28 Days, 6 Hours, 42 Minutes and 12 Seconds till the Apocalypse. Part 1/6
Title: 28 Days, 6 Hours, 42 Minutes and 12 Seconds till the Apocalypse
Author: ravensilverwing
Rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Castiel/Dean, Sam, Anna, Zachariah, Raphael.
Spoilers: Up to and including 5x03.
Warnings: Sex, nudity, swearing, character death. If you’ve watched Donnie Darko you’ll know what I mean. If you haven’t, don’t freak out too much. But this isn’t exactly a happy holiday movie.
Word Count: 22,800
Summary:
My prompt, given by devilyouwere, was: SPN/Donnie Darko fusion. Um, I really don't know :) I just want to see it badly. Approach it how you will. Would prefer Castiel as Donnie, though.
So... Donnie is Castiel. He’s hearing voices. Everyone thinks he’s crazy cause he burnt down Alastair’s house. Everyone except the new boy in town, Dean. Zachariah’s a smug bastard giving inspirational speeches about ‘accepting your destiny’. But Castiel doesn’t want to accept his destiny, he wants to figure out what’s going on and stop the world from ending.
Part One
I’m watching Charlene on the trampoline from my bedroom window when her words drift across the room.
“Where do you go at night?” Genuinely curious.
Glance over to see Mom standing just inside the open doorway, dark hair pulled back tight.
I want to ignore her because I don’t have the answer. I wake up places. Roadside, tennis court, out in the woods. But I don’t know how I get there. Or why I go there. Just that I end up there.
Look away again, back out the window. Charlie still bouncing, innocent and carefree.
“I asked you a question.” Demanding, moving closer.
Look over at her and stare, watch her face fall. Then it mottles with frustration and despair.
“Sam tells me you’ve stopped taking your medication.”
Feel my face shut down into blank lines. Sam has the best of intentions. Probably has my welfare at heart but, tear my eyes away before she sees the anger. I wish he’d keep his damn mouth shut.
“What happened to my son?” And now she’s imploring.
Refuse to glance over. This isn’t fair. I’ve done everything, everything she’s wanted. Everything she’s ever asked for. I’ve done it all. Medication. Therapy. All of it useless but...
“I don’t recognise this person in front of me anymore.”
Which makes me briefly hate her. The flare of anger a warm rush as I feel every muscle harden. Eyes narrowing, fuming hate across the room at her. Watch as she visibly flinches.
“Then why don’t you take the god damned pills.” And the words are so bitter. Dark chocolate and ice.
She just turns and walks out the door.
The hate, it only lasts a minute. A moment before regret takes over. I didn’t mean to scare her. I don’t mean to be so...such a disappointment. I just don’t believe the pills are working. Nothing is working. Nothing makes the voices go away. Nothing makes the whispers any less distracting. Even if they stopped the sleep walking, it’s not enough. But it’s obviously enough for her.
***
So I end up staring into the bathroom mirror. Glaring at my own image. Self destruction, frustration, trepidation and more. Blue eyes aflame with anger. I don’t want to do this. I do not want to do this at all. But if it makes everyone so happy. Makes it so they won’t worry anymore. What choice do I have? The pills are useless, they don’t do anything. But if they stop the only sign they can see of my madness then...Watch my own eyes dip low, then drop down to the floor. I have to do this.
But I hesitate. I could stand here all night debating. Take the pills, don’t take the pills. No choice. I have no choices. Just take the god damned pills.
I just have to lift my hand and reach up, open up the mirror door. Just reach for the pill container sitting innocuously on the second shelf. Ignore the building rush of adrenaline. Thumb open the lid and tip the prescribed dosage out onto my palm. I can do this. Just take the pills and make everyone happy. Make all their worries go away. Lift my eyes up and catch my image in the edge of the open mirror. Everything about my face unsure. Slam my eyes shut tight, I don’t even want to see myself anymore.
“Fuck it.” Soft words before I swallow.
Then they’re gone. It’s over. I’ve done it.
Maybe this time I won’t hear the voices anymore.
Snort my opinion and ignore the fact my hands are trembling. Best I can hope for is I won’t sleep walk anymore.
***
October 2nd 2009
“Wake up.”
His voice is hard and heavy. I can still hear the others voices. Soft whispers, moans and crying. They’ve finally stopped their sounds of searching. No more calling out all day and night.
“I’ve been watching you.”
The others whispering in desperation. Frightened fear and exhaustion.
“Come.”
