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When Dean comes to, he finds he's been lashed to a thick tree, the smooth bark cool under his palm. A few paces to his right, Sam's in similar condition, still blinking himself awake.
Even though Dean knows they're in a different universe, even though he hasn't heard from the guy in weeks, there's part of him so used to calling out to Castiel in times of trouble, and it fires off a quick prayer before he can staunch the impulse. It doesn't matter, he thinks, perhaps bitterly. Cas isn't in this world, isn't coming to Dean's rescue. He wonders if that would be any different if they were back on Earth, or if his plea would go equally unanswered there.
There's a thunderous series of footsteps on the approach, and all self-pitying thoughts of Cas leave him as he realizes what's coming. Someone left them here on purpose, a snack for monsters on the go, or an offering to appease the local forest god. No matter what the reason is, he imagines the end will be similarly bloody if he can't wriggle loose of his bindings.
He's busy working on the rope around his wrists, so far only having succeeded in rubbing the skin raw and bloody on the rough fibres, when the creature bursts into the clearing, towering over him.
Dean stops his struggling for a moment, falling limp and still in his restraints as he stares up at the creature. He's truly awestricken, mouth dropping open as his gaze travels up the creature's massive body. Its lower half vaguely resembles the body of a bear, wide and stable, coated with thick white fur. Its feet are more avian, tri-toed and talon-tipped. Somewhere in the middle, its body takes on a more humanoid shape, or at least something vaguely apelike. It has a broad chest, white fur here tinged gray and blue, and long arms that terminate in five-fingered hands, each digit as big around as the tree Dean is bound to.
He looks up higher, notes the elegant spread of wings at its back, not extended to their full span and still impossibly large, the feathered tips grazing the forest floor, rustling through ferns almost gently. At first glance, the wings look as white as the rest of the creature, but when it shifts in the greenish light of this strange world, he can see the light bounce off of them, iridescent and glittering, each feather like a fine silver blade.
Dean expects the creature to have the face of something mammalian, but finds instead the curious visage of a snowy owl, slender black beak standing out on an otherwise pristine white face. Its eyes are twin slits, pinched in obvious scrutiny as it looks down at Dean with what he can only describe as curiosity. Its head is tipped to one side, a gesture it shares with birds on Earth. There's something disarming about its stance, how it's watching him without reaching for him.
"Hey," Dean breathes, unconsciously taking on the soft tone one might use to placate a dog, or soothe a sobbing toddler. "Hey there, big guy," Dean murmurs, "take it easy, alright?"
The creature stands up straight, posture rigid, face no longer tilted. Its eyes widen, and instead of the amber yellow glint that he expects to find, he's met with an astounding blue. Its eyes are quite literally glowing, icy and bright, like sunlight filtered through the smooth crystalline body of a glacier. They're familiar, somehow – not the eyes themselves, but the hue, and the quality of what's underneath. He's felt the weight of this gaze before, been considered by this being, though he has no idea when or how.
Sam's busy thrashing against his own bindings, unaware that Dean's having some strange heart to heart with this fluffy creature. When he catches sight of Dean, just sagging against the tree trunk as he beholds the beast, he shouts to snap him out of it.
"Dean," he grunts, "Dean, focus!"
Just as Dean moves to take his directive, the creature squats down, extends one of its long pale arms, then just a single finger, its index finger, and brings it slowly towards Dean. He closes his eyes, tenses his muscles, holds his breath. The creature could have any number of awful powers, and he's braced himself for some torturous fate at its massive hands.
Instead, he feels a soft, almost nuzzling brush of the creature's fingertip against his cheek. His eyes flutter open in surprise, and he sees that its head is tilted to the side once again as it studies his reaction. Reflexively, he shifts his hands, hisses in pain as the ropes bite into his lacerated wrists.
The creature makes a sympathetic sound of pain, a low cooing grumble. Before he can dwell too much on how odd it is, that the creature is so attuned to his suffering, he feels a flare of something cold against his cheek, something he's felt countless times before, though never under such singular circumstances. Angelic grace, succorous and refreshing, pulsing gently into his body, mending the wounds ringing his wrists.
"Cas?" Dean gasps, looking up at the creature with new eyes. It stares back at him, no more verbose now than when it arrived. "Castiel?" He asks as its finger drifts away from his face, its hand retreating.
It utters a single shrill note, a sound he hasn't heard in ten years. The last time he heard that sound, he was cowering on the floor of a motel room as shards of mirror rained down on him from above.
