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They stood at the head of the battlefield, side-by-side, the angel and the man. They were the foretold two, the two would would end all suffering on earth. They would cover the earth with the ash of the dead, and from the ashes a new world would be born. A new world led by the angel and the man. They had met in fire and they shall die in fire, the first to get a glimpse of the new world before it was their time. They knew what they had to do, it had to be them. Sam and Gabriel were the building blocks of this plan and now they had to knock it down, trample it into the ground and burn it. Burn it with their tears.
The only thing that kept them from collapsing and float into the waiting hands of death was each other. Their love was much stronger then anything that came before them. They lived for the stolen glances, small kisses and the knowledge that at the end of the day they could sink into sleep wrapped around each other. They often thought about the day they met each other, the day it all changed.
He ran faster and faster, he needed to get away; get away from them. They were gaining on him, he needed more time, they weren't safe yet, they could never be safe unless he said yes, but for now, he needed to run, who was death to take him now? No, for now he would run.
Dean walked down the street, trying to shield his body against the cold with the thick coat he was wearing, but at least he had a coat. He had won it in a poker game a few years back, and it was the best protection he had against the fierce weather. Leaves spiralled around him, brushing into his face and taunting him with their freedom to go wherever they wanted, do whatever they wanted. Dean kept his head down and continued, ignoring the incessant leaves and wind, trying to block out everything until he reached his flat, the day had been worse than normal, he didn't know why, it just was. It felt like something was pushing against his mind, a long forgotten memory begging to be remembered.
Many of Dean's earlier memories were a bit patchy, and under normal circumstances you would want to know why, read, ask, drown yourself in research, yet the world was not normal any more, and something that many people used to class as significant is but now a tiny blip in the problems that now encased humanity. The mad roamed the streets, arm-in-arm with the sick, dead bodies bent at unnatural angles falling from the sky were normal, and if someone slit someone's throat no one would bat an eye.
Lucifer controlled the world, yes, the world- with an iron fist. He was the ultimate dictator and the world was in a perfect fascist regime. They knew everything that everyone did, you could never escape them, when you ate they saw, when you slept they saw, and unless you killed yourself you could never be free of them. The borders of this country had been shut down many, many years ago, for reasons unfathomable, why would you close the borders of a country which was in league with all the other countries? Undesirables got shuttled off to labour camps to work until they were dead and there was never a hope of change.
You may be wondering, what about the other countries? Didn't they try to help? No. They didn't. The whole world was run by 'The Demons' America had merged with Canada and South America to become the ultimate country, all of what used to be Europe and Asia was led by Lucifer's right-hand man, Alastair and the rest of the long gone countries were ruled by either Eve or Lilith.
No one really knew what happened, all anyone knew was that there had been an earthquake which devastated half the world over a century ago, and a disease, not unlike the symptoms of a zombie apocalypse, had spread worldwide; it had been labelled Croatoan and the measly few that had survived what the world had become were shepherded into 'safe cities' free from disease, pollution, the lot. The law enforcers were called 'Black Eyes' and they seemed to know everything about everyone, if you were even thinking of going against the perfect society- if traitorous thoughts swirled around in what you thought was the only safe place left, your name would be wiped out from everything, any record of you, gone. You would cease to exist and no one would care.
Dean didn't care about anything or anyone; including himself. He never cared for what the world had become- he had nothing to care about. He just wanted to gamble, gambling was the only way he could get money to drown his sorrows in alcohol, die a premature death because of it and hope he doesn't go to hell for what he has done- or more specifically what he could have done. He never enjoyed living and since he never remembered what the world had been like before he didn't care. Everyone that he had ever loved were dead and soon he was to follow. What was the point of living a life absent of joy, happiness, and even hope?
He never talked to anyone, even in the many bars frequented, he kept to himself, only speaking to people when he had to and brushing anyone off who attempted to talk, or mostly flirt, with him. Most of the time he just felt like he was going through the motions of life, no point to it all. He blocked out all the sympathy he knew he should feel at the people begging on the street, the children whimpering as their parents got taken away, the sheer despair of the world, he blocked it all out. He never allowed himself to be happy at the little things, the rising sun, the glittering stars in the sky, for why should he? The world was in a desperate state and him being happy would just be selfish. Selfishness is what had got him here, sinking deep down into the abyss of desperation to live a life that wasn't already over.
