A/N: Hello everyone and welcome! To start, the premise of this story is inspired by a post I've seen on tumblr, and once you read the beginning you may recognize it if you're a regular tumblr addict like me. This story is rated T for language and some sexy content, and it may possibly be changed to M later, but I have yet to decide if or when. Anyway, I'm really excited to be writing this story just because as soon as I read that tumblr post I immediately thought this up but I wanted to finish my other story Inside of You before beginning this. And now, ladies and gents, please enjoy your feature presentation!

Chapter 1: Birth

17 years. 4 months. 8 days. 12 hours. 49 minutes. 37 seconds.

January 24

When a child is born, there is a time stamp that appears on their small, frail wrist. Such it has been for the entirety of the human race, and such will it always be for the human race. This clock of sorts begins to count down as soon as the baby takes its first breath. The very second the time runs out is the moment that person will meet their soul mate.

Death has no control over time; a person may die before their time runs out, such is the nature of life. But never, in the history of man, could a person cheat fate (with death or otherwise), even if they tried. For few have tried and none have succeeded. There is an otherworldly countenance controlling when and where we will meet our soul mate and that countenance will not tolerate an attempt to break the system.

This system has been forever, and shall be forever, just as it shall be for the baby boy born to a mother Mary Winchester, and a father John Winchester.

"Dean Winchester."

As soon as his name was spoken by his mother, the baby began to cry in the doctor's hands. His first breath marked the start of his time and the tiny stamp on his wrist read 17:04:08:12:49:06 and counting as he was given to the nurse standing by to hold.

She bathed him quickly, taking a blood sample from his foot with the tiniest prick of a needle and handing that to another nurse nearby. She then wrapped him in a soft, blue blanket and brought him to his mother.

Mary's hair was plastered to her forehead and John gently brushed it aside for her, hand still gripped tightly in hers as her breathing started to slow after the exertion. She let go of her husband to take their firstborn into her arms, a tired smile gracing her lips.

"Hello, Dean," she cooed, tracing a finger down his chubby cheek. He'd stopped making loud noises of protest after being coddled in the blanket, but he still seemed to want to squirm around. John looked over his wife's shoulder at the boy, transfixed by the tiny, bald bundle that was his son. Looking up at John, Mary let out a small laugh, relieved that the battle was finally over and that their baby was alright.

"He's perfect," John breathed, reaching out his own hand to brush his fingers on the baby's head.

"Yes," Mary replied, looking back at Dean, "he is."

00:05:19:16:53:09

December 11

"Perfect," Dean grumbled, grabbing his bag from the floor and slipping on his shoes as he headed towards the garage. "Mom!" he called out. "We're gonna be late!"

"Coming!" Mary shouted back from down the kitchen.

Sam was waiting at the foot of the stairs, shoes on, backpack on his back, and a book in his hand. "We're not going to be late, Dean. We've got twenty minutes."

"And it takes fifteen to get there, Sammy!" Dean replied with a scowl. He didn't know why, but he felt more jumpy than usual. Maybe it was because for once Dean wasn't seeing anyone. Even though he knew there'd only be one girl in the world for him, he still had decided to try out a few others before the time came. After all, he was voted the hottest guy in school for three years running and that went over pretty well with the ladies. His last relationship with Lisa Braeden had ended nearly two months previously, though.

But as his time was running out, the great Dean Winchester had begun to grow nervous and irritable, just wanting to meet her already and get on with his life. His parents recognized this, as they'd felt the same in their early twenties, and they did their best to help him through. It was up to Dean, though, to prepare himself for when the time came. He just hoped she was attractive.

Mary finally rushed out to the garage, pulling her boys with her. The ride to school was quiet and they arrived with just two minutes to spare. Sam nearly ran to class, but Dean took his time, mind still wandering. He managed to get into first period right as the final bell rang and took his seat in the back.

He sat next to Jo Harvelle, who had been his friend since they started high school two and a half years previously, and who Dean secretly had the hots for. But he would never act on it, not with his time so close and especially because he liked just being friends with her. That didn't mean, however, that he wouldn't flirt with her on occasion.

"Hey hot stuff," he whispered across the aisle to her, eliciting a small grin from the blonde. She reached out and punched him in the shoulder, making the teacher give them both a hard look. Dean sniggered quietly and stole quick glances at his friend as the hour wore away.

Lunch came around soon and Dean made his way to the table outside that he shared with Jo and her friend Ash. For the first few minutes, everything was quiet, but a sudden commotion a few tables away caught Dean's attention. Sam was being thrown to the ground by a guy Dean knew well, and instantly Dean was on his feet and striding over.

"Luke!" he called out to the bully standing over his brother. "I thought I told you to leave Sam alone last time." He let the threat fill his voice as he grabbed Luke's collar and pulled the kid away from the circle of students that had gathered. Dean felt the sudden urge to sigh; nearly a full semester had already passed and his baby brother still hadn't taken care of Luke who had been pushing him around since the moment Sam started eighth grade at their school.

"Well I'm terribly sorry that your little baby here can't stand up for himself," Luke Milton replied in a sarcastic snarl.

Dean, being older and taller, glared at Luke until the bully backed away a little bit. "Don't fuck with my brother again or I swear to God—"

"You'll kill him?" Michael, Luke's older brother sauntered over. He was the same age as Dean, but scrawny, and even the menacing glare in his eyes didn't deter Dean.

"Oh, get out of here Michael. You can't threaten me," Dean told him, voice cold but exasperated. Without waiting for a reply, Dean turned and picked up his brother by the arm, pulling him away just as Dean's English teacher Mrs. Singer noticed the ring of students and meandered over.

"Is everything alright, Dean?" Karen Singer and her husband were close friends of the boys' parents and she always seemed to have a soft spot for the boys. Though she was brutal in her grading of Dean's essays.

"Yeah, we're fine Ka—Mrs. Singer," Dean managed to utter as Sam tore himself away from his older brother's grip.

"Dean, I was fine. I could have handled it," Sam said hotly as soon as Karen had nodded and moved away towards the Milton brothers who were glaring daggers at the Winchesters.

"Yeah? Well you didn't seem to be doing a very good job from what I saw." Sam crossed his arms huffily and turned away. Dean sighed out a breath and let his shoulders relax slightly. "Look, Sam, I just wanna look out for you, okay? You gotta show 'em who's boss though one of these days."

"I know," the younger boy replied miserably.

Dean patted his brother's shoulder. "Come on, go find Brady or something and try not to think about those dickwads for a while." Sam nodded and moved away while Dean went back to where Jo and Ash were talking at their table.

"I think you really just need to tell Sam to break Luke's nose next time," Jo said with a half-smirk as he leaned against the table.

Dean didn't answer though, and instead looked moodily over the schoolyard. He pulled up the sleeve of his leather jacket and glanced at the black numbers on his wrist. He sighed and tightly crossed his arms, nerves roiling lightly in the pit of his stomach.