And I find I’m already moving. Carpet silent under my feet. Drifting quietly down the hall. Down the stairwell. Into the kitchen. Hand closing round a white board marker.
“Closer.”
Whispers suddenly uncertain. A chorus of mourning.
My feet are heading out the open door. Front door opened up to darkness, dim street light.
Street light illuminating a tall figure. Flashing silver eye sockets.
“Closer.”
And I’m moving slowly closer, discerning not everything is height. There are bunny ears. Big, tall, brown bunny ears. My mouth pulling into a smile despite the absurdity.
“28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes and 12 seconds until the Apocalypse.”
Blinking, smiling at this absurd figure.
“That is when the world will end.”
And the whispering falls silent. Just me and the bunny man in the night. Frown, confused by the sudden silence.
“Who are you?”
***
“Castiel? Son?”
Blink eyes open to daylight. Morning. Grass. Golf course. Breathe out a soft, resigned, fuck.
“Son are you alright?” The local doctor is standing over me, looking down. Peering down at me in confusion.
They didn’t work. The medication didn’t work. This isn’t my bedroom and no, I’m not alright. Mom is going to be worried. Sam will, groan. Sam will be up and asking questions. Always asking but never...Wait. They’ve stopped talking. There aren’t any whispers anymore. Everywhere is silence. No more wailing. No more...
“Maybe he was sleep golfing.” Two men laughing.
Blink up into the sunlight to see a new man watching. Smirking mouth and smiling. But his eyes go wide at something. Something about me, something on me, something...Something written on my forearm. Numbers. 28:06:42:12. Frowning in confusion. I must have written that. Written that whilst sleep walking. Glance up again and his face is twisting into a grimace now. Distaste.
“So ah, just stay off the greens at night.” Doctor Fischer is saying, completely oblivious to his golfing partner.
Chance a glance back to the mystery man but he’s already turning away. Showing me his back.
“I’m so sorry Doctor Fischer.” Slowly standing but I’m speaking to both their backs now.
“Crazy local kid.” He’s whispering. “You hear about that Alastair’s house? Kid burnt it right to the ground.”
Which makes the new guy pause and dart a look over his shoulder, assessing.
“Really?”
And instead of sounding horrified he sounds like I’m suddenly interesting. Meet his eyes and glare right back.
“Castiel?” Doctor Fischer is turning.
“Sorry Doctor Fischer.”
It’s time I should be leaving.
***
Why would he look at me like that? Most the time I get horrified or fury. Sometimes curiosity or...There are cars everywhere. A news van sidling up against the side walk, behind a line of police cars. Uh oh. No time to puzzle his interest in me out. No time to consider the sudden blissful silence in my head. Only enough time to push through the crowd and demand to get inside my own...Whoa. Is that a...a jet engine? From a plane? From an airplane?
“It fell in your room.” Charlie is calling happily from Sam’s arms.
I can only blink. That, that fell in my room? On my house? In my bedroom?
Sudden flash of bunny ears. Silver eyes and calling.
“Are you alright?” Sam’s quietly asking as I make it over to them.
Continue staring at the engine. That, that almost fell on me? Would have fallen on me except he called me out. Called out by a man in a bunny suit who...Swing my eyes round to stare at my arm. The numbers written up the inside of my forearm. Numbers I wrote on my arm because a man in a bunny suit told me the world was going to end. That there is going to be an Apocalypse.
“Cas?”
Jerk my eyes up to meet Sam’s.
“Hey, are you alright?” He’s reaches a hand out but slowly lets it drop as I follow its movement.
“I’m...” Unsure, confused. What the hell is going on?
“What’s that?” Charlie wants to know.
The innocence of youth. She has no idea what’s really going on. Oblivious to everything but the fact her older brother likes to take ‘early morning walks’ in his pyjamas. And she’s not allowed to.
“What’d you write on your arm?” She demands to know.
“I...”Glance up to meet Sam’s eyes but he looks away in resignation. He doesn’t think I took my pills. He thinks I tossed them down the sink. Great. Just great.
“It’s just a date.”Look over and meet Charlie’s eyes. Eyes that don’t judge or worry or hate. “Just a date I have to remember.” Try to smile.
She just nods and smiles right back.
“Mom was worried.”Sam’s intent on telling me. Eyes direct and pained.
“I was out walking.” Murmur whilst still watching the crane. Crane lifting the engine up and over the front yard. Swinging it round slowly towards a waiting truck.
“Yeah.” And he sounds so tired. “We figured.”
“I did...” Drop my voice. “I took my pills Sam.”
A flash of disgust.
