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Chapter Text

DEAN

     Dean was young when he received his first whipping. And there had been many more since. He was 13 and already accustomed to the physically challenging work in the mines. Two years ago he had been living on a farm on the outskirts of a small town with his father and brother, Sam. Two years ago that small town had been captured and all its residents taken as slaves to work in the mines.
     That was what led Dean to tackle a guard before that guard could lay a hand on Sam. Sam, being only 9, had trouble carrying the heavy loads the guards required of him. So when he tripped and sent rocks flying everywhere, it was no surprise to Dean. However, the nearest guard, probably out of boredom, decided it was an offence punishable by a beating with the handle of a leather whip every guards carried at all times. Dean wasn't going to allow that. He'd never let anyone hurt his brother.
    So as he threw himself at the guard he didn't spare a single thought for himself. The guard initially reacted with surprise, followed by a muffled grunt, but as soon as he hit the ground, he sprung up again and drew his sword. That was the moment Dean took to think Son of a bitch! He's going to kill me. Sam had stood up and backed up as far against the side of the tunnel as he was able. Dean remained kneeling on the ground as the guard placed the edge of his sword against Dean’s neck.
     "No one attacks soldiers in my mine." The guard spat out with quite a bit of venom. If Dean hadn't had a sharp piece of metal pressing against his largest artery, he may have rolled his eyes. These people put in charge of them were hardly soldiers. That implied some higher purpose other than money and an actual dedication to their cause. The only thing these guards were dedicated to was amusing themselves with other's suffering. No, these people were mercenaries, hired as prison guards.
     As it was, Dean swallowed hard and replied, possibly foolishly and with a hint of sarcasm at the end, "No one attacks my brother, soldier." The guard pressed his blade harder against Dean’s throat and drew a small trickle of blood. Scratch that, those words were definitely foolish.
   "Show some respect. I have a name and a title. Sir Alastair. Use them." Alastair's stare bore straight through Dean’s eyes and seemed to grate again his very soul. Although Dean knew for a fact that Alastair wasn't a knight, it would be downright stupid to point that out now. Dean's fingers twitched with the urge to anyway.
    "You will follow me to the cells." Alastair motioned with his sword for Dean to stand. Dean spared a glance at Sam as Alastair nudged him in the small of his back to get him moving. Sam was still pressed against the wall with terror painted across his face and a substantial amount of guilt mixed in.
     Dean wanted to give Sam one of his prizewinning smiles in an attempt to calm him and smooth the rough edges of his emotions, but the less attention drawn to Sam the better. For the moment Alastair was focused on Dean and seemed to have forgotten that his initial intent was to punish Sam. Dean sincerely hoped it would stay that way.
     When Dean was frightened, he used humor as a defense. And right now, he was plenty scared. Anyone who made it to the cells never left quite the same. Either mentally or physically scarred. More often than not both. "So, you're gonna show me the high-class rooms! How lucky am I? Just wondering, do I get breakfast in bed now?" He looked back to share his smug, overly confident smile with Alastair. The only response he received was a grunt and a terse, angry “Keep moving.”
     He passed his father, John, and his father's friend, Bobby, working side by side to chip away the stone around a small cluster of gems. Dean didn't even bother trying to identify them. The finer points of gems were lost on him no matter how many times Bobby tried explaining them to him. Instead he focused on the looks the two men were giving him.
     John's face was a mix of disappointment and anger. Dean knew better than to believe the anger was directed at Alastair. Since they were "relocated" to the mines, Dean had been stubborn and nothing but an annoyance to the guards. John relentlessly tried to beat it into his head that he needed to cool the fuck down and endure whatever the guards threw at them. Now he knew Dean messed up and would never let Dean live it down.
     Bobby's face on the other hand was all concern, pity, and anger. This time his anger was directed at the guard. Dean caught Bobby's eyes and motioned backwards with his chin while mouthing 'Sam'. Without speaking, Bobby seemed to understand. Sam would need someone after the events of the past five minutes and Dean didn't know when he would be coming back, if at all.
     When they reached their destination, Dean was roughly shoved into one of seven cells. He stumbled on the entryway and ended up on his knees again. He heard something crack but felt no pain. He pushed himself to his feet and turned to face Alastair who was already in the process of locking the metal bars which served as a door. Several scathing remarks and sarcastic comments floated through his brain but he bit them all back, knowing that one wrong word would make his time here infinitely worse. With one last glare, Alastair stalked off, sheathing his sword. That was the last time Dean saw a human face for two days.

