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we fed it fresh, new years

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Dean hates this future. Even if it is apparently one where he's getting laid on a semi-regular basis, it's also one filled with Croatoan zombies, where he's living in an abandoned summer camp, and Sam's presumed dead. He needs out of here, ASAP. Luckily, if that photo he found is anything to go by, he's got a solution to this Back to the Future problem somewhere around here.

"Hey, Chuck," he asks, looking around. "Is... Cas still here?"

"Cas?" Chuck winces. "I don't think you wanna see Cas right now."

"Come on, Chuck, it's important."

He's still reluctant, but when Dean glares he sighs and nods his head towards one of the cabins. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

The doorway is blocked by long strings of beads which clatter noisily when Dean ducks between them. Cas's cabin reeks of patchouli and incense, and underneath that there's a hint of something he'd swear is marijuana if he didn't know better. The room is full of pillows and cushions, a dozen women in their teens and twenties sitting on them, surrounding a young girl with shorn, dye-black hair. She's... she's really pregnant, lying down across the other women's laps and letting them massage her while she talks about shared perception. Dean looks around for Cas, can't see the blonde teenager from the photo anywhere, when the pregnant girl's eyes fly open and he recognizes them.

Jesus fucking wept, she's Cas.

Cas is pregnant?

"It seems our fearless leader has need of me," she says, annoyed, sitting up. The women rush to get pillows to support her, but she waves them off, suggesting, "Why don't you ladies get washed up for the orgy?" which, what? Dean watches them walk out of the room, gaping, but the second they're gone his eyes go straight to Cas again.

"What the hell, Cas?" he hisses, watching her struggle to her feet. "Since when do you run orgies; no, wait, since when are you pregnant?"

"Approaching nine months now," she says flatly. Hey, guess she picked up sarcasm somewhere along the line. She looks at him oddly, almost staring through him. "Whoa. Strange."

"You being pregnant? Glad we agree."

"Not that, you. You... are not you. Not now you, anyway."

"No!" Dean shakes his head, trying to make sense of his grammar. "Yeah. Yes, exactly." He didn't think she'd notice, but hey, makes explaining things easier.

"What year are you from?" she wonders.

"2009. How are you pregnant?"

"You're really fixated on this, aren't you? Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. 2009. Things were... very different back then." She lifts a hand to her hair, twists a lock of it between her fingers. It distracts her for a minute, and then her eyes are back on him, the same green he's spent the last few months getting used to, but without the sharp, intense focus he's always associated with Castiel. "Who did this to you, Zachariah?"

"Yes. Can you get me back to my time?"


"That a yes?"

"No. And, to answer your other question, in the typical way."

"No? And the typical - you mean - " He tries to make one of several gestures with his hands and utterly fails. Cas laughs, another in a long line of very strange things this future has to offer, and nods exaggeratedly. "With who?" Her expression goes blank, uncomprehending. Incredibly out of his comfort zone, Dean tries several times to rephrase the question before just asking outright, "Who's the father?"

She shrugs. "You, for all I know."

He recoils, horrified. "Me?"

"It's what people are hoping for, at any rate. They're treating me like the second coming of Mary." She snorts. "Who was not a virgin by any modern definition of the word."

Dean staggers away, falling back onto one of the many available cushions. "Jesus, Cas."

"Eh, I thought about it, but that's a big name to live up to, you know?" Cas winces and rubs at her stomach. "And I don't think a pacifist would kick this much."