Exile in the Hub

Skinner had been going around, checking out the various new and interesting places in the Hub. This time, his steps had taken him to a bar that was built into a giant tree. That was certainly new, and when he got inside it seemed pretty typical for a high magic, low tech kind of world. Which, as he expected, meant that the food ran to stew and roast meat, with good crusty bread on the side. The alcohol was surprisingly good, whoever it was ran this place knew their business.

He was sitting the corner, applying himself to a bowl of stew and a bottle of good wine, feeling more relaxed and happier than he had been in awhile, in large part because no one he'd met in a former life had shown up to remind him of past mistakes.

Which was when Castiel walked in.

Fuck.

Castiel had been having a rather average day. He had been walking around, learning the hub- he had even found that his universe had built a copy of his car- before almost literally stumbling on the other bar that most residents frequented. The fact that it was built into a tree gave him some hope that he might get along well with the owner- a thought that inspired him to walk through the door and look around.

Of course absolutely no part of him was prepared for who he found there- though he supposed it fit the way his life usually went ever since he met the Winchesters. He growled before stomping over and grabbing the other man by the throat without hesitation.

"Samuel." He growled at the man before continuing. "I believe you owe some very good explanations and apologies since you seem to be quite alive." Cas intoned, not even caring that he was holding the shorter man a few inches off the ground by his airway and that he very well may not be able to reply. Far as Castiel was concerned, this man had shown up, fucked with his friends, and left. He deserved so much more than this.

Skinner-who, as it happened, had been called Samuel for awhile- made a strangled, choking sound that might have been an attempt to speak, and might have just been an attempt to breathe, since his face was rapidly going from red to purple as the deceptively strong angel pinned him against the wall by the throat.

Eventually, Cas must have realized that Skinner wasn't answering because he couldn't breathe, and shifted his grip so that he was pinned to the wall by his shoulders. Which wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't likely to be fatal in the next ninety seconds, so he was going to take that as a win.

"Its a long story." he gasped out "put me down, and I'll explain."

Castiel quickly noted the changing colour in Samuel's face- and was slightly tempted to just leave him that way until he died properly this time. Then he reminded himself that a desire to protect Dean was probably not best fulfilled by killing his grandfather- even if he wasn't supposed to be alive in the first place. He switched his other hand to the mans shoulder before moving his first hand down to the center of his chest to hold him up from there.

It would still put some pressure on his lungs- probably make the answering a little less pleasant- so be it, Cas thought that only seemed right. Castiel growled at the reply he received, moving his hand immediately back to the patriarch's throat. The least he could do for such a reply was cause him to pass out and then drag him unconscious to Dean from where he sat.

Which- Castiel sighed slightly as it occurred to him that he'd rather not subject Dean to something unfortunate without preparation. He dropped the man- content to let him stumble- as Castiel drew his fingers up against Samuel's temple with no warning.

Cas couldn't begin to comprehend the images that flashed through Samuel's mind- though key parts repeated themselves. Blinking the angel took a step backwards and let his hand fall to his side while he struggled to find order to the memories.

"Who are you Walter?" He said quietly, brow furrowed.

Skinner let out a cry of pain as Castiel ripped through his mind. He'd felt similar before, and although the pain wasn't physical it was still very real. Real pain, and a real sense of violation as Castiel pulled the memories from his head. Things he didn't want anyone else to see, experiences good and bad that were private, not to be shared.

And yet, he knew, with cold, unflinching practicality that there was nothing that would get Castiel to believe him, believe that his time as Samuel Campbell had been more complicated than anyone in that world had imagined.

"Skinner." he corrected. No one in this world or any other called him Walter, except for his old friend Virgil, and Virgil was a special case in many ways. "My name is Walter Skinner. I'm a traveler. There are a few of us, people who go from world to world, exploring, doing what we can to make things better, or at least different. Usually I'm a cop of some sort, even if the job didn't come with a badge. A few years ago, I found out about a world where my double was a man named Samuel Campbell. He was supposed to have died under mysterious circumstances-the kind where people wouldn't be too shocked if he showed back up one day. That world was loaded with monsters, demons, angels gone bad" he gave Castiel a sardonic look "it seemed like a place where I could make a difference. But the person who told me about the world, helped me get set up, didn't know that Samuel's daughter had kids, or that those kids had gone into the family business. And well, things turned into a clusterfuck. I would have died, if I hadn't been able to get sent back here and patched up. At the time, staying out of that universe seemed like the best option."

When the man in front of him corrected Castiel, he ducked an apology. "My apologies- Skinner. I would say it is nice to meet you but obviously we have met before." Castiel gestured for the man to sit back down before sitting on the opposite side. He gave a brief glare at the mention of angels gone bad. Perhaps Cas had made less than wise decisions in the past- but they had all been with Dean's- And Sam's- welfare in his mind. Otherwise he listened patiently to the story before clearing his throat to speak up when Skinner finished.

