The Motives of Clocks and Angels
Note: please take notice of the year it's set in otherwise it could get unnecessarily confusing, and thankyou for reading!
Newspaper clipping from 12th January 1990
A boy with wings has been discovered in Pontiac, Illinois. The baby, who was roughly one week old, was left in a bundle of blankets outside a seemingly random house. The identity of his birth parents is completely unknown. Doctors are baffled. They completed DNA tests, showing that the child is completely human. The wings are fused to his shoulder blades, and it seems that the child was born with them. The wings themselves already have a four metre span, and are growing quickly. They are similar to a raven's in shape and colour.
After making sure the child was healthy, the officials had no other option but to let the child go. They had discussed keeping the child in for more tests and experiments, but it was decided that would be an infringement of the boy's human rights. However, the head doctor did go on record to say that if the child ever showed any other anomalies aside from the wings, the boy would be taken in for further testing, for everyone's safety.
The doctor's only explanation is that it's a mutation of the genes, but this explanation doesn't seem to satisfy the public, as people are coming up with their own theories. Some people are calling it evolution; some people are calling it an act of God. Some people would even go so far to say that this baby is an abomination to the human race, and it marks the coming end of life on Earth as we know it.
We spoke to Bobby Singer, who found the child, and has now adopted him with his wife Ellen. "He's going to have a normal life. Just because he has wings don't mean he doesn't deserve to be loved," Singer said.
What will become of this winged boy? Only time can tell.
Year: 2021
Sam crouched down, reloading his gun as fast as his blood stained hands could cope. A sharp blow to the head knocked him onto his side, and his vision went black for a few seconds.
"Sammy! You son of a bi-" Dean's voice was lost behind the sound of a shot being fired. Sam winced as the noise rang painfully through skull. A toe nudged him in the side gently as another shot was fired.
"You ok? There's still at least five of them left, I'd appreciate some help." Another shot and a curse.
The younger Winchester rubbed his head, his hand coming away with blood. But he didn't have time to worry about that now. He got back to work on reloading his gun, and staggered up just in time to take out another one.
"Take that you genetically engineered bitch," Dean said, dropping another one. After a few more shots and scuffling, the last of the creatures were dropped. Immediately, Dean turned to look at his brother's head wound. He had to drag the tall man down by his shoulders to get a good enough look.
"Don't go to sleep for a few hours," Dean said, releasing his grip.
"Thanks," Sam said sarcastically, as if he didn't know how to deal with a mild concussion. "How come they were so easy to gun down?"
"Still got the jump on you though, getting slow in your old age Sammy. But I guess they must've been rogue mistakes, accidents whatever."
Sam nodded in response, completely disregarding the insult. Dean was just trying to lighten the mood, so that he wouldn't have to focus on the fact that there had been a lot of rogue mistakes recently. The thought made Sam's insides go cold. It meant the Second Gods were working on something new. He'd have to mention it to the team when they got back to the camp.
After checking the coast was clear, the Winchesters continued down the path. They were in the middle of what could barely be called a forest. The thinly spaced out tree trunks the same shade of grey as the dusty ground. The bleak forest stretched on for miles, meaning that whichever direction you looked, it would just be endless grey. It could turn someone insane. Even the river they were following was grey, the water reflecting the colour of its surroundings.
"How do we even know he's there?" Sam said finally, breaking the tense silence they'd been walking in for around ten minutes.
"He has to be, or we're screwed," Dean answered plainly.
Sam let out an exasperated breath. Dean had always got along on hope and faith but Sam needed more. He needed plans, he needed knowledge. But he knew he wasn't going to get anything more out of Dean. He could read his brother easily after all the years they've spent fighting and living by each other's side and he recognised the particular look he was wearing on his countenance. He was nervous with a handful of quiet excitement, and he definitely didn't want to be talking about the chance that this could fail. Not now. This was their last hope.
Finally, after walking for what seemed like hours, they reached what they were looking for. In front of them stood a small, simple log cabin, made of grey wood. There were no windows, just one big door. It was shut.
Without only a moment's hesitation, Dean knocked on the door and entered, Sam close behind. Inside it was dark, aside from the square of grey light falling from the door. The tactical disadvantage automatically sent the Winchester's into survival mode, grabbing their weapons, wary of what could be hiding in the shadows. There was the sound of movement.
"Hello, Dean."
Year: 2001
He was stood with his back to the metal green bars separating the elementary school children from the rest of the world. It's where he stood every break time, alone. He stared blankly as a group of girls passed by him laughing nervously and pointing at him. Sure, they'd pretend they weren't afraid of him to their friends, but if he made one movement towards them, they'd flee like a flock of pigeons. Funny, seeing as he was the one with feathers. Unexpectedly, in the midst of his bitter thoughts, he felt something touching his wing. He swivelled round to see a boy he recognised from his class stroking the long feathers gently.
