I, Castiel: SPN, PG-13, 3/?
Jul. 31st, 2010 04:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
daymarketTitle: I, Castiel
Author: daymarket
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Notes: AU robot!fic. This fic will probably have 4 or 5 or 6 or whatever parts. Bah! Also, a plethora of philosophical discussion. Hats off to Mr. Asimov!
Summary: Dean takes his first steps into the 22nd century with his very own P.A.L., the most sophisticated robot on the market. One programming muddle later, he finds himself teaching a contrary, stiff robot what it means to be human.
Chapter Two
x
The doorbell rang at precisely seven o’ clock. Dean got the door as Castiel was still busy in the kitchen, pulling it open to reveal a grinning Sam. “Hey!” Sam said, holding up a bottle of champagne. “Brought this to spice things up.”
“Champagne?” Dean said, looking at the label. “Nice. I see that Jess managed to wean you off rotgut and day-old beer?” he added, looking up to see the woman in question. “Thanks for that, by the way, Sam’s civilian stomach is way too tender to handle real men’s food. You must be Jess.”
Jess smiled at him and held out a hand for him to shake. “And you must be Dean, Sam’s nursemaid. I’m pleased to know that you finally got him off diapers.”
Dean whistled as Sam gave a groan and smacked his forehead. “Great,” Sam said. “Double-teaming.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want you to get too full of yourself, would we?” Dean asked, holding the door open. “Come on in, guys. Throw your coats wherever.” Sam and Jess tromped into the house, peeling off their jackets as they did so. Dean raised an eyebrow as he noticed that they were one short. “So, where’s Ruby?”
Sam and Jess traded glances. “At home,” Sam said finally, sounding a little embarrassed. “I, uh, felt we needed some time to ourselves, you know?”
Dean heard the underlying tone of “don’t want to talk about it” and gave a nod. “Okay, man, but I have to warn you—if you guys start making out on the couch, I’m throwing you out,” he said in a lighthearted voice. “I haven’t gotten any for months, and I’m inclined to be jealous of those who do.”
“We’ll try our best,” Jess said solemnly before bursting into laughter. Dean grinned as he led them to the dining room table. Sam pulled her chair out for her, which was a gentlemanly touch Dean didn’t know he had. Just by the way he looked at her, it was pretty obvious that his baby brother was head-over-heels in love. “So, Dean, Sam said that you work construction?”
“Yeah,” Dean said, a little distracted as he counted. There were only three places set at the table, and Dean frowned a little. “Just a moment, Jess,” he said as he headed for the kitchen. Cas looked up as he entered, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. “You’re not eating with us?” Dean asked him in an undertone.
“This is your family reunion,” Castiel said, sounding puzzled at his tone. “I felt it would be best not to interfere.”
“Interfere!—to hell with that,” Dean said, waving a hand. “C’mon, I bet Sam would like to see you again. He’s the one who designed your physical parameters, you know, and surely he wants to know how it all turned out.”
Castiel studied his face for a moment before nodding. Dean patted his arm and headed back out to the dining room armed with another plate and set of cutlery. “Cas is joining us for dinner,” he announced to Sam and Jess. “Be nice to him; he’s shy.”
“Cas?” Jess inquired. “Your personal bot?”
“Yep,” Dean said, sliding up another chair. “He’s actually kind of useful around the house,” he added to Sam. “If it had been just me, we’d be sitting down to some hamburgers right about now.”
“I had a personal bot once,” Jess commented. “It was one of the very first versions, when they first came out. Unfortunately, he had a systems glitch and had to be recycled. Shame, you know? The thing cost over ten thousand dollars.”
Dean glanced at Sam. “Please don’t tell me you paid ten thousand dollars for Cas,” he said, a bit pained. “I’m never going to be able to pay you back.”
“Dean, it was a gift,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “It wasn’t ten thousand dollars anyway, so get the knot out of your panties.”
“Ten thousand,” Dean muttered as Cas came out of the kitchen, bearing the last few dishes. As Castiel set them down on the table with careful precision, Dean said, “Cas: meet Sam. And that’s Jess.”
“The lawyer friend,” Castiel supplied. Jess laughed.
“That’s right, the lawyer friend,” Jess said. “You’ve been corrupting him, haven’t you, Dean?” she said with a smile.
“So, Dean told me the story of how your programming came to be,” Sam added. “Seems like the results came out okay, right? Dean hasn’t come crying to me yet, so I guess it couldn’t have been that bad.”
Castiel paused, considering. “It is true that I have yet to make him weep,” he said solemnly. “However, I can endeavor to do so if so desired.”
It was Dean’s turn to groan as Sam laughed. “Seems like your bot has an evil side to him,” Sam said, grinning. “I’d watch out if I were you, Dean.”
“This was so not supposed to happen,” Dean announced to the world in general. “C’mon, Cas, sit. Sam, I’m supposed to be embarrassing you, not the other way around. Jess, did you know about the time when Sam was five and he—”
“Okay!” Sam interrupted hastily. “Eat. Food! This food looks absolutely delicious; I can’t wait to get started!”
“Oh, but I was enjoying the story,” Jess protested. Sam facepalmed, and Dean grinned.
“Nah, I can’t make my baby brother cry. Well, anymore,” he added. “Help yourselves, guys,” he said, gesturing to the food. “I’m going to be eating whatever’s left, so try and minimize my pain because I hate leftovers.”
Jess and Sam enthusiastically helped themselves; Castiel looked awkward for a moment before nibbling carefully at some of the roast chicken. “So,” Dean said as the serious eating got underway, tucking into Castiel’s excellently prepared fare. “Let’s start with the basics, huh? How’d you guys meet?”