"My only question is why you did not tell Dean and Sam this. I can understand the hesitance to tell the other Campbells as they would not accept you as their patriarch in that situation- but the Winchesters did not truly accept you regardless, and it would hardly be impossible to believe considering their lives." Castiel offered slowly- He always wished to spare the Winchesters unnecessary complication and this man could have easily done so.

He wondered when and how it would be best to discuss this meeting with Dean. Perhaps after he had plied the hunter with a few beers to make it easier to accept. Castiel was not a man who regularly chose to use alcohol as a solution but it had it's uses. (Accurately however that sentence could have stopped at saying he was not a man.) Castiel wondered if he could convince Skinner to hide for a few days so that Dean would not happen across him accidentally.

Dean headed into the Wandering Moon Inn, deeply in the mood for a drink and some time to himself. It was great having Cas around, it really was, but the angel's presence lately had been leaving him with a kind of confused, sticky feeling that he really needed to drink away. He picked the Moon over the Goddess because it was easier to be alone there. He wasn't actually sure where Cas was at the moment, but with Cas his money was never on bar.

So of course, the first thing he saw when he came in was the familiar tan form of his trench coated angel. He frowned slightly and approached, his dim annoyance at having his plans of drinking alone fail mostly extinguished by his curiosity about what Cas was doing here.

Then he saw Samuel. It didn't make any sense except that Samuel made a habit of coming back from the dead. It had been more than two years since they'd learned of Samuel's betrayal but the anger that burned in Dean's gut was hot and sudden all the same. This man had sold them out to Crowley, had almost gotten Sam killed, and the only damn thing that had stopped Dean from putting a bullet in his brain was the fact that a freaking Khan worm had gotten there first.

It was probably a good thing he wasn't packing at the moment. Instead he crossed the floor, pushed Cas aside, and swung his fist at Samuel's smug face with all the force he had. The impact snapped Samuel's head back into the wall and sent pain lancing through Dean's knuckles, which really didn't do anything to make him feel more reasonable.

"Me and Sam were family,, you bastard," he growled. "I said I'd kill you if I ever saw you again and I fucking meant it." He sucked in a deep breath and turned to Cas, a hint of betrayal in his voice, "You know who this is. You know what he did."

Skinner took the punch, figuring that he owed Dean that much. The time he'd spent as Samuel Campbell had, after "his grandsons" showed up had been a clusterfuck, and he'd done things that he wasn't proud of, even if, at the time, he hadn't had much choice, given Sam's soullessness and Dean being way, way too tightly wound.

"I'm not him, kid." Skinner said, tasting blood as he spoke. "Ask the angel." he might have been willing to take the punch, but he wasn't going to let Dean really beat on him. Not when there were extenuating circumstances.

Castiel reached out to place a hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's not Samuel Dean. I may agree that he deserves punishment for his actions to you and Sam- but this man is not your grandfather." He swallowed around the hard lump in his throat at Dean's implication that Castiel had betrayed his trust. The angel would do anything for the Winchester- in fact he had nearly knocked the relatively innocent man unconscious for his sins.

"His name is Walter Skinner- and He does not originate from our universe."

He gripped Dean's shoulder tighter and pulled him back slightly- resisting the temptation to pull his friend into his arms- his mind argued that it would be to restrain him but Castiel knew his desires better than that. "Perhaps we should have this conversation in a more secluded locale?" He offered with a brief flutter of his wings- they couldn't see it, but Castiel was certain the two men would hear the rustle of his feathers.

Dean didn't give a fuck if it was really Samuel or not, if this was the same man who'd screwed them over. He kept "Walter Skinner" pressed against the wall, his fist clenched. If it was somebody who just happened to look like the man, Cas wouldn't have said he deserved punishment for what he'd done. So it was someone impersonating his real grandfather? Not all that unbelievable considering how he'd been brought back. Also not something that in any way absolved him from selling them out and almost getting Sam killed.

He could feel Cas's hand on his shoulder, pulling him back slightly. He knew even on a bad day Cas's angel mojo made him strong enough to throw Dean across the room (had learned that the hard way, in that alley a few years ago), which meant Cas was being gentle. Probably thought Dean didn't intend any serious damage.

Whether that was true was going to depend a whole lot on whatever this Walter Skinner guy had to say for himself.

He snapped at Cas, "We're gonna do this right here. Last time you zapped me somewhere, I didn't shit for a week." Then he turned his attention back to Skinner and snarled, "All right, Walt. You're gonna tell me what this is about and you'd damn well better hope I like what I hear."

"I'm not your grandfather." Skinner repeated "He died in 1973. I'd been doing this bullshit corporate thing, the company needed a guy to step in for an executive who'd dropped dead so their stock prices didn't-anyway, it was boring, paper pushing bullshit, and I wanted some adventure. To feel like I was doing something that made a goddam difference. So I took the first thing that looked good-I didn't go through my normal guy, that was how itchy I was. The Lebeaus aren't usually sloppy but-well, I didn't even know about you guys. Then, well, things got fucked up. You know the rest." Not sure if Dean would be satisfied or not, but it was a start. Of course, even as he spoke, he was already eyeing a way to get to the door.

