Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are characters from the TV show Supernatural, which is trademarked by Erik Kripke.
One-shot! AU future!Destiel where Dean is a lab technician married to Cas, who died in a lab accident and Dean keeps cloning him time after. Each clone only lives for a few years before it dies. Dean is now old and will die soon too, and this is his last Cas.
I'm not sure why I was born in a swivel chair, or why I assumed the figure of a grown man with a significant lack of pants. I don't think I'm vaguely understood about why the man, when he found me, possessed such tenderness towards my confused disposition. I never bothered to confirm any of my inquires, as the discussion was always rendered moot.
I was told I asked too many questions, and I should stay and enjoy what little is left. I never understood that - in fact, I still don't. I would ask him why his hair had white locks, why his skin looked shriveled and discoloured; I asked him why he wasn't like me and why there weren't more of us. I would ask him why I could speak and he said it was because he knew how to make it so. I was always unsatisfied with these answers and their incoherence, but I accepted them nonetheless. I once saw a picture of a young man in worn denim and plaid, holding me close.
"Who is this man?" I didn't know why I asked, as I knew exactly what would be of the response. A not-response, if you will.
"Seriously? Put that away."
Finally, I learnt I should just stop wondering about these minute details and digressed from the worries I evolved from never knowing who I was or what would become of me. The big hand and the small hand moved around the circle with numbers and for some reason, it controlled how I was feeling. The more I watched it, the weaker I would feel, so I looked away from it for just a few days. Unfortunately, that did nothing to rectify the situation, so I watched as the circle made the man's hair whiter and my body weaker.
After a thousand times of looking at that circle, the man walks up to me.
"We're going, buddy."
"Might I ask where?" Again with the questions.
"Again with the questions. Okay, you know what, I'll tell you later. Please?" His eyes display that same tenderness he had when we first found me.
I agree and stand to follow him out of the confines where I spend the most of my waking hours. We walk through the small gate at the entrance of - the house, I think it's called - and towards the grass. It's so dry, I can feel it breaking beneath my feet. We don't stop until he sits down on a spot of his choosing; it's not particularly special, I don't think.
"Cas, sit down."
"My name?" This was the first time I had heard this Cas word, "That is my name, right?"
"Yeah, whatever."
I gently sit down beside him and watch him, unfamiliar with this peculiar behaviour, as he stares into a vast expanse of nothing but dry grass and an almost blue sky.
"Now, isn't that beautiful?"
I'm not entirely sure I can conjure a believable agreement to that, so I speak my mind.
"I'm not entirely sure, but I believe it borders on moderate-"
"Shut up, Cas."
I stay still at his side, before he stirs my rest by reaching his arm around me and squeezes my shoulders together with progressively less strength. His arm drops and I suddenly feel devoid of the energy required for me to turn my head to look at him. I feel as if my eyes no longer want to stay open, so I let them have their way.