A/N: This is a one-shot I did for a story exchange where I had the excuse to write Supernatural characters in a Steampunk Alternate Universe. It was more fun than I thought it would be, and despite the fact that it's shorter than anything else I've ever written, I kinda like that it leaves you at a crossroads of sorts to how it would continue. Someday I may write more, no promises, but for now it works pretty well as a standalone.
This has themes of Dean/Castiel, but only if you're paying attention ;) Thanks for reading!
If asked later, Dean Winchester could honestly say that he'd never really given serious thought to TickTocks as an adult. He certainly knew what they were, understood why they existed and what kind of role they had in society…but there wasn't much more to his interest than that. At least, there hadn't been for a long time.
There was definitely something to be said about a TickTock and what they were good for. Dean wasn't going to argue that. For the one thing, they looked like people, which was handy, except for the fact that they were stronger, faster, didn't eat, didn't sleep and didn't get pissed off if someone nearly ran them over in a horse-drawn. They didn't get drunk and shout obnoxious shit in the street alleys, or complain when they busted themselves up trying to help the normal folk. Nah, TickTock's didn't do any of that…but Dean sure as hell did. Especially that last part, because it was his job.
"Sonofa…lady, listen, I haven't got the time for this and I sure as hell don't want to-"
"It's possessed! I'm telling you! I don't know what you did to it the first time, but something else grabbed a hold of that clock and threw it across the room after screaming like a banshee! I can't even begin to-"
"I've already checked your place five times. Five times! There's nothing there! I didn't get rid of anything because nothing is haunted!" Dean ran his fingers irritably down the insides of his suspenders, trying very hard not to clench too tightly before he snapped them right off. It was one thing to have an unsatisfied customer, but to be stalked and harassed by some crazy lady with too many cats, really wasn't in his job description.
"I'm not really sure what you're so angry about anyway! There was no currency exchange!" Dean huffed, forcing himself to find something else for his hands to do before he ended up with welts down the front of him yet again. Instead, he turned back to the shop's small, shelved collection of apothecary in order to find something, anything in which to get this woman the hell out of his place.
The woman, to her credit, didn't look even half as crazy as she sounded, despite the very large and feathery hat adorning her silver hair. Her waist was done up tight in a corset that would have suffocated any normal human, but Dean could see a few small medals hanging across one of the pockets of her overcoat. Old school military brass saw ghosts no matter where they went, so Dean wasn't at all surprised there.
"Mr. Winchester, I implore you, reconsider your assessment and return to the estate immediately. You have no idea the inconvenience this has caused to both I and my sister these past few weeks. How am I meant to entertain when not even my Synthetics will enter the rooms anymore! How do you explain that?"
"That your TickTock's got better things to do. Just like I do." Dean grumbled, fumbling with a few glass bottles and eyeballing the pieces of the weapon on the back desk that his brother had left. He smirked, wondering if Sam even remembered it was there, before going back to the labels. Louder, he said, "Ok, here's the deal." Dean snatched up the bottles and started mixing, weighing and measuring as only his hands knew to do.
"This, you're actually gonna have to pay for because this stuff ain't cheap, ok? But it'll do the job. I'm giving you a concoction that wards off pretty much anything you can think of. Ghosts, demons, banshees, angry spirits, vengeful relatives, ancient burial grounds, vindictive neighbors, werewolves, vampires, and most two legged monsters." Dean felt it all roll off his tongue as he yanked on his leather gloves and snatched Sam's goggles from the nearby table as he worked. "You're gonna take this home and start a fire in four different places inside your house, yes the fireplace counts. For the others, just try to set something up that doesn't burn the place down, alright? We don't insure for that. Pick a north, south, east and west location, and burn a quarter of this stuff in each one. It's gonna smell like burning dog hair, but its either that or your clock's gettin' thrown. Or whatever the hell else your cats are knocking over."
Dean flexed his fingers, opening a few of the bottles and turning up the gas lamp that powered Sam's small combustible. The gears slowly started to turn and squeak within the machine, smelling heavily of oil as it began to create friction. He pulled on the goggles.
