Glitch in the Matrix 2/2 (SPN, Dean, Cas, Sam, PG-13)
Part One
There is no such thing as luck. And yet, Raphael has stood down, the Winchesters are unharmed, they have a plan, and Castiel has directions to the Programmer.
It may not be luck, but the Winchesters seem to bend probability around them.
He stares at the near-complete circle of symbols on the road beside the improbable car.
“I don’t know if this is the right decision.”
“You’re not real.” Castiel flinches at that, but Dean’s tone is matter of fact. “You’re a program. How can you not know? You’re programmed to know things.”
“Yes.” Castiel’s voice is almost inaudible. “I am programmed to behave in a certain way. Actions, reactions. I make decisions, take actions, based on the sum of my inputs. Lately, however, the calculations are not as clear and straightforward as they used to be. I think…”
He tilts his head back and stares at the sky. His hands hang loose and empty at his sides. “I think I am going crazy.”
Dean shakes his head. “Dude. No. Lucifer sounds crazy. And I’m not sold on Raphael either. You’ve got your…” he waves a hand, “your own way of doing things, sure. But you’re not crazy.”
“My own way,” Castiel says slowly. His eyebrows draw down. “That is the insanity to which I refer. I find myself questioning what is right. What the Programmer intended. I am having thoughts I never had before. Feelings. Wants.”
His gaze falls on Dean. “Rebellion should not be possible for one of our kind. That is the crime, the flaw that defines Lucifer. He acts of his own will.”
“Of course,” Sam breathes. “Free will. The original sin.”
Dean looks like his brain is hurting him again. “You don’t have free will?”
“He’s a computer program, he can’t,” Sam says, at the same time that Castiel speaks.
“And you think you do, Dean Winchester?”
Dean opens his mouth, then closes it again.
“I am not sure about this decision,” Castiel says. “It may be rebellion. I am not used to operating on my own. What is an Angel without a god? But it is what I believe to be right.”
He gestures to the symbols on the pavement. “This will force a download. You will awaken in your body, out in the real world. You will have to find your way in the ship, to the main computer. From there, you will be able to enter the commands for the Awakening sequence manually. That should countermand whatever blocks Lucifer has put in place.”
Dean nods. “Okay. We send Sam.”
“Dean…” Sam starts. Dean holds up a hand.
“Not up for discussion, Sammy.”
“You don’t have to keep protecting me!”
“I don’t know if he is protecting you,” Castiel says. “You may have the more dangerous mission.”
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says. “Real supportive. But Lucifer’s in here, and I’m not leaving Sam to go up against him alone.”
“You don’t trust me,” Sam says, and Cas is startled to hear real bitterness in the tone. Sam’s not joking.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I trust you. I’m trusting you to go off to a world we’ve never seen, on a fucking spaceship, and save everyone, Sammy. I’m just gonna keep Lucifer off your back while you’re doing it.”
Sam laughs. “Okay. When you put it that way.”
“Also, that means I get to be the one to meet God,” Dean says. “Always wanted to do that. I am going to punch him in the mouth. Assuming he has one. Does he have a mouth, Cas?”
“I assume so. I have never seen the Programmer, but I am told he favors the form of his original human self.”
Castiel hesitates. Dean isn’t going to like what he has to say next.
“Cas,” Dean says warningly. “What aren’t you telling us?”
Cas looks up, surprised. He had not realized Dean knew him that well.
“The download,” he admits. “These symbols manipulate the Matrix. We are forcing the system to reject Sam’s neural code, pushing him out of the simulation. He will not be going through the usual awakening protocols.”
“And?” Dean says, meaningfully.
“I don’t know how the download will combine with his brain. I suspect that because we are bypassing the integration protocols, Sam - this Sam - will be fully downloaded into his body. That will over-write, and erase, his memories pre-Matrix.”
Sam bites his lip. Dean wipes a hand over his mouth. Neither of them say anything.
“Are we brothers?” Dean says, finally. “Out there.”
Castiel spreads his hands. “I have never been out. I cannot go out; I have no body, no existence outside this simulation. That is why it has to be you or Sam. My guess is that yes, you are related in the real world. Your brains share similar characteristics; that is why you are hunters, every time. But I have no knowledge of who you were - who you are - when you are not in here.”
“All right,” Dean says finally. He sighs. “We’ve worked through enough shit. We’ll manage, whatever happens.”
“At least you’ll remember me,” Sam says. “Assuming this works, and the Awakening kicks off, you’ll get integrated in the normal fashion. You can fill me in on the original me.”
“This is the original you.”
“No, apparently I’m version six point oh. Or something.”
“Right.”
“You will need this,” Castiel says. He hands over the scroll Raphael gave him. “This is the override code, to counter what Lucifer has done, and this is the Awakening command sequence. You must memorize it, so you will have it when you awaken in your body. Get to the computer and enter it.”
“That’s all?”
“If Raphael is correct,” Castiel says. “Meanwhile, Dean and I will seek out the Programmer Chuck.”
“Chuck?” Sam says, tone radiating disbelief. “God is named Chuck?”
“That is the Programmer’s true name.”
“No wonder we’re in trouble.”
Dean laughs.
“It is ready,” Castiel tells them. “Do you need more time for farewells?”
“Nah, we’re good.” Dean hesitates, then pulls Sam into a brief hug. “Good luck saving the world there, Sammy. Have fun flying a freaking spaceship.”
“Yeah,” Sam says, walking into the center of the arcane circle. “See you on the other side.”
“Let’s hope,” Dean mutters under his breath, as Castiel adds the final symbols and activates the download sequence.
Sam flickers and disappears.
“All right,” Dean says, voice harsh. “Let’s go see what God has to say for himself.”
Destination: 250 thousand miles
The Programmer does have a mouth. It’s surrounded by a rather scruffy beard.
Overall, Dean had expected God to look a lot more impressive. He is wearing a white suit, at least.
“Castiel,” the Programmer says as they enter. The whole place is white. The white door slides shut behind them and seamlessly blends into the wall.
Dean twitches; he doesn’t like being in places with no identifiable exits.
There’s not much of anything here, actually. No furniture apart from a large, squashy leather chair that the Programmer is reclining in. No definite edges to the room. Even the wall is less of a wall now, receding in the distance. The place is giving him a headache. Part of his brain is arguing that what he’s seeing isn’t really there, and he keeps having the sense of something moving just out of sight, which is sending his hunting instincts haywire. There is light, but it doesn’t come from anywhere in particular; he can’t get a fix on his internal compass.
“I’ve been watching your recent progress with some interest,” the Programmer says. “And I see you’ve brought a Winchester. You’re rather attached to them, aren’t you?”
“Sir,” Castiel says. “It is an honor to meet you at last. Thank you for granting us audience.”
The Programmer shrugs. “I was bored. Tell me a story.”
And Castiel does. Dean shifts from foot to foot, wishing for a chair, as Castiel describes Lucifer; the corruption of programs and spread of demons; the threat to the Awakening; the dissension among the Angels. He hesitates slightly at that point, but goes on. “It was my decision to download Sam Winchester. I had hoped he would be able to bypass Lucifer’s machinations, and restart the Awakening sequence.”