Sam and Jess traded doe-eyed looks, and Dean grinned. That was all it took to get them off and running: it all started with the mock trials the firm held to sharpen up their young lawyers: Jess had been prosecutor and Sam had been the defense attorney. An argument over a particularly knotty point had evolved into a lunch date, then dinner date, then, well, dating. At some point in the conversation, Sam took Jess’ hand in his and lifted to his lips to brush a kiss over the back of her hand. Dean saved it as a mental snapshot, making a note to mock Sam for turning into a complete girl when this was all over.
Dean found himself liking Jess immensely: hell, she was smart, dedicated, and had a great sense of humor. Plus, she was obviously in love with Sam, and Sam was definitely crazy about her. Dean did feel a small pang at the thought of Sam growing up so fast—hell, it seemed like yesterday when Sam was five and showed just how much he hated kindergarten by taking off all his clothes in the middle of the classroom, leaving a very embarrassed Dean to Have a Talk with the teacher as John had been away on a work trip. Things changed, and Jess—well, if Dean had to give Sammy away, she was the woman for him.
Dinner finished with blueberry pie that Cas produced from the oven. “So, who’s up for champagne?” Dean announced as Castiel got up and began clearing the table. “Since you brought it, we might as well have it, right?”
“Yeah, sure,” Sam said. “Wait, Jess—can you go get the champagne flutes? They’re in the car.”
“Sure, honey,” Jess said, and headed out the door.
Dean laughed as he wiped off the table, carrying the last few stray dishes to Cas. “Champagne flutes? And here I was, thinking that I’d use ordinary cups.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sam said, looking a little awkward. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you privately, too.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dean asked.
“It’s Ruby,” Sam said. “I’ve been, uh…having problems.”
“Problems? Dude, she’s a bot. Turn her off if she pisses you that much.”
“She’s not pissing me off, she’s just—I don’t know, Dean! She’s been acting really erratic lately. I was hoping you could talk to Ash, actually, see if she got a virus or something.”
“Ash?” Dean said, referring to the resident mechanic at the construction site. “Yeah, sure. But what do you mean, erratic?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Stomping around. Glaring. She’s been really sullen lately, and I’m not sure why.”
“Sounds like Cas all the time,” Dean said with a snort. “I mean, he doesn’t stomp, but he sure does glare a lot. Maybe it’s catching?”
“Ha, ha,” Sam said. “Very funny. Look, I’m a bit worried about her, that’s all.”
“Well, yeah, if it bothers you that much, I can ask Ash to take a look, no problem. But are you going to keep Ruby? I mean, if you’re going to go steady with Jess, it might be a good idea to get a family bot. Or at least reprogram Ruby so that she’s got dual ownership,” Dean suggested.
“I’m thinking about it, yeah,” Sam said. “I’ve been looking on several markets online. But I want to make sure it’s not a wire malfunction first.”
“Sure. Can you bring her over on…say, Monday morning?” Dean said. “I’ll bring her to Ash on evening shift, see what the resident genius says.”
“I’ve got work then. Sunday night okay?”
Dean shrugged. “Not really, but it’ll do. How about ten?”
“Sure, no problem. Thanks,” Sam said, sounding relieved.
“Hey, no problem,” Dean said, pulling out the champagne bottle from the refrigerator. “Glad to be of service. So, when are you and Jess tying the knot?”
“God, it’s way too early,” Sam said, pulling a face of mock horror. He grinned, unable to keep it up. “I don’t know. It might be a while yet. But like I said, I think she’s the—”
“Yeah, yeah, the one, the love of your gigantor life, a fellow sasquatch with whom you can make lots of sasquatch babies—”
“And what’s wrong with sasquatch babies, may I ask?” Jess said from behind them. Dean jumped a little guiltily while Sam laughed.
“Nothing,” Dean said hastily. “I hope they all have long hair, Sam’s nose, your eyes—”
“Hopefully not Sam’s sense of ethics,” Jess said. “Gossiping about someone behind their backs! Evidently I haven’t trained Sam well enough.”
Dean looked solemnly at Sam, who hid his face. “Well, ma’am, I tried,” Dean said, shaking his head in mock sorrow. “I’m sorry to say, though, he’s just incorrigible.”
“But you love me anyway, right?” Sam said, making his best sad and pathetic puppy face at Jess. She laughed and gave him a kiss. Dean gagged as he popped the champagne cork and poured it into the three glass flutes.
“To the soppiest couple on this side of the universe,” he said, picking his up in a mock toast. “And long may they tongue each other.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Jess declared. Sam rolled his eyes, but he picked up his flute as well and they drank.
X
“So, what’d you think of Jess?” Dean asked later that night after Sam and Jess had left. “She seems like a great woman.”
“Yes,” Castiel said in a flat monotone.
Dean looked up at the uncharacteristic softness of Castiel’s voice. “Hey,” he said. “What’s up? Food didn’t agree with you?”
“There was nothing wrong with the food,” Castiel said. His expression was a closed book, one with a giant padlock on it.
Dean paused, studying Cas’ expression. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’m really bad at twenty questions, so, uh, what’s wrong? I thought the evening went really well, actually.”
“It did,” Castiel said, still in that same remote tone of voice. “I’m very pleased for you.”
“Right,” he said. “I can hear the sincerity dripping from your voice.”
“I am not programmed to be sincere,” Castiel said coolly.
“Yeah, I got that,” Dean said. “Look, man. If there’s something that’s off, you should tell me, you know? I’m not the greatest when it comes to bots, but there’s a guy at work—Ash—he does maintenance for all the bots at the construction site. I’m bringing Ruby to see him on Monday; do you want to tag along?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Castiel said.
Dean toyed with the remote for a few minutes before giving a small sigh. “Okay,” he said. “Whatever you say, man. But look—you can tell me if something’s up, okay? Like I said, I’m your friend. Don’t keep it in, it’s bad for your health.”
