Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I wish I did, but I don't.
Summary: If they lived in the same century they'd be perfect for each other.
Warning: Kate & Leopold fusion, Girl!Dean
Notes: For Fusion prompt #98 - SPN/Kate & Leopold: Dean and Castiel as Kate & Leopold

Chapter 1

Time, it has been proposed, is the fourth dimension. And yet for mortal men, time has no dimension at all. We are like horses with blinders, seeing only what lies before us, forever guessing the future and fabricating the past.

New York, 1876

A strange man was following Castiel. At first Castiel thought he might be imagining things, but he was sure that the man watching him from across the street was the same one who had been walking behind him earlier. He was a small, mousy man, one who blended in quite well. In fact, Castiel might not have noticed him except there was something off about him; his clothing or the way he walked, perhaps, Castiel wasn’t quite sure. Either way, Castiel, Third Duke of Albany did not take well to being followed. He was about to cross the street and confront his apparent stalker, but his manservant Uriel reminded him that they had to hurry home if Castiel was to be ready for his uncle’s ball on time. Castiel glanced back across the street once more before he stepped into his carriage, but the man was gone.

Upon arriving home, Castiel rushed up to his room in an attempt to pass by his uncle’s chambers without notice. Zachariah was an old, portly fellow who only seemed to care for two things where his nephew was concerned; Castiel’s money, and the money Castiel would get when he took a rich bride. Castiel’s lack of such a bride was the reason Zachariah was hosting tonight’s revelry. Castiel was to choose one of the nice young ladies attending the ball to marry tonight, the richer the better, or be disowned. Castiel fancied himself an inventor, his best idea yet was a contraption that would out-shine stairs, but he could not invent a reason the excuse himself from this ball, so Castiel got dressed, put on his best, pleasantly amused smile, downed a shot of liquor, and headed downstairs.

Uriel presented Castiel his first dance partner, the shy and plump Miss Tree, and Castiel’s evening only got worse from there on out. Four dances and a couple of crushed toes later (Castiel’s toes of course), Castiel was about to dance with the lovely Miss Milton when he saw him. His mousy stalker was there at the ball, sneaking upstairs no less. Castiel politely excused himself and followed the man up to his own bedroom. The mousy man didn’t notice Castiel at first, he seemed too busy inspecting the duke’s belongings and waving around a small boxe that made a clicking noise whenever the man pushed a bottom on its top.

"Who are you?" Castiel asked.

The small man startled and looked guilty at being caught red-handed, but said nothing.

Castiel stepped toward him, "Why have you been following me?"

The other man opened his mouth as if to reply, but instead dashed past Castiel and through the door.

"Wait!" Castiel ran after him. When the man jumped in a carriage and took off, Castiel jumped on a horse and followed him. He chased him all the way to the newly constructed Brooklyn Bridge. It was only half finished and Castiel only paused momentarily when the strange man began to climb up the scaffolding. They climbed up and up and Castiel began to wonder how the man planned to escape him this way.

"Oh my God," Castiel murmured as he realized what the man planned to do. Castiel sprinted the last few feet between them and grabbed the other man's arm just as he stepped off the edge. Castiel held on to a beam to keep from going over with him and when his stalker finally spoke, his words were not the one’s Castiel expected to hear.

"It’s alright. Let go."

"What?" Castiel would’ve asked, but at that very moment, he lost his grip and they both went tumbling off the side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Chapter 2

Castiel woke up in a very strange place. Shortly after waking up in this strange place, Castiel promptly fell off the strange fainting couch he seemed to have been sleeping on. The thud Castiel made as he hit the floor woke up Chuck, who had fallen asleep in the armchair. Castiel scrambled to his feet and backed into the corner. Chuck stood up slowly and put his hands up to show he meant no harm.

"Don’t freak out," Chuck said.

"Where am I?" Castiel asked, looking around bewilderedly.

"Well, uh, there’s not really an easy answer to that."

Castiel glared at the smaller man, "If it’s a ransom you want, my uncle won’t pay a cent. Except, perhaps, for my demise."

"You haven’t been kidnapped. I--"

Castiel stalked toward his captor, "We fell off the Brooklyn Bridge, a fall that surely would have killed us, yet, as far as I can see, we are both unharmed. So I ask you once again, where the hell am I?"

Chuck, now plastered against his bookcase, gulped and pointed out his window.