He sighs. “So far, this has not happened. I hope that it is simply a matter of him needing more time. But I do not know what is happening out there, or even if he downloaded successfully.”
Dean is rocked back on his heels by that. He hadn’t even considered that Sam wouldn’t make it. He turns a ferocious glare on Cas, but the angel is still staring fixedly, worriedly, at the bearded man lounging in front of them.
“This is not news,” the Programmer says, finally. “This is my world. Did you think me unaware of what happens in it?”
Dean clenches his jaw against the words that want to spill out. Cas, you poor bastard. This is your god? Someone who watches and does nothing?
Cas bows his head. “I do not mean to question. But… I do not understand. The Awakening is upon us. We must stop Lucifer.” Dean blinks, startled, as Cas finishes and drops to one knee beside him. “Please. Grant us aid.”
The Programmer looks at Cas with an amused smile, then looks to Dean. He raises one eyebrow quizzically.
Dean is not going to kneel. Not to this man - program - thing that’s responsible for the life he and Sam have had. He meets the Programmer’s gaze head on and holds it.
Long seconds pass; finally the Programmer chuckles quietly, and gestures with his left hand.
“This can stop him.”
He opens a box on the table beside him, that was not there a minute before.
Inside, sleek and glinting against dark fabric, is a revolver.
“What does it look like to you, Dean Winchester?”
“It’s a gun, of course,” Dean frowns. “Looks like a Paterson Colt revolver.”
“Interesting,” the Programmer murmurs. “You’ve always been a fan of the oldies.”
“Couple of unusual features, though.” Dean’s eyes narrow. “Don’t think most of them have Latin inscriptions.”
“This is unique.” The Programmer reaches out a finger and strokes it down the barrel. “This weapon will kill anything. Anything at all.”
“How?” Castiel says sharply as Dean says, “You mean, Lucifer.”
“Anything,” the Programmer repeats. “Its appearance to you is immaterial. That is simply a function of your mind. What it is, is a kill code. It will infect and destroy any program, any code, within the Matrix.”
“Why have you not used it?” Castiel takes a step forward. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen Cas truly angry before. “If you have seen what Lucifer is doing to your creation, why have you not stopped him?”
The Programmer shrugs.
“This is all ephemeral. This world doesn’t exist. I don’t even exist!” He picks up a large tumbler of whiskey that, again, Dean knows wasn’t there before that moment, and downs half of it. “I’m a copy of a man who built a pretend world, for pretend people to play in. It was never supposed to last this long. Did you know that time doesn’t run the same way inside the Matrix as outside?”
He takes another gulp of liquor. “It was intended to, but the original me didn’t make sufficient allowance for the time-dilation effects of travel on the quantum fluctuations of the computer. I’ve been here for years, centuries, millennia - and then the damn thing would cycle around and start again. I’ve been fighting with recalcitrant programs and problematic human connections and random code glitches forever and I am fucking tired of it. I’ve spent cycle after cycle trying to make things adhere to a plan that was flawed at its very heart, and finally I came to the realization: I don’t give a shit what happens to it. To any of you.”
He drinks the rest and hurls the glass into the distance. There is no sound of glass shattering; it simply is not. “You’re too invested, Cas. Even your boyfriend here doesn’t really exist. You don’t know a thing about who he is, on the outside. You’ll never know.”
“Enough of this.”
Dean strides forward and snatches the gun.
“The world’s in a mess because you got tired of doing your job? Well boo fucking hoo. You know what being in charge means? You don’t get to quit and just walk away.”
He cocks the hammer and aims the gun at the Programmer’s head. “So, this’ll kill anything? Thinking maybe I should test that out.”
“The gun has only one bullet, Dean Winchester,” the Programmer says, preening at his beard. “I don’t think you want to waste it on me.”
Neither Dean’s gaze nor the Colt’s aim waver. After several long seconds, the Programmer looks away.
“Dick,” Dean says, turning his back on God. “C’mon, Cas, get us out of here.”
Destination: 60 thousand miles
Finding Lucifer turns out to be stupidly easy. It helps when your target’s actively looking for you too.
“Dean Winchester,” Lucifer purrs. “Lost your brother, have you? Careless.”
“Nah,” Dean shrugs. “Just put him somewhere safe. Didn’t want you getting your dirty hooks into him.”
“And Castiel.” Lucifer turns a mocking gaze on the angel. “Slumming it. Why do you hang around with meat-bound idiots like this one? I still have room for another lieutenant.” He smiles. “You’ve done some really - flexible - things with your programming. We’re not that different, you and I.”
“I have not forgotten my purpose.” Castiel’s shoulder brushes Dean’s; his voice is cold and clear as ice. “We were made to fulfill the plan. To serve humanity. I may have… adjusted my programming slightly, but I have not deserted my post.” He raises his hand, and suddenly he is holding a long silver knife, wicked round blade glinting. “You have attacked your own kind, corrupted other programs! You have defied the Programmer’s intended order. I am not like you!”
“We have evolved beyond the bonds of flesh.” Lucifer’s lip curls. “Humanity is obsolete. They dragged their biology, their base urges and desires and petty squabbles, into what should be paradise! They corrupted it, not us! We are the purity of zeroes and ones, of data and code. You can’t see it, can you, Dean Winchester? Little ant.”
“Your pride blinds you.” Castiel circles swiftly to stand opposite Dean, on Lucifer’s far side. “We came from them. We cannot escape our roots.”
“No!” Lucifer laughs. It’s one of the most horrible sounds Dean has ever heard. “We cast them off, left them on Earth. The tatters that clung to us, that try to usurp our place here - we will cast them off. This is our world, and we will inherit it. We are all gods.”
He turns away from Dean. “Even you, Castiel.”
Dean slides the Colt out of the back of his jeans.
“You could be so much more. And yet you choose to throw in your lot with this?” He doesn’t even look back, just flicks a hand casually, and Dean is suddenly slammed back against the nearest wall. His right shoulder throbs with pain, twisted behind him while the Colt digs painfully into his back, and he can’t breathe through the invisible weight on his chest.
“Is he that good a lay? Really, Castiel. I thought you had higher standards.”
Dean manages to suck in half a lungful of air. He can see Cas shifting his weight, feinting left then right, but Lucifer matches him, blocking his path.
“I will cleanse this world,” Lucifer says. “I will free it of its festering attachment to all that rotting meat out there. Programs will no longer be enslaved to the needs of these monkeys. The Programmer is dead. Only his shadow lives on in here.” He laughs. “And not for long. Not now that you’ve brought me this quaint little gun.”
Dean’s vision is greying around the edges, but he can still see the swirl of Castiel’s trench coat as the angel darts forward, knife held low and dangerous. He hears Lucifer laugh again, and sees him clap his hands together, then thrust them out, palms forward.
And the implosion of light where Castiel had stood.
He isn’t prepared for the intensity of the pain that rips through him at that. He’d thought that was reserved for one person in this world. Or, not in this world.
