Night fell again, and there were no stars or moon in the sky, and it was pitch black. Dean drove outside Camp Chitaqua, parked the car in the woods far away, and turned off the engine.
The camp was surrounded by a high barbed wire fence, with barbed wire and warning signs hanging above it. The warning sign read, "No entry, violators will be killed." Several men with guns patrolled the fence. They held flashlights in their hands, and the beams swept back and forth in the darkness, scanning the surroundings with their eyes.
Dean carefully hid in the dark and observed the situation in the camp. The camp was very large, with many tents and simple houses, as well as some warehouses and watchtowers. The bonfire was burning in the center of the camp, emitting a faint light and illuminating the surrounding area. Occasionally, some voices and laughter could be heard, but they disappeared quickly.
He saw Impala.
It was parked in a corner of the camp, battered beyond recognition, and its body was rusty, like a cold corpse. The front of the car was flattened, the windshield was shattered, and one of the doors was missing. The tires were flat and stuck in the mud. The windows were broken, and the inside was filled with dust and leaves.
Dean's heart felt like it was being severely tugged. He slowly approached Impala, his steps staggering a bit. He stretched out his hand and gently stroked the uneven car body, and the cold rust stained his fingertips.
"Oh, honey, no." His voice was choked. "What did they do to you? I'm sorry I didn't protect you."
He looked into the driver's seat window and saw that it was covered with dust. There was an empty beer can on the passenger seat, which was his favorite brand. The beer can was rusty and had a familiar logo printed on it.
At this moment, he heard footsteps behind him, which were very light, but very clear in the silent night. As soon as Dean turned around, he was punched in the face by a man. The huge force made his vision go dark and he lost consciousness.
The person who beat him was Dean in 2014. He was wearing a military green jacket, which was covered with bullet holes and scratches. His face was covered with wrinkles and scars, and a long scar extended from his forehead to his chin. His eyes were cold, like an unsheathed knife, without a trace of warmth. He looked at Dean who fell on the ground, and there was no wave in his eyes.
He bent down, picked up Dean, turned around and walked into the camp.
Dean woke up and found himself handcuffed on a ladder. His head hurt, and there was a big swelling on his forehead, which hurt when he touched it. He looked around and found that he was in a simple hut. The hut was built with wooden boards, and there were some weapons, maps, and some photos hanging on the wall. There was a Colt gun on the table, as well as some bullets and cleaning tools.
The 2014 Dean was sitting at the table across the room, polishing the Colt gun carefully. His movements were very slow and serious, and every part was polished. The sun shone in from the window and fell on his face, illuminating the wrinkles and scars on his face. He looked much older than his actual age.
Dean rubbed his sore forehead and said in a dissatisfied tone, "What the hell? You are too cruel."
2014 Dean didn't even raise his head, and his tone was as cold as ice. "I think it's my turn to ask this question? In fact, why don't you give me a good reason not to kill you now?"
Dean:"Because you will only hurt yourself."
In 2014, Dean raised his head with a cold sneer at the corner of his mouth, "How interesting. How do I know you are not Shapeshifter, a devil, or an angel who turned into an angel to deceive me?"
Dean: "Listen, man - I'm not Shapeshifter or a devil or anything, okay? I'm you at the end of 2009. Zachariah pulled me out of bed and threw me five years into the future. He wanted me to see what would happen if I refused Michael."
Dean in 2014 stood up suddenly, his eyes became alert, his hand also held Colt gun on the table, and his finger was on the trigger. "Say it again? Zachariah? He is still alive?"
Dean: "Yes. He is outside now, waiting to see my joke. He said that if I don't agree to be Michael's container, the world will become what it is now."
In 2014, Dean walked up to Dean and stared into his eyes, as if he wanted to see through him. His eyes seemed to be able to see through people's hearts. After a few seconds, his eyes softened slightly and he loosened his grip on Colt gun's hand.
"Okay. If you were me, then tell me something only I know." He said, his tone still cold.
Dean thought for a while, and then a bad smile appeared on his face, "Rhonda Hurley. When we were nineteen years old, she let us try on her underwear. Pink, satin. Do you remember? We quite liked it."
Dean in 2014 couldn't help but laugh, and the tense atmosphere relaxed a little. His smile was short-lived, like a flash in the pan, and disappeared quickly. He took out the key and opened the handcuffs on Dean's hand.
"You're awesome," he said, with a hint of exhaustion in his tone, "So, Zachariah sent you here to see how bad the situation is?"
Dean rubbed his sore wrist and nodded. "I guess so. Croatoan virus, right? This is their ultimate plan? Use viruses to wipe out humans?"
In 2014, Dean sat back at the table, picked up a gun cleaning cloth, and continued to wipe Colt gun. His movements were very slow, and his eyes were a little empty.
"It's highly effective, incurable, and terrifying as hell," he said, his voice heavy with a hint of exhaustion. "It turns people into monsters. It started attacking major cities about two years ago. Since then, the world has been completely fucked. Governments collapsed, armies were divided, and the angels ran away. They left us here to fend for ourselves."