“There’s no need to worry about my health,” Castiel said, a faint ripple of confusion breaking the placid surface. “I’m sure that I will remain in peak condition.”
“Hey, you never know,” Dean said, pleased to see that Castiel seemed to be relaxing. “You bots are fragile, all it takes is one jolt of electricity and you keel right over. Kidding!” he added as Castiel opened his mouth. “You guys are made out of sturdier stuff than humans, I know.”
“Considering that a ‘jolt’ is a very imprecise unit, it’s perfectly possible that we could ‘keel over’ with a single one,” Castiel said. Dean rolled his eyes.
“Imprecision in humanity drives you nuts, huh? Anyway, I’m turning in for the night. You want to keep reading?” He glanced at the table where Cat’s Cradle had been placed earlier that day. “Or do you want to, I don’t know, switch to standby?”
“I would like to finish the book. The dictator is about to commit suicide.”
“Good thing I’ve finished it, or I’d strangle you for giving the ending away,” Dean said. “Okay, then. Turn off the light when you’re done. G’night, Cas.”
“Good night, Dean,” Castiel said quietly.
X
Sam delivered Ruby as promised the next night. “Thanks for doing this,” he said for the 243,239th time as Dean opened the door. “You can tell Ash to send the bill to me.”
“Ash wouldn’t charge a bill,” Dean said, amused. “He sucks at accounting and makes a point to avoid it as much as possible.”
“Oh, really? Then I’ll tip him, I guess.”
“You should tip me,” Dean said.
“Ha, ha. Go on, Ruby,” Sam added, giving Ruby a push. The female bot had lingered at the bottom of the steps, her expression noticeably reluctant. “I’m transferring ownership protocol to Dean for tonight, okay? Don’t give him any trouble.”
“Sure, Sam,” Ruby said, looking like she’d swallowed a lemon.
“Nice to meet you too,” Dean said sarcastically. “Well, it’s only for a night, and Cas will protect my virtue, I’m sure. Come on in, Ruby.”
Ruby headed into the house, looking glum. Dean said his goodbyes to Sam and closed the door, turning around to see that Cas and Ruby were staring at each other, neither of them looking particularly pleased. Well, Ruby seemed to live in a perpetual state of pissiness, and Cas hadn’t smiled ever since the reprogramming (thank god, Dean never wanted to see that swallowed-a-banana grin ever again), but there was something rather…hostile about this meeting. Tense.
“Oookay!” Dean said, clapping his hands. The two bots turned their stares onto him in creepy unison. “Both of you, loosen up. Remember, no hitting, no hair-pulling, and no spitting in the machine oil.”
“He could use some oil,” Ruby muttered. “He looks stiff enough to use as an ironing board.”
“My flexibility protocol is none of your business,” Castiel said coldly.
Dean passed a hand over his eyes. “Jesus Christ, give me strength,” he said. “Okay, Ruby. What’s your problem? You just met Castiel, so it’s got to be how he looks: his hair? He says that bots don’t need to comb it, but he’s probably lying.”
Ruby gave him a look that in retrospect, he probably deserved. “Okay, Dean,” she said. “It’s the hair. And the teeth. Hell, let’s throw in the ears for good measure, shall we?” She stalked to the couch and sat down with a noticeable huff, crossing her arms. Dean looked at her, reminded again of all the reasons he really, really didn’t like Ruby: Sam had dialed up her sarcasm protocol way too much for his taste. Still, this was just a bit more nastiness than he was accustomed to.
“Maybe she really is virused up,” he commented to Castiel, slumping into a chair in the dining room instead. “If she weren’t a bot, I’d say she was angry.”
Castiel got the abstract look that meant he was looking things up in the dictionary again, but he didn’t spout out a definition like Dean expected him to. “What is the nature of anger?” Castiel said at last. “Are robots not accustomed to experiencing it?”
Dean shrugged. “Man, I don’t know. I don’t think so, not really. I mean, you can program for a fiery temper if that’s your style, but who wants a bot who could get really, seriously angry? What’s the fun in that?” He glanced at Cas. “What, do you think you’re angry? You seem pretty solemn all the time.”
Castiel hesitated. “What does it mean, to get ‘really, seriously angry’?”
“Angry enough to kill?” Dean suggested. “You know—you want to pound the other person into pulp, that kind of anger. I don’t know, it’s different for everybody.”
Castiel thought about this for a moment. “I experience disapproval,” he said at last, carefully. “When things are not done correctly.”
Dean grinned. “Yeah, you sure disapprove of me a lot.”
Castiel looked at him, startled. “I do not.”
“Do too. You’re always glaring. Like now.”
“That is when…oh.” He blinked. “Does one glare when angry?”
“Yeah, sure, but it’s more than that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I said—when you’re angry at, I don’t know, another person because they did something you don’t want or whatever, I guess you could want to hurt them. If you’re really pissed off, you might have a few physical reactions: you can’t breathe, your hands shake. Maybe you’re sullen and you respond to everything in curt monosyllabic phrases because you don’t really want to talk. If you get mad enough, you’d slam doors, stomp around, hit things. Stuff like that.” He paused. “Actually, I’m confusing myself now. To be honest, I’m not really sure how to define anger.”
Castiel looked down. “I don’t believe I have experienced it,” he said slowly. “I have none of the symptoms you’ve described. Except for glaring,” he added. “Which I don’t do.”
Dean laughed. “Denial, denial, denial. It’s okay, I know your face is probably frozen that way. Look, emotions are tricky stuff. Sometimes you can’t really figure out what the hell you’re feeling, or maybe you mistake it for something else entirely. There’s no set of rules, you know?”
“Are they intense, these feelings?” Castiel asked.
“Intense? Isn’t that an imprecise term?” Dean teased.
“True, but once the premise is established we can begin to narrow it down.”