“Try telling Mom that.”
And he and Charlie walk away.
Mom’s talking to some guys in dark suits. The engine slowly touches down on the back of the truck now. It looks burnt out inside, smoke marks licking up the outside casing. Bright purple and red symbols painted on the cone piece. The piece at the very front of the engine, dead centre before the fans. Symbols untouched by the smoke and fire marks. Frown and move closer but Sam’s back and Charlie tugs on my shirt.
“They don’t know where it came from.” Sam sounds less tired and stressed and pissed this time. More human and normal and trying to be polite. He sounds much nicer. At least he’s trying to sound nice.
Glance over and there’s an apology in his eyes. Nod slowly and look back at the symbols. Must be some sort of FAA thing. Some way of identifying the engine, which plane it came from. Something like that.
“If it fell from a plane,” Charlie wants to know. “Then what happened to the plane?”
“They don’t know Charlene.” Sam says.
Which, what? How can they not know that? Stare at Sam and wait till our eyes meet. The same question mirroring mine. Don’t they have ways to match those symbols with a plane? Surely there’s a plane missing an engine. Airplanes don’t just continue flying, I mean, a missing engine can’t just go unnoticed. Can it?
***
Next morning I wake in a bedroom. Not my own bed which is a crumpled pile of splinters but a hotel bed where the FAA has set us up for the duration. Until they can fix the house. Until I have a bedroom again. Sam is already up and gone. Gone where, I don’t know. I have no idea until I hear his hushed voice talking to Mom in the adjoining living room. At least they gave us an apartment suite. Two bedrooms. Living room. Tiny kitchen and bathroom. Sam and I sharing a bedroom for the first time in years. Since Mom bought the house after Dad died. Some sort of hunting accident is what I’ve heard but I don’t have the heart to ask Mom, Sam doesn’t know and Charlene is too young to remember him.
So Sam and Mom are whispering in the living room. Mom shared a room with Charlie last night, sounds like she had nightmares, and now Mom is worried about her. Not worried about me for once. I’m not complaining, but why wouldn’t Charlie be okay? Except a large jet engine crashed into her house last night, whilst she was actually in it.
“I thought she was past this.” Mom is whispering.
“It’s probably just stress from the engine crash. I’m sure...” Sam is soothing. Sam is good at soothing. Soothing Mom’s nerves about me, about my future, about practically everything since Dad died.
“No.” Mom sounds uncertain. “She wet the bed last week. I didn’t tell you. I know you have a lot to worry about right now with Harvard coming up.”
“I haven’t gotten in yet Mom.”
“But...”
“I know. I will.”And I can hear the smile in his voice from here.
“When’s breakfast?” Sounds like Charlie has appeared.
***
There’s more staring at school than usual. Not that I’m surprised. An aircraft’s jet engine fell on my house. In my bedroom. And I didn’t cause it. Must be straining some people’s limited minds trying to figure out how, or if the local crazy kid did it.
“I hear you’re sleep walking again Castiel.” Mocking jibe spilling out from the tall, broad, black Uriel. He is a thug. Thug, thief, probably a drug addict too. I don’t think there’s much he wouldn’t do.
Ignore the taunt and keep on walking down the crowded corridor.
A dozen pairs of eyes swing round to stare. The normal whispers start again.
“Crazy Castiel. Do you think he did it? How come he survived?”
Even the staff are staring. Professor Anna, the maintenance guy, Mrs Farmer and...is that the guy from the golf course? He and Mrs Farmer whispering while he stares and watches me pass by. Eyes still assessing. Assessing what? And what is he doing here?
At least the other whispers are still quiet. Not a sighing whimper of searching or a mournful cry of desperation since the other night. The other night when a man in a bunny suit told me there was going to be an Apocalypse. A very different sort of message from the other voices. The world is going to end.
Nothing ethereal or confused about that. A simple statement for once.
He can’t have been real. The world can’t be ending. Even if a jet engine through my bedroom is a little odd. The world cannot be coming to an end.
Reach my locker and pull out my books.
Maybe I should tell Dr Missouri about the man in the bunny suit. He said his name was Raphael. She already thinks I’m crazy, so it’s not like her opinion could get any worse. Can’t get any worse than it is right now. Crazy Castiel. Sigh. There’s just no one else to talk to. Sam will get that freaked out, scared and worried look. Mom will...Slam the locker door closed. No one else to tell. No one else I can tell.