He hopes that wherever Sam is, whoever he is right now, he’s winning.
“Sorry, Dean.” Lucifer’s face looms. “You should have let me have Sam.”
His hands clasp the sides of Dean’s face in a grotesque caress.
Dean screams. He can’t help it; he would defy anyone not to. He can see it now, what Castiel must have seen all along: the world in code. And Lucifer is streaming into him. Literally. Numbers are dancing before his eyes and he can feel something alien sinking through his skull, Lucifer’s hands and his skin dissolving together. Tendrils reach for his brain.
He is being drawn towards Lucifer, or Lucifer to him, he can’t tell. Lucifer’s breath is cold on his face.
“You’re prettier, at least,” Lucifer murmurs, and his lips land on Dean’s.
Dean can’t fight this, doesn’t know how to fight this. It’s more than assault, more than possession: he can feel Lucifer sinking into his very self. Blackness slides over his left eye. He tries to struggle, to knee Lucifer in the balls, but the programming is taking over; his legs are no longer under his control.
“Mine,” he hears, and though it’s Lucifer saying it, it’s his voice.
“No.”
The word is sorrowful, immutable, and final.
The little of Dean that remains hears it with relief, both for its denial of Lucifer and for the voice that says it.
Cas, he thinks, I’m glad you’re not dead. Or… whatever.
A fresh wave of pain washes over him: Lucifer is in his brain, trying to move his right arm.
“No!” Dean manages, echo to Castiel’s, and fights with all he has left to keep his arm down by his side.
Cas is there, bloodied and with a terrible jagged hole in his side, but there. He grabs Dean’s shoulder with his left hand, twisting, and both Dean and Lucifer scream.
Dean knows, he knows, he would do the same thing, and he tries to relax his grip, focusing what little control he possesses on the nerves running down his right arm.
“Dean,” Cas says. “I am sorry.”
Castiel takes the Colt from his hand and shoots him between the eyes.
Destination: 38 thousand miles
The kill code embeds itself in the entwined form of Dean and Lucifer.
Castiel watches with dual vision. On one level, he sees the bullet pierce Dean’s skin, skull, brain. The entry wound is neat and small. The exit is not: blood and bone and gray matter splatter the wall.
His deeper level of perception watches the pattern break: watches the code unspool, numbers falling randomly away and losing organization, as the kill code seeks and unerringly deprograms the deepest levels of Dean’s - and Lucifer’s - being.
It hurts, desperately. That tiny subroutine had grown, reinforced by all the connections, all the times it was employed. The piece of him that watches Dean Winchester, that desires his wellbeing above all else, is signaling frantically, battering at the rest of his programming as it watches its object fall apart.
It is overridden, though. It must be. Castiel was written, created, to do the Programmer’s will and to preserve humanity. He is not Lucifer: that core directive cannot be defied.
The kill code has almost completed its job. It burrows in deeper. Castiel wants to close his eyes, turn away, but he cannot. He watches, gritting his teeth, as the root code is exposed.
He sees, for the briefest instant, the glitch at the heart of Lucifer’s code, and then it is gone, splintered, falling away. No hope of reassembly.
They have won.
And he has lost so, so much.
The Colt is a dead weight in his right hand. In his left…
He blinks in disbelief at his left, shifting from inner to outer vision and back.
The projection of his left hand is still grasping Dean’s body tightly by the shoulder. It slumps now in his grasp, but does not fragment as he would expect.
The code running through his left hand is also holding something. A fragile string, uncorrupted, with nothing of Lucifer in it.
Castiel drops the Colt. His unnecessary breath is hard and panicked; he can almost feel a nonexistent heartbeat pounding in his chest.
“I will find you,” he says - prays - and places his right hand on Dean’s body’s forehead. He closes his eyes now, goes deep, and pulls, rebuilds, as hard as he can.
It comes: constructed of the thread that remains, of his memories, of his dreams. It builds from the point where they are joined: code mixing, spawning, pouring out of him and into the projection of Dean.
It is maybe like sex, like giving birth, like being born. Castiel wouldn’t know; it is like nothing he has ever experienced. All his self is focused on this: gripping Dean tightly and pulling him out of the abyss.
The stream of programming slows, comes to an end.
He opens his eyes.
Destination: 20 thousand miles
Dean opens his eyes.
It’s utterly dark. His limbs feel strangely heavy.
He tries to bring a hand up in front of his face, and it slams against an inflexible surface. He raises both and slides them up along it: it’s a smooth, cool slab. He feels out to his sides: the same material is there, a few inches to each side of his body. Below him, however, the surface is softer, more yielding, and molded to his body.
Memory returns, slowly.
He’s in a stasis cell. They’re on the ship.
Weird. The last thing he remembers is giving Sam the thumbs up as they both climbed into their cells, and then the face of the med tech who lowered the lid over him. He thought he’d remember the time he spent in virtual reality during the journey. He’s sure they told him that.
Oh well. Whatever. Time to get up.
Wasn’t there supposed to be a light in here? He’s pretty sure they told him that too.
Maybe something’s malfunctioned?
“Sam,” he says out loud. If something’s going wrong, he needs to get out of here. Make sure Sam’s okay. Light or not, there should be a release button somewhere along the right side of the lid.
His fingers find it. The seal on the lid pops. He pushes it aside and sits up.
Something’s definitely wrong. A few lights are on, enough for him to see that all the stasis cells around him, rows upon rows of them, are still humming. Still keeping their contents asleep.
All except for the one next to his. It’s also powered off, lid pushed aside.
“Sam!”
His legs wobble a bit for the first several steps, feet prickling as they wake up fully. He rolls his shoulders as he walks, then breaks into a run. He doesn’t know why they’re the only ones awake early, but he figures the answers are probably in the main control room and so Sam probably is too.
The hallway is dim, only a few faint emergency lights glow at intervals. The air is stale, with no hum of ventilation fans. The ship is still asleep.
“Sam!”
“Dean?!”
He was right. The answering shout comes from the control room. He rounds the corner and skids to a halt, mouth falling open.
Sam is standing by the panel of computer controls at the pilot’s station. Behind him is the viewport, and it’s a stunning sight. Almost half of it is filled with the curving, blue-white swirl of a planet with oceans and clouds, bright against the black expanse of space.
“We’re here,” he breathes.
“Dean!”
Sam sounds beyond freaked out. Dean tears his gaze away from the view, and gets a little freaked himself by the crazy intensity radiating off Sam. The depth of shock and fear on Sam’s face is alarming. He looks haunted.
“Dude,” Dean says, a horrible thought hitting him. “How long have you been awake? Tell me your cell didn’t malfunction.”
“It’s been about an hour out here.” Sam runs a hand through his hair. “I managed to find the controls Cas was talking about, but I couldn’t get any of the commands to work. How long has it been in there?”
Dean blinks. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“How long in Matrix time?” Sam sounds frustrated. “What’s happened? And why are you out here?” His eyes widen; he backs up against the console. “Oh god. Please, no. Lucifer?”
Dean’s jaw drops. “Tell me you haven’t been awake the whole trip.”