     All Dean could think was water. He was utterly parched and he hadn't thought straight since yesterday evening. So when he heard the familiar sounds of boots against the stone floor, he whipped his head up with a speed he no longer thought possible and pressed himself against the metal bars. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He swallowed dryly, but before he could make another attempt at speaking, a small loaf of bread and a cup of water were passed through the square opening at the bottom of the door to his cell.
     Dean sat down and practically inhaled the water. He stared straight into the unfamiliar guard's eyes and managed to bark out, "More." Surprisingly, the guard took his cup and refilled it in the other room. He drank that a little more slowly and he could feel his higher brain functions starting back up. As those creaky gears were still finding a semi-normal rhythm, the guard watched him. Dean didn’t care. He picked up the bread and ripped into it.
     As soon as he was finished eating, the guard opened the cell door and pulled Dean out. “Where are we going?” Dean rasped.
     The guard replied, “Nowhere fun. Get a move on.”
     Dean winced. There was only one place he could mean. The Justice Ring was what the guards jokingly called it, but everyone knew it was just where troublemakers or the guard’s latest amusements were sent to be punished. The worst part of it, for Dean at least, was that everyone was always forced to watch. Sam didn’t need to see this. He was still a child.
     Dean was led into a large cavern. Filling the cavern was everyone who worked in the mine. He tried to find Sam in among the crowd but there were just too many faces. In the center of the crowd was a roped off area with a column standing about eight feet high. Near the top a metal ring was embedded. Dean’s hands began to sweat and tremble slightly. Each step he took felt like it took twice the amount of effort than it used to. All he really wanted to do was make a break for it. He had seen what happened in this cavern more times than he cared to remember. He had also seen what happened to the ones who run. They were eventually caught and led instead to the noose which was fixed to the far wall.
     As Dean walked down the path made for him through the crowd, he noticed something he never did before. All the faces looked... dead. As if nothing was left but defeat and servitude. He had always passed these looks off as tired or sad. He always thought they contained something. There was nothing in these faces. Nothing. Even through his fear, Dean felt an anger bubble up inside of him. It wasn’t the flare of sharp heat he usually felt which flashed bright and was gone again in an instant. This was a deep rooted, slow moving anger more akin to a volcano slowly awakening than a fire. He determined in that moment that he would never give up until he had repaid each and every guard, noble, and royal who had allowed this to happen to him and his family.
     He was so distracted by this determination that he barely noticed when he had entered the roped off area. He came back to himself with a jerk when he heard the sharp sound of Alastair’s voice, “Take off his shirt.”
     Dean’s eyes widened and he almost fell into a full-blown panic. If Alastair was going to be the one to whip him, he might not survive this. That was when his eyes caught his little brother’s face in the crowd. He was standing next to Bobby and tears were streaming down his face. He looked so frightened and worried that Dean nearly forgot his own fear. He was going to make it through this. He wasn’t going to make a sound. When it was over he would tell Sam how it wasn’t really all that bad. It just stung a bit and then it was over.
     By now Dean’s shirt was off and he was being pushed against the pillar while they tied his hands to the metal ring. He managed to catch Sam’s eyes and actually flash him a small smile. That only made Sam release a sob and press his face into Bobby’s side. Dean wished that Bobby would keep Sam from watching, but before he could try to get that across to Bobby, he heard the snap of a whip and felt the sharp, hot slice of it against his skin. Despite his best efforts, he back bowed and he cried out. He felt his knees collapse under him. Before another blow could strike he stood back up and clenched his teeth. nosoundnosoundnosoundnosound At the next strike he whimpered but kept his footing. The third time he was silent. All the way through his 35 lashes he didn’t make another sound. Not even when he could feel his own blood trickle down his leg, curl around his ankle, and pool along the side of his foot.