***
Professor Anna covers English when she’s not teaching Science. She’s pretty and pale with bright red hair. Younger than the other teachers. A lot nicer too. Doesn’t mock or belittle or judge. Doesn’t look at me like I’m an explosion waiting to happen.
She sits on her desk instead of behind it. ‘Graeme Green, The Destructors’ in white chalk on the black board behind her. Anna talks about Old Miseries. How a group of boys break into his house, use everything they can to tear it down. And when Joanie can’t answer her simple question she turns to me.
“Castiel, perhaps with your recent brush with mass destruction you can give us your opinion.”
From anyone else there’d be mockery, from Anna there’s only curiosity, a genuine wanting to know.
The answer is an easy one, the story isn’t complex if you’ve taken the time to read it.
“They say it the best when they flood the house and tear it down. Destruction is a form of creation.”
A rush of whispers. Whispers rushing round. Creation. Destruction. Bringing it all to an end. Tired so tired...
“Castiel?”
Blink, pull...try to pull my focus back in. Focus back on her pretty red hair. Knowing dark eyes.
“So the fact they burn the money, it’s ironic. They just want to see what happens when they tear the world apart.” Another deafening rush of voices. Pleading, crying, in pain. “They just want things to change.”
Concern cut short by the classroom door opening.
“May we help you?”
Breathe. Just breathing through it. No idea why they’re suddenly rushing back now. Raging cacophony of sound. Their voices continue rising. Start to swirl around. Echoing off the windows.
‘Change. Destroy. We’re abandoned!’ Wailing, blocking out all other sounds.
Breathe, just breathe. It’ll pass. They always pass. Always calm back down.
“I registered but they put me in the wrong English class.” Cocky voice, distinctly normal and absolutely real.
“You look like you belong here.” Anna’s saying.
Turn to see him. Casual dark blue jacket, grey t-shirt, jeans with boots instead of shoes. Nothing like I’ve ever seen before. His eyes carefully watching, calmly accessing as they slide across the room. One side to the other, slight pause as they meet mine then tugged away to sweep over the room again.
“Where do I sit?” He’s not even trying for cordial. Just gets straight to the point, direct.
“Sit next to the girl you think is the cutest.” Anna is smiling, I don’t need to turn back to see it. Her voice is egging him on.
Watch as he winks and smiles at the girls in the room, eyes alighting here and there. Falling briefly back to me then skittering away again. Another round of grinning before he meets my eyes this time. A pause. A blush. I can see his heart beat faster. Pulse thudding in his throat.
“Joanie, get up.” Anna orders.
She’s given him the seat right next to mine.
***
Sam’s the one driving me to therapy this time.
“Construction workers say it’s going to take about a week to get all the work done.”
“Do they know where the engine came from yet?” I’m curious. Cause how can they not know?
Watch his eyes slide away, concentrating too hard on the road.
“They made Mom sign some document. We had to promise not to talk about it.”
“So they made her sign something so we won’t tell anyone what nobody knows?”
He just shrugs.
“But ah...I guess...you can tell Dr Missouri. I mean, if you want to.”
And he’s looking at me again, smiling helpful, hopeful. Which is nice only he’s not watching the road. Doesn’t see the old lady which we’re rapidly approaching.
“Sam!”
“Fuck!” He hits the breaks and the car slams to a halt. “What the hell is she doing there?”
“It’s Grandma Death.”
“What?” He looks confused.
“Grandma Death. You know...” Unclip my seat belt and open the door.
“Cas!” He sounds impatient.
“Just one moment.”
She’s still standing in the middle of the road. But the moment I reach her she starts walking away from me. I trail after her for a few steps, making sure she reaches the edge of the road. Poor old lady doesn’t even know what’s going on around her.
“Every living creature on Earth dies alone.” Barely a whisper as I turn to head back to the car.
“What?” Turn back slowly. But the other whispers pick her voice up and echo it around me.
‘Alone. We’re all alone.’
***
“I made a new friend.” Confess to Dr Missouri.
Her couch is old and soft and lumpy. She doesn’t sit in a doctor’s chair like in the movies. She likes to sit on the other end of the couch and listen closely.
“Real or imaginary.” She asks softly.
I’d like to protest the assumption but I have been known to see things before. Which makes me assess this. This wasn’t like the other times. The other times were mainly voices, sometimes colours and light but this was a man. He may have been a man in a rabbit suit but...
“Real. He said his name was Raphael.”
“And what did Raphael have to tell you?”
It’s obvious she doesn’t believe me. I’m not completely sure myself but...
“He said there’s going to be an Apocalypse. That the world is going to end.”