"If it keeps happening, then I'll take another look, but you gotta do this first or there's no deal, you hear me? If this doesn't get rid of it, then I'll figure it the hell out, if it's even there to begin with. Otherwise, this is the best shit I can give you on short notice." Dean's voice raised as he continued to speak over the increasing whine of the machine before him. His brother was a damn genius and everyone knew it, but that didn't mean Dean didn't know his own way around the place. He poured the contents he was holding into a glass container over the flame and it started to spark and fluster almost immediately, turning different colors and smoking a reddish hue.
Dean smirked as he caught sight of the woman waiting on the other side of the counter, her hands wringing a handkerchief nervously, but she was otherwise blessedly silent. Bout damn time. There was a loud popping noise and a puff of purple smoke that made her jump, but Dean simply reached up with his leather clad fingers and removed the vial from the machine. He wasn't sure what all the gizmos did, really, but it did its job.
He yanked the goggles up to the top of his head in one swift motion as he shook the bottle, watching it cool even as only mere seconds ticked past. "It's gonna be two golds and a silver for this, ok? This is my best stuff, and my brother and I swear by it. The 'full refund' kinda swearing." Dean packaged it carefully as he watched the woman fish around in her purse before laying the money gently on the counter in her white gloved hands. She was way too over dressed for such a place, but Dean didn't really care about that kinda thing anymore. Not since his Dad left.
The exchange was handled, the money was taken, and the woman nodded her acceptance with a thank you as she finally ceased her complaints. Dean nodded and breathed a sigh of relief as she turned to go.
"Oh! And don't let your cats eat it. Does funny things to cats, and then its not my problem anymore, ok? Just keep the furry monsters somewhere else before you're done." And with that warning, along with a strange look from behind her small spectacles, the woman was gone.
Dean breathed a loud sigh of relief, his head falling to the counter top with a dull thump as the silence finally shifted to the sounds of the horse-drawns and crank-wheeled cars outside. What he wouldn't give to be out in his own cranker and far away from this place, but then, it wasn't like the choice was his.
As if his thoughts were brought to voice, Dean jumped as there was an explosion from beneath his feet and a loud curse that echoed off the stone walls. He groaned, unsure whether or not he really wanted to know, before he reluctantly pulled off the gloves and made for the stairs.
"Sam!" Dean called down, the heavy plumes of smoke already drifting in his direction.
"I'm ok!" Came the heavy reply, his brother's deep voice laced with coughs and gags that tended to be commonplace from the basement floor. "Have we got anything in the aether *coughcough* that can explain to me *cough* why this transmission medium won't light properly? I mean honestly! Dean, have you seen my fireproof tongs?"
Dean cringed, glaring down the smoky stairwell before he scrubbed a hand over his face. "The landlady is gonna love us this week." He grumbled. "They're on your tool belt, Sam. Right side!" He called down, rolling his eyes at the acknowledged reply and then the further tinkering of things that Dean really didn't want to know about.
He leaned back away from the stairwell and cracked his neck, arching back slightly before shuffling over to the nearest wall and yanking open a window to aerate the place. The cold air came in along with it, but Dean didn't need to breathe anything his brother was producing anymore than the rest of the world did.
It wasn't until he'd turned back around that he realized that he was no longer alone in the small lobby room.
"Whoah!" Dean jumped, his hand moved automatically to the sidearm that wasn't actually at his side before realization kicked in. A man was standing near the counter top, dressed from head to toe in a navy suit jacket and vest that Dean would never be able to afford, and holding his bowler hat calmly between his fingers. Dark black hair was slicked back to reveal a very serious expression that was trained specifically on him. Dean swallowed before pulling himself back to the present.
"Sorry, I, uh…didn't hear the bell. Which is weird, cause I always hear the bell." He raised an eyebrow, but shook it off at the oddly serious look that seemed stuck on this guy's face. Dean huffed out a breath before moving back to his 'salesman stance'. Always for sale, always working with the ever-growing population of paranoid gentlefolk, that was Dean Winchester.
"Yeah anyway, can I help you, sir?" Dean gave his best fake smile, wondering just what he did that week to deserve so many customers. Sam didn't know how lucky he had it.
The man, however, was un-phased, and continued to stare at Dean with his large and bright blue eyes that didn't seem to feel the need to blink. He took in the room around him silently, watching the faint traces of smoke still drifting from the stairwell, the recently used machinery that was powering down on the counter, and then finally back to him. Dean, who stood as patiently as he knew how so that he could finish his job and flip over the 'closed' sign sometime in the near future. Hopefully, the very near future.
