The Second Rapture
Prologue
"Sammy! Sammy, lookit this!"
"What'd you find, Dean?"
"I dunno, but lookit the wings on it . . ."
"Do you think it might be a-"
Angel.
They are everywhere in sight. Thick, feathery wings beating rapidly against the freezing winter air, bodies crowding together, blocking out the sun and the sky. Their blades gleam white in the glow of the twin fires that blaze in the place of eyes on each face, expressions hard as carved marble and twisted into a horrible scowl. As one, their jaws dropped open and a wretched screech rang out, driving the mortal men below to their knees in agony.
The Angels descended then, and blood coated the field like fresh paint on a canvas.
Within a matter of minutes, two battalions of the best Hunters known to Man were slain. Their bodies would be found, eyes carved from their skulls and tracks of drying blood leaking from both ears. There would be no doubt as to the cause of death – even the youngest of children would recognize the handiwork of Angels.
Twenty years ago, the world ended. But Man did not die.
We rose up and fought against Angels, shedding tears and blood, but never fading; never yielding. We grow stronger with every breath, hatred driving the need to avenge our fallen brethren. There are no innocents among us. We have all witnessed the horror of death and the hollow blackness of watching a dear friend fall. That is what drives us on, keeps us living and fighting. Without it, we would all have given up long ago.
"Deeeeeeean! Don't touch it! 'Member? Daddy said they're bad."
"Stop being such a girl, Sammy! It's not like he's gonna eat me. 'Sides, I think he's dead, anyway."
"How'dya know that?"
"Lookit, he isn't breathing, right?"
"Right."
"So, he's dead! It's simple, you just don't understand 'cause you're still a kid."
Several hours after the massacre that took place in that innocuous field, a small party of Hunters found the broken bodies of their comrades. No tears were shed then, not by the Hunters. They had already seen too much gore and death to weep from the sight; and all of them knew that enough tears would fall from the faces of the surviving family of the men, they had no need for their brothers in arms to contribute.
The crumpled and red-stained carcasses were loaded into horse-drawn wagons and carted back to the settlement from whence the deceased Hunters came. It was a fairly small settlement, a subterranean network of tunnels that housed only two hundred people, most of whom were Hunters – and whose bodies were carried back in a somber, macabre parade. Once, in more peaceful times, what is now a pitiful shelter for soldiers was once a town called Lawrence. When the Angels came, nearly everything was reduced to ash and rubble. The few who survived took to the underground, thinking that Angels could not harm what they could not see. Later, they learned of ways to keep Angels away from the pathetic abodes of Man, but many people perished because of cave-ins and a lack of oxygen before the sigils were discovered. Now, the tunnels nearest the surface are still used for storage and the like, but the residents of what was once Lawrence now reside in a large, bunker-esque structure. It had previously served as a warehouse of sorts, before dirt had been piled against the walls and haphazard chunks of wood and metal were attached in places to provide more space for the families of the Hunters. Now, the structure looked more like a hub, with sheet-metal tentacles branching off and twisting into a mass of passageways to connect the feeble boxes that served as homes.
When the search party returned with the bodies of the dead, no words were spoken. The families had already gathered in the largest area, the old warehouse, in hopes of greeting their loved ones with tight embraces and tears of joy. Instead, newly-widowed women and men were given the corpse of their beloved, children wept, and the bitter stench of old blood and death made the space reek of hopelessness and rot.
In the farthest corner of the room, two small boys stared at the unmoving body of their father.
"Mommy, Mommy, Dean found an Angel!"
"Yeah, look-"
"Hey, it's moving, Dean. I thought you said it was-"
"Mom!"
The corpse before the two children had once been a man called John, John Winchester. He had been a proud man, in life, and a devoted father. His cherished wife Mary had died at the hands of an Angel two years prior, leaving John a single parent. John was a brave man, a good Hunter, and very, very dead.
His sons, Dean and Samuel, were left orphans.
"You're gonna have to listen to me, Sammy." Dean, the eldest of the two, yet only nine years old, said quietly. "Dad's gone now, so I'm in charge."