“Oh, man,” Dean said. “Well…yeah, I guess they’re intense. If they’re strong enough, you can’t really think of anything else because it takes up your entire mind. What’s it called? Thought process, that’s it.”
“Complete occupation of neural processing capacity,” Castiel translated. “That’s a useful parameter, although somewhat unachievable.”
“Yeah, but—I mean—oh, hell,” Dean said, throwing his hands up. “Look, don’t worry too much about it. If you do somehow manage to feel them, you’ll definitely know. It’ll be pretty unmistakable.”
“You asked me earlier if robots could get depressed. Is the answer to that an affirmative?”
“I don’t know, Cas, that’s why I asked you,” Dean said, amused. “But like I’ve said, I’ve never seen a depressed bot. I don’t know, you just don’t really think of bots moping around. I can’t think of a reason why people would program for depression, either, since sad bots don’t work very well. They’d just sit around all day, wouldn’t they? But hey, the possibility’s certainly open.”
“Depression is not cost-efficient?”
“Not really. Come to think of it, though, neither is any other really strong emotion.” Dean paused. “I don’t know, man. I don’t really understand the ins and outs of robotics myself. As a general rule, though, I’m guessing that most people don’t think you guys can really feel. I mean, it’d be kind of weird, wouldn’ t it? How about you, you feel anything?”
Castiel looked thoughtful. “I feel curious,” he said at last. “I enjoy talking to you and reading your books. I…” he hesitated.
“Well, okay. Maybe the positive spectrum. But the lower end? You mentioned disapproval, didn’t you? Anything else?”
“I…” Castiel stopped. “I don’t know. I dislike Ruby, I suppose.”
Dean laughed. “You’re not alone there, I can tell you that. Do you hate her?”
“Hate?”
“That’s dislike, only dislike to an extreme. When you hate someone, you can’t be in the same room with them. You think everything about them sucks, things like that.”
Castiel shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He paused, then said, “Would it be permissible if I did?”
“Did what?”
“Hate.”
“I’m hardly going to mandate what you can or can’t feel,” Dean said with a snort. “Cas, if you can go all the way down to bitter hate, go ahead. I don’t know if it’s emotionally possible for you, but you’re welcome to try. I just, you know, don’t really think you’ll get there.”
Castiel paused. “If I am allowed to hate, then is Ruby allowed to be angry?” he said.
“Ruby?” Dean glanced in the direction of the living room. “Jesus. I’m not her owner; I can’t say yes or no to that.”
“Sam stated that she seemed to be very sullen. Is that not a predecessor to anger?”
Dean stopped. “I…I guess, yeah. I just…” he stopped. “You think Ruby’s angry?”
“Her symptoms match the list you provided,” Castiel pointed out. “Stomping. Glaring. Sullenness.”
“Do they?” Dean said.
“Yes. So anger is a possibility?”
Dean hesitated, mulling it over. “I mean…yeah,” he said slowly. “I guess she could be angry. I mean, I’m not really sure why, but—yeah. That’s certainly true. Huh.”
“You sound startled.”
“No, like I said, it’s just…weird, that’s all.” Dean paused. “But then again, Cas, it might just be a virus. Some of those things can throw a bot completely off track. Mess with their sine waves or whatever.”
“You don’t think that the emotion is genuine?”
“It could be, but it’s a greater possibility that it’s something else. I mean, what could Ruby have to be angry about, anyway? Sam’s a great owner and a great guy,” Dean said with a shrug.
“Perhaps she senses that she is about to be replaced,” Castiel said quietly. “No creature likes to hear that it is outdated.”
“You mean, she feels threatened by Jess?” Dean said incredulously. “That doesn’t make any sense, Cas. Ruby’s a bot, Jess is human. They’re completely different. I mean, you can’t really treat them the same way.” Realizing who he was talking to, he added hastily, “Not that that’s bad, Cas. It’s just different. I mean, you wouldn’t treat a dog and a cat the same way, would you? They’ve got different needs.”
“So which am I—a dog or a cat?”
“You’re…” Dean stopped, grinning a little. “I don’t know. I guess you’re a cat. You’re a bit standoffish, but you’ve grown on me somewhat.”
“And Sam is a dog?”
Dean laughed. “A puppy dog, definitely.”
Castiel tilted his head. “And how is that different from a kitten? Is one less than the other?”
“They’re—” Dean stopped, scrubbing at his face with his palms. “I didn’t say they were less, okay? They’re just different. Look, people break up with other people all the time. Sam and Jess seem crazy about each other, but it’s perfectly possible—although kind of depressing, I’ll admit—that they could have a big fight and then break up. How is that different from Sam and Ruby?”
“Because between Sam and Ruby, only one has free will,” Castiel said quietly.
Dean threw up his hands in exasperation. “The eternal question, isn’t it? Look, the main difference between bots and humans are the Three Laws. Three, Cas, not a million and a half. And you guys have so many loopholes anyway: you know, only direct orders, interpret to the very word. I don’t see how they make that much of a difference.”
“They are the definition of what separates robots from humans,” Castiel pointed out.
“Don’t forget your immortal soul, if you want to get all religious,” Dean said, trying to lighten the mood. As Castiel’s expression didn’t change, Dean groaned. “Christ. Look, it’s simple. Bots aren’t human, humans aren’t bots. You can’t really equate one to another, Cas. I’m not saying one’s better than the other, but they aren’t the same.”
Castiel’s lips tightened together into a thin line. “I find that hard to comprehend—” he began.
“Okay—stop talking,” Dean said, irritated. “Look, I’m taking Ruby to see Ash tomorrow, it’s probably a virus, and that’s that. Okay? Just drop it.”
The lines around Castiel’s eyes tightened slightly, but he obediently kept silent. Dean stood, shoving the chair back under the table.