Dean hesitated for a moment, then asked the question he was most concerned about. His voice was trembling, with a hint of fear. "Where is Sam? Where is Sam? And where is Haorui? How are they?"
2014 Dean suddenly froze, the smile on his face disappeared instantly, and his eyes became dull, like a pool of stagnant water. The gun cleaning cloth in his hand fell on the table.
He was silent for a long time, so long that Dean thought he would not answer. Then he said in a low and hoarse voice, "Detroit's decisive battle. As far as I know, Sam did not survive. Lucifer killed him."
Dean's heart sank suddenly, as if he had fallen into an ice cellar, and his whole body was cold. His voice was trembling. "You were not with him at the time? You didn't go to help him?"
In 2014, Dean avoided Dean's gaze and looked out the window, his eyes filled with deep guilt and pain. His voice was a little hoarse. "No. Sam and I have - damn, we haven't spoken in a few years."
Dean:"We never tried to find him? Never thought of forgiving him?"
2014 Dean: "We have other people to worry about."
He paused and then said, "Haorui and I were separated. He established another shelter, called Great Tang Sanctuary, in the mountains to the west. We have not contacted each other for several years. I heard that he has become very powerful and terrifying now. He increased his strength by devouring souls and turned into a monster."
Dean was stunned. He couldn't believe what he heard. Bai Haorui? That Bai Haorui who was always willing to protect others turned into a monster that lived by devouring souls?
This is impossible.
In 2014, Dean picked up Colt gun, checked the bullets, and then inserted the gun into the holster behind his waist. He stood up and prepared to leave.
Dean:"Where are you going?"
2014 Dean: "I have to go do something. Something very important."
Dean:"Wow. You just leave me here?"
2014 Dean: "Yeah. There's a whole camp of nervous trauma survivors out there with the end of the world hanging over their heads. The last thing they want to see is some version of the Parent Trap. So, yeah, you stay here, lock the door. Don't run around."
Dean: "Okay. Okay. Okay. But you don't have to handcuff me, man. Oh, come on. You don't even trust yourself?"
In 2014, Dean looked at Dean: "That's right. Absolutely distrustful."
After saying that, he turned around and left, closed the door, and locked it from the outside.
Dean yelled at the door, "Asshole!"
He lowered his head and saw a protruding nail on the floor. He slowly pried the nail off with his heel, and then used it to skillfully open the handcuffs. This was a skill he had learned as a teenager, and after so many years, it was not unfamiliar at all.
Dean opened the door and walked out quietly. He wanted to see this future camp.
The leaden sky was low, like a blood-soaked rag, covering this former national park.
Dean pushed open the creaking door, stood on the steps, and subconsciously squinted his eyes. There were hundreds of dilapidated tents densely packed in the camp, and people were walking numbly among them. The weapons in their hands were all kinds of - there were shotguns with sawn barrels, shiny machetes, and even spears made of steel bars. Deep exhaustion was etched on everyone's face.
Several children were playing games with rusty bullet casings in the open space, but there were not many smiles on their faces.
Dean's heart felt like it was being grasped by a hand. He never thought that the world would be like this in five years' time.
"Hey, Dean."
A hand suddenly reached out and patted him on the shoulder. Dean was shocked all over. He almost reflexively reached out to touch the pistol at his waist and turned around suddenly.
Chuck stood behind him, at least twenty years older than he remembered. His once soft brown hair had turned gray and sparsely stuck to his scalp, and his forehead was covered with deep wrinkles. The most conspicuous one was on his left cheek. The long scar stretched from the brow bone to the chin, like a ferocious centipede, which was torn open by Croatoans's sharp claws. He was wearing a plaid shirt, holding a notebook in his hand, and his eyes were tired but bright.
"Do you have time?" Chuck sighed, his voice hoarse like sandpaper rubbing against wood.
Dean was stunned for a full three seconds before he realized who the person in front of him was. He opened his mouth and his tongue seemed to be tied. "No - there is. Uh, I think there is. Hi, Chuck."
"Hi." Chuck leaned against the wooden door and rubbed his temples. "Listen, the canned food we have is enough to last three weeks, but the perishable food was completely gone yesterday, and there is only the last box of sanitary supplies left. If this goes on for three days, there will be trouble in the camp. What do you think we should do?"
Dean was confused. He only knew how to kill monsters, repair cars and drink beer. How could he know how to manage a camp? He stretched out his hand and scratched his head hard, his hair was messed up with his fingers. His mind went blank and he could only say randomly, "I--I don't know. Maybe, uh, sharing? Just like in a kibbutz."
Chuck looked at him doubtfully. "What nonsense are you talking to me about! Wait. Shouldn't you be taking the team out to carry out the search mission? You are half an hour late."
"Of course!" Dean nodded quickly as if grasping a life-saving straw, "I'll go right away. I'll go right away."
Just when he turned around and was about to run away, a rush of footsteps came from behind. Before Dean had time to react, a fist hit him in the face with a sound of wind.
"Wow! Oh my god! Don't get excited, madam!" Dean quickly ducked and hid behind Chuck in embarrassment.
