Bonjour mes chers,
I come to you with news. I have decided to take it upon myself, for the month of October, to write one story a day. I haven't been writing nearly as much as I would like, and enough is enough. Life is tough, but I need time to get stuff out of my head before I go insane for real.
So, here be the first of thirty-one stories this month. Theme One: Androids. If you feel there's a bit of a Blade Runner undercurent, it's because I just finished watching it when I wrote this.
So then, read on, chers lecteurs.
Thy Father's Shadow
"Enter, Mr. Winchester." A deep, gravelly voice invited.
Dean entered the room and assessed the man holding the door critically. He wore a black suit with a white button-down shirt and a stripped grey tie that was done wrong, flipped up-side-down. Dark hair was askew on his head, and the bluest of eyes stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to come in. He thought about what to say when this was done to get him back home and in his bed.
"Thank you." He muttered instead as he passed, turning his gaze to the grand room before him.
Cold white stone beneath his feet, extending to the walls, lit by bright bulbs overhead. Columns grew from the ground to the ceiling on the far end of the room, giving way to an open balcony with a view of the city below. It was sparsely decorated, with only a few framed religious paintings hung on the walls, though Dean doubted the man of the place was of a religious nature. A long table was at the center, made of equally pale wood with matching chairs. There was also a wall entirely taken by shelf upon shelf of books. A physical version of a text was quite rare these days, and this man had amassed an impressive collection over the years. Dean supposed having money might have helped in acquiring some of those works.
"Impressive, isn't it?" The man said, having followed Dean's gaze.
"Yeah, it is. Can't remember the last time I saw a real book." He replied truthfully. He turned to him. "Where is Doctor Shurley?"
"He'll be here shortly. We were expecting your visit this afternoon, Mr. Winchester."
"Please, call me Dean." He said and extended a hand to the other man.
The raven tilted his head to one side, perplexed. Then, seeming to remember human customs, he gripped Dean's hand tightly and shook it.
"Very well, Dean. My name is Castiel." He said.
The green-eyed man retracted his hand and adjusted his leather jacket, an eyebrow raised. "'Angel of Thursday', 'Shield of God'." He translated. "Kind of presumptuous for a name."
"My father is somewhat religious, actually." Castiel replied as though it were to be obvious. Which it sort of was, if the paintings were not to be taken ironically.
"Who'd'a thunk it?" Dean said, heavy with the sarcasm.
"Judging by my profession, it may come as a surprise." Another voice entered the room.
Dean spun around to see a man with a full beard and neatly combed hair walk in, sharply dressed in a grey suit that somehow looked even more expensive than the one Castiel wore - and that was saying something. He had the air of someone high and mighty, but at the same time had laugh lines around his eyes, which gave him a more humble appearance.
"Doctor Shurley, the man of the hour." Dean greeted.
"Mr. Dean Winchester. A pleasure to meet you. It's not every day we are honored by the visit of a Hunter." He said warmly and extended a hand in turn, which Dean grasped politely. Shurley's skin was surprisingly cold to the touch, despite the warmth that filtered in from the balcony. "And to what business do I owe the pleasure?"
"Seeing as you are the head of Celest Corp., we were wondering if we would be able to test one of the newest model Androids before they go on the market. To screen for flaws and to adjust our interrogation system." Dean said. "Since the rebellions from the previous generation, we want to make sure we know what to look for before one goes coo-coo for cocoa-puffs."
"I understand." Shurley said with a small smile that wiled itself warm, but came out somewhat brittle. "How many would you need to test?"
"For the moment, just one will suffice." The Hunter replied. "Today's aim is to gather info before they get released for true testing, so that we're better prepared than we were last time." This time, it's Dean who's smile is tense.
"Very well, Mr. Winchester." The man nodded in direction to Castiel, who had been standing quietly by a pillar, gazing out at the city below. "Castiel. Mr. Winchester would like to ask you a few questions."
Dean's eyebrows rose, surprise written onto his features. "He- he's an Android?"
Shurley smiled. "Quite convincing, isn't he? My finest work, I might even say."