Sam, just four years old, scarcely heard his brother's words. He stared numbly at the battered corpse of his father, hazel-blue eyes filled with unshed tears, small fists trembling.
"D-Daddy?" little Sam whispered, voice scratchy and broken as he fought back a sob.
Dean blinked rapidly and pulled his brother close, cradling Sam against his shoulder and turning the younger boy to keep him from looking at their father's ruined face.
"Shhhh, Sammy," Dean murmured gently, pretending that his own voice wasn't heavy with fear and pain. "It's gonna be fine, okay?"
Sam said nothing as he began to sob against Dean's shoulder. Dean held his brother close and turned his head so that no one would see the tears he shed.
"Don't worry, Sammy. I'm gonna protect you, I promise."
Author's Note:
Hiya, everyone. Before I get started, I'd like to warn everyone that this is going to be a long A/N, but I'm going to cover some semi-important stuff, so you might want to at least gloss over it.
First off, this is a PROLOGUE, so the rest of the chapters won't be this short. Basically, this chapter is about a third of the average length of the rest. The main reason I'm posting this is to test the waters, so to speak. I'd like to see if anyone would even be interested in reading this sort of AU before I upload an entire twenty chapter story and look like a total idiot because it's shit that no one gives a damn about. So, if you're intrigued by the piddly sample of this story that I've typed up, shoot me a review and let me know. Follows and faves are very appreciated, but they aren't anywhere near as helpful as reviews.
Second, I do not own Supernatural. Seriously, the awesomeness of that show is in no way related to me, I claim no rights, this is just Fan Fiction, yada yada yada. Also, if someone has done an Angel-related Apocalypse AU before me, then props for them. I have not found a Semi-Post-Apocalypse fic with this particular premise yet, so I'm laboring under the impression that this is an original plot. If not, please let me know so that I can inform the author(s) that I have no intention of copying their work. The inspiration for this fic came from a combination of the movie Dances With Wolves, episode 5X04 of Supernatural (The End), my Destiel feels, and too much coffee at four in the morning.
Third, THIS IS DESTIEL. If that isn't your cup of tea, I would advise that you read a different fanfic. There will be heavy Dean/Cas interaction from chapter two or three onward, and there will also be smut at some point throughout this fic. SLASH. M/M. YAOI. SHOUNEN-AI. BOYXBOY. GAY DUDES. Whatever you want to call it, I don't care. I have yet to decide on the Sam pairing (it's currently a toss-up between SamXJess and Sabriel), but I can promise that there will be no Wincest. Sorry if you love Wincest, but that would totally muddle the Destiel-ness.
Fourth, even though this story IS beta'd, there are no guarantees that my awesome Beta (PhantomPrussia) and I will catch every mistake. If you see one that bugs you, please feel free to point it out. PhantomPrussia has a lot of shit on her plate, so she might not be able to look over every chapter before I get it posted, so there WILL BE MISTAKES. I apologize in advance for all of them, and to hope to avoid as many as possible, but I'm not perfect. So, if there's something that really bothers you, either mention it in a review or send me a PM and I'll do whatever I can to fix it.
And finally, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING. This whole thing was really just the result of a sugar-high and bad judgment, but my darling Beta insisted that I post the prologue because "There's never enough Destiel!", so here it is. I've written bits and pieces of several Destiel fanfictions, but this is the first one that I've ever worked up the courage to post. I'm fairly new to the SPN fandom, having only joined in early October, so I will definitely make mistakes with characterization and such. Again, reviews are very appreciated because I really need the feedback.
For the time being, I think that's everything. The later A/Ns will (hopefully) not be this long, I just had a lot of stuff to get out of the way. Currently, I'm about half way through the first 'real' chapter, and will probably be able to post it by tomorrow if anyone is interested in reading more. There will be a timeskip, just so that everybody knows; Kid!Dean is a pain in the ass to write.
All reviewers receive their very own CASTIEL TRENCH COAT!~ [coats are not guaranteed to have been in contact with Castiel. Please allow ninety (90) to one hundred and twelve (112) business days for shipping.]
~ Pie Theif