Relics of the Old by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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Mar. 19th, 2016 10:00 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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spn_springflingTitle: Relics of the Old
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: PG-13
As the day breaks the alarms of the city go off, calling every trooper back to the fields at the edge of the walls. It’s almost like second nature by now to get up and listen, prepare for the orders of the day, the noise, bright lights and blood. But Dean is nothing if a good serviceman ready to report and leave his life out there if it’s necessary all for the safety of the nation. Still it doesn't mean it gets any easier. He finds it impossible to forget what he leaves behind from sunrise to midnight. He has to remind himself he goes out there for the safety of his family more than he does it out of the duty bestowed upon him.
Dean has sworn to the council to serve and protect. He won’t let any danger go past him and obliterate the city where his heart stays all mornings, he’s got many things to lose if the destroyers from outside break in like they did centuries ago. He constantly thinks of the oath his kind have to take to remind himself of the things he can’t run from. Fighters like him don’t have much of a choice. His brother didn’t either, it runs in their blood. They’re mercenaries. Hunters.
He opens his eyes, a ray of light filtering through heavy blinds, reminding him he has less than two hours before he has to pay his respects to his commander.
This is yet another day where he untangles himself from the warm body wrapped around his, from the man fitted into his chest like there’s no way or place he could belong but there. In the confines of their bed, their sheets, their life. Little by little he moves, arms first, legs leaving their comfortable place. He lands a kiss on Cas’ shoulder. Savors it. Lips lingering.
For a moment Dean fears Cas might wake up, sense he’s going to leave soon like he always does but instead of stirring he searches for him with his eyes still closed. He finds him soon enough, burrowing back in pressing his back against Dean’s chest. He closes his eyes, letting the moment last as long as it can.
But it can never go on for too long. His life will never be like that of a free man.
The serial number inside his wrist burns like a barcode, a brand he can never erase. If he were ever to do something other than what he’s been programmed to do he wouldn’t find a place to hide. A lifetime ago he was another man, centuries before that he was someone different perhaps braver, faster, autonomous. In this world he was reborn in a sterile environment, made by the hands of scientists who could trace back his first life. Cells and DNA and tissues making up a new individual made up from another. Almost the same. Yet he’s someone new with the Prime’s basic structure. Dean was an original once before he became a prototype. Now the number he wears on his skin is as long as the years this new world has seen.
Dean is nothing but a copy of a copy of a copy with a coping mechanism that’s left him broken and with a system threatening of shutting down.
The Council is already looking at him like he is on the verge of death. They’re ready to toss him in the trash like ruined, broken merchandise. A disposable piece, no longer a viable soldier in their war. They had looked in the files, in every record to bring back someone worthy of fighting their battles for them, someone who could be in charge of the maintenance of the machinery, of repairing oil running beasts. Of hunting down threats to the world. And then he saw the light of day again. It’s all a matter for how much longer his system can regenerate, and the pills can keep him running.
He’s too stubborn to give up.
“Don’t go. Not yet.” Cas’ sleepy voice brings him back to this reality. Dean sometimes wonders about the first Castiel that existed. If they ever found each other in the past. If every version of them saw the other looking in silence and never went back after that.
“I have to Cas. I have to.”
Cas lets him go after a beat and Dean feels colder instantly. Feeling a distance between them as he leaves him alone in the bed. Cas stretches walking over to the window and parting the blind. Dean just about catches the weary look he gives the world looming outside. Towers and bridges and the big grey wall. Dean swallows staring at Cas standing motionless, quiet with his arm crossed. It won’t ever be easy. But when they started this they knew what they were doing, Dean thinks they’ve been foolish, but it’s already too late for backing out. Dean can’t pretend he’s not torn apart and rebuild by Cas every time they’re together.
Replicas hardly know of the spoils of love, but they’re an exception to the rule, a rarity. However they’re not the first ones to cohabit, to build together from the ashes of former lives. They’ve taken their chances, trusted each other. Fought and fallen. And laughed, cried, kissed and fallen some more without return.
The clock ticks, lets him know he’s already lost fifteen minutes ruminating.
He looks around for his painkillers keeping him in check, finding they’re not in the drawer he last left them. He frowns, thinking he might have left them last night at his post. But then Cas is there, mutely handing them to him. He looks solemn as he stands in front of him and watches intently as he takes them. Dean knows he’s afraid he’s going back to sabotage mode and will stop taking them when they both know he needs them.
“There. All gone,” he says, sticking his tongue out for Cas to see.
Cas narrows his eyes, like that is not enough, but he lets it go. There are always bigger fights to win. “It’s getting late.”
“Do you really want me to go?”
This is a talk they’ve had many times before and no one ever wins. No one ever stays or let their words break free because their wants and needs often are sacrificed for those of the many. They can’t be together if they disregard their obligations. Their allegiance to the council is first and foremost even when they’ve spent many nights skin to skin swearing loyalty to the one in their arms.
Cas lets Dean’s fingers circle around his wrist. Lets himself be wanted and swayed. Loved with a single touch.
Dean pulls him back in the bed, pressing him down on the mattress with his own body on top of his. Their lips meet in a languid movement, the naked skin beneath Dean is much too warm, familiar like the battlegrounds but here every scar serves a purpose, a story told in marks speaking of hope and surrender. He traces with his mouth, teeth and fingers. Gets lost, forgets the little voice saying he’s going to be late. With Cas he never stood a chance.
If this is the life they were meant to live Dean is going to take every moment he has free from the grip of duty to map out the only house he’s ever known. They have the past running in their bloodstream. They’re not original, but as their bodies meld and fit together Dean knows this is the way things were meant to be.