Dean was forced to concede the point to the man. Castiel was a work of art by Android standards, undistinguishable from a human at first glance. Even now, as they both moved to sit across from each other at the long table, it was impossible to tell the difference, except perhaps for the fact that he kind of looked lost when it came to interacting with people. But then again, humans also had that problem at times.
Dean took out the small camera and placed it on the table, set to zoom on Castiel's eyes, and another to the other side to catch his full-body reactions. He asked for his hand, and noticed that the skin was warm and even had a pulse. He placed the heartrate monitor on the end of his index finger and released his hand. Next, he pulled out his phone and the list of customary questions, along with the voice recording app.
"My name is Dean Winchester, special task force: Hunter. Beginning test one of generation six Celest Corp. Androids. Subject name: Castiel." Dean said into the device as way of cataloguing his case. All the while, Castiel sat motionless, if only with a little perplexed from the set on his features as Dean announced his introduction.
"Now, Castiel, I'm gonna ask you a bunch of questions, and you have answer as honestly and as fast as you can. Understand?"
"Yes." His voice was low and solemn.
"Good." Dean nodded and looked down to his screen. "Question one: what is your full name?"
"Castiel James Novak."
"Question two: You see a person getting mugged in an alley. What do you do?"
"I restrain the attacker and contact the authorities."
"You see a wasp on your arm. What do you do?"
"I take it outside and let it go."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "You don't kill it?"
"No; I don't want to get stung." Castiel replied, instantly, like all other answers. Then, as an afterthought: "The wasp didn't do anything to deserve death. And we are in dire need of pollination insects in any case."
The Hunter conceded with a shrug of his shoulders. "True. Question three: There's a woman who is pretty interested in you and makes it clear enough she wants to have some sexy times with you. What do you do?"
"Politely decline."
"Really?" Dean narrowed his eyes and glanced at the monitors. Everything was normal. In previous models, the Androids usually expressed their desire to partake in such activities. Maybe this function had been removed in this generation, save for the leisure versions?
"Why?"
At this, Castiel looked away and the pulse monitor indicated a minor increase. His pupils dilated slightly.
"Because she isn't my 'type'." He said, pointedly avoiding Dean's gaze.
"I never described her." He pointed out.
"Doesn't matter."
"Then what is you type, Castiel?"
Hesitation. "Tall, dark blond… Male." The raven seemed to find the bookshelves particularly interesting.
Dean stilled a moment, shocked. "Well damn." He whistled at last, an amused grin playing on his lips.
Castiel glared at him, annoyance now on his features, along with a faint pink tinge to his cheeks. "Next question?"
Dean snapped back to profesionalism. He cleared his throat. "Right. Question four: you're in a theater and someone in the front row opens fire on the other viewers. What do you do?"
"Depends where I am in the theater as oposed to the shooter."
"Same row as him, ten seats to the left."
"I try to find a way to disarm him."
"He has a hostage."
"I offer him my life for their's."
"Life?" Dean's prompted.
"I am a sentient being made of organic matter. Just because I know who my creator is doesn't lessen the value of my life." Castiel replied instantly, a slight frown upon his features, as though he was offended by the question.
To this, Dean was quiet for a beat. And another. And the next. He looked at Castiel across him, trying desperately to find something to retort to that, to say that he his nothing but a machine, but he couldn't find anything.
"I know what you're thinking, Dean." The raven said at last. "I am only a program, made to mimic human behavior, made to belive that I have original thoughts. But the truth is that, just like you, I bleed, my heart beats, my lungs breathe, and I will die, someday."
The monitors that were set up earlier were now long forgotten. "But you're mechanical-" he started.
"The only mechanical things in me," Castiel cut off. "Are my skeleton and nervous system. The rest is flesh. Even my brain is organic, save for the chip I had in my early days, as I did not have the time humans did to learn normally. I was born in this form from the beginning, and never had the chance to grow up as you did. The chip is no longer there, Dean. I am up to date and fully independent."
"Then why do you stay here with Doctor Shurley?" The Hunter retorted. "You say you're supposedly free. So, be free."
"Loyalty to one's father can be strong, Dean. It would take a lot to break such a bond."
The Hunter looked down at the table, maping the grain of the wood beneath his hands. "That, I know."