"Hey. I like your wings."
Castiel tilted his head in confusion. His peers usually feared his wings, or just despised them. They symbolised the great unknown to the other children and undoubtedly their parents. No one had ever outright said they liked his wings. Even his parents, even Castiel himself hated the wings that barred him from ever having a normal life.
"Don't worry about the other kids laughing at you. They're just bullies," he continued, still happily stroking the feathers.
"They are not in the wrong to laugh at me. I'm not normal."
"That doesn't give them the right!" the child said fiercely, hands flying away from the wings to clench his fists. Castiel gave him another curious look. Large jade eyes looked back at him, a light blush almost hiding the smatter of freckles across his nose.
"Why aren't you scared of me like the other children?" Cas asked.
"You're not scary. You're like an angel. And angels are good. My mom says so."
"I'm not an angel."
"No, but you're like an angel."
The winged boy looked at him blankly.
"I'm Dean."
"I'm Castiel," he said after some hesitation. "How come you aren't playing with your friends?" he still was a bit bewildered that someone was voluntarily chatting with him in the playground.
"I um... don't have any friends really. I just hang out with my brother and his friends mostly, but Sammy's on a school trip today... so yeah," Dean trailed off shyly, not used to sharing. He resumed his stroking of Castiel's wing, like it was a reassurance.
The two eleven year olds looked down, struck by an awkward silence. Finally Castiel broke it.
"Would you like to be my friend, Dean?"
"Yeah, okay."
Year: 2021
Dean's hand released his weapon when he heard the voice, where Sam's tightened. The owner of the voice stepped forward into the weak light filtering from the open door. He was wearing a ratty trench coat, and he had piercing blue eyes. But his eyes were definitely not his most shocking feature. Sprouting from the man's shoulder blades was a pair of magnificent, ebony wings. The feathers settled as the wings twitched slightly.
"Cas," Dean greeted, a weird mix of stiffness and familiarity twisting his tone, "we need your help."
"No," the man said without hesitation. Sam glanced between the two of them in confusion before finally making a contribution.
"How exactly can he help us again?"
The two men looked at him, as if they'd forgotten his presence. Sam knew the two had been friends once, but the looks they were giving each other insinuated they had a lot of history. He tried not to think about it, and keep his mind on task. Finally, after it became obvious that Castiel wasn't going to explain, Dean spoke.
"He can travel in time. He can go back, and stop this stupid fucking war from ever-"he was cut off by Cas' dangerously quiet voice.
"No, I can't Dean. Please, leave."
"But-"
"Dean." Cas said menacingly.
"You-"Cas' patience snapped.
"No! Get out," he boomed, the air prickling with rage. His wings unfolded and swiftly encompassed most of the small room, quivering with emotion. His expression darkened as he advanced on the brothers, going in to attack.
Sam saw the threat and his instincts set in. They were outgunned, this guy could rip them to shreds without even trying, and he wasn't even sure if guns and knives worked on him, so their only chance was to escape. His brother was just stood there, wide-eyed, so Sam grabbed him by the sleeve and hauled him out of the small cabin, and then kept dragging him, till they were far away from it.
"What was that man, you just froze?" Sam barked, turning in on his older brother.
Dean visibly shook himself, before looking defiantly into Sam's eyes. "He wasn't going to attack, he was just showing off."
"How come you let me drag you out then?"
Dean glared in response, and then started making their way home.
Once back at the camp, around fifteen people were waiting for them. They circled the brother's, eager for good news.
"I'm afraid he didn't go for it," Sam said shaking his head gravely.
There was a horrified sound from the small crowd. Sam watched Dean walk away without saying a word. The hunch of his shoulder worried Sam, but he didn't have time to go after him at the moment. He had to deal with their small troop.
"What are we going to do when they come then?" a red-headed girl asked from the crowd, trying not to show her nerves.
"We're gunna have to fight."
She looked back nervously. And she was right to be nervous. They were doing badly. Ten of the seventeen members of their troop were injured, some of them badly, and they were low on ammunition. Their chances of surviving the next attack were low, and that's not even taking into account the signs of new, more advanced creatures. Sam looked at the survivors. They looked so worn down, and their eyes looked half empty, like they'd lost all hope. He looked at Charlie, the one that had asked the question. She was young and very bright, and had adapted to this apocalyptic world super quickly. She was one of their best shooters. She could've done anything her heart desired before the world started ending, and now she's doomed like the rest of them. Sam sighed, rubbing his face. He really didn't feel giving a pep talk right now, but he really had no other option.