“Do you think the world is coming to an end?”
Frown. Stare. It can’t be.
“No. That’s stupid.”
***
Part Two
Author: ravensilverwing
Rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Castiel/Dean, Sam, Anna, Zachariah, Raphael.
Spoilers: Up to and including 5x03.
Warnings: Sex, nudity, swearing, character death. If you’ve watched Donnie Darko you’ll know what I mean. If you haven’t, don’t freak out too much. But this isn’t exactly a happy holiday movie.
Word Count: 22,800
Summary:
My prompt, given by devilyouwere, was: SPN/Donnie Darko fusion. Um, I really don't know :) I just want to see it badly. Approach it how you will. Would prefer Castiel as Donnie, though.
So... Donnie is Castiel. He’s hearing voices. Everyone thinks he’s crazy cause he burnt down Alastair’s house. Everyone except the new boy in town, Dean. Zachariah’s a smug bastard giving inspirational speeches about ‘accepting your destiny’. But Castiel doesn’t want to accept his destiny, he wants to figure out what’s going on and stop the world from ending.
Part One
I’m watching Charlene on the trampoline from my bedroom window when her words drift across the room.
“Where do you go at night?” Genuinely curious.
Glance over to see Mom standing just inside the open doorway, dark hair pulled back tight.
I want to ignore her because I don’t have the answer. I wake up places. Roadside, tennis court, out in the woods. But I don’t know how I get there. Or why I go there. Just that I end up there.
Look away again, back out the window. Charlie still bouncing, innocent and carefree.
“I asked you a question.” Demanding, moving closer.
Look over at her and stare, watch her face fall. Then it mottles with frustration and despair.
“Sam tells me you’ve stopped taking your medication.”
Feel my face shut down into blank lines. Sam has the best of intentions. Probably has my welfare at heart but, tear my eyes away before she sees the anger. I wish he’d keep his damn mouth shut.
“What happened to my son?” And now she’s imploring.
Refuse to glance over. This isn’t fair. I’ve done everything, everything she’s wanted. Everything she’s ever asked for. I’ve done it all. Medication. Therapy. All of it useless but...
“I don’t recognise this person in front of me anymore.”
Which makes me briefly hate her. The flare of anger a warm rush as I feel every muscle harden. Eyes narrowing, fuming hate across the room at her. Watch as she visibly flinches.
“Then why don’t you take the god damned pills.” And the words are so bitter. Dark chocolate and ice.
She just turns and walks out the door.
The hate, it only lasts a minute. A moment before regret takes over. I didn’t mean to scare her. I don’t mean to be so...such a disappointment. I just don’t believe the pills are working. Nothing is working. Nothing makes the voices go away. Nothing makes the whispers any less distracting. Even if they stopped the sleep walking, it’s not enough. But it’s obviously enough for her.
***
So I end up staring into the bathroom mirror. Glaring at my own image. Self destruction, frustration, trepidation and more. Blue eyes aflame with anger. I don’t want to do this. I do not want to do this at all. But if it makes everyone so happy. Makes it so they won’t worry anymore. What choice do I have? The pills are useless, they don’t do anything. But if they stop the only sign they can see of my madness then...Watch my own eyes dip low, then drop down to the floor. I have to do this.
But I hesitate. I could stand here all night debating. Take the pills, don’t take the pills. No choice. I have no choices. Just take the god damned pills.
I just have to lift my hand and reach up, open up the mirror door. Just reach for the pill container sitting innocuously on the second shelf. Ignore the building rush of adrenaline. Thumb open the lid and tip the prescribed dosage out onto my palm. I can do this. Just take the pills and make everyone happy. Make all their worries go away. Lift my eyes up and catch my image in the edge of the open mirror. Everything about my face unsure. Slam my eyes shut tight, I don’t even want to see myself anymore.
“Fuck it.” Soft words before I swallow.
Then they’re gone. It’s over. I’ve done it.
Maybe this time I won’t hear the voices anymore.
Snort my opinion and ignore the fact my hands are trembling. Best I can hope for is I won’t sleep walk anymore.
***
October 2nd 2009
“Wake up.”
His voice is hard and heavy. I can still hear the others voices. Soft whispers, moans and crying. They’ve finally stopped their sounds of searching. No more calling out all day and night.
“I’ve been watching you.”
The others whispering in desperation. Frightened fear and exhaustion.
“Come.”
And I find I’m already moving. Carpet silent under my feet. Drifting quietly down the hall. Down the stairwell. Into the kitchen. Hand closing round a white board marker.
“Closer.”