X
Dean shrugged out of his coat and kicked off his muddy boots by the door. He looked back and locked it, making sure the deadbolt was well in place. From the table, he grabbed the bottle of whiskey that sat there, already half-empty, foregoing to take a glass on his way to the couch. He let himself fall onto the seat with a deep sigh of comfort and took a swig of alcohol, relishing the burn on its way down.
He plucked his phone from his pocket and threw the interview with Castiel onto the large TV screen. It was sectioned into four, one for each monitor: full-body view, pulse, eyes, and from Dean's point of view. He replayed the footage, noting here and there what was noteworthy, occasionnally taking a mouthfull of whiskey to steady his nerves. This was far from the first time he screened an Android, but it was certainly the most disturbing he had worked on.
"Then what is your type, Castiel?"
"Tall, dark blond… Male."
Dean snorted a laugh and drank. Finally, a gay Android. About time they caught up with the world.
The footage continued on to the rest of the interview.
"Then why do you stay here with Doctor Shurley? You're supposedly free. So, be free."
"Loyalty to one's father can be strong. It would take a lot to break such a bond."
He looked at the other monitors: minor change in pulse, slight dilation of the pupils, sudden rigid posture. Dean narrowed his eyes at the screen, leaning forward in his seat.
"That, I know."
Another spike in pulse, sudden shifting in his chair, small twich of his hands.
A lie.
The Hunter jumped and nearly knocked the bottle by his feet over when he heard a knock at his door. I got to his feet and pulled his gun out from the holster on his hip. He held it down and made his way through his appartment and to the door.
Another knock.
He could hear his blood rushing in his ears, and he held his breath, being a silent ghost over the floor as he finally reached the door. He looked through the peephole. He let out his breath in a big rush and sagged against the wood, relief coursing through him.
Tucking his gun back into the holster, he opened the door. A kid about fourteen years old stood there, soaked to his bones from walking out in the rain, a small projection of a brochure in hand. "Excuse me, sir. Would you have a moment to spare for our Lord-"
"Kid, stop." Dean cut. "Get out of here. God left the building a long time ago, and he ain't coming back any time soon."
"But-" the boy tried again.
"No, scram." He snapped and slammed the door closed, locking it back up.
The Hunter went back to the couch, only to find it occupied. Instantly his gun was back in is hands, ready to shoot.
"That was rude of you." The voice was low and scratchy. "He only wanted-"
"The fuck are you doing in my house?!" Dean growled. "How did you get in?"
"The deadbolt on your door doesn't lock very well from the outside. You should consider getting a new one." He answered honestly, not the least bit unnerved that there was a gun pointed at his head.
"No shit, Sherlock." He snapped.
The raven frowned and tilted his head. "My name is Castiel, not Sherlock."
"What are you doing here?"
"Being free." He looked confused by the line of questioning.
"You know, when I said that, I didn't mean for you to run away."
"Then what did you mean, then?"
Dean stopped, at a loss. What did he mean when he said that? "Standard question for screening." He quickly covered.
Castiel got to his feet, remenant rain dripping from his trenchcoat onto the floor. "And what is the standard answer?" he asked.
"'I am not programmed for freedom.'"
"I am not programmed at all."
"Bullshit."
"Why would I lie?"
"Because I have a gun pointed at your head?"
"If you were to shoot me, and I was programmed, I could just be restored afterwards." He said and took a step forward. "Want to try it? Despite all Doctor Shurley told you about my creation?"
"Stop." Dean grit out between his teeth.
He took another step forward. "I bleed just like you, Dean. Look." He lifted his left arm slowly and pulled back the coat to reveal a long red line, partialy dried blood sealing it. "I caught myself on the nail sticking out from the balcony outside, here."
Dean felt his hands falter at the sight. "Stop." He voice cracked.
Castiel took another step forward. "Please, Dean. I need your help." Desperation was clear in his eyes.
"For what?"
The raven's head was now inches from the end of the gun. "I want to live, I want to be free. Chuck Shurley is a god amongst men, and just as you were slaves to your Father, I am to mine. Except mine hasn't yet 'left the building', as you said. And if I return now, I'm afraid he'll 'decommission' me permanently."
