Chapter Text
So many stars in the sky, so many no one can possibly know if we're alone in this immense universe, or if every world is the same. Normally a galaxy would come to existence and develop following certain rules, even though no one had actually succeeded in gasping them, since as far as we know all we have are theories, so every existing galaxy could potentially become the mirror image of one another.
Few cosmic rules are given as certain: for one, the bigger the mass of a planet, the bigger attraction it'll have towards other astral bodies, developing a gravity of its own, which will pull any object within its reach towards the surface. Physics cannot be defied, at most only bent.
Given all this, there is one particular galaxy, in a not specified position in the universe, where the usual rules that normally lead its development do not apply. No one can explain why this particular galaxy, and in this galaxy why those two particular planets, or what had happened in its course to make it happen. Not that no one has tried before. In not one, but two planets' history an awful lot of scientists has tried to understand, to make sense of this abnormality, but they had all come to face the same obstacle in their research: what's the question to answer in the first place?
Two almost identical planets in this galaxy have grown, evolved and developed, so close to each other their masses and their pull towards the other have put them in an unexplainable equilibrium, in which the two rotate and orbit around the central star never leaving their reciprocal position, always the same half surfaces of the planets facing one another, like two lovers never looking away from each other.
Both planets have their own gravity, as any other planet in the universe. What makes it all so unique, is that both planets experiment dual gravity: its own, and the other's. How is that possible, one may ask? No one knows. All they know, all we know, is that concerning these two worlds' gravities, only three rules apply:
All matter is pulled by the gravity of the world that it comes from, and not the other.
An object's weight can be offset by matter from the opposite world (called inverse matter).
After some time in contact, matter in contact with inverse matter burns.
Even though the two planets are basically the same, their worlds couldn't be any different. The upper planet, Up, is rich and prosper. Its inhabitants, the so-called angels. The lower planet, Down, is poor and its inhabitants live their lives working for companies that dry the planets from its mineral sources, bought cheaply from Up which sells electricity back to Down at higher price.
The only connection between these two worlds is the TransWorld company, whose tower is built in the exact point where the planets are the closest, and connects them.
Living in Down, there's a boy, Dean Winchester, living as happily as this world let him be, with his little brother Sam and his father John, in a little house out in the hills not far from the city, away from the noise of the factories that keep the economy of this world going. The three Winchesters have lived on their own since their loving mother and wife Mary had died in an accident at the local oil-refinery factory when Dean was only four, and Sam too young to even remember anything. The resounding noise from the explosion in that tragic day still haunted Dean in his dreams, but he wasn't likely to admit it to anyone, not his father nor his brother, even if it made him wake up sweating and scared almost every night.
He was fourteen now, and had started doing commissions for a local laboratory in order to bring home something to add to John's salary, which barely kept them going. Dean did all he could to help, not wanting his father to carry the weight of it all on his tired and crunched shoulders.
Truth is, John hadn't been the same since Mary had died, like a part of him was gone with her, the light in his eyes now out. What kept him going on through all these years were his boys, just kids at the time, now little men that tried their best to bring a smile on his face and that made him remember every day why he hadn't given up on everything yet.
Dean knew just how much John mourned Mary's death, had ever since, that's why he never mentioned nor talked about her in his presence, even if it killed him. He missed her too, he missed his mum so much it hurt him, but even trying not to burden his father reminding him of her, he had always spoken to Sammy about her, making him grow up in the loving memory of a gentle blond woman, whose smile and lovely eyes made this sad world a better place.
He had told him about her voice, the way it caressed them when telling them bed-time stories she made up in the moment to make them sleep. About the sound of her laugh, so contagious it made everyone in the same room smile. About her infinite gentleness, always caring and comforting. He had described to him the taste of the pancakes she used to cook on sunday mornings, the special pink-dusted ones she made that could levitate against Down's gravity. He told him about the special ingredient their mom used on those pancakes, a little secret she inherited from her family, one she'd eventually pass on to Dean and Sam but never had the chance to. He told him all about Mary Winchester, and how he should never ever forget her, cause she had loved them both from the moment they were born and would continue forever.
Despite it all, the Winchesters lived on. Sam was still going to the local school while Dean was done after middle school and started working as a messenger, riding his too big bicycle around town delivering whatever the lab commissioned.
On a rainy day, one like any other, Dean had come home to grab a quick bite before going back to work for the afternoon shift, not able to afford buying his lunch out, even if it meant riding up and downhill for miles in record time, all because he had forgotten to pack it in the morning. While looking for a cloak rummaging through an old chest, his hands had come to touch an old leather book, one he hadn't seen since their mother's death and was convinced John had sold or thrown away, for it potentially awakened painful memories.