"Sir?" Dean prompted, raising an eyebrow. It seemed to wake the guy up.
"You are the Winchester brothers, are you not?" The man finally said, his voice deep and even and final.
"I'm not the both of us, obviously, but you're looking at the prettier one. What can I do for you? You lookin' for some medicine? Chemicals? We can pull together a few things for your pipe if you need more sleep or fashion a few pieces of equipment if you're looking for a combustible…"
"I am in need of an exterminator, Mr. Winchester A ghost exterminator."
It was such a simple statement, yet it said so much. Dean's eyes flashed to the door for a brief moment before he shifted his gaze back to the stern looking dandy before him with a matching expression.
"How'd you hear about us?"
"I was given your information from a friend who informed me of what you had done previously for her. She was most adamant that you had saved her life, therefore referring you successfully to my attention."
Dean blinked. Well, that was easy enough.
"Friend's name?
"Mercy Stormside."
Oh. Oh, right. Dean knew exactly who he meant, but that didn't really help matters much. Mercy's case had been a hell of a thing, and involved a lot more than ghosts.
"Well, you got yourself a good reference, I can give you that Mr…"
"Castiel."
"Mr. Castiel. But just so you know, when it comes to this kinda thing, there are specific things you should know beforehand. First-"
"First, you work by word of mouth, only. Previous customers are the only names you accept and even then, they must be customers of more than face value. Second, you do not advertise nor do you consider yourself a part of law enforcement or any sort of military therein. No unnecessary publicity. Third, you work by the hour. Fourth, you must have complete discretion and information when it comes to your case be it the personal lives of your client all the way down to the known history of the location where you are to scout. Am I missing anything?"
Dean stared, dumbfounded for a moment as he heard the spiel he'd been repeating for years on end yabbered back to him like a repedograph that he'd rewound and started over. Whatever part of him would have been impressed, however, turned quickly to irritation.
"Yeah, no, yeah, you got it. Most of it, thanks." He stated, crossing his arms with obvious annoyance.
"My intent is not to disrespect, Mr. Winchester. Only to logically move to the next step since I am already well aware of your conditions." The man, Mr. Castiel, didn't seem to react in the slightest to Dean's discomfort as he explained himself, but that did little to help Dean's mood. Whatever, there was a first time for everything.
"Fifth, I work with family." He continued, before raising his voice. "Sam!"
There was a crash below deck, an angry cry that turned into a few more curses as Dean simply stood where he was, eyes locked to those heavy blues, before the sounds of footfalls on the stairs finally alerted him to his brother's presence. The tall, yet charred form of the other Winchester came through the door with a heavy smell of chemicals that Dean could have seriously done without, but it was effective nonetheless. Sam could make an entrance without even trying.
"Hey. What's up?" Sam breathed, wiping a thick leather glove across his blackened face while making it more black in the process. Dean sighed. Where the hell were his work goggles?
"We might have ourselves a job. You interested?"
Sam's eyes moved from his brother's to Mr. Castiel's before he caught on to the emphasis, dawning realization apparent on his young and expressive face. "Sure, I've got a few while the foam separates, what do we have?"
Dean was about to answer before Mr. Castiel suddenly took the spotlight, silencing the both of them with merely a tilt to his head. Something about the guy was both creeping Dean out and reminding him of something he felt like he was missing, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"A very dear friend of mine has recently become possessed, and I would like your assistance in both dispelling her of this problem, and making sure that it does not happen to her again. Please."
Dean stayed silent, thinking things through as his brother immediately started with the important stuff. Sam; always with the questions.
"A possession by what? Do you know?"
"A ghost; although it personally gave neither its species, nor its name."
"Most of them don't. What are the symptoms?"
"She is no longer herself. Her day to day duties have become irregular and violent, leaving her mostly incapacitated and hardly fit for society, let alone work. Her words are strange and her eyes do not focus unless she is attempting to attack. It is random, trigger-less, and I fear that she will soon hurt more than just those she works with. I do not wish for her to lose her place."
Sam nodded as he took it all in, and Dean raised an eyebrow as he saw a small puff of wispy smoke climbing steadily from his brother's front apron pocket. He shook his head, but brought himself into the conversation.
"What makes you think it's a ghost and not a demon? Or a poltergeist?"
"She was assessed by a local priest."