CAS

   Castiel loved parties. Especially when they were thrown for him. It made him feel even more important and special than he already knew he was. Being the prince of Andala, he was pretty much the one of most special people out there. Tomorrow was Castiel’s 14th birthday party. Foreign dignitaries and all sorts of important people would be there. Since he was getting close to his coming of age at 16, all these noble and rulers were hoping that he would marry one of their daughters or nieces or someone through whom they could control at least a part of Andala.
     To Castiel, that only meant more attention and fun, but his father, King Crowley, had told him time and time again about the dangers of even hinting at an alliance that he himself hadn’t planned and sanctioned. Castiel couldn’t count the number of times his father had outlined all the benefits of marrying his mother, Ruby. It came with a lucrative trade agreement, safe passage for all citizens, and access to a channel which greatly eased the difficulty of trading with countries over the sea. Whenever his father would get like this, all politics and no fun, Castiel would look at his two older brothers Balthazar and Gabriel and they would look at him and at least one of the three eventually snuck away.
     If it was Gabriel, he was more often than not stuffing as much dessert into his face as possible in the short amount of time he had stolen. If it was Balthazar, it was likely him climbing out of a third story window or sneaking into the ladies’ changing room. Castiel, however, liked to pick fights with the servant children, or the noblemen’s children, or anyone who happened to look at him the wrong way. Nothing excited Castiel more than a chance to prove his skill at wrestling, swordplay, archery, or literally anything that had to do with fighting or battle.
     Castiel’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. He grabbed a candle and got up to unlock and open the door. There was Gabriel towing a sleepy Balthazar behind him.
     “We’re going to raid the desserts cook made for your birthday!” The excitement on Gabriel’s face only managed to annoy Castiel.
     “No. Go back to bed. The desserts were made for my birthday. Therefore you won’t eat them until it is my actual birthday.” Castiel spoke in a deadpan voice. He didn’t want anything to go wrong tomorrow, especially not a suspicious lack of desserts.
     “Come on, Cassie!” Gabriel whined dragging out his vowels, “I am so bored. It’s been weeks since I’ve done anything remotely bad. I need to break some rules.” He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet during the last sentence.
     “Climb onto the roof or steal some of Mother’s jewelry. Balthazar would enjoy that more anyway.” Balthazar did indeed seem to perk up at this and didn’t look so sleepy anymore. Gabriel just stuck his bottom lip in a pout and stalked off half dragging Balthazar behind him. Castiel wasn’t worried about his precious pastries though. He could tell when he had won.
     Castiel knew he needed to have a good night’s sleep before tomorrow, but he couldn’t force away his excitement long enough for his brain to slow down. There would be so many people there. If he was lucky, King Charles would come with his daughter, Hanna. He loved spending time with Hanna. She was fun, but not an airhead. And she was always willing to spar, no matter how many odd looks she received from the rest of the crowd. They did not approve of a girl knowing how to fight. If he was unlucky, King Lucifer from down south would be able to come. His father seemed to love him, but honestly Castiel did not understand the appeal. Sure sometimes he was funny, but mostly he was just condescending and power-hungry.
     Castiel pulled the covers over his head. He needed to sleep! After another ten minutes, he sighed and pushed the covers back. Maybe Gabriel had the right idea. Perhaps a midnight walk would help him get sleepy. He pulled on a robe and lit a candle. He slipped into the servant’s passage through the small door in the back of his room. He paused listening to see if anyone was in the passage. There was no movement to his left or right. Castiel breathed a sigh of relief and continued on his way.
     He made his way to the stairway on the east tower which led to the small section of roof only used if the castle was under siege. As far as he knew, that hadn’t happened in over five generations. No one would tell him the details of that battle however. That bothered him whenever he thought about it. He was old enough to hear about other battles. Why not this one? One day he would be annoyed about it enough to actually try looking it up in the library or the records room.
     When he finally made it to the top of the tower, Castiel was a tad out of breath. When he saw that the roof was already occupied, he was part annoyed and part relieved. It was lonely being out alone at night, but Gabriel and Balthazar were just going to encourage him to do something stupid. This claim was proven by the matching mischievous smirks plastered on his brothers’ faces.
     “Told you. He eventually decided to join us,” Gabriel crowed at Balthazar.