“I’m going outside for some air,” he announced curtly and left the house.
x
Chapter Four
Author: daymarket
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Notes: AU robot!fic. This fic will probably have 4 or 5 or 6 or whatever parts. Bah! Also, a plethora of philosophical discussion. Hats off to Mr. Asimov!
Summary: Dean takes his first steps into the 22nd century with his very own P.A.L., the most sophisticated robot on the market. One programming muddle later, he finds himself teaching a contrary, stiff robot what it means to be human.
Chapter Two
x
The doorbell rang at precisely seven o’ clock. Dean got the door as Castiel was still busy in the kitchen, pulling it open to reveal a grinning Sam. “Hey!” Sam said, holding up a bottle of champagne. “Brought this to spice things up.”
“Champagne?” Dean said, looking at the label. “Nice. I see that Jess managed to wean you off rotgut and day-old beer?” he added, looking up to see the woman in question. “Thanks for that, by the way, Sam’s civilian stomach is way too tender to handle real men’s food. You must be Jess.”
Jess smiled at him and held out a hand for him to shake. “And you must be Dean, Sam’s nursemaid. I’m pleased to know that you finally got him off diapers.”
Dean whistled as Sam gave a groan and smacked his forehead. “Great,” Sam said. “Double-teaming.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want you to get too full of yourself, would we?” Dean asked, holding the door open. “Come on in, guys. Throw your coats wherever.” Sam and Jess tromped into the house, peeling off their jackets as they did so. Dean raised an eyebrow as he noticed that they were one short. “So, where’s Ruby?”
Sam and Jess traded glances. “At home,” Sam said finally, sounding a little embarrassed. “I, uh, felt we needed some time to ourselves, you know?”
Dean heard the underlying tone of “don’t want to talk about it” and gave a nod. “Okay, man, but I have to warn you—if you guys start making out on the couch, I’m throwing you out,” he said in a lighthearted voice. “I haven’t gotten any for months, and I’m inclined to be jealous of those who do.”
“We’ll try our best,” Jess said solemnly before bursting into laughter. Dean grinned as he led them to the dining room table. Sam pulled her chair out for her, which was a gentlemanly touch Dean didn’t know he had. Just by the way he looked at her, it was pretty obvious that his baby brother was head-over-heels in love. “So, Dean, Sam said that you work construction?”
“Yeah,” Dean said, a little distracted as he counted. There were only three places set at the table, and Dean frowned a little. “Just a moment, Jess,” he said as he headed for the kitchen. Cas looked up as he entered, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. “You’re not eating with us?” Dean asked him in an undertone.
“This is your family reunion,” Castiel said, sounding puzzled at his tone. “I felt it would be best not to interfere.”
“Interfere!—to hell with that,” Dean said, waving a hand. “C’mon, I bet Sam would like to see you again. He’s the one who designed your physical parameters, you know, and surely he wants to know how it all turned out.”
Castiel studied his face for a moment before nodding. Dean patted his arm and headed back out to the dining room armed with another plate and set of cutlery. “Cas is joining us for dinner,” he announced to Sam and Jess. “Be nice to him; he’s shy.”
“Cas?” Jess inquired. “Your personal bot?”
“Yep,” Dean said, sliding up another chair. “He’s actually kind of useful around the house,” he added to Sam. “If it had been just me, we’d be sitting down to some hamburgers right about now.”
“I had a personal bot once,” Jess commented. “It was one of the very first versions, when they first came out. Unfortunately, he had a systems glitch and had to be recycled. Shame, you know? The thing cost over ten thousand dollars.”
Dean glanced at Sam. “Please don’t tell me you paid ten thousand dollars for Cas,” he said, a bit pained. “I’m never going to be able to pay you back.”
“Dean, it was a gift,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “It wasn’t ten thousand dollars anyway, so get the knot out of your panties.”
“Ten thousand,” Dean muttered as Cas came out of the kitchen, bearing the last few dishes. As Castiel set them down on the table with careful precision, Dean said, “Cas: meet Sam. And that’s Jess.”
“The lawyer friend,” Castiel supplied. Jess laughed.
“That’s right, the lawyer friend,” Jess said. “You’ve been corrupting him, haven’t you, Dean?” she said with a smile.
“So, Dean told me the story of how your programming came to be,” Sam added. “Seems like the results came out okay, right? Dean hasn’t come crying to me yet, so I guess it couldn’t have been that bad.”
Castiel paused, considering. “It is true that I have yet to make him weep,” he said solemnly. “However, I can endeavor to do so if so desired.”
It was Dean’s turn to groan as Sam laughed. “Seems like your bot has an evil side to him,” Sam said, grinning. “I’d watch out if I were you, Dean.”
“This was so not supposed to happen,” Dean announced to the world in general. “C’mon, Cas, sit. Sam, I’m supposed to be embarrassing you, not the other way around. Jess, did you know about the time when Sam was five and he—”
“Okay!” Sam interrupted hastily. “Eat. Food! This food looks absolutely delicious; I can’t wait to get started!”
“Oh, but I was enjoying the story,” Jess protested. Sam facepalmed, and Dean grinned.
“Nah, I can’t make my baby brother cry. Well, anymore,” he added. “Help yourselves, guys,” he said, gesturing to the food. “I’m going to be eating whatever’s left, so try and minimize my pain because I hate leftovers.”
Jess and Sam enthusiastically helped themselves; Castiel looked awkward for a moment before nibbling carefully at some of the roast chicken. “So,” Dean said as the serious eating got underway, tucking into Castiel’s excellently prepared fare. “Let’s start with the basics, huh? How’d you guys meet?”