"And they couldn't expel it themselves?"
"No, Mr. Winchester."
"Dean. And why not?"
"Because, Mr. Dean. My friend did not qualify to them. She is a Synthetic."
"A TickTock? They don't get possessed…not like that anyway."
"I assure you, they do. I have seen it on more than one occasion, although the results usually end in dis-assembly, and scattering of the pieces in order to avoid future possessions of those the pieces become a part of. I wish to avoid such a measure, if at all possible."
Sam took in a loud breath, wiping his hand yet again across his grease stained forehead. "Well…wouldn't hurt to have a look, I guess. Though, as much as I hate to say it Dean, I'm a bit swamped for the day. This Quantum stuff isn't gonna work out on its own if we're ever gonna get the particle machine to work. Not to mention, I've still got a combustible out back that's going to go any day now that I'd like to get the power source from in order to-"
"Ok, ok, ok! I got it, quit it with the mumbo jumbo, I don't know what the hell you're saying anyway." Dean swiped at him, reaching for his front pocket and pulling out a small vial that was starting to crack from all of the smoke it was producing. "Do something about this. I'll take the job, you get your stuff done, ok?" Sam nodded, squinting at the bottle before a panicked look crossed his face and he bolted for the basement door. "Don't be surprised if I ask for your help for research though!" Dean called after him, amusement clear on his face. "You hear me Sam?" He didn't wait for an answer before kicking the door closed, a rumble of energy passing through the floor that made Mr. Castiel look down, but Dean ignored entirely.
"Alright then, let's go take a look at this TickTock, shall we?"
The man nodded, his unblinking gaze still locked directly on Dean as if there was nothing else in that crazy stuff filled room that could possibly fascinate him more. Slightly unnerved, Dean raised an eyebrow as he pulled on his hat and jacket.
"What?" He asked bluntly. It seemed to knock Mr. Castiel back to Earth, however, as he finally looked away.
"Apologies. You simply remind me of someone I once knew. It is…distracting. If you are ready, I shall lead the way."
The house was enormous. More than enormous, it was its own country, and Dean suddenly felt like he was going to need a passport to even step foot on the grounds. Mr. Castiel had led the both of them to the snob district by foot, which confused Dean since the man had been so well dressed, but he wasn't one against a good stroll. Not to mention getting to actually set foot in that area without the Fuzz dragging him back to the slums. Dean wasn't really from the slums, but his appearance wasn't all that high class, either. First impressions had never been his thing.
Mr. Castiel was apparently more than willing to let him in, however, and it didn't take them long to find exactly what Dean was there to see. The TickTock in question was screaming things that Dean hadn't heard in awhile, but were obviously right up his alley as they reverberated off the expensive, marble walls.
"You sure she's a TickTock?" He asked, opening the bag he'd dragged with him and pulling out a few essentials. "They don't usually have to deal with this kinda thing…especially with the newest Tesla upgrades and the CPU systems…" He took a small swig of the holy water, making sure he'd grabbed the right flask and not his usual stash of courage juice. The girl was beautiful, but oddly contorted in a way that humans were never meant to bend. She had eyes that didn't appear to see and her hands clutched at the air like she was trying to breath, even as her lungs were obviously full of air and vicious words.
"Anna is a Synthetic, yes. The owner of this house owns quite a few that he constructed himself that serve the homestead in his absence." Mr. Castiel replied, standing patiently still with his eyes trained on the sprawled figure of the woman before him.
"I thought you were the owner." Dean questioned, flipping through his book of quotes, spells and necessary Latin phrases that Sam had put together for him.
"I never claimed such a thing, Mr. Dean."
"Stop it with the 'mister' thing. It's just Dean."
"Very well, then we are agreed that I am just Castiel."
Dean paused. "That's your first name? Oh, sorry, that's uh…weird. But sure. I'm gonna need you to hold her for me, is that ok? I know these things can get a bit strong…"
"It will not be a problem."
The two men walked over to the machine that was hissing and spitting in their direction, her clawed hands vibrating with the malfunction of supernatural mixed with technological. Dean had seen something similar once, although it hadn't been in a TickTock that was so upgraded.
"You know, it's weird that a machine this advanced went and got itself possessed. I can honestly say that this is the first time I've seen it on one with skin. Hold her head, would you?"