For this world was dead, everyone was akin to the living dead, going through the motions, doing what they had to do to live, not doing what they had to do for a life. No one found pleasure in anything any more. Books lay long forgotten, paintings from the mightiest rotted away to dust, theatre faded into an unknown spectacle and a smile was a forbidden horror. Now people cried, sobbed, wept. They stared off into the distance with dead eyes and trudged along, wary of the dead world. The rich, who were all in Lucifer's entourage occupied the perfect places, from LA to Rio. The rich drank, partied, laughed, fucked, snorted, all without a care in the world. They were above most other people so they didn't give a damn about the starvation, the beatings, the death that were being experienced by the normal folk. The normal folk wouldn't dare step into these utopian cities, they never did see them unless they were brought in as slaves, but when you were a slave you were free from the labour camps and this, to many people was the only blessing they could get from their life inside the barbed wire.
The rich only wanted the pretty to be their slaves, who wanted to look at an ugly face whilst their drink was being poured? So many teenagers got dragged away from their parents and worked until they were classed as too old and ugly to work any more, which in most cases was twenty five, thirty if they were extra lucky. Once they were past their sell-by-date they got discarded, thrown back into labour camps, but now they had memories they weren't just of pain and torture, but of parties, and dancing, and a feeling, that maybe some place, somewhere, wasn't tainted by evil of the world.
You may be wondering, how come Lucifer has ruled for over a hundred years now? Is he old and frail? Is this how the hero is going to overthrow the villain, by the villain being feeble and weak? No. Lucifer hasn't aged, Alastair hasn't aged, Lilith hasn't aged. Eve hasn't aged. The rulers are all Knights of Hell, ruling only second in command to Lucifer- the Devil. No one dare revolt against them, what chance do puny humans have against the Devil and it's band of Knights? I'll tell you- none. This is why the humans have no hope, what hope could you possibly have against beings stronger than you, smarter than you, more vicious that you?
Even with this knowledge there were whispers deep underground about beings, more powerful than The Knights, and equal to only Lucifer. They were foretold to bring peace to the world, but who exactly were they?
The black-eyed being were gaining, soon they would capture him. Was it now his turn? He knew what he had to do to stop it all, but could he do it? Could he abandon all that he lived for, just to keep himself safe? Many people wouldn't view it as keeping himself safe but he knew that after he done it he'd be a dead shell, no more pain, anguish. All the lives he would ultimately destroy- including his. They would have to live through it all, when he wouldn't, he would die a cowards death. It was for the greater good though, he scoffed, who cared about the greater good hundreds of years into the future? He had to, it was his job, he had been given it, given it by the one person you can't disobey, why did it have to be him? Hadn't he lost enough? He had to agree, at least then the only three people he gave a damn about would live, live many, many years past this lifetime, but they would live. They wouldn't understand why he had done it, would they even remember him? No. They wouldn't even remember each other. He hoped they would find each other in the wastelands of the world, they had to otherwise they would succumb to despair, the despair of life and despair couldn't get worse than that. It was now or never. Maybe he would see them in heaven? Will he even go to heaven? He had to. He will, he had been forced to bear this burden, and heaven is the only light at the end of the tunnel that he can hope to get when it is done. They told him that when he said yes his soul would go to heaven, his body will still exist, occupied by something else. But then he would see him, the only one he loved, he would do it for him, yes, yes he would. He would meet him in heaven and they would live happily for eternity in their own perfect little world. If he done it, oh, all the lives, the innocent, petty lives that he decided to play god with. What would people view him as? The destroyer of the world? Would anyone even remember him? No, they wouldn't. He would make sure of that. His life will vanish, and he will vanish with it.
Dean woke up with a gasp, he didn't remember what he had been dreaming about but it must've been bad for him to wake up covered in sweat, he rolled over, glancing at the clock. It was only five but he couldn't get to sleep now. He was surprised that he had even slept for five hours, normally by the time the numbers changed to two he was up, gasping trying to remember what he could have possibly been dreaming about. He never remembered, he could add that onto the list of things that he couldn't remember. He was sure he would soon forget his name, was he sure his name was Dean? Maybe it was... John, Bob, Sam? A bright light flashed behind his eyes, no, no, he didn't know what that word meant but it was bad, bad, evil even, he shouldn't about it- bad things happened when he thought about it. He grabbed the half empty bottle of vodka that he had bought earlier that day and took a massive swig out of it, he should probably stop drinking so much, but who would stop him? A bottle of vodka a day keeps the doctor away he thought with a scoff.