Sam and Jess traded doe-eyed looks, and Dean grinned. That was all it took to get them off and running: it all started with the mock trials the firm held to sharpen up their young lawyers: Jess had been prosecutor and Sam had been the defense attorney. An argument over a particularly knotty point had evolved into a lunch date, then dinner date, then, well, dating. At some point in the conversation, Sam took Jess’ hand in his and lifted to his lips to brush a kiss over the back of her hand. Dean saved it as a mental snapshot, making a note to mock Sam for turning into a complete girl when this was all over.
Dean found himself liking Jess immensely: hell, she was smart, dedicated, and had a great sense of humor. Plus, she was obviously in love with Sam, and Sam was definitely crazy about her. Dean did feel a small pang at the thought of Sam growing up so fast—hell, it seemed like yesterday when Sam was five and showed just how much he hated kindergarten by taking off all his clothes in the middle of the classroom, leaving a very embarrassed Dean to Have a Talk with the teacher as John had been away on a work trip. Things changed, and Jess—well, if Dean had to give Sammy away, she was the woman for him.
Dinner finished with blueberry pie that Cas produced from the oven. “So, who’s up for champagne?” Dean announced as Castiel got up and began clearing the table. “Since you brought it, we might as well have it, right?”
“Yeah, sure,” Sam said. “Wait, Jess—can you go get the champagne flutes? They’re in the car.”
“Sure, honey,” Jess said, and headed out the door.
Dean laughed as he wiped off the table, carrying the last few stray dishes to Cas. “Champagne flutes? And here I was, thinking that I’d use ordinary cups.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sam said, looking a little awkward. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you privately, too.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dean asked.
“It’s Ruby,” Sam said. “I’ve been, uh…having problems.”
“Problems? Dude, she’s a bot. Turn her off if she pisses you that much.”
“She’s not pissing me off, she’s just—I don’t know, Dean! She’s been acting really erratic lately. I was hoping you could talk to Ash, actually, see if she got a virus or something.”
“Ash?” Dean said, referring to the resident mechanic at the construction site. “Yeah, sure. But what do you mean, erratic?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Stomping around. Glaring. She’s been really sullen lately, and I’m not sure why.”
“Sounds like Cas all the time,” Dean said with a snort. “I mean, he doesn’t stomp, but he sure does glare a lot. Maybe it’s catching?”
“Ha, ha,” Sam said. “Very funny. Look, I’m a bit worried about her, that’s all.”
“Well, yeah, if it bothers you that much, I can ask Ash to take a look, no problem. But are you going to keep Ruby? I mean, if you’re going to go steady with Jess, it might be a good idea to get a family bot. Or at least reprogram Ruby so that she’s got dual ownership,” Dean suggested.
“I’m thinking about it, yeah,” Sam said. “I’ve been looking on several markets online. But I want to make sure it’s not a wire malfunction first.”
“Sure. Can you bring her over on…say, Monday morning?” Dean said. “I’ll bring her to Ash on evening shift, see what the resident genius says.”
“I’ve got work then. Sunday night okay?”
Dean shrugged. “Not really, but it’ll do. How about ten?”
“Sure, no problem. Thanks,” Sam said, sounding relieved.
“Hey, no problem,” Dean said, pulling out the champagne bottle from the refrigerator. “Glad to be of service. So, when are you and Jess tying the knot?”
“God, it’s way too early,” Sam said, pulling a face of mock horror. He grinned, unable to keep it up. “I don’t know. It might be a while yet. But like I said, I think she’s the—”
“Yeah, yeah, the one, the love of your gigantor life, a fellow sasquatch with whom you can make lots of sasquatch babies—”
“And what’s wrong with sasquatch babies, may I ask?” Jess said from behind them. Dean jumped a little guiltily while Sam laughed.
“Nothing,” Dean said hastily. “I hope they all have long hair, Sam’s nose, your eyes—”
“Hopefully not Sam’s sense of ethics,” Jess said. “Gossiping about someone behind their backs! Evidently I haven’t trained Sam well enough.”
Dean looked solemnly at Sam, who hid his face. “Well, ma’am, I tried,” Dean said, shaking his head in mock sorrow. “I’m sorry to say, though, he’s just incorrigible.”
“But you love me anyway, right?” Sam said, making his best sad and pathetic puppy face at Jess. She laughed and gave him a kiss. Dean gagged as he popped the champagne cork and poured it into the three glass flutes.
“To the soppiest couple on this side of the universe,” he said, picking his up in a mock toast. “And long may they tongue each other.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Jess declared. Sam rolled his eyes, but he picked up his flute as well and they drank.
X
“So, what’d you think of Jess?” Dean asked later that night after Sam and Jess had left. “She seems like a great woman.”
“Yes,” Castiel said in a flat monotone.
Dean looked up at the uncharacteristic softness of Castiel’s voice. “Hey,” he said. “What’s up? Food didn’t agree with you?”
“There was nothing wrong with the food,” Castiel said. His expression was a closed book, one with a giant padlock on it.
Dean paused, studying Cas’ expression. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’m really bad at twenty questions, so, uh, what’s wrong? I thought the evening went really well, actually.”
“It did,” Castiel said, still in that same remote tone of voice. “I’m very pleased for you.”
“Right,” he said. “I can hear the sincerity dripping from your voice.”
“I am not programmed to be sincere,” Castiel said coolly.
“Yeah, I got that,” Dean said. “Look, man. If there’s something that’s off, you should tell me, you know? I’m not the greatest when it comes to bots, but there’s a guy at work—Ash—he does maintenance for all the bots at the construction site. I’m bringing Ruby to see him on Monday; do you want to tag along?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Castiel said.
Dean toyed with the remote for a few minutes before giving a small sigh. “Okay,” he said. “Whatever you say, man. But look—you can tell me if something’s up, okay? Like I said, I’m your friend. Don’t keep it in, it’s bad for your health.”
“There’s no need to worry about my health,” Castiel said, a faint ripple of confusion breaking the placid surface. “I’m sure that I will remain in peak condition.”
