Title: Set My Watch to the Atomic Clock
Author: iS2.coheed.and.cambria
Rating: T
Summary: Death fic/ End of the world (But not from Supernatural stuff or demons) Dean just woke up and drove to get breakfast. Turning on the radio was not part of the plan. Finding out the end of the world is ten hours away wasn't either.
Disclaimer: Would you believe me if I said I did own Supernatural?
A/N: Hmmm ok this is rated T but now that I think about it I would even go as far as to rate it M because for me, anything pertaining to 'the end of the world' is the scariest thing you can even attempt to touch on. I'm trying to do it Supernatural-style (well, more supernatural-brothers style because my 'end of the world' has nothing to do with the 'Supernatural'). So really the only reason this fic is rated T is because it's about the end of the world, and of course because of my horrible mouth that I can't suppress even when I'm writing.
I'm not exactly sure if I'm happy with this fic. I had a different vision for it when I started, I was expecting when I started it to be able 3 pages in word maybe 5 max. Well, it's 14 and I'm not sure how that happened but I hope you enjoy!!
Takes place BEFORE AHBL1!
- - - - - - -
"I set my watch to the atomic clock,
I hear the crowd count down 'til the bomb gets dropped,
I always figured there'd be time enough,
I never let it get me down."
-'Easy/Lucky/Free' Bright Eyes
- - - - - - -
On this particular morning, a morning unlike any other particular morning what have you, Dean Winchester rolled out of bed.
And after he had rolled his feet onto the floor. Once his toes had connected with the slightly overly worn shag carpet he stood up, balancing mostly on his heels, and walked into the bathroom.
The bathroom walls were red, and Dean hated it.
Dean hated red wallpaper, it reminded him of blood. It made him think there was blood on the walls. It made him think that some one had died in this motel bathroom and the owner had decided to save money on primer and just paint the walls red too.
There was a hole in that wall. A tiny rupture in the paintjob that looked like a tiny explosion on a red sea. A tiny explosion and Dean hated it.
Dean didn't like explosions. He wasn't like other guys because the truth was that most guys liked explosions. They liked watching them in movies. They liked them in video games. Teenage boys like looking them up online and trying them out for themselves. Guys liked explosions, but Dean didn't and he doubted Sam did either.
And that is what Dean thought about that morning while he coated his toothbrush with bubblegum toothpaste and lathered up his teeth, viciously scrubbing away any bad breath particles that could make him potentially un-kissable (if that was even possible as far as he was concerned). He thought about it while he splashed some cool water on his face, waking up his pores with a violent start. He thought about explosions when he looked at himself in the mirror and thought, 'Just another morning.' And left the room.
However, the truth was that it was not 'just another morning' as Dean would so nonchalantly put it. It was a morning that the world had been looking towards since man could so much as think. And the world didn't even know it. Well… some of them did, but that was beside the point.
Because Sam woke up that morning too, believe it or not. He'd woken up when Dean had woken up and when Dean went to go to the bathroom; Sam approached one of the duffle bags to find a clean change of clothing. He'd found his clothes for the day and changed into them and even looked at himself in the fancy floor length mirror in this motel room. And believe it or not he thought, 'Just another morning.' As well.
But we all know he was wrong.
When Dean comes out of the bathroom they switch. Dean gets dressed and Sam brushes his teeth and wakes his pores. And Dean rummages through the duffle bag and tries to decide which shirt to wear. He picks up the blue one and thinks, 'Nah. I'll wear this tomorrow.' And shoves it back in.
He doesn't know why but for some reason that thought seems wrong. Not wrong as in 'immoral'. Wrong as in factually incorrect.
Dean passes by the bathroom door mumbling something about breakfast and Sam just grumbles something about 'bacon, egg and cheese on a roll' and the door slams. That's about it.
It makes it kind of hard to believe that that's the last morning.
Dean's in the Impala in a couple minutes and driving to the deli he saw down the road in this rural town.
That's probably why he doesn't wonder why he hasn't seen a single person around.
But he's in the car driving for about ten minutes before he reaches that damned deli and when he pulls up into that dirt parking lot he wishes he hadn't left his motel room. Because what he sees, goddammit it changes everything.
It's a Thursday morning two o'clock in the afternoon and there's not a soul. The windows are all boarded up as if they were trying to keep something out. The doors are locked from the inside. There's no one there. No one there are all and this is the goddamned center of town. Just yesterday this place had at least 20 people around.
It's deserted and Dean hasn't a fucking clue why.
First thought is: Supernatural, supernatural gotta be somethin' supernatural.
But his second thought is: too weird, too freakin' weird.