Careful and in awe, he had taken it out and skimmed through it, remembering how Mary would keep it on the counter like a cookbook those happy sunday mornings while preparing those delicious pancakes, ones he hadn't tasted in a very long time. Ever since that rainy day, the book had been lying under his bed, carefully hidden, and Dean had taken the habit to reach for it and caress its cover every night, before falling asleep, whispering a goodnight to his mom into the pillow.
Too young at the time to understand its content, in the last few years he had gone from being the lab's messenger to actually work in it, finding all the ampoules and cruets fascinating. It probably helped that the owner, Bobby Singer, was an old friend of John's, but that didn't mean he took Dean in out of pity, he did it because the kid actually showed a natural predisposition for that stuff, something that could actually bring benefits to the business.
For the time he turned seventeen, Dean had an amazing knowledge for a teenager about science and lab stuff, and had actually come to understand all the contents of his mother's book, the most interesting thing being the learning about the pink bees.
Those specific bees, the only ones of the genre, were the only bees to gather pollen from both worlds, which was the main ingredient of the recipe for the flying pancakes his mom used to make. Curious about its other potential uses, he had often fantasized to distil a potion that could invert gravity for him, Sam and John, in order to take them away from the sad Down to the heavenly Up, and grant a more decent and happy life for all of them.
But Dean lived in the ugly real life, and he knew that was just a child's dream. Nonetheless, one day he followed the book's instruction to reach a specific area in the mountains, in order to gather some of that special pollen. What use he would make of it, he didn't know yet: maybe some experiments, maybe he'd only cook his mum's pancakes, just to let Sammy taste their sweet flavor and maybe, just maybe, feel a little closer to the beautiful woman that was Mary, and that he never had the chance to get to know.
So one day, one when his afternoon shift had finished earlier than usual ("You did well, boy! Now go home and rest!"), as he came home he jumped to bed, to rest his tired body, and as usual reached for his mom's book, for once able to read it in the daylight since there was no one at home yet. His fingertips caressed the worn leather of the cover, he always did that, almost hoping that caress to reach his mom, and opened the book. He had read it and read it infinite times through the years, every time understanding a bit more and coming to remember almost all of it to this day, so when he skimmed through the yellowish pages he came to a halt exactly where he knew the indication for the pink-pollen bees were. He read them again, just to refresh his memory, then put the book again in its hidden place before heading out.
Dean grabbed his rusty bike (he had grown taller, so it kinda fit him now) and, as he started pedaling, he looked up. Through the thin layer of clouds he could see the lights of Up, shining bright even if far. He kept stealing glances up above him till the clouds got too thick for him to see anything, then focused on his little trip: the place he wanted to reach was highly forbidden and fenced, whoever was to be found in the area was likely to be captured and convicted, if not shot on sight. He knew it was risky, but he couldn't get his mind off the pink pollen…so he better go with his plan when he had the chance, and this was it.
After a while of pedaling uphill and sweating despite the crisp air that had his throat already sore, he found the path to be blocked by a rusty railing, hanging a yellow sign saying: KEEP OUT Restricted Area DO NOT ENTER. Dean stared at it for a few seconds, then shrugged, deciding not to care, and resumed his pedaling along the rail, trying to find a breach in it or a loose spot where he could slip through. After a long search, he found it a little higher up the mountainside and, after hiding his bike in the nearby bushes, he passed through and started jogging through the woods, following the path he had memorized in his mind.
It took him almost an hour to find the field mentioned by the book, for it lied well hidden, behind a high crest that casted a long shadow on the trees around it, but curiously let the field be touched by the sunlight in certain hours of the day, allowing flowers to grow among the wild grass. When Dean finally found it he had gone around in circles a lot and had eventually lost his way, starting to feel a little worried about his return, not sure about the direction, but his heart had started pumping with joy at the sight of the colored flowers and the buzzing of the bees. A big fat laugh had bubbled up inside of him, and he had let it out while fist-pumping the air and running around jumping and screaming "YES!!".
He had brought a clean honey jar and a knife in his backpack, to take some of the flower heads back home and extract the pollen out, following the book's instructions. After filling it completely, he had lied for a few moments in the field, feeling happy and excited while surrounded by the steady bzzz that filled the air, and sure that his mom had been leading him in this task.
Not long after, when he started to feel goosebumps running on his skin, Dean decided to head back. Problem was, he really had gotten lost. The rail had got him off-track already, then all the wandering around had gotten him more and more confused. He pondered a little, trying not to let the panic take over, and finally decided to climb up the crest to get a clear view of the surroundings, in order to find his way out of the woods and back home.