The apartment door suddenly swung open, crashing against the wall. Dean let the bottle clang to the floor, what the heck was happening? He knew bad things happened when he thought of that name, the forbidden name, but nothing this bad ever happened, no, never this bad. Was he going to get taken away to be killed? He hoped he was, he didn't know why but something was stopping him from taking death himself, he wanted it, always grasping out, reaching, reaching, but he could never touch it, never feel its full power. He never could until what he needed to do was complete. He didn't know what he needed to do but he knew he had to do it before he died. Three men barged into the room, their black eyes surveying every part, trying to find any exits that Dean could use and blocking them with a strange kind of efficiency, like they had done it many times before- which they probably had. He could fight, he could feel it; not that he had ever learnt how to, another thing to add to his list of things that he couldn't remember.
He didn't fight, letting them drag him out of the room with a black bag over his head and throw him into the back of a car and drive off. West he thought they were going, what was west of Kansas? Utah, Colorado, California. Oh, Los Angeles, the ultimate city of the rich, the powerful, and rumoured to be the city of beings more almighty than the Knights. Was he going to Los Angeles? Maybe they were taking him to be a slave? But surely they only took undesirables from labour camps to be slaves. Something big must've come, maybe they needed extra slaves. That was probably it, or they were driving him to his death- but why hadn't they killed him already if they were going to do that him? They needed him for something, they needed him alive. That filled him with short-term relief, but maybe there were fates worse than death, maybe they were going to torture him, use him for a spell, he didn't know what they were going to do with him and he didn't really want to find out. He just hoped it would end soon.
“Castiel, please come tomorrow, I beg it of you, my dying wish if I must”
“Stop being so dramatic Gabriel” a tired voice replied from inside the dank musty room, “I haven't left these rooms for a century, why should I tomorrow? What is that special?”
“I have never asked you to leave these rooms,” responded Gabriel, who was sitting facing Castiel on a bed that had once been a thing of wonder, “not once, so this one time please do; I cannot tell you why, or what will happen, but it will all depend on you being there.”
Castiel was now curious, and was considering finally leaving his rooms, which was exactly what Gabriel had hoped for.
“If I do, will I, will I regret it?”
Gabriel immediately spoke, “No, not once, never. It may the worst thing that will ever happen to you, but even in death you wouldn't regret what it brings.”
“Okay,” Castiel knew that he wouldn't regret it if Gabriel said so, so why was he filled with dread? “What should I wear?”
“Just a normal black suit, whatever you want”
Castiel muttered bye when Gabriel left and went back to doing what he was doing before Gabriel had interrupted him- looking at the sky. He had once been up there, a mere speck to the human eye, but in reality he had been a ponderous being, even mightier that the humans could have ever imagined, but now he was just a tiny speck on a tiny speck of a planet- he felt more insignificant than when he when he was a burning star, falling to earth covered in flames. His dropped his head against the glass, what was Gabriel up to? The only thing he could think of that was tomorrow was the hundred year anniversary of Lucifer's reign but he was sure there was something else, something even more crucial, as Gabriel didn't care that much for Lucifer, and an anniversary of his reign wasn't that significant as most people didn't even remember when his reign started.
Finally it was done, he knew Castiel would stay true to his word, now he could be free of this wrenched world, he could finally be with him.
That was the day that it all changed, Dean had gotten captured and Castiel would finally leave his rooms the following day. But the capture wasn't a coincidence to what lay ahead, neither was the agreement to leave the only safe place left. The meeting of the two had been carefully planned and orchestrated by fate and its meddling hands. It also had help from some other people, Sam and Gabriel to be exact. What they done was more than anyone else could ever wish do to, but their story isn't the one being told, but you might be wondering, did it end happily? Yes, but it all depends on what your idea of happiness is, and maybe for many people Sam and Gabriel's fate was a horrifying tragedy. But for those jaded people it ended as happily as it could of.