He's driving back to the motel for about five minutes when it dawns on him to check the radio.
When none of the FM stations are coming through he sort of freaks but manages to keep his composure until he's able to flip to AM radio and when he does he just has to pull over.
And he hears it. That annoying noise they play and say "This is a test" only this time it's saying "This is not a test" and Dean officially freaks. Because Supernatural is always undercover, but hearing it from the real world is unreal. Something going on outside of their world is fucking unreal.
The rest of the radio announcement is some sort of blur. Over the radio this shaky, past-nervous voice comes through stuttering for all they're worth saying things like: it is certain now that the meteor is hitting, coming to earth and cannot be stopped. Like: Government has been keeping it under wraps. Like: Churches filling up. Like: confession booths full. Like: No way of stopping it. Like: Bomb shelters and inevitable. Like: higher ground or even lower ground. Like: ten hours.
Ten hours left in his life, in mankind.
Like: The end of the world in all different types of ways of putting it.
Dean waits for it to be a joke but after listening for five minutes he realizes it isn't. This isn't something that could be joked about. This isn't April fools day, this isn't a prank.
This isn't the goddamn 'War of the Worlds' story this is the end of the world and it's playing on Dean's radio.
What Dean does next is called "Protecting Sammy." Because that's what Dean does best, he protects Sammy
Dean wonders if he's having an 'outer body experience but doesn't stop to make sure because goddammit it's the end of the world and as if that wasn't enough stress as it was.
He vaguely realizes he's back at that deli tearing the boards down with his bare hands and breaking one of the windows. He half thinks maybe they're stupid enough to be hiding in there but when no ones in there he rushes the cereal stand and gets other food or supplies they would need. He's not sure if he's stoking up or getting just enough for one day because he's not exactly sure if he has control over his body but next thing he knows he's throwing all the crap in the passengers seat and driving away for good.
But when Dean reaches the parking lot he parks the car and momentarily considers if it's even worth parking in an actual spot but then decides for old times sake, what the hell.
And Dean just sits. He sits in his car and just looks. He looks outside at the grungy motel. He looks at the leather of his car seat. He looks at his steering wheel, his dashboard.
He stares into his rear view mirror and thinks Jesus, this won't even be here tomorrow.
He just closes his eyes and tries to find out what he's supposed to do.
Still mostly unsure of the answer to that question, he finds himself a man walking out of his car and throwing all that junk he picked up from that craphole deli into some duffle bag that won't even be there by tomorrow. He slings it over his shoulder and enters that motel room to find his brother, so innocent. So fucking oblivious.
"Dude, where'd you put the remote?"
The remote that won't be there tomorrow. The motel room that won't be there tomorrow. The language that they're speaking that won't be there tomorrow. The Impala that won't be there tomorrow. The world, the everything that's even mattered that won't be there tomorrow. The-
Then it dawns on him.
The Sam that won't be there tomorrow.
"Dean." Sam questions.
"Huh?"
"The remote, Dean. What'd you do with it?"
He squint my eyes a little and ask, "What you need the remote for?"
Sam shrugs and says, "I just wanted to watch the news, so I-"
"No!" he burst out.
Sam looks at his brother utterly confused and states, "No."
"Yeah…" Dean coughs awkwardly and says, "No… way…"
"No way, what. Dean? What are you talking about?" He looks at him quizzically and he knows that he has absolutely no idea. No clue that this is the last time they will stand in a motel room at 2:24 in the afternoon and argue about something stupid like a remote and TV and common things that will not even exist tomorrow. Because tomorrow at this time, time will not exist. And arguments will not exist. And stupidity and remotes and TV and all of this utter crap will not exist. And some part of Dean desperately wants Sam to know this but the other part of him wants his brother to remain oblivious so that he won't be afraid.
So that he won't be scared shitless like I am now.
Dean coughs again and finds his composure, "No way, man. We're… We're headin' out. Got a hunt for us to check out way cross country somethin' 'bout a haunted bed and breakfast in Westfield, New Jersey so we won't be there for at least a day. And we'll probably have to stop around… Oh say 10:30 tonight and rest up for a long drive the next day…" Dean turned around, as not to show the tears filling his eyes, "No time for TV bro we have to hit the road right now…" Dean blinked hard and heard Sam almost come up behind him and catch him with his tears but he quickly turns away, "We gotta go. People are in danger so…"
"Dean… what's wrong?"
Dean shakes his head and whispers, "Pack your crap and we go."
And he thinks; Crap that won't be there tomorrow. But bites his tongue and ducks into the bathroom.
- - - - - - -
It's not until they've been driving in the car for about three hours that Dean looks in Sam's direction again.