"So what," Dean deadpanned. "You want to kill Shurley?"
"No!" the raven cried. "No, I just want to be… out of his reach. To live in the light of the sun, and not in his shadow." He looked him in the eyes, and the Hunter thought he had never seen anything so blue. "Surely you understand?"
"I-" Dean faltered and his arms slowly dropped. He was paid to stop serious design flaws in Androids before they got out of hand, like the mutiny the previous generation caused. It was the job description of a Hunter to decommission faulty equipen that goes roguet. And an Android rebelling against its creator was a major flaw. But Castiel wasn't just some walking-talking lump of plastic. He was…
"God dammit, fine." He swore at last. "I'll help." He replaced his weapon at his hip.
Relief visibly coursed through Castiel. His shoulders sagged and his head fell downwards with a long sigh. "Thank you." He breathed out.
"I'll arrange for a a ship off-world to the colonies soon. Is that gonna be far enough for you?" he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"I believe it should, yes." He answered, honest and serious. Dean rolled his eyes.
He moved to pass Castiel and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the bottom of the couch behind him. He took a long pull, the liquid like fire down his throat, then offered it to the other. The raven only eyed the bottle uncertainly.
"Whiskey?" he said. "Ever heard of it while you were 'learning'?"
"Yes."
"Then you know what it does, right?" he promted, swishing the amber liquid around.
"Yes, I do."
Then it dawned on the Hunter. "You haven't ever tried it before."
A light shade of pink crawled up Castiel's neck as he looked away. "There are many things I haven't tried."
Dean smirked, his mind supplying many things for the raven to 'learn'. "That so?" Silence. Embarassment. "Then let's start with the booze."
He moved past Castiel and grabbed two tumblers from the kitchen cabinet, set them down on the table. He waved Castiel over, offered to take his coat and hung it up on the hook by the door, and sat down across from him.
"Let's get ya educated properly, huh?"
X
A few hours and three bottles later, a very drunk Dean had been carried over to his bed by a slightly tipsy Castiel – bio-engineered dick could really hold his alcohol – while the raven opted to sleep on the couch. When the Hunter woke up, still drunk, in the small hours of the morning, it was to a sound he hadn't heard in years.
He sat up, foggy from alcohol and lack of sleep, the noise gently drifting from is livingroom into his bedroom. With a steadying hand against the wall, he rose to his feet and out to the rest of the flat. He passed a hand through his hair, mussing it up even more than it already was. He came to rest at the frame of the livingroom, his shoulder leaning on the wall.
The sky had cleared up from the rain, now it cast pale moonlight through the window to illuminate the room soflty. Notes flitted through the air from his mother's vertical piano. Castiel was seated before it, a shadow of a figure traced silver in the moon, hauched over the keys as he played. Before long, he began to quietly sing the lyrics under his breath.
"Lapsistain rakkain tää näyttämö on, mis kuutamo kujillaan kulkee…"
Dean stood there, listening, while his mind cleared up from the haze of alcohol, to the low tones of Castiel's singing. The music seeped into his heart and woke up memories he had tried long to drown when he was younger and still raw.
"Tääl tarinain lähtellä asua saan mis, viulu valtavan kahion, ikisäveltään maalaa, laulullan herättää maan …"
The notes drifted off into the night as the song came to close, and for a moment, silence stood between them as none bothered to move.
"Didn't take you for a signer." Dean eventually said.
Castiel just turned to to look out the window, not the least bit surprised to find Dean lurking in the shadows. "Music was the second thing I learned when I was brought into existence. Language was first."
"So you know Finnish?"
"Yes."
Dean walked to the window and leaned against the frame there, watching the city fifty storeys below, buslting with life even in the wee hours of the morning when all should be quiet. He couldn't remember a time when it ever was.
"My mother used to sing us that song, when we were young. She never told us what it meant." He said.
"'We'?"
"Me and Sam, my brother. He's on a colony off-world as an engineer." He explained simply.
"And your mother?" the raven asked.
He closed his eyes and breathed. When he opened them, he felt a sharp sting at the corners. "Everything dies eventually, Cas."
He remained silent a moment, contemplating the sky far above. "I get to live here where the story begins, where a violin echoes the eternal melody of immense longing."