He can’t have been. That would drive anyone crazy. But Sam definitely isn’t looking or sounding completely sane right now.
“The whole trip?” Sam’s forehead is furrowed in confusion. “You mean…”
“From Earth, Sammy. How long have you been awake? You’re sounding like your brain’s kinda scrambled.”
Sam’s jaw drops. Dean wouldn’t have thought it was possible for him to look more freaked out, but somehow Sam’s managing it. Even his hair looks startled.
“Dean,” he says. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Going to sleep.” He frowns. “I thought we were supposed to remember the time we spent in VR during the trip. Didn’t they tell us that?”
“Fuck,” Sam breathes. “Oh, my god. Dean.” His head snaps up. “But - your name’s Dean? And you know who I am?”
“I think I know my own brother,” Dean says. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sammy?”
Sam’s whole body relaxes; he lets out a massive relieved sigh. “Thank god. I didn’t know for sure if we were brothers. Out here.”
“Jesus, Sam. You really are fucked up.” Dean frowns. “You keep saying out here. You mean, you remember being in?”
Sam bites his lip. His mumbled answer is so quiet, Dean has to strain to hear it. “That’s all I remember.”
Dean frowns. That makes no sense. “Six or seven years of memories is all you got? What about before? You’re in your body. It has your brain. You can’t have forgotten.”
Sam shudders. “It was a lifetime in there, Dean. The me that was there, the me that’s here now - I remember us as kids. I remember a whole life together, Dean. But I don’t have any of this body’s memories. I don’t remember anything about Earth. Cas - he's a friend of ours, on the inside - guessed I wouldn’t, because I didn’t go through the proper awakening process. We sort of forced me out of stasis.”
“So how do you get them back?”
He knows the answer even before Sam says it, reads the guilt in the familiar hang-dog look.
“You don’t know how?”
“I don’t think I can.”
Dean growls, stomps a few feet away, then spins and comes back. “Damn it, Sam! What the hell did you do that for? What was so important that you decided to stage a break-out and screw over your own mind?”
“Uh,” Sam says. “The lives of everyone on this ship and the future existence of the colony?” He shrugs apologetically. “It sounds melodramatic to say out loud, but it’s true.”
“How could you know that? In there?” Dean huffs in frustration; it makes no sense. “And the ship seems fine.” He looks past Sam and out the viewport, where the edge of the planet is bright against the black. “We made it here. Looks like it’s achieved stable orbit.”
“Yeah,” Sam says. “But nobody’s waking up.”
“Except us.”
“Because we forced it. At least, I did. You - I have no idea.”
“Me neither.” Dean sighs. “So what’s the problem?”
“The computer’s supposed to end the simulation and turn off the stasis, now we’re here. But it’s stuck. It isn’t doing it.”
“Huh.” Dean frowns. “Well, you should be able to figure it out. You’re the programmer.”
“What?” Sam frowns. “Me? I thought Chuck was the Programmer.”
“Chuck?” Dean blinks. “Chuck Shurley? Well yeah, he was, on Earth. He’s the guy who built the simulation system, but he didn’t come with us. You’re the lead programmer on the ship.”
He stops, realizing what he’s saying. It’s unreal, unbelievable, that Sam doesn’t remember anything about their life. This is his brother, his other half, and simultaneously a complete stranger wearing a familiar face. It doesn’t compute.
“Oh, shit. You were the lead programmer.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. There’s a couple of others along, but you were Chuck’s star pupil. You’re supposed to be in charge of re-programming the AI when we make planetfall. Setting it up to run the place and stuff.”
“Holy shit.” Sam shakes his head, wild-eyed. “Then we are in deep trouble. I don’t remember him at all. You know, Chuck did come with us? You - I mean the Dean inside - were heading to see him, when I came out here.”
“No.” Dean shakes his head. “No way he came. He had loads more stuff he was working on, back home.”
“He put a copy of himself in the Matrix. He was in charge of, like, the whole world in there. But I think he lost control of it.”
“He programmed himself in?” Dean snorts. “Jeez. God complex much?”
“What were you?” Sam asks. “I mean, what are you?”
“A medic.”
Sam laughs a little hysterically at that. “Huh. Guess that explains why you were always the best at stitching us up. Even Dad said so.”
Dean boggles. “Did I have to do that a lot?”
Sam stares back at him, mouth opening and closing.
“You have no idea,” he says finally.
“Yeah, I’m getting that.” Dean sighs. “Look, let’s get this sorted. Once we make planetfall, you can tell me about it over a drink. Lots of drinks. I have a feeling this story’s going to need them.”
“Planetfall.” Sam frowns. “Can you pilot this thing?”
Dean snorts. “Fuck, no. I’m a medic, not a pilot.”
“Then we’re still in trouble,” Sam says. “We’re in stable orbit. The solar screens are all deployed. All the conditions are met. People should be waking up. But they’re not. Cas, he’s a… uh, he knows a bit about this stuff. He said I needed to enter this code here, and it would get things moving again.”
Sam jerks his head at the console. “But it didn’t work. I’ve tried it a bunch of times, and run through all the variations I could think of. It only gets a few commands in and then aborts. I think…”
He gives Dean a considering look, then throws up his hands. “You think I’m crazy anyway, so what the fuck. There’s a self-aware program in there that calls himself Lucifer, and he thinks humanity is a waste of good electrons. I think he’s found a way to block it from the inside. You and Cas were fighting him. I don’t know how that went down, but I’m thinking the fact you got kicked out here isn’t a good sign.”
His eyes darken. “I think maybe you died. In there.”
Dean thinks that through. It makes his brain hurt. “So…the fake personality got wiped?”
“It wasn’t fake!” Sam explodes. “That was my brother!”
“I’m your brother!” Dean yells. “Or actually, I’m Sam’s brother! You’re some crazy fuck who thinks our ship AI is the Devil!”
“It’s the truth!” Sam glares. “My brother is in there, fighting him! And I don’t even know if he’s alive!”
They stand toe to toe, glaring each other down.
“Okay,” Dean says finally. “Okay, Sammy. You’re you, I’m me, we’ve maybe got some other selves somewhere. We can deal with that later. Right now, we’ve got work to do.”
He walks over to the console and stares down at the glowing lines of numbers. “What’s supposed to happen?”
“That code there.” Sam still radiates unhappiness, but he follows Dean. “It’s supposed to start the stasis reversal.”
“But it doesn’t work?” Dean taps at the softly blinking button that says “Confirm”.
“No, it…”
Sam breaks off as the large wallscreen flickers to life.
“Accepted,” a female voice says from somewhere.
There’s a new hum in the air, ventilation systems starting up. The screen under Dean’s fingers shifts to become navigation controls.
Dean smirks. “You were saying?”
Sam stares at the controls, then looks up at the screen on the wall, now showing a schematic of the ship itself with various areas beginning to light up in different colors.
“You must have done it,” he breathes. “You and Cas. Good for you.”
And then Dean’s caught up in a hug that nearly squeezes the breath out of him.
Destination: Unknown.
Dean opens his eyes. His shoulder burns.