He found it easier than expected: the crest was steep but he was strong and smart, and found a way to climb up top without excessive difficulties. It was colder up there, the chilly wind freezing his hands, a few snowflakes melting on his hot skin as he glanced around and soaked up the breathtaking view: through the light mist, he could see all the surrounding forest and down to the hills where his house was, and further to the city, its lights flickering in the distance. The few clouds above his head were so low he could almost reach them, it felt like being on top of the world. He took a seat there, on the higher place he could find, right on the tip of the mountain, where the rock bent down, forming an open cave, like the mountain itself was offering repair from wind and snow, and enjoyed the silence, now at rest since he had found which way to go.
A few minutes later, as he was about to leave, a sudden idea got to him: since it had taken him so much to find the place, the least he could do before heading back was at least to check if the pollen he had gathered was the right one, even with the pink color being a sufficient sign. But you know, better safe than sorry.
As he sat there, freezing his butt, he took a piece of paper from his backpack and started folding it into a paper plane. Once done, he took a flower from the jar he had filled in the field, and smeared the wings of the plane with the pollen, giving it a light pink shade. It was a bit windy, so probably the plane would go a long distance, with the surplus of the pollen (if it was the right one), it would go up high too. Dean exhaled sharply, really hoping the plane would prove him right, that he hadn't messed up and taken the right flowers, and threw the plane up right in front of him.
As soon as it left his hand, the plane got caught in the wind and started flying, going impossibly high (if not for the pollen) in an erratic route, becoming smaller and smaller, the sight filling him with joy and pride. He did it!! He had found the flowers of the pink bees! He squinted his eyes to try to follow its path with his gaze through the few running clouds and the light mist, but it was almost impossible. So he stood there sitting, looking up, hoping for the wind to clear up the air and let him see where his plane had gone, not moving as the minutes passed by.
Ten minutes later or so, he finally got a clear view of Up above him: there were mountains there too, with lot of trees and snow, and it looked closer than ever. Dean hadn't realized the crest had him this high up on his planet, and close to the other's surface. It almost seemed like he could reach it with a jump.
With his heart beating loud in his chest, he squinted his eyes some more, his gaze looking frantically for a little pink dot in all that white and dark green, and almost stopped beating when he saw something moving, something light brown and black.
"Hey!!!" he screamed on top of his lungs standing up abruptly, excited, his eyes wide with anticipation. If it was an animal, it would probably run away, scared by his yell. Instead, the figure stopped and turned, looking around: was it a person?
"Down here-I mean, up!!!" he screamed again, his hands around his mouth to amplify his words.
And the figure looked up, his blue gaze reaching Dean even from that distance, making his heart bump frantically, barely contained by his ribcage.
"Hi!!!!" Dean said loudly, waving his arms wildly, a big smile plastered on his face.
"…hi?" was the uncertain but loud response he got.
"Hi!!!!!" he said again, excited, still waving his arms frantically, his brain not able to formulate any coherent thought but one: it was his first contact with the other world.
"…I should not be talking with you" the other said after a moment of hesitation, looking away from him, then started to walk away. Dean's eyes widened, not wanting to let go, afraid for the figure to go away, already missing those blue eyes.
"No, wait!!! Wait!! My name is Dean!"
As he said that, the other stopped on his tracks and looked up again, meeting his gaze but not replying. Dean almost couldn't speak, he felt his heart beating in his throat and his mind working madly to find something to say to keep the other from going.
"I threw a paper plane up there a few minutes ago! Have you seen it, by any chance??"
The other moved his gaze from Dean to the surroundings, and took a few uncertain steps around: was he looking for it?
"It's slightly pink!!" he added, excited as he had never been before.
The other wandered around for a few moments, then took a few quick steps towards a tree and crouched at its base. When he stood up again, he looked up to Dean and extended his hands, something little and light pink held tight.
"That's it!! That's my plane!!! You found it!!!" he screamed happily, almost laughing, and started jumping on the spot, the excitement too much for his body to contain. The blue eyes moved from Dean to the pink paper plane, than back to him confused, not really understanding what was going on.
"You can keep it if you want!!" Dean said to the other, making him look once again at the paper plan.
"…thanks" he replied, looking up and smiling to him. He smiled back, getting nervous, wondering if the other was as interested in him as he was.
"Hey um, can you go a little higher up there?" he dared to ask, hoping the other would comply and not get scared by his request. The blue gaze stood fixed on him for a while, almost making Dean think that he was about to chicken out, and instead, when his gaze moved to the ground, he half-climbed to the highest spot of the mountain ("Be careful not to slip!!"), on a plane rock slightly topped with a veil of snow. Then looked up again, and Dean could finally see him clearly: his pale soft features and impossibly blue eyes and pitch black scruffy hair.