Because sure, Dean had glanced in the general vicinity of his brother, but looking? Actually looking and seeing a flash of those dimples. Or a hint of those puppy dog eyes. A speck of something that he will not be able to see tomorrow. Something that no one, anywhere will be able to see after 12:00 tonight.
And Jesus Christ this is ridiculous. This is unreal.
Dean stops at a red light and looks over at Sam. Sam's gazing out the window, no signs of worry or distress on him. He seems slightly hesitant probably because of the way his brother's been acting. But for the most part he just seems at ease. Content.
Dean could cry. Dean could sob.
Here's his little brother. Sitting, thinking that he has a life ahead of him. Thinking that they have a hunt ahead of them. That they'll be able to drive in this Impala again after this, and eat shitty breakfast in unsanitary diners. And that they'll share motel rooms and kill evil sons of bitches and live. Goddammit, live longer than for six hours and twenty something minutes.
Because as far as Dean was concerned his brother was supposed to live. He was supposed to go to sleep tonight and wake up in the morning. And they were gonna hunt and then they'll go to sleep the next night and do it again. And then eventually this whole sleep and hunt thing will get boring and Sammy would go back to school and learn some. Then Dean would open his auto shop and be a more silent part of the hunt. And Sam would get married and get a pat on the back from his best man, Dean. And the same would go for Dean's wedding. And Sam would hear the word, "Daddy" directed at him. And finally he'd die an old man asleep in bed with his wife. Long after Dean had already kicked the bucket.
But none of that is going to happen. Because life is over tomorrow. There's no more life for anyone tomorrow.
Dean hadn't even realized he'd been humming along to the "Blue Oyster Cult: Super Hits" album that had been playing on repeat since god knows when. Goddammit he loves Blue Oyster Cult.
But he glanced at Sam as he relaxed his foot off the break and shifted it to the accelerator and his brother looked sick. He looked tired of these same ten or so songs playing over and over.
"Hey Sam you wanna pop in one of your CDs?"
Sam's head swung around to face Dean, a look of pure perplexity on his face that Dean hadn't seen for ages, "What?"
Dean shrugged and responded, "I don't know… I was just wonderin' if maybe you wanted to play one of your Bon Jovi CDs?"
Sam just stared and said, "You hate Bon Jovi. With a passion. Why in the world would you want to play his CD in your car?"
Dean swallowed. God knew he didn't want to spend the last six or so hours when music existed, listening to Bon Jovi, but he disregarded his inner music fan and said, "I… well… you never get to listen to your music…"
Sam just looked at Dean and whispered, "God, Dean. What's going on?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean ever since we left that town, what's it called? You've been all silent and secretive about whatever's going on… Tell me does it have to do with the demon? Or this hunt? What is it?"
"It's nothing, Sam! Jesus Christ can a guy just be nice to his brother for a change. Forget it. I'd rather be listening to Godzilla anyway."
Dean reached down and turned up the volume but then quickly regretted it. He didn't want to fight, not today. They can't fight on this day.
Sam stared at Dean, just trying to read what he was trying to portray with his body language, but could see nothing. Dean was so fucking secretive.
"Look… I'm sorry; I don't know what it is. Something about this day is… different… scary even…"
Dean nodded, "I couldn't agree with you more bro."
- - - - - - -
"Dean you notice something?"
Sam was sitting straight up in his seat for a change about two hours later. Yeah, there was only four hours and twenty some minutes left in life, in humanity and they're talking about something's and nothing's.
"I notice lots of things."
Sam shook his head, "All the cars. They're all going in the opposite direction… Why are they…" Sam paused and watched them. The drivers were driving recklessly, all of them going in the opposite direction at law-breaking speeds. It was strange, to say the least, "Look at them they all have all that crap attached to they're roof…" Dean glanced at the drivers he'd been trying to ignore. He thought maybe if he didn't look at the obvious signs of end of the world, apocalypse, doomsday, second coming, meteor Sam wouldn't notice either, "Where are they all going?"
"I don't know maybe it's a holiday weekend or somethin'" Dean pretended to muse aloud.
"No. It's not."
Dean didn't know what to say. He didn't know if he wanted to explain or how he would if he even could. Everything was just a blur. The cars speeding and crashing their way down the highway. His brother and his questioning glare. How do you tell someone you love, someone you love more than life itself that they're going to die in four hours? How do you tell them that not only will they be dead, but also everyone will be dead? Everyone. How do you tell someone that who wants to save everyone, who blames every single death on himself? How do you tell your baby brother that life, as they know it will not exist tomorrow, and his stupid Bon Jovi CD won't exist, that those cars won't exist? That this road that they're driving on will not exist. That every single thought. Every idea or feeling or memory will just be gone.
