In Due Time (Dean Winchester is Saved)
A 26-year-old Dean is transported to 2021 and confronted with the unfathomable - a future where he is happy, safe, and loved.
A wide, empty boardwalk painted amber by the setting sun, slipping over the horizon, basks a 26-year-old Dean Winchester in buttery warm sunlight. The air is cool and calm, a light breeze brushing over his cheeks. Like in a dream where one flits from place to place in a hazy instant; no journey, no decision, only destination; Dean finds himself there in the middle of the road with no clue how he got there.
Dean tries to parse his recent memory, searching for something to bridge the gap. The last memory he has is hazy, like it’s blurred behind a filter of alcohol and sleep deprivation. He was in a motel, he thinks. In some backwater part of Ohio, maybe.
Typically this would be the moment where panic sets in - for Dean that would present itself in getting instantly into defensive position. The scene is not unlike the first scene in some zombie flick where the unwitting protagonist finds themselves in a deceptively calm and empty street only to get jumped moments later. But there’s something about the air, the temperate, still air, and the clouds painted pink and gold. The panic never manifests, and Dean feels peaceful.
That peaceful feeling brings its own kind of worry though. It’s the kind of peace that one might associate with death - the final release. Dean can’t remember dying. There was no fight, no struggle, no panic. But then, he does recall a pang of sadness, a weight in his heart and mind. Maybe he slipped away in his sleep or something. It seems pretty ridiculous when he thinks about it. But this picturesque street offers little in the way of answers.
But Dean is a hunter. He doesn’t take obvious answers, he doesn’t work on assumptions. He investigates, he assesses. So he begins to stroll down the road to the west towards the fiery glow of the setting sun. Each step is cautious, as if the ground may falter under his feet.
Something bright catches his eye; the glint of the sun reflected off the shining black chassis of the Impala. Dean’s face relaxes into relief as he dashes forward towards the familiar sight. His reflection beams back at him in the window, his youthful green eyes filled with life. He takes a moment to run his hands over her, his ol’ reliable. Even when he doesn’t have his dad, his brother, or anyone, he has her.
Dean shoves his hand into the right-hand pocket of the leather jacket cocooning his narrow shoulders. He draws out his keys, singles out the silver key and opens up the car door-
A gruff voice calls out from behind. There’s authority in that voice, sending shivers through Dean’s bones in a way that usually only his father’s cold commands could.
Dean turns round, his eyes meeting the source of the yell’s own eyes dead level, not a millimetre in it. The face Dean finds himself staring down is familiar. The man’s eyes are a little wearier, his face a little weathered by time and struggle, but the face is undoubtedly, unmistakably his own.
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