The Hunter turned his gaze sharply to the other. "What?"
"It's a line in the song."
"Oh."
Silence again.
"Would you like to learn?"
"What?"
"I could teach you to play, if you like."
Dean stared at him like he'd grown a second head. Castiel sat unflinching beneath his gaze, and then moved over so that there was space for another person next to him. Somewhat reluctantly, he sat down next to the raven, and Castiel's face lit up with a small, but warm smile.
"I'll play the right hand, you play the left." He said.
He placed his hands above the keys, and Dean watched as his dextrous fingers glided over the notes. When he was done the first line, he stopped and removed his left hand. "Did you get that?" he asked.
He looked at the other an expectantly, but Dean was lost in his eyes, illuminated silver in the moonlight. He tried to remind himself that Castiel was not human, but right now, those were the most human and lively eyes he had ever seen. Castiel tilted his head to one side when Dean remained silent, his face curious and a little concerned.
"Dean, are you okay?"
He reached a hand and trailed it up the length of the raven's arm that was braced against the bench for support when he had twister to face Dean. He felt the heat of his skin through the thin cotton of his dress-shirt, his overcoat long abandonned when they started drinking. His hand rose to cradle the side of Castiel's face, the fingers just beneath his jaw picking up his pulse. His accelerated heartbeat. Castiel hitched a breath, and Dean's eyes fell to his lips. Warm, soft-looking, inviting. Alive. The raven's gaze mirrored his own, and heat flushed up his neck. He looked away.
"You've never kissed someone before." It came out as no more than a whisper, but in the silence, he may as well have shouted it from the rooftops. "Tall, dark blond… Male." The words played in his head.
"… That hadn't been part of my education, no." The raven admitted at last.
"Then let me teach you."
Slowly, he leaned towards him, his head tilted and hand still on his cheek. He looked at Castiel, who gazed back, unsure and heart hammering in his chest and beneath Dean's fingers at his neck, but he leaned in nonetheless, albeit hesistantly. When they were no more than an inch away, breathing the same air, Castiel in nervous and staggered intakes, Dean slow and steady, he held still a beat, unsure. Then, he pressed the rest of the way and gently lay his lips on Castiel's, eyes closed.
For a moment, neither moved. Then Dean pulled back and opened his eyes to see the raven's still shut tight, his brow scrunched as though he was trying to process the feeling. Dean huffed a small laugh and his blue gaze snapped to his in an instant.
"What?" he growled, his cheeks red.
"Nothing." Dean shook his head. He still felt his warmth on his lips, and he craved it again.
Castiel glared at him and then looked away. He breathed deeply, looking down at the piano, and then back up to the Hunter. "Can we try that again?"
Dean smirked and happily obliged.
X
A week later, the pair found themselves of the colony planet Earth C-426. They had succesfully evaded the multiple attempts at capturing Castiel and arresting Dean, a few near-death encouters that still kept Dean awake at night sometimes, years after the events. Word eventually came that Celest Corp. had been shut down for human rights violations, mainly Castiel's creation. There was the whole story of the previous generation Androids' rebellions, as well.
For a few months after their escape, Dean and Castiel lived on the streets, occasionally visiting homeless shelters and squatting in abandonned buildings when they could. Once the hype of the missing Hunter and Android had passed, they deemed it safe to contact Sam, who lived in the same colony. From then on, they made themselves dissapear completely from who they were on Earth, and started anew on C-426 with Sam's help.
Dean now worked in a small mechanic shop on the outskirts of town – even in this day and age, vehicles always needed repairing – and Castiel was a kindergarten teacher. He had proved a remarkable teacher and had away with kids that Dean would never understand. They owned a small house on the countryside, away from the busy city life. It reminded Dean a little of the house they lived in before their mother died so many years ago. He had never felt such peace before.
Years later, after they had finaly settled, Castiel decided he definetly liked kissing – and all other activities derived from that – and Dean at last learned to play the piano.
There we go, peoples. Part one of thirty-one done. Not beta-ed, by the way, so all mistakes be me own.
You know the song that makes us writers dance, so sing it, why don't ye?
-Miri.