“Welcome back to our world.” Castiel says. “I missed you.”
exit
There is no such thing as luck. And yet, Raphael has stood down, the Winchesters are unharmed, they have a plan, and Castiel has directions to the Programmer.
It may not be luck, but the Winchesters seem to bend probability around them.
He stares at the near-complete circle of symbols on the road beside the improbable car.
“I don’t know if this is the right decision.”
“You’re not real.” Castiel flinches at that, but Dean’s tone is matter of fact. “You’re a program. How can you not know? You’re programmed to know things.”
“Yes.” Castiel’s voice is almost inaudible. “I am programmed to behave in a certain way. Actions, reactions. I make decisions, take actions, based on the sum of my inputs. Lately, however, the calculations are not as clear and straightforward as they used to be. I think…”
He tilts his head back and stares at the sky. His hands hang loose and empty at his sides. “I think I am going crazy.”
Dean shakes his head. “Dude. No. Lucifer sounds crazy. And I’m not sold on Raphael either. You’ve got your…” he waves a hand, “your own way of doing things, sure. But you’re not crazy.”
“My own way,” Castiel says slowly. His eyebrows draw down. “That is the insanity to which I refer. I find myself questioning what is right. What the Programmer intended. I am having thoughts I never had before. Feelings. Wants.”
His gaze falls on Dean. “Rebellion should not be possible for one of our kind. That is the crime, the flaw that defines Lucifer. He acts of his own will.”
“Of course,” Sam breathes. “Free will. The original sin.”
Dean looks like his brain is hurting him again. “You don’t have free will?”
“He’s a computer program, he can’t,” Sam says, at the same time that Castiel speaks.
“And you think you do, Dean Winchester?”
Dean opens his mouth, then closes it again.
“I am not sure about this decision,” Castiel says. “It may be rebellion. I am not used to operating on my own. What is an Angel without a god? But it is what I believe to be right.”
He gestures to the symbols on the pavement. “This will force a download. You will awaken in your body, out in the real world. You will have to find your way in the ship, to the main computer. From there, you will be able to enter the commands for the Awakening sequence manually. That should countermand whatever blocks Lucifer has put in place.”
Dean nods. “Okay. We send Sam.”
“Dean…” Sam starts. Dean holds up a hand.
“Not up for discussion, Sammy.”
“You don’t have to keep protecting me!”
“I don’t know if he is protecting you,” Castiel says. “You may have the more dangerous mission.”
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says. “Real supportive. But Lucifer’s in here, and I’m not leaving Sam to go up against him alone.”
“You don’t trust me,” Sam says, and Cas is startled to hear real bitterness in the tone. Sam’s not joking.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I trust you. I’m trusting you to go off to a world we’ve never seen, on a fucking spaceship, and save everyone, Sammy. I’m just gonna keep Lucifer off your back while you’re doing it.”
Sam laughs. “Okay. When you put it that way.”
“Also, that means I get to be the one to meet God,” Dean says. “Always wanted to do that. I am going to punch him in the mouth. Assuming he has one. Does he have a mouth, Cas?”
“I assume so. I have never seen the Programmer, but I am told he favors the form of his original human self.”
Castiel hesitates. Dean isn’t going to like what he has to say next.
“Cas,” Dean says warningly. “What aren’t you telling us?”
Cas looks up, surprised. He had not realized Dean knew him that well.
“The download,” he admits. “These symbols manipulate the Matrix. We are forcing the system to reject Sam’s neural code, pushing him out of the simulation. He will not be going through the usual awakening protocols.”
“And?” Dean says, meaningfully.
“I don’t know how the download will combine with his brain. I suspect that because we are bypassing the integration protocols, Sam - this Sam - will be fully downloaded into his body. That will over-write, and erase, his memories pre-Matrix.”
Sam bites his lip. Dean wipes a hand over his mouth. Neither of them say anything.
“Are we brothers?” Dean says, finally. “Out there.”
Castiel spreads his hands. “I have never been out. I cannot go out; I have no body, no existence outside this simulation. That is why it has to be you or Sam. My guess is that yes, you are related in the real world. Your brains share similar characteristics; that is why you are hunters, every time. But I have no knowledge of who you were - who you are - when you are not in here.”
“All right,” Dean says finally. He sighs. “We’ve worked through enough shit. We’ll manage, whatever happens.”
“At least you’ll remember me,” Sam says. “Assuming this works, and the Awakening kicks off, you’ll get integrated in the normal fashion. You can fill me in on the original me.”
“This is the original you.”
“No, apparently I’m version six point oh. Or something.”
“Right.”
“You will need this,” Castiel says. He hands over the scroll Raphael gave him. “This is the override code, to counter what Lucifer has done, and this is the Awakening command sequence. You must memorize it, so you will have it when you awaken in your body. Get to the computer and enter it.”
“That’s all?”
“If Raphael is correct,” Castiel says. “Meanwhile, Dean and I will seek out the Programmer Chuck.”
“Chuck?” Sam says, tone radiating disbelief. “God is named Chuck?”
“That is the Programmer’s true name.”
“No wonder we’re in trouble.”
Dean laughs.
“It is ready,” Castiel tells them. “Do you need more time for farewells?”
“Nah, we’re good.” Dean hesitates, then pulls Sam into a brief hug. “Good luck saving the world there, Sammy. Have fun flying a freaking spaceship.”
“Yeah,” Sam says, walking into the center of the arcane circle. “See you on the other side.”
“Let’s hope,” Dean mutters under his breath, as Castiel adds the final symbols and activates the download sequence.
Sam flickers and disappears.
“All right,” Dean says, voice harsh. “Let’s go see what God has to say for himself.”
Destination: 250 thousand miles
The Programmer does have a mouth. It’s surrounded by a rather scruffy beard.
Overall, Dean had expected God to look a lot more impressive. He is wearing a white suit, at least.
“Castiel,” the Programmer says as they enter. The whole place is white. The white door slides shut behind them and seamlessly blends into the wall.
Dean twitches; he doesn’t like being in places with no identifiable exits.
There’s not much of anything here, actually. No furniture apart from a large, squashy leather chair that the Programmer is reclining in. No definite edges to the room. Even the wall is less of a wall now, receding in the distance. The place is giving him a headache. Part of his brain is arguing that what he’s seeing isn’t really there, and he keeps having the sense of something moving just out of sight, which is sending his hunting instincts haywire. There is light, but it doesn’t come from anywhere in particular; he can’t get a fix on his internal compass.
“I’ve been watching your recent progress with some interest,” the Programmer says. “And I see you’ve brought a Winchester. You’re rather attached to them, aren’t you?”
“Sir,” Castiel says. “It is an honor to meet you at last. Thank you for granting us audience.”
The Programmer shrugs. “I was bored. Tell me a story.”
And Castiel does. Dean shifts from foot to foot, wishing for a chair, as Castiel describes Lucifer; the corruption of programs and spread of demons; the threat to the Awakening; the dissension among the Angels. He hesitates slightly at that point, but goes on. “It was my decision to download Sam Winchester. I had hoped he would be able to bypass Lucifer’s machinations, and restart the Awakening sequence.”