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: PG-13
As the day breaks the alarms of the city go off, calling every trooper back to the fields at the edge of the walls. It’s almost like second nature by now to get up and listen, prepare for the orders of the day, the noise, bright lights and blood. But Dean is nothing if a good serviceman ready to report and leave his life out there if it’s necessary all for the safety of the nation. Still it doesn't mean it gets any easier. He finds it impossible to forget what he leaves behind from sunrise to midnight. He has to remind himself he goes out there for the safety of his family more than he does it out of the duty bestowed upon him.
Dean has sworn to the council to serve and protect. He won’t let any danger go past him and obliterate the city where his heart stays all mornings, he’s got many things to lose if the destroyers from outside break in like they did centuries ago. He constantly thinks of the oath his kind have to take to remind himself of the things he can’t run from. Fighters like him don’t have much of a choice. His brother didn’t either, it runs in their blood. They’re mercenaries. Hunters.
He opens his eyes, a ray of light filtering through heavy blinds, reminding him he has less than two hours before he has to pay his respects to his commander.
This is yet another day where he untangles himself from the warm body wrapped around his, from the man fitted into his chest like there’s no way or place he could belong but there. In the confines of their bed, their sheets, their life. Little by little he moves, arms first, legs leaving their comfortable place. He lands a kiss on Cas’ shoulder. Savors it. Lips lingering.
For a moment Dean fears Cas might wake up, sense he’s going to leave soon like he always does but instead of stirring he searches for him with his eyes still closed. He finds him soon enough, burrowing back in pressing his back against Dean’s chest. He closes his eyes, letting the moment last as long as it can.
But it can never go on for too long. His life will never be like that of a free man.
The serial number inside his wrist burns like a barcode, a brand he can never erase. If he were ever to do something other than what he’s been programmed to do he wouldn’t find a place to hide. A lifetime ago he was another man, centuries before that he was someone different perhaps braver, faster, autonomous. In this world he was reborn in a sterile environment, made by the hands of scientists who could trace back his first life. Cells and DNA and tissues making up a new individual made up from another. Almost the same. Yet he’s someone new with the Prime’s basic structure. Dean was an original once before he became a prototype. Now the number he wears on his skin is as long as the years this new world has seen.
Dean is nothing but a copy of a copy of a copy with a coping mechanism that’s left him broken and with a system threatening of shutting down.
The Council is already looking at him like he is on the verge of death. They’re ready to toss him in the trash like ruined, broken merchandise. A disposable piece, no longer a viable soldier in their war. They had looked in the files, in every record to bring back someone worthy of fighting their battles for them, someone who could be in charge of the maintenance of the machinery, of repairing oil running beasts. Of hunting down threats to the world. And then he saw the light of day again. It’s all a matter for how much longer his system can regenerate, and the pills can keep him running.
He’s too stubborn to give up.
“Don’t go. Not yet.” Cas’ sleepy voice brings him back to this reality. Dean sometimes wonders about the first Castiel that existed. If they ever found each other in the past. If every version of them saw the other looking in silence and never went back after that.
“I have to Cas. I have to.”
Cas lets him go after a beat and Dean feels colder instantly. Feeling a distance between them as he leaves him alone in the bed. Cas stretches walking over to the window and parting the blind. Dean just about catches the weary look he gives the world looming outside. Towers and bridges and the big grey wall. Dean swallows staring at Cas standing motionless, quiet with his arm crossed. It won’t ever be easy. But when they started this they knew what they were doing, Dean thinks they’ve been foolish, but it’s already too late for backing out. Dean can’t pretend he’s not torn apart and rebuild by Cas every time they’re together.
Replicas hardly know of the spoils of love, but they’re an exception to the rule, a rarity. However they’re not the first ones to cohabit, to build together from the ashes of former lives. They’ve taken their chances, trusted each other. Fought and fallen. And laughed, cried, kissed and fallen some more without return.
The clock ticks, lets him know he’s already lost fifteen minutes ruminating.
He looks around for his painkillers keeping him in check, finding they’re not in the drawer he last left them. He frowns, thinking he might have left them last night at his post. But then Cas is there, mutely handing them to him. He looks solemn as he stands in front of him and watches intently as he takes them. Dean knows he’s afraid he’s going back to sabotage mode and will stop taking them when they both know he needs them.
“There. All gone,” he says, sticking his tongue out for Cas to see.
Cas narrows his eyes, like that is not enough, but he lets it go. There are always bigger fights to win. “It’s getting late.”
“Do you really want me to go?”
This is a talk they’ve had many times before and no one ever wins. No one ever stays or let their words break free because their wants and needs often are sacrificed for those of the many. They can’t be together if they disregard their obligations. Their allegiance to the council is first and foremost even when they’ve spent many nights skin to skin swearing loyalty to the one in their arms.
Cas lets Dean’s fingers circle around his wrist. Lets himself be wanted and swayed. Loved with a single touch.
Dean pulls him back in the bed, pressing him down on the mattress with his own body on top of his. Their lips meet in a languid movement, the naked skin beneath Dean is much too warm, familiar like the battlegrounds but here every scar serves a purpose, a story told in marks speaking of hope and surrender. He traces with his mouth, teeth and fingers. Gets lost, forgets the little voice saying he’s going to be late. With Cas he never stood a chance.
If this is the life they were meant to live Dean is going to take every moment he has free from the grip of duty to map out the only house he’s ever known. They have the past running in their bloodstream. They’re not original, but as their bodies meld and fit together Dean knows this is the way things were meant to be.
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Date: 2016-03-19 06:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-19 06:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-21 12:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-21 01:26 pm (UTC)This is such a richly crafted universe, and an achingly beautiful look at Dean and Cas in it. Thank you!
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Date: 2016-03-26 04:34 pm (UTC)