind carried him away, but he realized there was no escape. That witch had put him here for some reason and he had no way out. He turned around.

"Will you help me get back to Sammy and Cas," Dean asked. "If I do what you ask?"

"Yes Dean," Holly answered. "I will."

"Good because right now," Dean sighed. "It's the best I've got."

-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-

The scene shifted. The scenery was a hospital. It was crowded and full of people running back and forth between rooms. Holly and Dean walked down the long hallway, it was as good a way to go as any. Dean breathed in the scent of antiseptic and sickness he hated so dearly. He tried to cover his nose, but it didn't help. The smell still permeated through his sleeve. Dean gave up and kept walking. Holly grabbed his jacket arm and stopped him.

"This room," Holly motioned towards it. "Go in."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Trust me," Holly replied. "You'll be glad you did."

Dean questioned this girl's motives, he had from the moment they'd met at the park, but if doing what she said meant going home then it was worth it. Dean carefully stepped into the room. He found a single bed next to an open window, cracked slightly to let fresh air in. He saw himself again, younger, about his age now. This Dean was in a hospital bed, this Dean was in a coma too, and watching himself was strange.

Watching Castiel watch him was even more strange.

"Visiting hours are almost over sir," a nurse popped her head into the room. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave."

"Please," Castiel pleaded, true worry in his eyes. They shone a little less than normal, not that Dean paid attention to that much detail on Castiel's face. "Please just a few more minutes…"

"Fine," the nurse agreed. "But after that you have to leave."

A few minutes turned into hours after Castiel made himself visible to no one. Even the nurse that had told him to depart couldn't see him now as she turned out the lights. The sun had set and the window was shut. There was an analog clock on the wall that Dean gazed up at, after registering what time it was he turned his attention to the calendar nailed to the wall.

"It's a week after today," Dean said quietly, still in shock. "This happens a week from today."

"Yes it does," Holly said, a glint of mischievousness in her eyes, Dean could tell she wanted to come up with a witty comment, but was holding back. "This Dean is the moment that starts it all, for both parties that is."

"Both parties?" Dean asked.

The scenery changed again and Dean found he was at their motel. He didn't know why he expected anything else. He saw his loyal 1967 Chevrolet Impala sitting in a parking space and his mood lifted a bit. She looked well taken of too.

"That a boy Sammy." Dean chuckled and smiled to himself.

Dean's smile faded when Holly pushed open the door to the motel room he and Sam had rented out. It was dark except for one light over the couch where a figure was hunched up on the couch and asleep. It smelled like whiskey in the room. Sam didn't drink, not like Dean did. Dean approached the figure.

It was Sam. His fingers clung to a book that threatened to fall to the floor. His breaths came out small and quietly. Sam was clearly dreaming. His eyes moved rapidly behind his eyelids. Dean wanted to reach out and grab the book that was about to drop because he knew it would wake Sam up if it did. Someone beat him to the chase though.

Another figure appeared out of the shadows, a figure with dirty blonde hair and golden eyes, and a familiar figure. He reached down and retrieved the book from Sam's hand. He placed it on the table in the kitchen and came back over to Sam. He studied Sam's features intently, as if trying to memorize him before he woke up and left again. The figure looked over at the other chair, a throw blanket rested on the back of it; the figure picked it up and spread it over Sam. Sam stirred.

"De—"he mumbled, half awake.

"Guess again kiddo," Gabriel answered him. "It's just me."

"Gabri-el?" Sam's voice cracked and he started to get up. Gabriel placed his hands on Sam's shoulders. Dean tensed for a moment and Holly held him in place. He felt fire in his veins when Gabriel touched his brother, but as he kept watching he saw no hostility in Gabriel's gesture nor his eyes. Sam met his gaze and Dean saw a sense of security, something foreign to his brother except in Dean's presence, much less Gabriel's.

"Lay back down Sammy," Gabriel replied, gently guiding Sam back onto the couch. "You can see Dean tomorrow. He's sleeping now, like you should be."

"M'tired…" Sam muttered and lay back down. Gabriel watched him fall back asleep. Dean expected some practical joke, which was very Gabriel. But Gabriel did no such thing. He simply sat down in the chair next to the couch and watched over Sam, like Castiel did Dean.

"He's been taking care of Sam," Holly said to Dean. "While you're gone."

"Really," Dean chuckled. "That's a first. Gabriel's the last person I'd expect to care about someone."

"If you give someone a chance Dean," Holly replied. "They may just surprise you."

"Hey," Dean pointed a finger at her. "What did I say about lessons?"

"Come," Holly motioned for Dean to follow her. "We have much to see."

"Fine," Dean rolled his eyes. "But I need to get out of here fast."

"Come along Dean." Holly repeated and started walking out of the motel room, Dean caught one last glance at Sam and Gabriel still not believing that could actually happen.

"Ok," Dean agreed and walked after her. "But only if we stop for a cheeseburger along the way."

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