April 10, 1912

The ship's whistle blew, loud and clear for everyone to hear and observe. People were hugging, saying their goodbyes, and getting on in what looked like herds.

Excitement filled the air, the docks consumed with the hustle and bustle of the passengers. Castiel Novak exited the coach, taking his promised fiancée's hand. "Lovely, hm?" Balthazar Manchester asked in his smooth British accent, giving Cas' hand a squeeze. Cas stared up at the giant ship. It looked luxurious, to say the least, with majestic sides and smokestacks that stood tall with pride.

They were followed on board by Castiel's mother and father, Collette and Cain, and Balthazar's sister, Bela. Once his family had heard of this new Titanic making its first voyage back to America, they had seen it as a perfect opportunity to take the trip back for Castiel and Balthazar's wedding.

Being of the social class they were, they reserved rooms in the highest priority service, made for society folk. In other words, the stuffy people with frilly suits and stifling corsets walking around like they own the world.

They boarded the ship with regard from the captain, a short blonde man who was greeting everyone. Aboard walked a middle-aged woman, almost Castiel's mother's age, carrying a bunch of bags followed by many workers. Castiel faintly heard his mother whisper, 'new money', to her father. Ah yes... he had heard talk of her. Ellen Harvelle. She had received a large amount of money when the oil company her deceased husband had invested in struck it rich up-country. But Castiel himself didn't much care for gossip... he didn't see a point in chattering about other people's business when you've got your own to worry about.

Cas idly wondered how long this trip would take... he hoped a long time... this ship was a ship of dreams to everyone boarding... but to him, it was like a slave ship, dragging him back to his fate in chains, kicking and screaming like nothing of the well brought up young man he was.

He supposed he was just being dramatic.

Over at a dockside fisherman's bar, two young men were playing cards with two others. They had a wad of cash bet, along with the older men's tickets aboard the Titanic.

"Don't fold, Sam, don't fold, not yet," Dean whispered, and his brother sighed, looking at his cards with pursed lips. "Why? It's obvious we've lost, Dean. Dammit, I can't believe you bet all our money." "It's not like we're swimming in gold, does it really make a difference?"

The older men stared at them smugly across the table as Sam looked at him. "Yes. You're so reckless!" "Yeah, yeah. Watch this," the older brother grinned, and laid down his cards.

"Yahtzee! Full house, boys!" he near shouted, standing up. Sam's eyes nearly popped, and he huffed a disbelieving laugh as Dean beamed at him. "You son of a bitch," Sam muttered, smiling, "You win every damn game you play!" Dean smirked. "What can I say? I'm a master."

The two others, whose names were Alastair and Gordon, both turned to each other angrily. "I told you not to bet the tickets! You idiot!" "I thought you said put everything in, Al, think before you run your mouth next time!" "Next time, I'll murder you before I let you play our stuff!"

Dean winced as he watched them fight, though not too apologetically. "Just gonna... take these..." he murmured, scooping the tickets and the cash into a bag he was carrying. He turned to Sam and left the two squabbling and blaming each other for their loss as they celebrated.

"We're goin' home, Sammy!" Dean grinned, pulling on Sam's collar. "Ha! We're going home!" Sam grinned, and looked at the clock, "When does this thing leave?" The bartender and owner of the place, Bobby Singer, answered for them. "In five minutes!" he called, smiling at them, "Have a good trip, boys!"

They ran out of the bar, still laughing out of pure excitement and adrenaline, and just made it on, flashing their lower-class tickets. They grinned and found their way down, flopping on the small, narrow beds.

Dean looked at the bland white ceiling of the room. "Going home..." he mumbled, smiling as he put his hands behind his head.

Up two floors, Cas was taking out some paintings that they had bought while in Paris, and the servants were hanging them up for him.

"My god, what a waste of money," Balthazar chuckled from the sitting room, and Cas felt his cheeks heat up. "I like them. They're beautiful." Balthazar shrugged, and picked up a glass of fine whiskey. "The life of an artist amounts to nothing, Cassie. They just rely on shmucks like you who buy their nonsense." Cas said nothing, and went back to admiring a painting being hung over the mantle. Looking at it made him feel like he was in a different world.

Soon, night came about, and before everyone knew it, they were on their second day out at sea. They were now far from land, out in the open ocean. It was beautiful.

Captain Gabriel Shurley stared out to see the gentle waves of the ocean rolling over the sides of the ship.

One of the two watchman joined him, and they looked out some more. "This ship is a masterpiece," the watchman said, in awe of how fast they were going, and so smoothly to boot. Gabriel turned to him. "Well, we won't know until we really try. Fire her up, Adam- let's test this baby's sea-legs out."

From down on the observation deck, Dean stood with his brother, looking out at the endless blue. "This is unbelievable," Sam said, and Dean agreed, squinting as he felt a little mist hit his face.