Dean stayed limp as they dragged him out of the car, he looked up, staring at the massive expanse of the castle that towered above him. He was in the central, the central of the world. Only the most powerful were here, people rumoured to have powers beyond demons, or even Knights of Hell, coming in second to only Lucifer, no one knew exactly who they were but Dean was about to find out. Even the need for slaves was a slow, tiring process as only the best of the worst got in, so how exactly did Dean get dragged here? What exactly was so special about him, except for his drinking habit and memory loss? He stumbled along the path leading into castle. The castle was something out of fairy tales, majestic, imposing and completely monstrous. He couldn't even see the full size of the castle, its sides stretched off into the horizon, it must have taken people many, many years to build this.
Dean often went inside his own head when situations got too overwhelming, and this was the situation to top all other situations. He was in a daze while get got mad-handled, they prepared him for what was probably a party or something similar, he had no clue who the people preparing him were, and he didn't care, for what was the point in caring anymore? Maybe he was getting prepared for his death, or a millennium long session of torture for going against Lucifer, and everything that he stood for, but was he actually that special? People had done much worse and just got shot in the head and left to rot. After many thoughts had swirled around in his head, all the possibilities had been checked, after he had started his descent into the madness his salvation finally came when a man walked into the room that Dean was occupying.
He walked in with a grace of someone royal, his eyes spoke of many tragedies, and of a time yet to come. He had an air of sadness around him that nothing could break through, as if his life had came and went and he was regretting the decision to live it. When he turned his direction to Dean a spark of recognition flashed in his eyes before it got devoured by the darkness that was deep inside him. Dean had no clue why he was here, only that he seemed to be emitting power. Maybe, Dean thought, it was his time to die, was he finally getting what he had been searching for, for many years? But when coldness enveloped him he knew it wasn't his time yet, it would come soon but now he was at the mercy of the tragedy man. He wasn't getting killed by the tragedy man, so what exactly was being done to him? Before he could fathom another thought, darkness creeped upon him, mercifully submitting him into the waiting arms of unconsciousness.
When he finally woke up the air seemed to be dancing with the bustling of many people, rushing from place to place with a task set firmly in their minds. Before long someone came up to him, pushed a tray full of drinks into his hands and jostled him towards a door on the side. When he walked through the door he nearly gasped in shock, he had entered a magnificent ballroom, it stretched on, endless, it was probably the size of central park- not that Dean had been there, what even was central park? He shook his head, trying to dislodge the foreign memories that he was adamant weren't his. He stumbled through the throngs of people who were walking around, mingling with each other. Most of them seemed to be emitting an aura, an aura of what? They were powerful, he knew that much, but what exactly were they? They couldn't possibly be human with their eternal beauty, it wasn't the beauty that the slaves possessed; they seemed regal, as if everything on earth was beneath them and they had stomped all over it to get what they wanted, and that they did. They had stomped the world into their perfect paradise and now they were reaping in the benefits. For them it was paradise on earth.
People soon started emptying the tray that Dean carried, dancing around, sweeping the glasses into waiting hands without a care. When the tray was empty Dean just walked around, staggering through the many people and trying to not knock into someone, after what seemed like eternity he reached a wall of the enormous room and slid down it, peering out at the multitude of people, how come none of them had noticed him and kicked him out? Maybe he was invisible, just another undesirable that would be dead by the end of the day; but he wasn't an undesirable. A glint of black caught his eye, a man was slowly treading across the room, dressed completely in black and a look about him that suggested that he had no desire to be here. He seemed to be emitting that powerful aura, but there was something off about him, as if he was blanketed in sadness. He suddenly stopped, turning towards him slowly, his eyes widening as he took in the crumpled form of Dean.
Who, who was this person? Castiel stood still, he couldn't possibly be a human, could he? His definitely wasn't an undesirable so how did he get in? Maybe he was a demon? No, he wasn't seeping blackness, his head wasn't a mutated corpse, he looked so human, but he could never be human. He wasn't an angel, otherwise wings would be spread out behind him, glowing and pulsing with power. The power that he seemed to be pulsing from him seemed to come from within, as if his soul was magical, thrumming with unknown power. He slowly started making his way towards the bent body, he should just give it a wide berth and carry on to his room, like he had been doing, but he was drawn to the human, who wasn't exactly human, his green eyes seemed to be begging him to not step another foot closer, but who was he to listen to people? He hadn't obeyed a single order ever since his father had abandoned them on this earth.