    “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I was the one who told you he’d come here. Not that you didn’t need the exercise as well,” Balthazar pointedly looked at Gabriel’s midsection which was a bit soft due to his love of sweets.
     Gabriel clutched his stomach and forced a hurt expression, “Balthy! How could you!” he stood back up to his full height, “Besides, I am in a league so far above you that you would literally have to break your neck just to see my feet.”
“Then why is it so easy to look down at you,” Balthazar smirked, using his height as an advantage by stepping closer to Gabriel.
     As amusing as their banter was, Castiel was getting a little annoyed at being ignored, “Hello. There does happen to be a third brother present tonight,” Castiel tilted his head and thinned his lips to emphasize his statement.
     “Aww. Our baby brother’s feeling left out,” Gabriel hurried to switch Balthazar from ‘tease Gabriel mode’ to ‘tease Castiel mode’.
     Balthazar took the bait, “Cassie. You get all the attention tomorrow. You can’t let us have the spotlight for just a moment.Think about how you would feel if I denied you the simple right to a conversation with your brother,” he gestured to Gabriel. Gabriel leaned against the stone and gave a lopsided smile.
     Castiel looked to one brother and then the other, “I am done with your abuse. I’m heading back to my room. Sleep is essential for a clear mind.” He turned around but Balthazar gripped his arm.
     “We’re sorry. Right, Gabe?” Balthazar looked over his shoulder at Gabriel who nodded enthusiastically without a speck of remorse on his face, “See. We’ll be good. Stay with us. Gabe was just going to show me how he got down to the women’s bathing room from here.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
     “You two are disgusting,” Castiel claimed, but didn’t try to leave again. As much as his brothers annoyed him, he loved them and treasured these moments with them. When Balthazar was satisfied that Castiel wouldn’t bolt, he let go of his arm. Gabriel pushed back against the wall to stand up. He walked over to the edge of the balcony-like shelf they were all standing on. He pointed to a window ledge to their right about two feet away and a little above his head.
     “That is the first hold. Then you’ve got to get your feet into the crack,” he gestured at a practically non-existent break in the stone near where the shelf became the castle walls again, “Then you swing down and right to that window,” he gestured vaguely downwards, “Shimmy down that thing there and then find the ledge with your feet and, bingo!, you’ve got it!”
      Balthazar and Castiel looked at each other. All of them were good climbers, but what Gabriel just described looked nearly impossible. Balthazar leaned back and crossed his arms. His voice laden with disbelief, he asked Gabriel, “And you’ve actually done this before? Without, I don’t know falling and breaking your neck on the rocks below?”
     Gabriel looked insulted. He gestured dramatically to his upper body, “Do I look like I have anything broken? Hmm? How about I show you how this is done. I was going to let you try first, but apparently you’ve got no guts.” He smirked and reached out for the first ledge. He swung onto it easily and his foot found the crack.
     Castiel and Balthazar darted closer, bumping into each other, and watched Gabriel intently. Despite his claims, Gabriel seemed intimidated by the next hold, almost beyond his reach, which would take him down and right.
     “You know you don’t have to do it. You can just come back and no one will tease you about it, promise,” Castiel looked at Balthazar meaningfully. Even Balthazar seemed to realize that this wasn’t a good idea. He nodded sincerely and held out a hand for Gabriel.
     “Come back, you’ve got nothing to prove,” Balthazar moved his hand up and down encouraging Gabriel to grab hold. Gabriel’s expression hardened and he looked away. Apparently they had said the wrong thing. Now there was no stopping him.
     “I told you, guys. I’ve got this. Easy-peasy,” he stretched out and grabbed the next hold. He teetered for a moment and then slid his foot out of the crack. His body jerked to the right as gravity took hold and he hung by the fingers of one hand for a moment, his feet scrabbling for the small shelf he had identified as a foothold. He found it, lifted himself up, and gripped the ledge with both hands. He was now beyond Castiel and Balthazar’s reach and they shared worried expressions.They held their breath as Gabriel eyed the ridge of stone he needed to “shimmy” down next.
     Gabriel slid as close to it as he could get and made a wild grab for it. His hand connected with the ridge and the rest of his body followed as he accidentally lost his footing. His knees and feet scrambled desperately to grab the stone wall but there was nothing to hold onto. With a loud cry, his fingers slipped and he plummeted to the rock bed far below. Balthazar jolted forward and screamed Gabriel's name. He would have fallen over the edge as well if it weren’t for Castiel grabbing the back of his shirt and forcefully dragging his now sobbing brother away from the edge. Castiel was in too much shock for words or tears. He left Balthazar by the door to the stairs and rushed back to the edge to look for his other brother.