In that moment, he felt immortal, standing at the front of this ship, barrelling toward a new life, a different adventure, with his brother by his side and endless possibilities ahead of him. He got up on the ropes, and extended his arms. If he was to slip, he would fall overboard, but he was too happy to care right then.

"I'M THE KING OF THE FRIGGIN' WORLD!" he shouted with a laugh, really feeling like it, and Sam pumped his fist, hollering along with Dean. The two stood there, taking in the scenery with huge smiles.


A little bit later in the day, Dean was sitting and sketching by himself on the observation deck. The breeze was nice, and there were lots of people out; therefore, lots of people to sketch.

He sat in dead concentration, letting the short, stub of a pencil glide over the rough paper against his knee as he watched an old man lift up a young girl to look over the rail at the passing water. He traced the outlines of them, adding in the shadowing, the intricate features... sometimes, Dean just liked to capture life on paper.

At the same time, in the dining hall, Castiel and the two families were having luncheon with some important crew members. Cas had tuned himself out of the conversation long before they had gotten into the mechanics of the actual thing, else he die of boredom.

Cas fiddled with his spoon a little as the rest talked.

"Magnificent ship," Cain was saying, "Well built." "I assume with your expertise and undying intelligence, you came up with the name, Mr. Armstrong?" Bela asked, flashing him a charming smile as she eyed Merv. Cas tried not to roll his eyes at her pointless flirting.

Just then, the waiter came by. "Is everything alright?" he smiled. Bela looked up at him, opening her mouth. "Um, actually, the soup is a little cold, to be honest." Castiel actually looked up at this in disbelief.

"Um... forgive me, ma'am, th-the menu does declare it to be 'chilled leek.'" Bela pursed her lips. "Yes, well, I want something else. You should include a description of the dish or something," she sniffed, and looked at the waiter expectantly. "What are you waiting for, a tip?" The waiter quickly took the bowl. "No ma'am. My apologies." She nodded, semi-satisfied.

Cas really couldn't remember why she was even with them on this trip. She was nothing but a bitchy society girl, an exaggerated version of his own mother, really.

"Enjoying the voyage so far, Castiel?" Merv asked, haughtily smiling. Cas looked up from his thoughts. He had forgotten just who exactly he was, but he now guessed that he had had some input on building it too.

"Well, we've only been out at sea for two days," Cas said matter-of-factly, "I really haven't had the time to properly form an opinion." Everyone was quiet, and Colette frowned at him. "Castiel, how rude! You know I don't like bad manners."

Cas looked at her. "I'm simply answering truthfully, mother." Balthazar raised his eyebrow. "What's gotten into you?" Cas looked at him, then between the others, and sighed. "I'm going to... get some air," he said, getting up. Balthazar caught his wrist. "But you haven't finished your soup, darling! Is everything alright?" Cas jerked his wrist away quickly, and he could see a flicker of displease in his fiancé's face.

"I just... I'm feeling a little warm, that's all. Don't worry about me," he muttered reassuringly, and he could hear the inevitable murmurs of talk after he had left.

He went out to the deck, where he closed his eyes and revelled in the cool wind blowing his black hair every which way. It reminded him that not everything in his life was so orderly and tightly kept- that if his hair could blow so freely, then maybe, he could too one day. What a silly thought.

He gripped the railings, and stared out, squinting into the distance.

From his seat on the bench below, Dean's eyes wandered around as he finished up his first sketch...

...anyone else art-worthy?

Then his eyes lay to rest on the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his life.

Behind the railing stood a man in a navy and white suit, his hair that Dean guessed had previously been coiffed now askew. He laughed to himself. He just looked like someone who searched for freedom, but couldn't find it.

"Who're you drawing?" his brother suddenly asked, appearing behind him. Dean didn't, couldn't, snap his eyes away from the mysterious stranger.

"Don't know."

Sam followed Dean's gaze as he began to sketch. "That guy?" he scoffed, noticing the look on Dean's face. "Man, if you think you're getting anywhere with him, just look at his clothes and you'll have your answer."

Dean only broke his gaze to glare at his brother. "Sam, please," he grumbled. He continued to stare, when suddenly, the man turned, looking over in Dean's direction.

Cas' breath caught as he saw a man looking back at him from down below. He was young, about the same age as himself, had short dirty blonde hair and the greenest eyes. His lips were full and rosy, and he had a jaw line that could crack a chestnut.

He thought he saw a smile from the guy, and he turned away quickly, feeling his heart pound and his cheeks flush. Then he gradually turned back timidly… to meet those eyes again.

Dean's breath was stolen right from his lungs. The two of them were pretty far apart, but he could see the blue orbs which were this guy's eyes. From what he could see from where he was sitting, his lips were thin and pink, and his cheekbones were perfectly sculpted.

"Damn," he muttered to himself, quirking his lips up a little more.

Then, he found his heart falling as a blonde man came out of the door up there, and took the stranger by the arm. The stranger squirmed out of his grip, and with one last reluctant look out to sea, he followed him back in.

Dean let out a breath.