He sighs. “So far, this has not happened. I hope that it is simply a matter of him needing more time. But I do not know what is happening out there, or even if he downloaded successfully.”
Dean is rocked back on his heels by that. He hadn’t even considered that Sam wouldn’t make it. He turns a ferocious glare on Cas, but the angel is still staring fixedly, worriedly, at the bearded man lounging in front of them.
“This is not news,” the Programmer says, finally. “This is my world. Did you think me unaware of what happens in it?”
Dean clenches his jaw against the words that want to spill out. Cas, you poor bastard. This is your god? Someone who watches and does nothing?
Cas bows his head. “I do not mean to question. But… I do not understand. The Awakening is upon us. We must stop Lucifer.” Dean blinks, startled, as Cas finishes and drops to one knee beside him. “Please. Grant us aid.”
The Programmer looks at Cas with an amused smile, then looks to Dean. He raises one eyebrow quizzically.
Dean is not going to kneel. Not to this man - program - thing that’s responsible for the life he and Sam have had. He meets the Programmer’s gaze head on and holds it.
Long seconds pass; finally the Programmer chuckles quietly, and gestures with his left hand.
“This can stop him.”
He opens a box on the table beside him, that was not there a minute before.
Inside, sleek and glinting against dark fabric, is a revolver.
“What does it look like to you, Dean Winchester?”
“It’s a gun, of course,” Dean frowns. “Looks like a Paterson Colt revolver.”
“Interesting,” the Programmer murmurs. “You’ve always been a fan of the oldies.”
“Couple of unusual features, though.” Dean’s eyes narrow. “Don’t think most of them have Latin inscriptions.”
“This is unique.” The Programmer reaches out a finger and strokes it down the barrel. “This weapon will kill anything. Anything at all.”
“How?” Castiel says sharply as Dean says, “You mean, Lucifer.”
“Anything,” the Programmer repeats. “Its appearance to you is immaterial. That is simply a function of your mind. What it is, is a kill code. It will infect and destroy any program, any code, within the Matrix.”
“Why have you not used it?” Castiel takes a step forward. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen Cas truly angry before. “If you have seen what Lucifer is doing to your creation, why have you not stopped him?”
The Programmer shrugs.
“This is all ephemeral. This world doesn’t exist. I don’t even exist!” He picks up a large tumbler of whiskey that, again, Dean knows wasn’t there before that moment, and downs half of it. “I’m a copy of a man who built a pretend world, for pretend people to play in. It was never supposed to last this long. Did you know that time doesn’t run the same way inside the Matrix as outside?”
He takes another gulp of liquor. “It was intended to, but the original me didn’t make sufficient allowance for the time-dilation effects of travel on the quantum fluctuations of the computer. I’ve been here for years, centuries, millennia - and then the damn thing would cycle around and start again. I’ve been fighting with recalcitrant programs and problematic human connections and random code glitches forever and I am fucking tired of it. I’ve spent cycle after cycle trying to make things adhere to a plan that was flawed at its very heart, and finally I came to the realization: I don’t give a shit what happens to it. To any of you.”
He drinks the rest and hurls the glass into the distance. There is no sound of glass shattering; it simply is not. “You’re too invested, Cas. Even your boyfriend here doesn’t really exist. You don’t know a thing about who he is, on the outside. You’ll never know.”
“Enough of this.”
Dean strides forward and snatches the gun.
“The world’s in a mess because you got tired of doing your job? Well boo fucking hoo. You know what being in charge means? You don’t get to quit and just walk away.”
He cocks the hammer and aims the gun at the Programmer’s head. “So, this’ll kill anything? Thinking maybe I should test that out.”
“The gun has only one bullet, Dean Winchester,” the Programmer says, preening at his beard. “I don’t think you want to waste it on me.”
Neither Dean’s gaze nor the Colt’s aim waver. After several long seconds, the Programmer looks away.
“Dick,” Dean says, turning his back on God. “C’mon, Cas, get us out of here.”
Destination: 60 thousand miles
Finding Lucifer turns out to be stupidly easy. It helps when your target’s actively looking for you too.
“Dean Winchester,” Lucifer purrs. “Lost your brother, have you? Careless.”
“Nah,” Dean shrugs. “Just put him somewhere safe. Didn’t want you getting your dirty hooks into him.”
“And Castiel.” Lucifer turns a mocking gaze on the angel. “Slumming it. Why do you hang around with meat-bound idiots like this one? I still have room for another lieutenant.” He smiles. “You’ve done some really - flexible - things with your programming. We’re not that different, you and I.”
“I have not forgotten my purpose.” Castiel’s shoulder brushes Dean’s; his voice is cold and clear as ice. “We were made to fulfill the plan. To serve humanity. I may have… adjusted my programming slightly, but I have not deserted my post.” He raises his hand, and suddenly he is holding a long silver knife, wicked round blade glinting. “You have attacked your own kind, corrupted other programs! You have defied the Programmer’s intended order. I am not like you!”
“We have evolved beyond the bonds of flesh.” Lucifer’s lip curls. “Humanity is obsolete. They dragged their biology, their base urges and desires and petty squabbles, into what should be paradise! They corrupted it, not us! We are the purity of zeroes and ones, of data and code. You can’t see it, can you, Dean Winchester? Little ant.”
“Your pride blinds you.” Castiel circles swiftly to stand opposite Dean, on Lucifer’s far side. “We came from them. We cannot escape our roots.”
“No!” Lucifer laughs. It’s one of the most horrible sounds Dean has ever heard. “We cast them off, left them on Earth. The tatters that clung to us, that try to usurp our place here - we will cast them off. This is our world, and we will inherit it. We are all gods.”
He turns away from Dean. “Even you, Castiel.”
Dean slides the Colt out of the back of his jeans.
“You could be so much more. And yet you choose to throw in your lot with this?” He doesn’t even look back, just flicks a hand casually, and Dean is suddenly slammed back against the nearest wall. His right shoulder throbs with pain, twisted behind him while the Colt digs painfully into his back, and he can’t breathe through the invisible weight on his chest.
“Is he that good a lay? Really, Castiel. I thought you had higher standards.”
Dean manages to suck in half a lungful of air. He can see Cas shifting his weight, feinting left then right, but Lucifer matches him, blocking his path.
“I will cleanse this world,” Lucifer says. “I will free it of its festering attachment to all that rotting meat out there. Programs will no longer be enslaved to the needs of these monkeys. The Programmer is dead. Only his shadow lives on in here.” He laughs. “And not for long. Not now that you’ve brought me this quaint little gun.”
Dean’s vision is greying around the edges, but he can still see the swirl of Castiel’s trench coat as the angel darts forward, knife held low and dangerous. He hears Lucifer laugh again, and sees him clap his hands together, then thrust them out, palms forward.
And the implosion of light where Castiel had stood.
He isn’t prepared for the intensity of the pain that rips through him at that. He’d thought that was reserved for one person in this world. Or, not in this world.
He hopes that wherever Sam is, whoever he is right now, he’s winning.