     Gabriel’s body, broken and bloody, was barely visible in the dim torchlight below. Only then did Castiel take a moment  to process what just happened. A choked sob escaped his throat as he collapsed onto his knees and he couldn’t look away from his brother’s… dead body. All he could think was how he should have tried harder to stop him, how he should have been the one to go first, how he should have gone with him to steal the desserts because then they never would have come to this ledge and none of this would have happened and Gabriel would still be alive!
     Someone must have heard the noises because soon guards were pouring out of the stairwell. Some of them stopped to lead Balthazar away and the rest came to the edge and looked over with Castiel. Sharp gasps were heard all round and a few of them immediately tried to remove Castiel. No! He couldn’t leave his brother. He couldn’t leave the last place he spoke to him. He couldn’t. Besides, this was his fault. He had to stay.
     Castiel lashed out at the guard and, with the element of surprise, knocked him unconscious with one blow. The other guards weren’t as easy. He tried to fight them off, screaming and yelling nonsense. He had to keep his eyes on his brother! He couldn’t leave Gabriel alone! But there were too many men and they were all larger than Castiel. He caught a glimpse of people gathering around Gabriel before the guards managed to get their arms around his chest and waist and dragged him away. They took him back to his bedroom where he had started the night.
      As soon as they let him go he rushed at the door with a shout, fully intent on fighting his way out of the room. They slammed the door closed and he heard the snick of a lock. Throwing himself repeatedly against the door did absolutely no good and eventually he slid to the floor. He didn’t know how long he spent on the floor like that, sobbing and hugging his knees.
     Tears had been streaming down his face ever since he saw his brother’s body. He wiped them up with his sleeve and forced himself to gain control of his emotions. It was possible Gabriel wasn’t dead. Right? The image of his brother’s body, which would now be forever branded behind his eyes, made a forceful appearance. His neck was twisted to the side in a completely unnatural way. Do I look like I have anything broken? Gabriel’s sarcastic voice echoed in Castiel’s skull. He choked back a sob and covered his ears. He couldn’t. He couldn’t handle this! His brother was gone and wasn’t going to show up the next morning with a mischievous grin and a handful of candy. He would never again keep Castiel up all night with ghost stories or wild escapades. He would never again hear Gabriel laughing at jokes only he found funny.
     Gabriel. Was. Dead. He had to come to terms with that. There was no chance that he survived that fall. Guilt, pain, sorrow, disbelief, and the seeds of self-hatred burrowed deep into Castiel’s skull. He didn’t know how he could ever feel anything else. He saw no future in which this pain and guilt would not haunt him. So he let them burrow into the deepest parts of his mind as he rocked back and forth trying to control at least the physical manifestations of his grief. Soon people would be coming to talk to him and he would have to endure them.
     As Castiel carefully arranged his face into a neutral mask, he realized that there was a third option. Maybe, he didn’t have to feel anything. He could just snip the emotional tether, roll up all of this suffering, and store it in a deep, dark corner where he never had to look. He stood and his body was stiff. Maybe he had spent longer on the floor than he had thought. He looked into the mirror hanging on his wall. His face was red and puffy, but his eyes were steely blue with determination. His face was just a mask. If he was going to survive  this, he needed to make this neutral face his reality. He closed his eyes and gathered up all his emotions, good and bad, that he had ever felt or ever would feel. If he wanted to never feel this way again, he needed to remove them all. He pulled away from this bundle he had gathered and let the threads connecting them to him snap one by one. The last thing he felt was relief as the misery evaporated. He could still tell it was there, if he was ever insane enough to want to access it again, but he didn’t have to feel it. The final cord broke and even his relief went away into the little corner he choose to ignore.
      He opened his eyes again and looked into the mirror. The person staring back was unrecognizable. His blue eyes, once so full of life and fight were now blank, but frighteningly focused. He forced his lips into a frown and then a smile. Neither held any emotion. Castiel was not disturbed by this. He felt nothing about it.
    He walked over and sat on the edge of his bed. He would wait for his family or servants or whoever showed up first. He honestly didn’t care. He would just give them what they wanted and when they had it, they would leave.