Castiel did as he asked, the cries and small series of metallic sounds coming from the TickTock doing little to stop either of them. Dean was impressed how well Castiel was handling it all as he started to sprinkle the holy water over her writhing form.
"How do you mean?" Castiel asked, his eyes focused on Dean more than Anna.
"Well…back in the day, when these things first started showing up, they weren't made for labor, they were made for companionship. Which is backwards if you ask me, since they looked a lot more like machines back then than they do now." Dean started chanting the first part of the rituale romanum, watching with satisfaction as the Annabot started to writhe upon the floor. It was definitely an angry spirit, but it was textbook, thankfully. He didn't rush it though, these things were better done with patience.
"You could see all the gears and the moving parts on their sides, the pistons and the energy storage, they were amazing to look at and even more amazing to see them work. My dad had one a few years after my mother died, and it…she, was like, the best thing I'd ever seen since my little brother was born." Dean laughed, shifting himself so that he could better hold onto Anna's flailing limbs before she suddenly decided to go quiet. Castiel glanced down at her in concern.
"It's ok, they do that. It'll start back up when it thinks we've stopped." Dean glanced at his book, flipping the pages idly to see if Sam had written anything on this kinda thing with TickTocks.
"Did your father love her?"
Dean paused, his brain failing to compute for a moment before he glanced back at the man before him. There was curiosity in those eyes, however, no judgment or bias that Dean would have expected from such a question. "I dunno, he might have. I don't really think about it much anymore. We only had her for a few years or so before she got possessed." He shrugged, feeling a few twitches from Anna, but not enough to start back up again yet.
"What possessed her?"
But damn the man had a lot of questions, and Dean wasn't really sure why he was answering them anyway, but he was. If the guy knew Mercy, however, and knew what she'd been through, then he knew what Hell was. "A demon. Nasty one too. Nearly took us all out with him before my Dad took him out first. Although, it took the TickTock with it too, and Dad didn't really take too kindly to that."
"How do you mean?"
"You want a whole back history along with the exorcism, buddy? I mean, not that I care, but what's with the interest?"
Castiel's expression changed slightly, which was the most it had done of anything since Dean had first laid eyes on him. He almost looked…shy? Embarrassed?
"I apologize, my concern is for my friend, thus my interest in older model synthetics and their history is fascinating to me. You do not need to continue." Castiel's eyes moved back to Anna, and Dean suddenly found himself wishing they hadn't. He cleared his throat.
"It's ok, I wasn't yelling at you or anything. Not like you made me talk, eh Cas?" He grinned, feeling the spirit start to buck again as a few spouts of crazy language started rumbling through Anna's chest. "She's not an older model, is she?"
"She is, actually. Every Synthetic in this house was built around the beginning of the Industrial Age. They have simply been upgraded as the technology became available to them, and were supplied with the information they needed to become more than companions to their master."
"Upgraded? Seriously? That's a hell of a thing…only engineers and polytechnics like my brother know how to do shit like that. Even then, Sam lacks this kinda finesse. The guy that owns her must have some amazing connections, or just know the right people. Who lives in this place?"
"Professor Montarey Villiford The Third."
"Viliford? Wait, the Chrononaut? The famous inventor who-"
"First designed Synthetics, you are correct. The current owner, however, is as I said the third generation of the family. Montarey's grandson. He is not as much an inventor as he is a teacher, therefore does not hold much regard for the synthetics as his grandfather once did. As such, his presence here is limited."
Dean whistled, his hands tightening on Anna's arms as she tried to turn away from the holy water that Dean was once again spraying in her direction. It was a good thing TickTock's could handle water better than Sam's combustibles could…
"Ho-lee shit. That explains the house then. And why this TickTock got possessed, I'll bet she's still got those emotions and attachments that a lot of the older models were made with. Did you know they even made some back then that could fall in love? How crazy is that."
Castiel said nothing as Dean resumed the exorcism, fighting to keep Anna in place as he spouted the Latin as clearly as his father had once taught him. Sam may have excelled in the art of creating and inventing with his crazy ideas and dreams, but Dean had always been better with the practical art of saving lives. If his Dad hadn't run off with those Airship smugglers that were more than likely steaming themselves over Europe by now, maybe he could have seen how useful his two sons had finally become.