Whispers suddenly uncertain. A chorus of mourning.
My feet are heading out the open door. Front door opened up to darkness, dim street light.
Street light illuminating a tall figure. Flashing silver eye sockets.
“Closer.”
And I’m moving slowly closer, discerning not everything is height. There are bunny ears. Big, tall, brown bunny ears. My mouth pulling into a smile despite the absurdity.
“28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes and 12 seconds until the Apocalypse.”
Blinking, smiling at this absurd figure.
“That is when the world will end.”
And the whispering falls silent. Just me and the bunny man in the night. Frown, confused by the sudden silence.
“Who are you?”
***
“Castiel? Son?”
Blink eyes open to daylight. Morning. Grass. Golf course. Breathe out a soft, resigned, fuck.
“Son are you alright?” The local doctor is standing over me, looking down. Peering down at me in confusion.
They didn’t work. The medication didn’t work. This isn’t my bedroom and no, I’m not alright. Mom is going to be worried. Sam will, groan. Sam will be up and asking questions. Always asking but never...Wait. They’ve stopped talking. There aren’t any whispers anymore. Everywhere is silence. No more wailing. No more...
“Maybe he was sleep golfing.” Two men laughing.
Blink up into the sunlight to see a new man watching. Smirking mouth and smiling. But his eyes go wide at something. Something about me, something on me, something...Something written on my forearm. Numbers. 28:06:42:12. Frowning in confusion. I must have written that. Written that whilst sleep walking. Glance up again and his face is twisting into a grimace now. Distaste.
“So ah, just stay off the greens at night.” Doctor Fischer is saying, completely oblivious to his golfing partner.
Chance a glance back to the mystery man but he’s already turning away. Showing me his back.
“I’m so sorry Doctor Fischer.” Slowly standing but I’m speaking to both their backs now.
“Crazy local kid.” He’s whispering. “You hear about that Alastair’s house? Kid burnt it right to the ground.”
Which makes the new guy pause and dart a look over his shoulder, assessing.
“Really?”
And instead of sounding horrified he sounds like I’m suddenly interesting. Meet his eyes and glare right back.
“Castiel?” Doctor Fischer is turning.
“Sorry Doctor Fischer.”
It’s time I should be leaving.
***
Why would he look at me like that? Most the time I get horrified or fury. Sometimes curiosity or...There are cars everywhere. A news van sidling up against the side walk, behind a line of police cars. Uh oh. No time to puzzle his interest in me out. No time to consider the sudden blissful silence in my head. Only enough time to push through the crowd and demand to get inside my own...Whoa. Is that a...a jet engine? From a plane? From an airplane?
“It fell in your room.” Charlie is calling happily from Sam’s arms.
I can only blink. That, that fell in my room? On my house? In my bedroom?
Sudden flash of bunny ears. Silver eyes and calling.
“Are you alright?” Sam’s quietly asking as I make it over to them.
Continue staring at the engine. That, that almost fell on me? Would have fallen on me except he called me out. Called out by a man in a bunny suit who...Swing my eyes round to stare at my arm. The numbers written up the inside of my forearm. Numbers I wrote on my arm because a man in a bunny suit told me the world was going to end. That there is going to be an Apocalypse.
“Cas?”
Jerk my eyes up to meet Sam’s.
“Hey, are you alright?” He’s reaches a hand out but slowly lets it drop as I follow its movement.
“I’m...” Unsure, confused. What the hell is going on?
“What’s that?” Charlie wants to know.
The innocence of youth. She has no idea what’s really going on. Oblivious to everything but the fact her older brother likes to take ‘early morning walks’ in his pyjamas. And she’s not allowed to.
“What’d you write on your arm?” She demands to know.
“I...”Glance up to meet Sam’s eyes but he looks away in resignation. He doesn’t think I took my pills. He thinks I tossed them down the sink. Great. Just great.
“It’s just a date.”Look over and meet Charlie’s eyes. Eyes that don’t judge or worry or hate. “Just a date I have to remember.” Try to smile.
She just nods and smiles right back.
“Mom was worried.”Sam’s intent on telling me. Eyes direct and pained.
“I was out walking.” Murmur whilst still watching the crane. Crane lifting the engine up and over the front yard. Swinging it round slowly towards a waiting truck.
“Yeah.” And he sounds so tired. “We figured.”
“I did...” Drop my voice. “I took my pills Sam.”
A flash of disgust.
“Try telling Mom that.”
And he and Charlie walk away.