“Hey, you never know,” Dean said, pleased to see that Castiel seemed to be relaxing. “You bots are fragile, all it takes is one jolt of electricity and you keel right over. Kidding!” he added as Castiel opened his mouth. “You guys are made out of sturdier stuff than humans, I know.”
“Considering that a ‘jolt’ is a very imprecise unit, it’s perfectly possible that we could ‘keel over’ with a single one,” Castiel said. Dean rolled his eyes.
“Imprecision in humanity drives you nuts, huh? Anyway, I’m turning in for the night. You want to keep reading?” He glanced at the table where Cat’s Cradle had been placed earlier that day. “Or do you want to, I don’t know, switch to standby?”
“I would like to finish the book. The dictator is about to commit suicide.”
“Good thing I’ve finished it, or I’d strangle you for giving the ending away,” Dean said. “Okay, then. Turn off the light when you’re done. G’night, Cas.”
“Good night, Dean,” Castiel said quietly.
X
Sam delivered Ruby as promised the next night. “Thanks for doing this,” he said for the 243,239th time as Dean opened the door. “You can tell Ash to send the bill to me.”
“Ash wouldn’t charge a bill,” Dean said, amused. “He sucks at accounting and makes a point to avoid it as much as possible.”
“Oh, really? Then I’ll tip him, I guess.”
“You should tip me,” Dean said.
“Ha, ha. Go on, Ruby,” Sam added, giving Ruby a push. The female bot had lingered at the bottom of the steps, her expression noticeably reluctant. “I’m transferring ownership protocol to Dean for tonight, okay? Don’t give him any trouble.”
“Sure, Sam,” Ruby said, looking like she’d swallowed a lemon.
“Nice to meet you too,” Dean said sarcastically. “Well, it’s only for a night, and Cas will protect my virtue, I’m sure. Come on in, Ruby.”
Ruby headed into the house, looking glum. Dean said his goodbyes to Sam and closed the door, turning around to see that Cas and Ruby were staring at each other, neither of them looking particularly pleased. Well, Ruby seemed to live in a perpetual state of pissiness, and Cas hadn’t smiled ever since the reprogramming (thank god, Dean never wanted to see that swallowed-a-banana grin ever again), but there was something rather…hostile about this meeting. Tense.
“Oookay!” Dean said, clapping his hands. The two bots turned their stares onto him in creepy unison. “Both of you, loosen up. Remember, no hitting, no hair-pulling, and no spitting in the machine oil.”
“He could use some oil,” Ruby muttered. “He looks stiff enough to use as an ironing board.”
“My flexibility protocol is none of your business,” Castiel said coldly.
Dean passed a hand over his eyes. “Jesus Christ, give me strength,” he said. “Okay, Ruby. What’s your problem? You just met Castiel, so it’s got to be how he looks: his hair? He says that bots don’t need to comb it, but he’s probably lying.”
Ruby gave him a look that in retrospect, he probably deserved. “Okay, Dean,” she said. “It’s the hair. And the teeth. Hell, let’s throw in the ears for good measure, shall we?” She stalked to the couch and sat down with a noticeable huff, crossing her arms. Dean looked at her, reminded again of all the reasons he really, really didn’t like Ruby: Sam had dialed up her sarcasm protocol way too much for his taste. Still, this was just a bit more nastiness than he was accustomed to.
“Maybe she really is virused up,” he commented to Castiel, slumping into a chair in the dining room instead. “If she weren’t a bot, I’d say she was angry.”
Castiel got the abstract look that meant he was looking things up in the dictionary again, but he didn’t spout out a definition like Dean expected him to. “What is the nature of anger?” Castiel said at last. “Are robots not accustomed to experiencing it?”
Dean shrugged. “Man, I don’t know. I don’t think so, not really. I mean, you can program for a fiery temper if that’s your style, but who wants a bot who could get really, seriously angry? What’s the fun in that?” He glanced at Cas. “What, do you think you’re angry? You seem pretty solemn all the time.”
Castiel hesitated. “What does it mean, to get ‘really, seriously angry’?”
“Angry enough to kill?” Dean suggested. “You know—you want to pound the other person into pulp, that kind of anger. I don’t know, it’s different for everybody.”
Castiel thought about this for a moment. “I experience disapproval,” he said at last, carefully. “When things are not done correctly.”
Dean grinned. “Yeah, you sure disapprove of me a lot.”
Castiel looked at him, startled. “I do not.”
“Do too. You’re always glaring. Like now.”
“That is when…oh.” He blinked. “Does one glare when angry?”
“Yeah, sure, but it’s more than that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I said—when you’re angry at, I don’t know, another person because they did something you don’t want or whatever, I guess you could want to hurt them. If you’re really pissed off, you might have a few physical reactions: you can’t breathe, your hands shake. Maybe you’re sullen and you respond to everything in curt monosyllabic phrases because you don’t really want to talk. If you get mad enough, you’d slam doors, stomp around, hit things. Stuff like that.” He paused. “Actually, I’m confusing myself now. To be honest, I’m not really sure how to define anger.”
Castiel looked down. “I don’t believe I have experienced it,” he said slowly. “I have none of the symptoms you’ve described. Except for glaring,” he added. “Which I don’t do.”
Dean laughed. “Denial, denial, denial. It’s okay, I know your face is probably frozen that way. Look, emotions are tricky stuff. Sometimes you can’t really figure out what the hell you’re feeling, or maybe you mistake it for something else entirely. There’s no set of rules, you know?”
“Are they intense, these feelings?” Castiel asked.
“Intense? Isn’t that an imprecise term?” Dean teased.
“True, but once the premise is established we can begin to narrow it down.”