Dean's attention was quickly pulled back to the charge at hand, and he was floored suddenly when he realized that Anna was crying, the tears streaming down the sides of her cheeks making her look far too human than he was comfortable with. It reminded him too much of another machine he'd seen cry, and that wasn't something Dean wanted to remember.
His arm loosened involuntarily, and the angry spirit took the advantage, yanking from his grip and swinging her arm in a high arch that caught Castiel in the face. In that small second, she scraped her angry, steel boned fingers across breakable flesh with a vengeful cry. Dean cursed, yanking her hand back down as he chanced a look up at the man who hadn't even cried out, let alone released his grip. Blood was seeping steadily down Castiel's cheek, but he didn't waver from his place.
"I'm fine, help her. Please." Castiel's words were strong and pleading, and Dean could no more say no at that point than if he was speaking to his own brother. He gulped down a knot that was somehow lodged in his throat before finishing the prayer, ignoring every bit of argument that the spirit was spitting in his direction.
"Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen!"
There was more screaming, a bright flash of light, a whole lot of mechanical-like convulsing and then finally, nothing. Anna slumped to the ground, silent and still in the arms of the two men who had just banished an angry ghost from a piece of machinery. In any other time period, Dean wondered what civil folk would make of such a thing. Although truth be told, it was far more anti-climactic than paranoid folk liked to believe.
"That should do it." He stated simply, reaching over to draw a few symbols on her face and chest using the holy water as clear ink. There was no reaction, and hopefully there never would be once Dean hooked this house up with a few more symbols that the TickTocks could actually wear. If he was gonna do his job right, then he was gonna damn well be thorough about it.
Castiel still had his hands on Anna's shoulders and he hadn't yet moved from behind her as his gaze stayed steadily on the prone figure of the TickTock before him. Dean watched him, noticing that he was waiting to make sure that Anna was breathing before he was finally satisfied. It actually warmed Dean's heart a bit, seeing any kind of emotion between a full blooded man and a TickTock again. It had been a long time, especially since that kind of connection had turned itself into a strange faux pas in society once the later models started coming out with no emotions and no feelings.
It wasn't until Castiel looked back up at Dean that he was reminded of the man's injury, and he moved quickly around Anna as he pulled a handkerchief from his trousers.
"Sorry bout that swipe, her arm kinda got away from me there…you gonna be ok? I know these things can get pretty damn strong even when they don't have ghosts inside them." Dean wet the cloth with the holy water before reaching up to dab gently at the nasty looking scrape across Castiel's face. Now that he was this close, it was a bit more unnerving than before as those blue eyes stared straight into him. Unwavering, completely focused and oddly forceful, Dean wasn't sure anyone in his entire life had ever looked at him like Castiel was. Like nothing else existed in the universe but him.
He swallowed, trying not to think about it as he continued to clean, only to suddenly notice something he hadn't before. Something was shining on Castiel's face beneath the broken skin, around the mess of blood that wasn't swollen so much as simply ripped. Beneath that, Dean was able to clear away just enough that he saw something he really hadn't been expecting to see. The familiar, metallic shine of stainless steel.
"Holy shit, you're a TickTock." He breathed out, his hands snatching back as if that realization would somehow cause him harm. Dean didn't really move further than that, however, as he studied the false man before him, unsure why it was that he hadn't noticed before. The long stares, the polite words that sounded like something recorded, the little to no reactions from getting hit or holding down a screaming woman (machine). Of course, it was also a really, really, really advanced model seeing as aside from the bit of metallic skull Dean could see, nothing else had physically given him away. Even Anna had a bit of a synthetic feel and look to her, but Castiel…he was practically flawless.
"I am synthetic, yes." He stated, as if it really wasn't all that big a deal. And really, was it? Strangely, Dean took it all in better than he thought he would. Not like he really knew the guy. TickTock. Machine.
"Okay then. I-uh…yeah. Wow, didn't see that coming." Lamely, Dean handed the rag over to Castiel as he stood to his feet, ignoring the strange feeling in his gut that he'd just missed something important. Castiel watched everything he did, his fingers closing around the handkerchief yet not really moving it to his face.
There was an awkward silence for a few moments as Dean pulled his things back together and Castiel simply watched him do so. Dean wasn't sure why he suddenly felt like things had changed at that revelation. Did it bother him? Or was it because he knew it bothered other people. And even if that was so, since when had he cared what other people thought? Damn did his head hurt. Sam would be laughing so hard at him right now.
