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From SimCity to, well, SimCity: The history of city-building games

From SimCity to, well, SimCity: The history of city-building games Cities are everywhere. Billions of us live in them, and many of us think we could do a better job than the planners. But for the past 26 years dating back to the original SimCity, we’ve mostly been proving that idea false. We’ve traveled through time and space to build on alien worlds, in ancient civilizations, and in parallel…

Dean had seen Castiel’s wings before, back when he was a demon. At the time he hadn’t really appreciated it, distracted as he was with the whole murderous rage thing he had going. Since his recovery though, Cas was back to appearing as nothing more than his dorky little friend. Most of the time. 

The first time it happened, Dean wasn’t sure what he was seeing, a trick of the light maybe. Castiel had driven his blade into a demon, eyes stormy with rage, a dark shape flaring over his shoulder as he tossed the body away. Dean blinked, the shape settling and fading away as Castiel offered him a hand up off the ground. He brushed himself off and put the strange occurrence in the back of his mind. 

After it happened again though, Dean began to pay attention. The more he looked, the more clearly he saw. Whenever Castiel was distressed or excited the shadow would resolve itself into translucent wings, expressing emotion more clearly than the stoic angel usually exhibited. Dean nearly blew his little secret when Sam arrived at the bunker one evening with cheeseburgers. Dean bit back his laughter as Cas’s wings fluttered happily, in direct contradiction to Castiel’s impassive face. 

He saw that same happy flutter a few days later, entering the library with a fresh beer for himself as he settled back in for a long afternoon of research. Castiel was scowling down at the book before him, too focused to acknowledge Dean’s entrance. Dean frowned thoughtfully, wondering what had Cas excited.

“Find something good, man?” Dean queried, flipping his own book open. Cas ignored him. Dean scowled, kicking Cas under the table. Cas jumped, wings drawing tight against his back. He glared at Dean and pulled… ear buds out? Where did he get those? 

“Yes Dean?" 

Dean was flabbergasted. “… were you listening to music?”

Castiel frowned. “Claire put some on my phone. Told me to “educate myself”. Did you want something?”

Dean grinned. “Ah, no. Just seeing if you found something yet. So, what were you listening to?”

Castiel pulled the phone from his pocket. “Something called a fergie? What is a fergie Dean?”

Dean laughed, loud and uninhibited, catching Sam’s attention and earning a tired smile. Castiel cocked his head to the side, smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. Dean laughed until his sides hurt, wiping tears from his eyes as he pushed away from the table.  

He clapped Castiel on the shoulder as he passed, smiling as the shadowed wing brushed along his arm in return. “You figure that out, you let me know. I’m just gonna…” He gestured vaguely, leaving the room still chuckling to himself. 

A few weeks later, after the puberty incident, which we do not speak of, Dean found himself alone in the car with Cas. Inspired by his own discovery he flicked through the radio stations, stopping when he found the now familiar sound of Taylor Swift. Castiel made no sign of acknowledgement, staring out the window, silently watching the countryside fly by. 

Dean let his fingers tap on the wheel in rhythm, waiting. He grinned in triumph as those shadowy wings began to flutter, moving to the beat.