How do you allow him to realize that maybe all of this, everything they've ever done, everything they've ever thought everyone they ever saved was all for nothing. Because goddammit they're all going to be dead in four hours anyway! Every single person that spent they're entire life working towards something that was supposed to happen tomorrow will not get the chance to experience it. All those little kids who planned to go to Disney world the following day, every birth that was supposed to take place. None of it's going to happen.
All those babies born today. Born on the very last day.
None of it matters, nothing matters.
Their fathers' legacy is not a legacy anymore. No one will remember all they've done. No one will know they existed, one could bet. It's over, the ride is over.
And Jesus Christ we've all been sitting around wondering when World War III is gonna come. Everyone thinking maybe it'll be fought with nuclear weapons now they're all realizing it's going to be fought with sticks and rocks.
Dean closes his eyes and tries to figure out a way to tell the young hunter sitting next to him that now the demons have free run of the earth. Free fucking run.
How is Dean supposed to tell his Sammy that it's all just over and that they can't do a thing about it?
"We should ask."
Dean sees Sam go to roll down a window and panic shouting, "No!" and making a complete ass of himself.
"Why? I'm just going to ask where they're going."
Dean pressed dangerously harder on the gas and they flew down the highway as he whispered, "Please, Sam…"
And for Some reason Sam didn't dare respond.
- - - - - - -
When they arrive at the town Dean thinks would be a good idea to stop at Sam starts talking.
More specifically, he starts making comments.
A semi-Q&A countdown til' the end. What a perfect way to go out.
It had been two hours of silence. Three hours of not questioning the looted buildings or reckless drivers. Not questioning the deserted towns
Not questioning, instead throwing a questioning glance. Making a questioning expression. Sighing a questioning sigh.
Breathing questioning breaths.
"We should eat at that diner tomorrow."
Dean swings his head in the direction of the diner that's empty, abandoned and wonders if Sam's going insane.
Dean stares at the blood on the window of the diner and thinks Never mind, everyone is.
"This town is empty."
"That guys didn't put on his headlights."
"We should find a motel that's not empty."
"Maybe this town had a riot."
"Even if it is some cookie cutter suburban town, doesn't mean anything."
"Something supernatural maybe."
And Dean just wants to scream, a flicker of just come meteor flashes across his mind but quickly dissipates.
He decides to just think enough, just enough.
Enough with Sam's comment-questions. Enough with abandoned towns. Enough blood. Enough death. Enough end.
Enough going insane.
Ok?
"Ok, here's one."
Dean looks at where Sam's pointing and sees a flickering motel sign and a light on in what seems to be the main office.
Dean parks the car in a parking spot like he normally would and says, "I'll get the room you just stay here in the car, k Sammy?"
Sam nodded and Dean quickly exited the car.
Sam rolled down the window and yelled out, "Dean!"
Dean spun around with suck lightning thinking it was the meteor, thinking it was a herd of crazed used to be citizens of the Former United States of America. But all he saw was Sam waving his hand out the window with Dean's wallet in his hand.
Dean forced a smile and said, "Thanks." And turned back around trying to hold in money that won't exist tomorrow or is needed now.
Once inside that stupid (abandoned) motel office he quickly broke through the glass case holding the room keys and grabbed some to whichever room he first spotted.
He returned to the car quickly and tried to ignore Sam's comment-questions of "That was quick." Which really meant 'Why did it take so little time?'
Dean drove the car to the other side of the building and pulled into a parking spot. They unloaded the car and Dean just sent Sam inside with all their crap leaving Dean alone with the Impala.
Dean just stared at the thing he had called his 'baby' on numerous occasions. The thing that he had so many good memories with his family. The car that had carried bleeding Winchesters and dying brothers. The car he's laughed with Sammy in with barely a care in the world. When the sun shone through and highlighted Sam's brown hair and when the windows were rolled down Sam's hair blew as they laughed about meaningless things. This fucking car. This hunk of metal and black paint that he loved. That he'd spent time with the people he loved.
"You won't exist tomorrow." Dean says loud enough for anyone in the area to hear, but of course no one does.
He sighs and then whispers, "But thanks."
He looked at her one last time and turned around heading inside.
- - - - - - -
When Dean walked inside he felt the intensity. He realized something had drastically changed.
That's when Dean gasped, realizing he'd been outside for maybe 15 minutes and there was his brother sitting at the table with his laptop there, mocking.