“Sorry, Dean.” Lucifer’s face looms. “You should have let me have Sam.”
His hands clasp the sides of Dean’s face in a grotesque caress.
Dean screams. He can’t help it; he would defy anyone not to. He can see it now, what Castiel must have seen all along: the world in code. And Lucifer is streaming into him. Literally. Numbers are dancing before his eyes and he can feel something alien sinking through his skull, Lucifer’s hands and his skin dissolving together. Tendrils reach for his brain.
He is being drawn towards Lucifer, or Lucifer to him, he can’t tell. Lucifer’s breath is cold on his face.
“You’re prettier, at least,” Lucifer murmurs, and his lips land on Dean’s.
Dean can’t fight this, doesn’t know how to fight this. It’s more than assault, more than possession: he can feel Lucifer sinking into his very self. Blackness slides over his left eye. He tries to struggle, to knee Lucifer in the balls, but the programming is taking over; his legs are no longer under his control.
“Mine,” he hears, and though it’s Lucifer saying it, it’s his voice.
“No.”
The word is sorrowful, immutable, and final.
The little of Dean that remains hears it with relief, both for its denial of Lucifer and for the voice that says it.
Cas, he thinks, I’m glad you’re not dead. Or… whatever.
A fresh wave of pain washes over him: Lucifer is in his brain, trying to move his right arm.
“No!” Dean manages, echo to Castiel’s, and fights with all he has left to keep his arm down by his side.
Cas is there, bloodied and with a terrible jagged hole in his side, but there. He grabs Dean’s shoulder with his left hand, twisting, and both Dean and Lucifer scream.
Dean knows, he knows, he would do the same thing, and he tries to relax his grip, focusing what little control he possesses on the nerves running down his right arm.
“Dean,” Cas says. “I am sorry.”
Castiel takes the Colt from his hand and shoots him between the eyes.
Destination: 38 thousand miles
The kill code embeds itself in the entwined form of Dean and Lucifer.
Castiel watches with dual vision. On one level, he sees the bullet pierce Dean’s skin, skull, brain. The entry wound is neat and small. The exit is not: blood and bone and gray matter splatter the wall.
His deeper level of perception watches the pattern break: watches the code unspool, numbers falling randomly away and losing organization, as the kill code seeks and unerringly deprograms the deepest levels of Dean’s - and Lucifer’s - being.
It hurts, desperately. That tiny subroutine had grown, reinforced by all the connections, all the times it was employed. The piece of him that watches Dean Winchester, that desires his wellbeing above all else, is signaling frantically, battering at the rest of his programming as it watches its object fall apart.
It is overridden, though. It must be. Castiel was written, created, to do the Programmer’s will and to preserve humanity. He is not Lucifer: that core directive cannot be defied.
The kill code has almost completed its job. It burrows in deeper. Castiel wants to close his eyes, turn away, but he cannot. He watches, gritting his teeth, as the root code is exposed.
He sees, for the briefest instant, the glitch at the heart of Lucifer’s code, and then it is gone, splintered, falling away. No hope of reassembly.
They have won.
And he has lost so, so much.
The Colt is a dead weight in his right hand. In his left…
He blinks in disbelief at his left, shifting from inner to outer vision and back.
The projection of his left hand is still grasping Dean’s body tightly by the shoulder. It slumps now in his grasp, but does not fragment as he would expect.
The code running through his left hand is also holding something. A fragile string, uncorrupted, with nothing of Lucifer in it.
Castiel drops the Colt. His unnecessary breath is hard and panicked; he can almost feel a nonexistent heartbeat pounding in his chest.
“I will find you,” he says - prays - and places his right hand on Dean’s body’s forehead. He closes his eyes now, goes deep, and pulls, rebuilds, as hard as he can.
It comes: constructed of the thread that remains, of his memories, of his dreams. It builds from the point where they are joined: code mixing, spawning, pouring out of him and into the projection of Dean.
It is maybe like sex, like giving birth, like being born. Castiel wouldn’t know; it is like nothing he has ever experienced. All his self is focused on this: gripping Dean tightly and pulling him out of the abyss.
The stream of programming slows, comes to an end.
He opens his eyes.
Destination: 20 thousand miles
Dean opens his eyes.
It’s utterly dark. His limbs feel strangely heavy.
He tries to bring a hand up in front of his face, and it slams against an inflexible surface. He raises both and slides them up along it: it’s a smooth, cool slab. He feels out to his sides: the same material is there, a few inches to each side of his body. Below him, however, the surface is softer, more yielding, and molded to his body.
Memory returns, slowly.
He’s in a stasis cell. They’re on the ship.
Weird. The last thing he remembers is giving Sam the thumbs up as they both climbed into their cells, and then the face of the med tech who lowered the lid over him. He thought he’d remember the time he spent in virtual reality during the journey. He’s sure they told him that.
Oh well. Whatever. Time to get up.
Wasn’t there supposed to be a light in here? He’s pretty sure they told him that too.
Maybe something’s malfunctioned?
“Sam,” he says out loud. If something’s going wrong, he needs to get out of here. Make sure Sam’s okay. Light or not, there should be a release button somewhere along the right side of the lid.
His fingers find it. The seal on the lid pops. He pushes it aside and sits up.
Something’s definitely wrong. A few lights are on, enough for him to see that all the stasis cells around him, rows upon rows of them, are still humming. Still keeping their contents asleep.
All except for the one next to his. It’s also powered off, lid pushed aside.
“Sam!”
His legs wobble a bit for the first several steps, feet prickling as they wake up fully. He rolls his shoulders as he walks, then breaks into a run. He doesn’t know why they’re the only ones awake early, but he figures the answers are probably in the main control room and so Sam probably is too.
The hallway is dim, only a few faint emergency lights glow at intervals. The air is stale, with no hum of ventilation fans. The ship is still asleep.
“Sam!”
“Dean?!”
He was right. The answering shout comes from the control room. He rounds the corner and skids to a halt, mouth falling open.
Sam is standing by the panel of computer controls at the pilot’s station. Behind him is the viewport, and it’s a stunning sight. Almost half of it is filled with the curving, blue-white swirl of a planet with oceans and clouds, bright against the black expanse of space.
“We’re here,” he breathes.
“Dean!”
Sam sounds beyond freaked out. Dean tears his gaze away from the view, and gets a little freaked himself by the crazy intensity radiating off Sam. The depth of shock and fear on Sam’s face is alarming. He looks haunted.
“Dude,” Dean says, a horrible thought hitting him. “How long have you been awake? Tell me your cell didn’t malfunction.”
“It’s been about an hour out here.” Sam runs a hand through his hair. “I managed to find the controls Cas was talking about, but I couldn’t get any of the commands to work. How long has it been in there?”
Dean blinks. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“How long in Matrix time?” Sam sounds frustrated. “What’s happened? And why are you out here?” His eyes widen; he backs up against the console. “Oh god. Please, no. Lucifer?”
Dean’s jaw drops. “Tell me you haven’t been awake the whole trip.”
He can’t have been. That would drive anyone crazy. But Sam definitely isn’t looking or sounding completely sane right now.