"Look, it's going to be alright," he began, but he could hear the defeat in his voice himself.
It was just beginning to get dark when Dean found the log cabin again, the sun just touching the horizon. He'd snuck out while everyone was having their rations, after the most hopeless strategy meeting they'd ever had. He hated that crappy dog food anyway. By now someone had surely noticed he was gone, and had probably told Sam, but he really couldn't force himself to care. He knew that if he'd have told Sam where he was going, he would've tried to persuade him otherwise. Sam didn't know what he was talking about. And anyway, it's not like there's anything to lose.
Just like last time, he knocked on the door as he entered the cabin, greeted by the familiar voice, much calmer than before.
"Hello, Dean."
"Don't 'hello, Dean' me, like we're good friends. I haven't seen you in over ten years, and now you're leaving the whole human race to perish," he shouted, emotion adding an even rougher edge to his voice.
Cas didn't respond. Instead he just trained his eyes on the ground, as if he felt guilty.
"What happened, Cas?"
The silence sucked at Dean's anger as seconds passed, till it was just desperation left.
"Why did you stop coming back?"
Year: 2002
"Hey Bobby, can Cas come out?" Dean asked eagerly.
As Bobby was about to lean back and call for Cas, speak of the devil, the child wormed his way out from behind the older man to stand next to Dean.
"Ok, don't go getting into trouble boys. Be home before it gets dark. Oh, and Dean, say hi to your Dad for me, I'll be seeing him this weekend for our fishing trip."
"Sure thing Bobby, see ya round," Dean waved.
"Bye, Dad," Cas called, as the two young boys started running off down the road. Bobby shook his head, fondly. It was so nice seeing Cas run around like a normal child, and Bobby had to bite his lip to stop from laughing as he watched his son trip over his own wing in eagerness to run down the road with his best friend.
Idgit, he said in his head, and went back inside.
"So you are an angel!" a triumphant Dean almost squealed as Cas landed from his flight around the old grave yard they were stood in. They'd found this place while hiking through a forest, and they'd decided it was perfect. It was surrounded on all sides by tall trees, and was completely deserted, so Cas could fly around without anyone seeing.
"No," he said definitely.
"How come you don't just fly everywhere?" he asked, ignoring Cas' previous response, and edging closer to him so he could stroke the feathers on his wing. Over time, Dean had developed a habit of smoothing down Cas' feathers while talking to him. Cas didn't mind though; in fact, he kind of liked it.
"My parents told me not to let anyone know about my powers. I'm already an outcast for having wings, let alone being able to use them. They said that if the government found out about it, they'd take me away."
"This is so awesome."
"You're strange."
"Says you! What other powers do you have?"
Castiel looked away, unsure.
"Come on, you can tell me, I promise I won't ever tell anyone ever."
"Well... I'm super strong."
"Oh my god! I get it now, you're not an angel, you're a superhero!"
Cas rolled his eyes at how excited Dean looked. Suddenly, he turned serious and placed a hand on Cas' shoulder.
"With great power, comes great responsibility."
"I think I'm more of a superman than a spider man."
"But the superman films are lame."
Cas sighed.
"Have you got any other powers," the young boy probed.
"I can show other people my memories and...I...I can time travel," the last confession had been hard to get out. His parents would let him use his other powers around the house when he wasn't in danger of being found out, but he wasn't even allowed to experiment with his time travel capabilities. They just told him it was a bad idea, and that he'd understand when he was older. Although curious and tempted to disobey, Castiel didn't want to disappoint his parents.
"No. Way."
"Yes."
"Dude, that is awesome! Time travel!"
Dean gazed fondly at his friend, who looked slightly uncomfortable with all the attention he was receiving, but Dean didn't care. Superheroes were real! Cas could save people, kill the bad guys, stop suffering. And not even superman could time travel. This was big. Dean's mind wandered randomly to their history assignment for the weekend on World War 2.
"Hey," Dean said, after thinking for a few minutes, "you could kill Hitler."
"WHAT!?"
"Think about it. He killed all those people. He was evil, everyone agrees. You could go back in time and kill him, before he kills all those other people. If you think about it, it's the right thing to do. You could save so many people."
Cas gazed at his friend, seeming to think carefully about what had just been said.
"My parents... they would be disappointed if I disobeyed them. They've forbid me from time travelling."
"How could they be disappointed!? You'd be a hero!"
It looked like Cas had been persuaded. Energy crackled through the air without warning. Darkness crept out from the centre of Cas, seeping out until the blackness completely encompassed him, and then he was gone.
After waiting for a few minutes for his friend to return, Dean shrugged and left for home. He tried to remember where Cas had said he was going, but he couldn't even remember what they were talking about.