Mom’s talking to some guys in dark suits. The engine slowly touches down on the back of the truck now. It looks burnt out inside, smoke marks licking up the outside casing. Bright purple and red symbols painted on the cone piece. The piece at the very front of the engine, dead centre before the fans. Symbols untouched by the smoke and fire marks. Frown and move closer but Sam’s back and Charlie tugs on my shirt.
“They don’t know where it came from.” Sam sounds less tired and stressed and pissed this time. More human and normal and trying to be polite. He sounds much nicer. At least he’s trying to sound nice.
Glance over and there’s an apology in his eyes. Nod slowly and look back at the symbols. Must be some sort of FAA thing. Some way of identifying the engine, which plane it came from. Something like that.
“If it fell from a plane,” Charlie wants to know. “Then what happened to the plane?”
“They don’t know Charlene.” Sam says.
Which, what? How can they not know that? Stare at Sam and wait till our eyes meet. The same question mirroring mine. Don’t they have ways to match those symbols with a plane? Surely there’s a plane missing an engine. Airplanes don’t just continue flying, I mean, a missing engine can’t just go unnoticed. Can it?
***
Next morning I wake in a bedroom. Not my own bed which is a crumpled pile of splinters but a hotel bed where the FAA has set us up for the duration. Until they can fix the house. Until I have a bedroom again. Sam is already up and gone. Gone where, I don’t know. I have no idea until I hear his hushed voice talking to Mom in the adjoining living room. At least they gave us an apartment suite. Two bedrooms. Living room. Tiny kitchen and bathroom. Sam and I sharing a bedroom for the first time in years. Since Mom bought the house after Dad died. Some sort of hunting accident is what I’ve heard but I don’t have the heart to ask Mom, Sam doesn’t know and Charlene is too young to remember him.
So Sam and Mom are whispering in the living room. Mom shared a room with Charlie last night, sounds like she had nightmares, and now Mom is worried about her. Not worried about me for once. I’m not complaining, but why wouldn’t Charlie be okay? Except a large jet engine crashed into her house last night, whilst she was actually in it.
“I thought she was past this.” Mom is whispering.
“It’s probably just stress from the engine crash. I’m sure...” Sam is soothing. Sam is good at soothing. Soothing Mom’s nerves about me, about my future, about practically everything since Dad died.
“No.” Mom sounds uncertain. “She wet the bed last week. I didn’t tell you. I know you have a lot to worry about right now with Harvard coming up.”
“I haven’t gotten in yet Mom.”
“But...”
“I know. I will.”And I can hear the smile in his voice from here.
“When’s breakfast?” Sounds like Charlie has appeared.
***
There’s more staring at school than usual. Not that I’m surprised. An aircraft’s jet engine fell on my house. In my bedroom. And I didn’t cause it. Must be straining some people’s limited minds trying to figure out how, or if the local crazy kid did it.
“I hear you’re sleep walking again Castiel.” Mocking jibe spilling out from the tall, broad, black Uriel. He is a thug. Thug, thief, probably a drug addict too. I don’t think there’s much he wouldn’t do.
Ignore the taunt and keep on walking down the crowded corridor.
A dozen pairs of eyes swing round to stare. The normal whispers start again.
“Crazy Castiel. Do you think he did it? How come he survived?”
Even the staff are staring. Professor Anna, the maintenance guy, Mrs Farmer and...is that the guy from the golf course? He and Mrs Farmer whispering while he stares and watches me pass by. Eyes still assessing. Assessing what? And what is he doing here?
At least the other whispers are still quiet. Not a sighing whimper of searching or a mournful cry of desperation since the other night. The other night when a man in a bunny suit told me there was going to be an Apocalypse. A very different sort of message from the other voices. The world is going to end.
Nothing ethereal or confused about that. A simple statement for once.
He can’t have been real. The world can’t be ending. Even if a jet engine through my bedroom is a little odd. The world cannot be coming to an end.
Reach my locker and pull out my books.
Maybe I should tell Dr Missouri about the man in the bunny suit. He said his name was Raphael. She already thinks I’m crazy, so it’s not like her opinion could get any worse. Can’t get any worse than it is right now. Crazy Castiel. Sigh. There’s just no one else to talk to. Sam will get that freaked out, scared and worried look. Mom will...Slam the locker door closed. No one else to tell. No one else I can tell.
***
Professor Anna covers English when she’s not teaching Science. She’s pretty and pale with bright red hair. Younger than the other teachers. A lot nicer too. Doesn’t mock or belittle or judge. Doesn’t look at me like I’m an explosion waiting to happen.