     Instead of people gathering for Castiel’s birthday, they gathered for Gabriel’s funeral. A fortnight after Gabriel was put in the ground and everyone in the royal family shoveled a small pile of dirt on top of his coffin, Balthazar came to Castiel’s room. It was obvious Balthazar hadn’t been sleeping well, if at all, and Castiel knew he would eventually make it into his room.
     “Hey, Cassie,” Balthazar greeted him with no enthusiasm, “Can I come in?” He motioned weakly to the inside of the room.
     “Of course,” Castiel replied, as monotone as he had been since the day Gabriel died. He let the door open further and Balthazar stepped inside and closed the door himself.
     Balthazar stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stood up in his normal cocky stance. He walked to the bed and lounged upon it, “Sit down, Cassie,” he requested. Castiel walked to the edge of the bed and perched on the edge. He really didn’t know how to handle a touchy-feely brotherly moment if that was what Balthazar was wanting. He couldn’t invest that type of emotion.
     “Cassie…” Castiel noted that this was the third time Balthazar had used his name. This must be something important, “...I’m worried about you. You haven’t been yourself, and that’s understandable, but you haven’t been sad or angry either. You’re just a big ball of nothing. That’s not right.” He paused to see if Castiel has anything to say. He didn’t, so Balthazar continued, “Are you alright? Nevermind, that’s a stupid question.,” He rubbed his leg nervously, “ Will you be alright? Ugh. What I’m trying to say is, let me in, Cassie. You’re blocking everyone else out. At least let me in. You need to. And, frankly, I need my little brother. We both lost our big brother and now I’m next in line for the throne and I can’t handle it alone,” Balthazar looked up at Castiel, slightly embarrassed by what he just admitted.
    Castiel knew he could’t let Balthazar in. That would mean letting himself out and that could never happen. He knew, somewhere, that Balthazar just bared himself and that he should respond in kind or at least be supportive, but the main part of his brain was busy erecting walls. Walls to keep out pain and the burden Balthazar was trying to share with him.
     “I am sure you will do fine as crown prince. You learn quickly. As for me, I prefer to do this alone. I have no interest in letting anyone ‘in’. I would truly appreciate it if you would respect my wishes.” Hurt flashed across Balthazar’s eyes for a second but was quickly replaced with anger.
     “Fine. If you want to go it alone, far be it from me to stop you,” He stalked to the door, but paused when he actually opened it. He stood there, looking at the floor for a few moments. Abruptly he turned to face Castiel. His eyebrows were drawn in anger, but a determination shone in his eyes. His expression softened into something sad and Castiel saw love in his eyes, “Good night, little brother.” And then he was gone, closing the door behind him.
     Castiel laid back on his bed and put Balthazar out of his mind. The thoughts were only troubling him and there was nothing he could do to fix the situation, except the one thing he absolutely refused to do. He closed his eyes and sleep overtook him shortly.
    Castiel is screaming his throat hoarse as he watches Gabriel fall an infinite distance. He feels pain and grief in its sharpest forms. Then he sees Balthazar walking away from him, trailing blood. He runs after him, desperate to help his injured brother, but he can’t get any closer no matter how quickly he pushes his legs to pump. Then a giant bee lands on his face and he is being suffocated. He panics and fear sets in.
     Castiel sat bolt upright in bed, a loud voice yelling his name. He remembered none of his dreams or the fierce emotions that accompanied them. He felt nothing again. The loud voice threw open his door and he saw that it belonged to a male servant. The servant bowed and said, “My prince, urgent summons from the King and Queen. They say to meet them in Prince Balthazar's chambers as soon as possible”
     “Thank you. You are dismissed.” Castiel pushed the blankets back, stood up, and held out his arms for his personal attendant to clothe him. As soon as that was taken care of, he walked to his brother's room and calmly entered it. What he found looked like a tornado touched down. His parents were sitting on the bed holding a piece of paper in their hands apparently paying no heed to the explosion of clothing and personal possessions flung all over the room.
     Queen Ruby looked up sharply and gestured for Castiel to come closer, “Did you know of this? How long has he been planning this?”
     “Planning what?” Castiel had no idea what they were talking about.
     King Crowley looked up at that and threw his hands in the air, “So you didn’t know about Balthazar running away!!” The last two words were nearly screamed as he shoved the paper at Castiel. Castiel took it gingerly and read the few words printed on it:

Dear Mother, Father, and Cassie,

I no longer belong at the castle and I do not belong as Crown Prince. I have left to have the time of my life and do not intend to return. Good luck in life and all that.

                -Balthazar

     Castiel stared dumbly at the page and realized that last night was Balthazar saying goodbye. He wanted to cry. He wanted to feel the guilt that he hadn’t let Balthazar in and convinced him to stay. But he was afraid. His walls had been working so well. In that moment Castiel made the choice that would affect his life for years to come. He chose not to feel, and this time there was no easy road back.

 Starkin Mines Map Link

Chapter Text

DEAN

    Dean’s back ached as he lifted what had to be his millionth load of rocks today. He could feel the scars he bore from his first whipping five years ago stretch across back. They no longer hurt, but he could always feel that they were there, as heavy on his mind as they were on his back.

    As he clutched the wicker basket containing about a ton of grey stone, Dean could feel the weave of it slip. He knew what was happening a split second before it actually did. He rushed to place the basket back on the ground, but the bottom broke before he could make it all the way down.

    Rocks tumbled everywhere. He winced as they rolled against the walls and made enough noise for the entire mine to know what had happened. It wouldn’t be long before one of the guards or overseers came to investigate. Dean dropped into a crouch and hurriedly began gathering rocks. It wasn’t that he was afraid of being punished,  it was that he was afraid of what he would do if a guard, especially Alastair, confronted him. He had lost his temper more than a few times with the guards.

    Ever since that day he first experienced the “justice ring” Dean had made it his goal to make life better for all the slaves in the mine. Unfortunately, at that point in his life, that meant obstructing the guards every chance he got. This strategy only ended in more scars and Dean earning a reputation for himself.

    His father constantly told him that he needed to sober up and get with the program of ‘keep the guards happy’. Eventually, Dean had seen that if he wanted anything to change, aggravating the guards wasn’t the way to do it. To all appearances, he had obeyed his father’s commands. In reality, he was practising his patience. He had set his mind to memorizing the maze-like tunnels, discovering what was in each and every cave, memorizing the exact schedule of the guards, and timing their response to different parts of the mine.

     For instance, Dean knew that a guard would be at his side between 1 minute 20 seconds and 1 minute 45 seconds after he dropped those rocks. He wasn’t wrong. He collected rocks and counted the seconds in his head. 1 minute 33, 1 minute 34, 1 minute 35  Yep. There was the guard.

    It must have been Dean’s lucky day. It wasn’t Alastair. He would probably get away with a word thrashing and a few good kicks or a reduction in his rations tonight. The guard, who Dean recognized as Fergus, came to a halt as he recognized Dean’s face.