Why was the man that was covered and seeping in darkness coming over? Was he going to come to scream at him for not doing his job? Was he going to kill him? Why was he coming over? He shouldn't be coming closer at each passing glance, no, no, no. He was meant to be unnoticeable, the shadows were meant to conceal him from the world, he should still be in his flat, drinking vodka and forgetting everything and anything, not here. Never here. He was sure here is where it all ended. It would end painfully in flames, he wasn't sure how he knew this but he knew it would happen, it would happen when the world burnt them all to the ground.
His eyes zeroed in on the figure, he was blind to everything that wasn't the green-eyed form and he had no clue why, what was so special about him, nothing had ever caught his eye anymore. Ever since Lucifer, everything had stopped. Nothing interested him in the slightest, except for the sky, maybe this not-so-human-human was the sky? Maybe his power was the stardust he was filled with, maybe he just had more of the night in him than ordinary people, and this is what drew him towards Castiel. It must be- there could be no other possibility, this was the least far-fetched reason; the most normal reason. Not that anything was normal anymore, the most shocking experiences became the norm, maybe this would be one of them? Maybe soon getting interested in the stardust of night would be normal, but it couldn't be, this was special, this was his; he was his.
Dean started building up his mask as the man steadily came closer, his façade needed to be perfectly in place for him to play the role of someone normal, if he passed up as anything less; he didn't even want to think about what would happen then. The tempo of the music seemed to rise, couples twisted and twined around faster, it all turned into a blur. It was as if everything was building up to this point, the tension getting higher and higher, the music getting quicker and quicker. But none of this mattered anymore, it was just two lost souls, ready to clash and collide and join together after being apart for far too long, the angel and the man would finally join at last.
He stood back and watched, it was happening, finally, after many generations had passed, it was finally happening. An emotion filled him, he didn't know what is was but it wasn't unwelcoming. It felt like, relief? He had hidden his secrets away for many years, a multitude of secrets that even Lucifer didn't know about. He had thought about writing them down somewhere, just to get it out of him, the pressing weight of knowing the end, but he knew the risks were too serious; but now, now he was unburdened. He had nothing left. He had done what was needed of him- he had done what many could not; except for him, he had done what he needed to do. It was time, he thought, it was finally time. It was time for the end of the world. It wouldn't happen today, no. but it would be soon, in a few years the deed would be done and dusted, and the world would be dead. The greater good was a mantra in his head, it wasn't really the greater good but he had to convince himself that what he was doing would end in happiness- it was the only way he had gotten through the last century. Now he didn't need the relief and acceptance of doing the right thing, now he could just end it all.
Ending it was easy, but would he forgive him? He must, for he had done something that was more unforgivable than what he had done; although, they had both done it for each other. Each other and their brothers. Oh, how the brothers would suffer. But they had suffered too, maybe even more so that their brothers would. For they had to wait, wait and wait and they had remembered, well he had remembered, but surely he remembered too. But for their brothers it would be fast and swift, but it would hurt oh so much. He picked up the blade, glancing at its tarnished surface that hadn't been used for over a hundred years, there were no enemies now, so what was the use of fighting? Many people still fought, but it was in jest- the winner wouldn't have killed the loser. He hadn't been able to pick up his blade until today- the memories that came with it were too much for him to normally handle, even today he felt like he was drowning in the bittersweet memories the blade held. However, now the blade would be used for a reason, a reason that wouldn't end in pain and anguish, well maybe not mental pain or anguish. He surveyed it for a second before plunging it deep within his chest. A bright light blinded him and he was no more. He was finally free, free of the pain, free of the lies, free of the broken world. Now he would join him . After over a century he would finally join him and nothing could fill Gabriel with as much happiness as the thought of reconciling with him , his dear Sam.
That was the meeting that had started everything, no one knew exactly what had transpired between them, no one might not ever know. It had ended with a dead archangel and two people who vowed never to leave each others side, and that was the promise that was never broken. Through the looks of disgust, a human with an angel? Through the terror and torture, why are you with him Castiel? Tell me! Through the hopelessness of life, what's the point Dean? The point in life? Through everything that had been thrown at them they managed to find the strength in themselves, and strength in each other to stand proudly next to one another, they knew they had love, so what else did they need?
Before the world exploded they shared one last kiss, their lips softly touching, but soon they were grasping, pulling, trying to mould themselves into the other, trying to become one, and one they became. The angel and his man.