Year: 2021
"Don't you remember? You used to come back to me every few months and tell me about this horrible abomination of the human race you'd killed, and how many thousands of people you saved. Why did you stop saving people?"
Finally, Cas sighed heavily, wings shifting position as he sat down, as if he'd been overcome with a deep weariness.
"It's complicated."
"It's the apocalypse. Explain."
"What do you mean it's the apocalypse?" Cas asked as if he really didn't want to know the answer.
Dean sighed heavily and joined Cas sitting down on the floor, also seemingly overcome with a deep weariness. Wow, the end of the world really runs you down.
"There's a guy. Called Alistair. He's hell bent on human perfection. He and a bunch of twisted scientists that call themselves the Second Gods genetically engineered some super humans, to replace everyone else. One day, they broke into almost every home in the world and killed everyone inside. There were barely any survivors. The only reason me and Sam are alive was because we were visiting our dad's. He managed to slow the thing down, but not before it killed our mom. He gave us time to get out. He didn't make it," Dean swallowed before continuing. "We ran, found a few other survivors on the way, and have now set up camp in an abandoned quarry. But tomorrow, they're coming. They've concentrated their forces, and discovered our location. We've told the others that we have a chance of beating them, but we don't. It all ends tomorrow."
"Oh."
"No, it's not 'oh', man. Everyone's dead or is going to die tomorrow. Just do it man, just go back in time, kill Alistair before this all started. Like you used to."
"I can't Dean, I'm sorry."
"Yes you can."
"It's pointless."
"What do you mean?"
"Every time I kill one of these people, a new 'Hitler' turns up with an even more elaborate plot to destroy humanity.
"Who's Hitler?"
Cas chuckled bitterly, before continuing without answering.
"I've given up. I'm not saving anyone anymore. Someone important obviously wants you all dead. Or maybe that's the purpose of humanity: to destroy itself. Who am I to interfere with Mother Nature?"
Dean banged his fist on the floor in anger.
"So you're just gunna sit here, in your little cabin, for the rest of your life, while everyone dies? Where have your morals gone?"
"To hell, along with my naïvety. Humanity isn't worth saving. Life isn't worth living."
"Of course life is worth living!" Dean said, passion lighting up his eyes.
"I see nothing to make life worth living. There's nothing to wake up for. It's all pointless."
"There are things worth living for."
"Like what?" Cas invited.
Dean hesitated, as if he was having an argument inside his head. Making a decision, he leaned forward, into Cas' personal space, before Cas' abrupt laugh made him stop.
"Oh no, not this again. Although sex is enjoyable, it doesn't exactly make life worth living, Dean. It's simply a means of procreation, and a release of dopamine chemicals in your brain. Hardly worth saving the human race over."
Dean flinched as if he'd been hit.
"Sex? You think that... so I mean nothing to you? No fuck Cas, it's not sex I'm showing you, that's not the point! It's a way to show you that I... It's- never mind. You can go screw yourself Cas."
Dean stood up, stomping out the cabin, anger and embarrassment twisting his countenance.
Cas sat there, brow furrowed as he slowly went over what Dean had just said. A bit too late, he realised. Dean was in love with him. He wasn't saying sex made life worth living, he was saying love made life worth living. That did make a lot more sense. Then Cas realised how hurt Dean was when he left. Cas hadn't meant to reject him so harshly, he had misunderstood. He felt the need to explain to Dean that the sex didn't mean nothing to him, and now that he thought about it, Cas might just love Dean a little bit too, just not enough to save the world. He got up to leave, but then figured that Dean might not be too happy about seeing his face again just yet. He'd wait until early next morning, once he'd cooled off, just to explain to him.
Cas picked his way gingerly through the debris. It looked like someone had got something wrong. The genetically engineered creatures must've attacked in the middle of the night while everyone was asleep. Scattered around the small quarry was supplies and human limbs. It didn't look like they put up much of a struggle. He continued walking until he saw a corpse he recognised.
Dean was lead across the ground, covered in blood from head to toe. An arm and leg had been ripped off, pre-mortem judging by the puddles of blood. The one remaining arm was reaching out across the ground, dead eyes staring along with it. Cas followed their gaze and saw Sam's corpse lying a few metres away from him. There was a whole clean through his chest.
Cas couldn't look any more. He thought he'd be okay with dead bodies by now, he's killed enough people. But this was different. This was Dean. He felt a pain in his chest as he pictured the agony on his face, and crumpled to his knees, not caring about all the mud and blood now staining his clothes. He hadn't felt like this since... since his parents. He realised what it must be. A broken heart, mixed with a hell of a lot of guilt. This was his doing.
He clutched at his chest as a tear rolled down his face. So perhaps he was a little bit more in love with Dean than he'd initially thought.