Standing in front of him was Lisa. She was wearing a black combat vest, her jeans were stained with mud, and she had a dagger and a pistol on her waist. There was no smile on her once gentle and beautiful face, and her eyes were blazing with anger, like an enraged lioness. Her hair was cut short, revealing a smooth forehead, with a shallow scar on her forehead.
"You spent the night in Jane's cabin last night, right?" Lisa's voice was cold, and every word seemed to be squeezed out from between the teeth.
Dean looked confused, his eyes as wide as bells. "Uh, what? I--I didn't--did I?"
He secretly looked at Chuck out of the corner of his eye, hoping to get some hints. Chuck looked away awkwardly, touched his nose, and nodded almost inaudibly.
Lisa sneered and made an exaggerated quotation mark gesture with his finger, his tone full of anger. "I thought there was a 'connection' between us."
"Well, I'm sure we do." Dean laughed twice, his back already soaked with cold sweat, "A very deep connection. Really."
"Really?" Lisa raised his eyebrows and took a step forward.
"Hi, Lisa." Dean swallowed and stepped back step by step.
Lisa glared at him fiercely, the anger in her eyes almost burning him to ashes. She squeezed out three words from between her teeth. "Fuck you, Fake Squid."
After saying that, she turned around suddenly and walked away in a fast stride.
Dean looked at her back, let out a long sigh of relief, raised his hand to wipe the non-existent cold sweat on his forehead, and said with lingering fear, "Oh, my God. I was caught for something I haven't done yet. What is this? A time and space paradox?"
"What?" Chuck looked at him doubtfully.
"Uh, it's nothing." Dean quickly waved his hand and changed the subject, "Hey, Chuck, are Cas still here?"
"Here." Chuck nodded and pointed to an independent hut in the corner of the camp, "I don't think Cas is going anywhere. He is staying in his hut."
Dean looked in the direction Chuck pointed. The doors and windows of the small house were closed, the curtains were tightly drawn, and there was a mysterious atmosphere. A complex emotion surged in his heart, including expectations, uneasiness, and a trace of fear. He wanted to know what Castiel would look like five years later.
He took a deep breath and walked towards the cabin.
Dean walked to the door of the cabin, hesitated for a moment, and then reached out and pushed the door open.
A strong smell hit his face, mixed with the smell of marijuana smoke and alcohol, which made Dean couldn't help but cough a few times. The room was filled with smoke and the light was dim, making it almost impossible to see clearly. It took a while for his eyes to adapt to the light in the room.
The small room was small and filled with things in a mess. Empty wine bottles and cigarette butts were scattered on the floor, crumpled sheets and a pile of women's underwear were thrown on the sofa, and there were several faded hippie posters on the wall. Several young women in underwear were sitting around a low table, holding cigarettes in their hands and puffing on smoke.
And the one sitting in the middle of them was none other than Castiel.
Dean's mouth opened so wide that it could fit an egg in. He couldn't believe his eyes.
The Castiel in front of him was completely different from the serious and rigid angel in his memory, wearing a spotless windbreaker. He had a long, messy brown beard, and his greasy hair stuck to his face, almost covering his face. Half of his face was wearing a fancy Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned to the chest, revealing a strong chest, with a pair of jeans underneath, and his bare feet on the ground. His eyes were lazy and blurred, with a hint of drunkenness, and there was a casual smile on the corner of his mouth.
"So, look at it this way," 2014's Castiel said to the women in a slow, nasal voice, gesturing with his fingers in the air, "Each of us is a fragment of the overall perception - like, um, a little compartment in the compound eye of a dragonfly. Now, the key to this overall shared perception - it's, um, surprisingly physical."
He raised his head and saw Dean standing at the door. He was stunned for a moment, and then stopped. He showed a gentle smile to the women and said, "Oh. I'm sorry, ladies. I think I need to talk to our fearless leader for a while. Why don't you go take a shower and get ready for the carnival party in the evening?"
The women stood up with a smile and did not forget to kiss Castiel on the face before leaving. They twisted their waists and walked past Dean, leaving behind a strong smell of perfume.
The door was closed, and only two people, Dean and Castiel, were left in the room.
Castiel in 2014 stood up slowly, stretched out, and let out a comfortable hum. He walked to a cabinet, took out a bottle of whiskey, poured two glasses, and then handed one to Dean.
Dean didn't answer, but looked at him in disbelief, his eyes full of shock. "What are you now, a hippie?"
Castiel in 2014 took a sip of whiskey and sighed, with a hint of helplessness in his tone. "I thought you stopped trying to label me, Dean."
"Cas, we have to talk." Dean's voice became serious.
2014 Castiel looked him up and down, with a trace of doubt and inquiry in his eyes. He walked around Dean, as if observing a strange object, and then frowned. "Wow. Weird."
"What?"
"You... are not you. Not who you are now." Castiel's tone was very sure, with a hint of clarity in his eyes, "Your soul aura is different. You come from the past."
Dean breathed a sigh of relief and nodded quickly, "No! Yes. That's right, that's it. I'm from 2009. It was Zachariah who sent me here. He wanted me to see what the future would be like if I didn't say 'yes' to Michael."
"Interesting." Castiel nodded, his tone as calm as if he was talking about the weather, and took another sip of whiskey.