"Cas!" He exclaims, relief swooping through him so heavily he's nauseous with it. "Cas, help us out, man, untie us," he urges, and for a moment, Cas just stands there, staring down at him. Sam has stopped his futile struggle against the ropes locking him in place, is just staring slack-jawed as Dean speaks to the giant angel.
There's a raucous shriek somewhere in the distance, simmering with rage. It snaps Castiel into action, giant body pitching forward as it plucks Dean from his temporary prison easily, ropes snapping like brittle rubber bands under its eager grip. He's scooped up into Castiel's fist, feet dangling, legs and torso nearly fully enveloped by the wrap of its fingers, only his arms and head free at the top. It draws him close to its face, until he can see his own shocked expression reflected in the sheen of its beak.
He should be afraid, he thinks, should be quivering in fear. Instead, he feels a tender sort of wonder, looking upon this strange version of Castiel, the guileless glimmer of its blue gaze.
"Awesome," Dean whispers, transfixed by Castiel, by being held so high above the sprawling green forest. He knows Sam's still down there, still tied to a tree, but he can't see him all the way up here. It occurs to him to ask Cas for help in this, too, but when he calls out, his voice is lost on the whipping wind.
Meanwhile, Cas seems thoroughly pleased with Dean, bringing up its other hand to stroke a reverent fingertip up Dean's arm, pausing on the cushion of his shoulder, then proceeding to rub the velveteen digit's pad against Dean's cheek. Dean can't help the way he presses into the touch, this incongruently cautious caress, like Cas is afraid of damaging him.
It occurs to him, then, how he might communicate with this Cas, how he already has.
Castiel, he prays, staring into the wide blue beacons before him, my brother's still tied up down there – can you give him a hand?
Understanding settles over the bird's stoic features, and it crouches down again, extending its other hand. Distantly, Dean hears Sam's shocked squeak as Cas pulls him free, followed by a gasped 'thanks!' that brings a smile to his face. Cas, however, does not pick up Sam, does not draw him skyward. Apparently, Dean's the only one getting the Fay Wray treatment today.
"Think you can get us back to the portal?" Dean asks, praying the image of the portal just in case Cas needs the reference.
All he gets in response is a long clicking warble, melodic and mournful. Even without words, Dean's pretty sure he understands what it means. Cas can absolutely get him there – but it's loath to see him go.
"Come on, you just met me," Dean laughs, something kicking hard in his chest when he sees the way Cas's eyes soften at the sentiment. "Not a lotta folks prayin' in this world, s'that it?"
Cas closes its eyes, two black slits sitting high on its cheeks.
Must be lonely, Dean prays, and Castiel's eyes close tighter, obscured by the white feathers of its face.
"Dean!" Sam shouts somewhere below him. "Dean, Claire and Kaia are here – we gotta go! " Sam's voice is thinned by the distance between them, but the urgency is clear.
He's all ready to convince Cas to set him down, but Cas must have heard Sam, must understand, because Dean finds himself already being plummeted through the thick canopy of trees, still cradled in Cas's fist.
When Cas releases him, there's a split second where Dean wants to rush back into the warmth of that huge palm, body shivering at the loss of contact.
"Cas…" Dean trails off, looking up at the creature, still crouched low to observe him with that unreadable stare.
"Dean, what the fuck is that?" Claire yelps as she darts toward him.
"Uh," Dean looks up again, then back at Claire. "That's Cas," he says with a shrug. "I think."
She opens her mouth to say something, probably equally incredulous, but before she can, a spear comes whizzing through the air. Kaia throws herself into its path, shoving Claire out of the way, but before it can connect, a gargantuan hand drops down between them, the spear's forked point lodging in the velvety fur and flesh.
"Cas!" Dean shouts, watching in horror as blue tendrils of grace sparkle at the edges of the wound like loose rivulets of starlight. Castiel seems unphased, pulls the spear out easily and drops it onto the ground.
Even though he knows this creature couldn't possibly need his help, Dean has the insane impulse to stay, to make sure Cas is okay. Instead, he lets Claire grab his sleeve and haul him toward the rift, Sam and Kaia stumbling ahead of them, launching themselves into its golden maw.
Claire pushes him through, hot on his heels, and they tumble out at Patience's feet, Alex and Donna already checking on Sam and Kaia, Jody bringing down some screeching monster, adding it to the littered dead, all hailing from this other world. The portal shuts with a sharp crack, and he's left panting on the floor.
Claire's staring at him, her own chest heaving as she catches her breath. He meets her eyes, blue and bright with lingering adrenaline, and he prays.
Cas, he thinks in the direction of his angel, you're not gonna believe this – how much do you know about owls?