He swallowed hard, before being able to talk again.
"Hi" he said with a smile, finally able to talk normally given the reasonable distance.
"Hi" the other replied, his eyes curious.
"My name is Dean. What's yours?"
"Castiel."
"What's that again?" Dean asked a bit more loudly, not quite catching it.
"Castiel!"
"Dude, what's with the voice?"
"…what do you mean?" the other replied, frowning a little.
"You got a sore throat or something?? Your voice is incredibly deep!"
"No, this is my normal voice."
"Whoa, weird!"
He saw the frown on Castiel's face deepen, while his head tilted slightly to the side, and Dean chuckled at the sight. They stood there, looking at each other, not really knowing what to say, but neither wanting to leave.
"How old are you?" Dean asked. From his appearance, he couldn't be much older.
"I'm sixteen."
"Cool, I'm seventeen! So, uh, you living with your family?" Really Dean? That's the best you can come up with? He mentally smacked himself.
"With my siblings, yes."
"Where are your parents?"
"Busy with work, they're never home."
"Ah, tell me about it, my dad's never home either!" Maybe because of this, but Dean started thinking that he and this strange boy shared a bond, something in common, like they could relate. It wasn't a rational thought, more like a sensation that perched from under his skin.
"How about your mom?" Castiel's deep voice asked.
"She's dead…explosion at the oil refinery, twelve years ago." As he said that, he felt a weight falling on his heart. All he usually said about Mary to Sam were things to remind him how she was when she was alive and well, he had only spoken once about her death, then avoided the subject ever since. Talking about it out loud was still difficult for him.
"My apologies" he said, his voice going deeper if possible.
"Thanks…it sucks, but there's still dad. And Sammy too!"
"Who's Sammy?"
"Sam, my little brother. He's almost fourteen now, was only a baby when it all happened, but I try my best to tell him all about her, make sure he doesn't forget."
Castiel nodded a few times, before smiling warmly.
"You're a good brother."
Dean felt his eyes going teary as he stood there, being gazed upon by those honest blue eyes. He smiled back, grateful for his words, their gazes locked in a long silent stare, words needless.
As they realized it was starting to get dark, Castiel broke the eye contact, looking around him before looking up to him again.
"I should go now."
"Wait!!" Dean shouted as he saw him turn on his heels, ready to leave. "Can I see you again?"
Castiel looked at him, meeting Dean's eyes, wide and filled with hope, then nodded.
"I'll come back here tomorrow before dark!!"
Castiel nodded again, smiled briefly, then started to make his way down the rock, his brown trenchcoat wobbling in the wind.
Dean stood there, watching him as long as he could till he disappeared under the tree branches, the forest hiding him from his gaze. After a last moment of wonder, he started descending the cliff, finding it a bit difficult in the growing darkness of the evening. He managed anyway, and run his way through the woods, below the rail, and back home on his squeaking bike in record time, the flowers in his backpack already forgotten.
"Took you long enough to come home, son." John greeted him as he went through the door, still flustered for the long ride.
"Um, yeah, lost track of time while talking with the others in the lab" he said looking at his feet, not able to lie looking at his father in the eyes, and hung the coat near the entrance.
"You're such a nerd for those things!" Sam's voice came from the bedroom.
"Shut up, bitch."
"Jerk."
"Boys" John warned them, as both brothers smiled affectionately: neither of them were for chick-flick moments, so that little exchange was their own way to show each other love.
"Whoa Sammy, did you grow another half meter while I was gone?" Dean exclaimed as his brother came into the living room, showing exaggerated surprise. He got a laugh in response, and a muttered "Don't call me Sammy" underbreath, which made him smirk. His little brother will always be Sammy to him, even if he had already caught up with Dean's height and was going to grow even taller, but he could become even a giant for all he cared, nothing would change the "little brother" feelings he had towards him.
A little later, the three Winchester settled at the table for dinner, making small talk while eating. Dean flinched at his father's "Has anything interesting happened today?", but was saved by Sam telling them of an interesting debate that happened in class that day, letting him recover his breathing. Thank you, geek Sammy!
Soon later, they all went to sleep and the light was turned off. Dean couldn't get to fall asleep at first, lying on the side, wide-eyed, looking at the wall while in his mind he replayed the strange encounter he had had that day in a loop. All the tension and excitement slowly faded into exhaustion, both physical and mental, and swallowed him in a deep sleep, dreaming of blue eyes and pink paper planes.