“Oh, man,” Dean said. “Well…yeah, I guess they’re intense. If they’re strong enough, you can’t really think of anything else because it takes up your entire mind. What’s it called? Thought process, that’s it.”
“Complete occupation of neural processing capacity,” Castiel translated. “That’s a useful parameter, although somewhat unachievable.”
“Yeah, but—I mean—oh, hell,” Dean said, throwing his hands up. “Look, don’t worry too much about it. If you do somehow manage to feel them, you’ll definitely know. It’ll be pretty unmistakable.”
“You asked me earlier if robots could get depressed. Is the answer to that an affirmative?”
“I don’t know, Cas, that’s why I asked you,” Dean said, amused. “But like I’ve said, I’ve never seen a depressed bot. I don’t know, you just don’t really think of bots moping around. I can’t think of a reason why people would program for depression, either, since sad bots don’t work very well. They’d just sit around all day, wouldn’t they? But hey, the possibility’s certainly open.”
“Depression is not cost-efficient?”
“Not really. Come to think of it, though, neither is any other really strong emotion.” Dean paused. “I don’t know, man. I don’t really understand the ins and outs of robotics myself. As a general rule, though, I’m guessing that most people don’t think you guys can really feel. I mean, it’d be kind of weird, wouldn’ t it? How about you, you feel anything?”
Castiel looked thoughtful. “I feel curious,” he said at last. “I enjoy talking to you and reading your books. I…” he hesitated.
“Well, okay. Maybe the positive spectrum. But the lower end? You mentioned disapproval, didn’t you? Anything else?”
“I…” Castiel stopped. “I don’t know. I dislike Ruby, I suppose.”
Dean laughed. “You’re not alone there, I can tell you that. Do you hate her?”
“Hate?”
“That’s dislike, only dislike to an extreme. When you hate someone, you can’t be in the same room with them. You think everything about them sucks, things like that.”
Castiel shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He paused, then said, “Would it be permissible if I did?”
“Did what?”
“Hate.”
“I’m hardly going to mandate what you can or can’t feel,” Dean said with a snort. “Cas, if you can go all the way down to bitter hate, go ahead. I don’t know if it’s emotionally possible for you, but you’re welcome to try. I just, you know, don’t really think you’ll get there.”
Castiel paused. “If I am allowed to hate, then is Ruby allowed to be angry?” he said.
“Ruby?” Dean glanced in the direction of the living room. “Jesus. I’m not her owner; I can’t say yes or no to that.”
“Sam stated that she seemed to be very sullen. Is that not a predecessor to anger?”
Dean stopped. “I…I guess, yeah. I just…” he stopped. “You think Ruby’s angry?”
“Her symptoms match the list you provided,” Castiel pointed out. “Stomping. Glaring. Sullenness.”
“Do they?” Dean said.
“Yes. So anger is a possibility?”
Dean hesitated, mulling it over. “I mean…yeah,” he said slowly. “I guess she could be angry. I mean, I’m not really sure why, but—yeah. That’s certainly true. Huh.”
“You sound startled.”
“No, like I said, it’s just…weird, that’s all.” Dean paused. “But then again, Cas, it might just be a virus. Some of those things can throw a bot completely off track. Mess with their sine waves or whatever.”
“You don’t think that the emotion is genuine?”
“It could be, but it’s a greater possibility that it’s something else. I mean, what could Ruby have to be angry about, anyway? Sam’s a great owner and a great guy,” Dean said with a shrug.
“Perhaps she senses that she is about to be replaced,” Castiel said quietly. “No creature likes to hear that it is outdated.”
“You mean, she feels threatened by Jess?” Dean said incredulously. “That doesn’t make any sense, Cas. Ruby’s a bot, Jess is human. They’re completely different. I mean, you can’t really treat them the same way.” Realizing who he was talking to, he added hastily, “Not that that’s bad, Cas. It’s just different. I mean, you wouldn’t treat a dog and a cat the same way, would you? They’ve got different needs.”
“So which am I—a dog or a cat?”
“You’re…” Dean stopped, grinning a little. “I don’t know. I guess you’re a cat. You’re a bit standoffish, but you’ve grown on me somewhat.”
“And Sam is a dog?”
Dean laughed. “A puppy dog, definitely.”
Castiel tilted his head. “And how is that different from a kitten? Is one less than the other?”
“They’re—” Dean stopped, scrubbing at his face with his palms. “I didn’t say they were less, okay? They’re just different. Look, people break up with other people all the time. Sam and Jess seem crazy about each other, but it’s perfectly possible—although kind of depressing, I’ll admit—that they could have a big fight and then break up. How is that different from Sam and Ruby?”
“Because between Sam and Ruby, only one has free will,” Castiel said quietly.
Dean threw up his hands in exasperation. “The eternal question, isn’t it? Look, the main difference between bots and humans are the Three Laws. Three, Cas, not a million and a half. And you guys have so many loopholes anyway: you know, only direct orders, interpret to the very word. I don’t see how they make that much of a difference.”
“They are the definition of what separates robots from humans,” Castiel pointed out.
“Don’t forget your immortal soul, if you want to get all religious,” Dean said, trying to lighten the mood. As Castiel’s expression didn’t change, Dean groaned. “Christ. Look, it’s simple. Bots aren’t human, humans aren’t bots. You can’t really equate one to another, Cas. I’m not saying one’s better than the other, but they aren’t the same.”
Castiel’s lips tightened together into a thin line. “I find that hard to comprehend—” he began.
“Okay—stop talking,” Dean said, irritated. “Look, I’m taking Ruby to see Ash tomorrow, it’s probably a virus, and that’s that. Okay? Just drop it.”
The lines around Castiel’s eyes tightened slightly, but he obediently kept silent. Dean stood, shoving the chair back under the table.
“I’m going outside for some air,” he announced curtly and left the house.
x
Chapter Four