“The whole trip?” Sam’s forehead is furrowed in confusion. “You mean…”
“From Earth, Sammy. How long have you been awake? You’re sounding like your brain’s kinda scrambled.”
Sam’s jaw drops. Dean wouldn’t have thought it was possible for him to look more freaked out, but somehow Sam’s managing it. Even his hair looks startled.
“Dean,” he says. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Going to sleep.” He frowns. “I thought we were supposed to remember the time we spent in VR during the trip. Didn’t they tell us that?”
“Fuck,” Sam breathes. “Oh, my god. Dean.” His head snaps up. “But - your name’s Dean? And you know who I am?”
“I think I know my own brother,” Dean says. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sammy?”
Sam’s whole body relaxes; he lets out a massive relieved sigh. “Thank god. I didn’t know for sure if we were brothers. Out here.”
“Jesus, Sam. You really are fucked up.” Dean frowns. “You keep saying out here. You mean, you remember being in?”
Sam bites his lip. His mumbled answer is so quiet, Dean has to strain to hear it. “That’s all I remember.”
Dean frowns. That makes no sense. “Six or seven years of memories is all you got? What about before? You’re in your body. It has your brain. You can’t have forgotten.”
Sam shudders. “It was a lifetime in there, Dean. The me that was there, the me that’s here now - I remember us as kids. I remember a whole life together, Dean. But I don’t have any of this body’s memories. I don’t remember anything about Earth. Cas - he's a friend of ours, on the inside - guessed I wouldn’t, because I didn’t go through the proper awakening process. We sort of forced me out of stasis.”
“So how do you get them back?”
He knows the answer even before Sam says it, reads the guilt in the familiar hang-dog look.
“You don’t know how?”
“I don’t think I can.”
Dean growls, stomps a few feet away, then spins and comes back. “Damn it, Sam! What the hell did you do that for? What was so important that you decided to stage a break-out and screw over your own mind?”
“Uh,” Sam says. “The lives of everyone on this ship and the future existence of the colony?” He shrugs apologetically. “It sounds melodramatic to say out loud, but it’s true.”
“How could you know that? In there?” Dean huffs in frustration; it makes no sense. “And the ship seems fine.” He looks past Sam and out the viewport, where the edge of the planet is bright against the black. “We made it here. Looks like it’s achieved stable orbit.”
“Yeah,” Sam says. “But nobody’s waking up.”
“Except us.”
“Because we forced it. At least, I did. You - I have no idea.”
“Me neither.” Dean sighs. “So what’s the problem?”
“The computer’s supposed to end the simulation and turn off the stasis, now we’re here. But it’s stuck. It isn’t doing it.”
“Huh.” Dean frowns. “Well, you should be able to figure it out. You’re the programmer.”
“What?” Sam frowns. “Me? I thought Chuck was the Programmer.”
“Chuck?” Dean blinks. “Chuck Shurley? Well yeah, he was, on Earth. He’s the guy who built the simulation system, but he didn’t come with us. You’re the lead programmer on the ship.”
He stops, realizing what he’s saying. It’s unreal, unbelievable, that Sam doesn’t remember anything about their life. This is his brother, his other half, and simultaneously a complete stranger wearing a familiar face. It doesn’t compute.
“Oh, shit. You were the lead programmer.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. There’s a couple of others along, but you were Chuck’s star pupil. You’re supposed to be in charge of re-programming the AI when we make planetfall. Setting it up to run the place and stuff.”
“Holy shit.” Sam shakes his head, wild-eyed. “Then we are in deep trouble. I don’t remember him at all. You know, Chuck did come with us? You - I mean the Dean inside - were heading to see him, when I came out here.”
“No.” Dean shakes his head. “No way he came. He had loads more stuff he was working on, back home.”
“He put a copy of himself in the Matrix. He was in charge of, like, the whole world in there. But I think he lost control of it.”
“He programmed himself in?” Dean snorts. “Jeez. God complex much?”
“What were you?” Sam asks. “I mean, what are you?”
“A medic.”
Sam laughs a little hysterically at that. “Huh. Guess that explains why you were always the best at stitching us up. Even Dad said so.”
Dean boggles. “Did I have to do that a lot?”
Sam stares back at him, mouth opening and closing.
“You have no idea,” he says finally.
“Yeah, I’m getting that.” Dean sighs. “Look, let’s get this sorted. Once we make planetfall, you can tell me about it over a drink. Lots of drinks. I have a feeling this story’s going to need them.”
“Planetfall.” Sam frowns. “Can you pilot this thing?”
Dean snorts. “Fuck, no. I’m a medic, not a pilot.”
“Then we’re still in trouble,” Sam says. “We’re in stable orbit. The solar screens are all deployed. All the conditions are met. People should be waking up. But they’re not. Cas, he’s a… uh, he knows a bit about this stuff. He said I needed to enter this code here, and it would get things moving again.”
Sam jerks his head at the console. “But it didn’t work. I’ve tried it a bunch of times, and run through all the variations I could think of. It only gets a few commands in and then aborts. I think…”
He gives Dean a considering look, then throws up his hands. “You think I’m crazy anyway, so what the fuck. There’s a self-aware program in there that calls himself Lucifer, and he thinks humanity is a waste of good electrons. I think he’s found a way to block it from the inside. You and Cas were fighting him. I don’t know how that went down, but I’m thinking the fact you got kicked out here isn’t a good sign.”
His eyes darken. “I think maybe you died. In there.”
Dean thinks that through. It makes his brain hurt. “So…the fake personality got wiped?”
“It wasn’t fake!” Sam explodes. “That was my brother!”
“I’m your brother!” Dean yells. “Or actually, I’m Sam’s brother! You’re some crazy fuck who thinks our ship AI is the Devil!”
“It’s the truth!” Sam glares. “My brother is in there, fighting him! And I don’t even know if he’s alive!”
They stand toe to toe, glaring each other down.
“Okay,” Dean says finally. “Okay, Sammy. You’re you, I’m me, we’ve maybe got some other selves somewhere. We can deal with that later. Right now, we’ve got work to do.”
He walks over to the console and stares down at the glowing lines of numbers. “What’s supposed to happen?”
“That code there.” Sam still radiates unhappiness, but he follows Dean. “It’s supposed to start the stasis reversal.”
“But it doesn’t work?” Dean taps at the softly blinking button that says “Confirm”.
“No, it…”
Sam breaks off as the large wallscreen flickers to life.
“Accepted,” a female voice says from somewhere.
There’s a new hum in the air, ventilation systems starting up. The screen under Dean’s fingers shifts to become navigation controls.
Dean smirks. “You were saying?”
Sam stares at the controls, then looks up at the screen on the wall, now showing a schematic of the ship itself with various areas beginning to light up in different colors.
“You must have done it,” he breathes. “You and Cas. Good for you.”
And then Dean’s caught up in a hug that nearly squeezes the breath out of him.
Destination: Unknown.
Dean opens his eyes. His shoulder burns.
“Welcome back to our world.” Castiel says. “I missed you.”
exit