And in that instant he knew that Sam had gone on the Internet and found out everything. In that instant he knew it wasn't a secret, it was a known fact. Sam knew the world was coming to an end, but he couldn't admit it to himself. He couldn't have let himself fail his last opportunity to protect Sam, so he ignored it.
He ignored the computer and the known fact. He ignored the tears in his brother's eyes. He ignores the pain on both their faces and said, "We should get ready to go to bed. Big day ahead of us tomorrow."
Sam looked close to letting out a huge sob but instead he nodded shakily and started changing into sleeping clothes.
Dean went into the bathroom for a bit and tried not to come out but then realized they've only got 40 minutes left and he wants Sam to be asleep when it happens.
Dean comes out and glances at his brother who is lying on his back in one of the beds. Dean stares at him as he makes his way to the other bed, mimicking his brother's position and staring up at the wall.
He can feel the tears streaming down his face and even though he can't see Sam he know the tears are coming down from his eyes too.
A couple minutes later Dean reaches up and turns the light off. Both of them wondering if they're going to say anything to each other. If they're going to suddenly stand up and throw their arms around each other, sobbing into each other's necks.
They could go one debating this with themselves for the rest of mankind (about 30 minutes) but Dean decides they can't. They just can't.
"Sam." He whispers.
Sam seems to gasp or something and then says, "Yeah?" or a choked out version of it.
"You wanna come lay here with me?"
It was something they hadn't done since they were kids, sleep in the same bed. Sometimes when John had gone away they had to share a bed because Sam was afraid. If they had an extra small apartment sometimes they didn't have a choice. But whatever the reason they probably hadn't done it in over 10 years at least. More if Dean was to admit to it any other day.
But it had almost always been Sam who asked, who whispered, "Dean." In the dead of night and Dean would respond, "Yeah." Sam would try to swallow any embarrassment threatening to creep up and whisper, "You wanna come lay here with me?"
And Dean always said yes, never turned him down, always whispered,"Sure." And that was it.
Sam feels the sob coming for real now. He feels the pain and sadness and the complete (not fair!) rising.
It's all to familiar it's too much like it was when they were just little kids and the word meteor was cool. When the idea of it all being over was too hard to even consider much less comprehend.
"Sure," Sam whispered, barely audibly.
He rose from his bed and came behind Dean as Dean scooted over. They didn't face each other, probably because they knew if they did the tears would just start coming. Dean could see the back of Sam's head from his position and all he could do was stare at him not knowing what to say or rather how to make words come from his lips at a time like this. Instead he slowly moved to snake his arm around his brother's waist but then quickly pulled back unsure if his brother was ok with that. Sam immediately understood and pulled Dean's arm around him.
They lay like that for a few minutes just like they used to when they were children before either said a word.
It was Sam who spoke.
"You knew." He whispered.
Dean cleared his throat and unsure of how to respond but said, "I was trying to protect you."
"I know."
Dean sighed and stared at a specific lock of his brothers hair and said, "I'm so sorry, Sammy."
Sam visibly shook his head and said, "Please, don't be. Please just…" Sam took a couple of deep breaths trying to control his fraying emotions because it was getting harder and harder to ignore what was about to happen, probably any minute.
Sam sighed this time and asked, "Does it feel like it was all for nothing to you?"
Dean doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know if yes would be too harsh or if no would be a lie. He doesn't know if his answer really matters, he doesn't know if anything they do in these last 20 minutes or so matters. But he tries to disregard that and just say, "Sort of."
Sam nods a little and then turns around so that Dean can see his face. And they both just stare at each other for a couple of minutes just trying to think if they'll ever see each other again. If this is it or if there is something more. Trying to relish this moment and not cry through it.
Sam's glassy eyes focused on his brother for a minute before he whispered, "Good night, big brother."
Sam took one last look before shutting his eyes trying desperately to fall asleep before everything was nothing.
Dean stared at his brother finally letting the tears fall like waterfalls and whispered just as his brother drifted off, "Good night, Sammy."
He clasped his hand tight around his baby brother's and closed his eyes trying to will himself to sleep.
And both lay consumed by dreams that flashed their entire lives before their dreaming eyes. Every laugh and every dimple shown. Every gun and fight. Every wound and every band-aid. All of it in full Technicolor like some kind of parting glance at the world.
Then they both felt heat and then nothing as they lay there, their arms around one another, their hands holding on tight as they felt the end of the world wash over them and sail away.
And even though most of the world sobbed and whined and died their way into the last moments, the brothers just lay there together sleeping.
And not once did either wonder where they'd be when they woke up.
Because for that final moment they just stayed there, together.
- - - - - -
A/N: Hope you enjoyed, Pleaseeeeee REVIEWWW!
-Lilia