Castiel stood to his feet, letting Anna slide gently to the floor as he left her there to recharge and reset. Dean remembered that that was how the older models worked, their power supplies offering far more than the limited models did today.
"Thankyou, Mr. Winchester, for your assistance. Hopefully this will have solved the issue of otherwise having to disassemble my friend, and we can continue as we once did."
Dean nodded, the urge to correct the name falling short on his lips. "Sure, it's no problem. I mean, you're welcome. I'll work up the payment for you and send the bill after I go over the numbers with my brother. He's a lot better at that stuff than I am, so I hope you don't mind."
Castiel shook his head, and Dean tried hard not to stare at the small sheen of metal he could just barely see between the laceration on the TickTock's face. "That is acceptable. Come, I will escort you so you do not have issues finding your way out."
Dean nodded, and he really was grateful for that, cause damn. What a maze. They walked in silence down the first set of stairs, Dean realizing he was already lost before Castiel finally spoke. His voice was back to that strong and distant strength that he'd used when he first appeared in the lobby of the Winchester Bros. Home.
"May I ask you something?"
"Sure." Dean shrugged. It seemed fair.
"What was her name?"
Dean stilled for a moment at the change in Castiel's voice, which was softer now. Sadder.
"What?"
"The synthetic your father loved. What was her name?"
Dean swallowed. He'd never said his Dad had loved her, but then, he wasn't arguing it either.
"Mary. Her name was Mary. My real mother died after my little brother was born, I don't really remember her much, so she kinda took over the job." He'd said too much and he knew it, but the machine he was speaking to didn't really feel like one. Just like his mother had never felt fake either.
Castiel nodded, satisfied as he led them through a large ballroom that stopped Dean almost immediately in his tracks. He stared, wide eyed at a portrait on the wall that was nearly a story high. It was old, painted in the way they'd done portraits a hundred years ago that was meant to last for centuries and capture everything the artist saw. It was a man that appeared to be in his early thirties, all straight backed and regal looking, yet with strong working man's hands and a secondhand suit.
Dean felt slightly intimidated standing beneath it, but that wasn't really what had caught his attention. "Hey Cas." He said idly, not really thinking about how he'd just shortened the name. "Who is this?"
He felt more than saw the TickTock step up beside him. Two pairs of eyes; one organic, one mechanical, gazed up at the painting in a few seconds of silence in each others close company. Dean felt oddly at home in the man's space.
"That is Monteray the First. The one who created the Synthetic you assisted in saving today. The one who created me."
Dean couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the portrait, despite what he'd heard. "Created you? How old are you anyway? Were you-"
"I was not the first, no. Monteray built Michael, Lucifer and Gabriel first. The original models of which all Synthetics are based. I, however, was one of his few later favorites. I was his friend and assistant, a confidante if you will. I was the first and only one that he created with…" Castiel trailed off, and Dean finally shifted his gaze. He swallowed, suddenly nervous yet oddly entranced by the look of sadness that had crossed Castiel's face. Was it really sadness? Could they be sad?
"With what?"
Castiel locked eyes with him, and there was the hint of a smile. The most emotion Dean had yet seen and it was striking even with the wound on the TickTock's face. He lifted a hand slowly, reaching it towards Dean in a way that he didn't feel the need to shy away from, letting the machine move his fingers forward and gently touch skin. It was strange, the feeling that mixed with the knowledge that the skin he felt wasn't alive. That the bones beneath it were steel, that it ran on a fluid that was based on organic blood but was synthesized from plasma and petrol, and that fed into a central processing system that would beat forever if maintained.
Dean swallowed, staying completely still as Castiel's fingers moved across his face, around his hair and jawline before passing over his lips. It was strangely hypnotic, and Dean felt a strange disappointment when the TickTock finally pulled his fingers away after lingering in that heated silence for just a bit too long. Dean blinked, the moment broken, and Castiel's hands were once again at his sides.
"I was created with the ability to mourn. Shall we?"
Dean felt oddly like something had been cut from that sentence, as if it had been stated truthfully, but not really phrased correctly. He felt a shiver go down his spine as he took a quick glance back at the painting, strangely unsettled that the late and great Montarey Villiford The First looked startlingly like the alive and very present Dean Winchester.
~fin~