Castiel sighed slightly and disappeared from Dean's side for a moment to reappear carrying beer. And pie. He promptly set these down in the center of the table that Walter had been sitting at before raising one eyebrow slightly at his friend. "Then we should at least take a seat. I have seen into his mind Dean- and while he has much to answer for- I do not think it will be a short conversation. I do not wish to inconvenience others in the mean time." He offered with a pointed look at their surroundings, which were full of people who were suddenly quite interested in their food when the angel made eye contact with them.

"Skinner. Dean." He offered with a pointed look as he once again reappeared beside the two of them- albeit away from the table so that neither could make an abrupt move without him being able to stop it. And also so that he could act as the proverbial sheepdog to move them to the seating.

Skinner kept explaining how he hadn't known about Dean and Sam as if that was any excuse.

"You still fucked us over," Dean growled, leaning over the table. "You sold us out to Crowley. Sam nearly died. You said you did it for Mom." And this was the kicker, really. "That, I understood. I didn't like it, but I understood it. Family is family. Now you're telling me she wasn't even your daughter? That you were gonna hand our asses to Crowley for, what, a little adventure? Or were you just getting bored?"

He was still glaring as Cas returned with the beer, and downed half of his in a few gulps. This was not a conversation he wanted to be fucking sober for, especially since it was already taking all of his restraint not to rearrange Skinner's face some more. But he let Cas usher him into a seat, because if Cas said he understood the man's reasons then the least Dean could do would be to hear him out.

"Well?" he snapped.

Skinner sighed Dean had good reason to be pissed off, but at the same time "You know what it was like, after Sam lost his soul. Hell, Dean, he let you get turned into a goddamn vampire just so he'd have an excuse to go and clean out that nest. I was up to my neck in shit, and I didn't know who I could trust, and I had Crowley up in my business on top of that. All I did know was that the start of everything going wrong was your mother dying. I hoped that maybe, if I could bring her back, it would help make the situation less of a clusterfuck."

He took a long pull of his beer and continued "Yes, it was a mistake. It was a mistake that I paid dearly for, if you'll recall. Luckily I had a thing on me that would take me back to the Hub if I was about to die, but it was close. I'm sorry, kid. I'm sorry that I couldn't make your world a better place."

Cas sighed when he watched the other men sit down and start drinking. Winging over to the bar he ordered two more pitchers of beer and hoped that they wouldn't get more rowdy when intoxicated- but also he knew better than to think the two men would handle this discourse well without alcohol.

He set the pitchers down between the two men- wondering if it would be too much to ply Dean with pie to stop further physical altercation. Instead Cas sat down beside his friend to act as a stopper to prevent him getting out. He waited patiently as he gave a pointed glance to the hunter to act as a polite indication that Cas thought Dean should come to an opinion already. Preferably one that would prevent further incidents.

The angel quietly grumbled a response. "Perhaps you could apologize more directly to Dean, Skinner? Many try to change the world and fail- but few do so much damage to a family." He squared his shoulders to skinner, avoiding focusing on the contact between himself and Dean.

Yeah. Great. That’s what you’re fucking sorry for,” Dean said.

But he could feel his anger ebbing, its place taken by a deep weariness, the kind that had been all he could feel before he’d gone to Purgatory and found purpose again. He glanced at Cas, wishing irrationally that they were back there. It had been hard and dirty and pretty much sucked ass, but at least he’d known who was on his side.

“Look. Sam’s my problem,” he added, drinking again. The one nice thing about being back was that after his year of forced abstinence, alcohol worked again. He stared into his glass. Sam hadn’t even looked for him. At least when he’d been soulless he’d had an excuse.

He shook his head at Cas’s suggestion that...Walter...apologize. What was the point, really? Walter had fucked them over, and nothing he said now was going to change that. So it was either kill him or get the hell over it.

“So tell me, Grandpa,” Dean said instead, squeezing Cas’s arm to let him know he could stand down. “This whole taking over other people’s shit thing. It ever work out well for you?”

"What do you want me to say, kid?" Skinner said "Are you seriously going to tell me that I made it worse? Or that your lives got better once I was gone? I'm sorry for what I did, but I'm not the asshole who made that world."

"Yeah, I know that Sam is your problem, and better you than me, kid." Skinner said. "Unless you want to stick around here. I know I can't do much to make it right, but I can introduce you to people, make things run a little smoother for you. If you want." the last added because he didn't know if Dean would want anything to do with him, after everything that had gone down.

Skinner took a pull of his beer, and then answered "Sometimes, yeah it does. Usually its when someone needs me-needs a version of me to take care of something-covering up when someone is in the hospital for longer than they counted or, or gets stabbed at the wrong time."