She sits on her desk instead of behind it. ‘Graeme Green, The Destructors’ in white chalk on the black board behind her. Anna talks about Old Miseries. How a group of boys break into his house, use everything they can to tear it down. And when Joanie can’t answer her simple question she turns to me.
“Castiel, perhaps with your recent brush with mass destruction you can give us your opinion.”
From anyone else there’d be mockery, from Anna there’s only curiosity, a genuine wanting to know.
The answer is an easy one, the story isn’t complex if you’ve taken the time to read it.
“They say it the best when they flood the house and tear it down. Destruction is a form of creation.”
A rush of whispers. Whispers rushing round. Creation. Destruction. Bringing it all to an end. Tired so tired...
“Castiel?”
Blink, pull...try to pull my focus back in. Focus back on her pretty red hair. Knowing dark eyes.
“So the fact they burn the money, it’s ironic. They just want to see what happens when they tear the world apart.” Another deafening rush of voices. Pleading, crying, in pain. “They just want things to change.”
Concern cut short by the classroom door opening.
“May we help you?”
Breathe. Just breathing through it. No idea why they’re suddenly rushing back now. Raging cacophony of sound. Their voices continue rising. Start to swirl around. Echoing off the windows.
‘Change. Destroy. We’re abandoned!’ Wailing, blocking out all other sounds.
Breathe, just breathe. It’ll pass. They always pass. Always calm back down.
“I registered but they put me in the wrong English class.” Cocky voice, distinctly normal and absolutely real.
“You look like you belong here.” Anna’s saying.
Turn to see him. Casual dark blue jacket, grey t-shirt, jeans with boots instead of shoes. Nothing like I’ve ever seen before. His eyes carefully watching, calmly accessing as they slide across the room. One side to the other, slight pause as they meet mine then tugged away to sweep over the room again.
“Where do I sit?” He’s not even trying for cordial. Just gets straight to the point, direct.
“Sit next to the girl you think is the cutest.” Anna is smiling, I don’t need to turn back to see it. Her voice is egging him on.
Watch as he winks and smiles at the girls in the room, eyes alighting here and there. Falling briefly back to me then skittering away again. Another round of grinning before he meets my eyes this time. A pause. A blush. I can see his heart beat faster. Pulse thudding in his throat.
“Joanie, get up.” Anna orders.
She’s given him the seat right next to mine.
***
Sam’s the one driving me to therapy this time.
“Construction workers say it’s going to take about a week to get all the work done.”
“Do they know where the engine came from yet?” I’m curious. Cause how can they not know?
Watch his eyes slide away, concentrating too hard on the road.
“They made Mom sign some document. We had to promise not to talk about it.”
“So they made her sign something so we won’t tell anyone what nobody knows?”
He just shrugs.
“But ah...I guess...you can tell Dr Missouri. I mean, if you want to.”
And he’s looking at me again, smiling helpful, hopeful. Which is nice only he’s not watching the road. Doesn’t see the old lady which we’re rapidly approaching.
“Sam!”
“Fuck!” He hits the breaks and the car slams to a halt. “What the hell is she doing there?”
“It’s Grandma Death.”
“What?” He looks confused.
“Grandma Death. You know...” Unclip my seat belt and open the door.
“Cas!” He sounds impatient.
“Just one moment.”
She’s still standing in the middle of the road. But the moment I reach her she starts walking away from me. I trail after her for a few steps, making sure she reaches the edge of the road. Poor old lady doesn’t even know what’s going on around her.
“Every living creature on Earth dies alone.” Barely a whisper as I turn to head back to the car.
“What?” Turn back slowly. But the other whispers pick her voice up and echo it around me.
‘Alone. We’re all alone.’
***
“I made a new friend.” Confess to Dr Missouri.
Her couch is old and soft and lumpy. She doesn’t sit in a doctor’s chair like in the movies. She likes to sit on the other end of the couch and listen closely.
“Real or imaginary.” She asks softly.
I’d like to protest the assumption but I have been known to see things before. Which makes me assess this. This wasn’t like the other times. The other times were mainly voices, sometimes colours and light but this was a man. He may have been a man in a rabbit suit but...
“Real. He said his name was Raphael.”
“And what did Raphael have to tell you?”
It’s obvious she doesn’t believe me. I’m not completely sure myself but...
“He said there’s going to be an Apocalypse. That the world is going to end.”
“Do you think the world is coming to an end?”
Frown. Stare. It can’t be.
“No. That’s stupid.”
***
Part Two