    “Dean Winchester,” he sneered, “I should have known it was you. Causing trouble this early in the day?”

    Dean shuddered at the sight of the man’s teeth. He almost felt sorry enough for his mouth to offer some dental advice, but the expression that same mouth was twisted into was  enough to stop him. There was disdain, disgust, and frustration carved into those lips. Dean raised his gaze to the man’s eyes as he prepared to respond, but what he saw in those eyes made his throat freeze.

    There was fear in those eyes. Just a small spark, but there was no mistaking it. All the other emotions he was familiar with, but fear was a new one. Dean just stared dumbly at it for a second as Fergus continued to speak.

    “You have nothing to say for yourself, boy? Good. I didn’t want to hear it anyway.” Fergus grabbed Dean’s upper arm and dragged him up from where he had been collecting the spilled stone. That threw Dean’s brain into action mode and suddenly he knew exactly what to do.

    “I have a lot to say about you,” Dean collected every scrap of knowledge he had gathered about the man and let it pour from his mouth, “You’re from a small farming village near the border. You have a son, but after your wife died and you fell to drinking you abandoned him. Sometimes you want to go check on him, but you tell yourself that you feel that he is better off without you. Truthfully, you’re just afraid that he will hate you for being absent and leaving him to be raised by the village. You gamble every Sunday and either lose your wages to that or to the inevitable evening drink. When you’re drunk you tend to sing folk songs from your hometown. You hate being a guard in this mine, but this was the only place that would hire your drunken ass.” Dean had wicked powers of observation and he had used them to their fullest.

    Fergus’s eyes widened and he took a step back. Dean looked straight into his eyes and felt a thrill that his plan had worked. The fear wasn’t just a small spark anymore. It was growing as Fergus’s brain processed everything Dean had just said. But in a moment all the fear was eclipsed by anger.

    Dean was expecting this reaction, but it was worth it. Fergus removed his whip from his belt and hit Dean across the side of his face with the entire coil. Dean turned aside so that it avoided as much of his face as possible. This only seemed to anger Fergus further and he added feet into the barrage on Dean’s body. Dean could handle pain. He didn’t like it, no sane person did, but he could handle it. That was why he was able to swallow his own anger and pride and allow Fergus to continue his abuse. If Dean resisted, things would only get worse.

    Eventually Fergus had spent his anger. He spat at Dean, but missed by a few inches, “Half rations for a week,” Fergus barked, “And clean up this mess.” He gestured to the rocks strewn about the tunnel. Fergus walked off stiffly and Dean allowed a smile to play across his face briefly. He could only hope that the fear was infectious. If he was going to free these people, that would play on his side.

    Then Fergus’s words sunk in.  Half rations? For a week? Dean barely got enough to eat and was always hungry as it was. He scowled and finished collecting the rocks. He found a new basket to carry them in and continued with his work. He made a small detour to drop off the broken basket with the weavers to repair. The cave the weavers worked in was right next to the cave where Sam worked as a classifier. He sorted the gemstones and metals the miners dug out of the earth. Dean had insisted that Bobby teach Sam the minute differences between the different types and qualities of stone and metal. Dean could never learn all that, but Sam was incredibly smart and shouldn’t have to be exposed to the same levels of abuse the miners were.

    Because of the proximity, Dean took this opportunity to check up on Sam, hoping that no one noticed he was taking a little too long to return. Sam was sitting on the floor next to a pile of grey rocks which all looked exactly alike to Dean. Sam however was holding a glass to his eye and studying a fist-sized chunk. It took a moment for him to notice that Dean was there, but when he did his face lit up.

    “Dean! How come…” he began until he noticed the growing red and purple patches all over his brother’s body. Outrage filled his face and he spoke in a voice that was slightly too loud, “What did they do to you this time? You.. they… Why?” Sam spluttered.

    “Hey, Sammy. Calm down, hot head.” Dean smirked at him, “It’s nothing. It’ll be gone tomorrow.”

   Sam rolled his eyes, “How many times have you said that? And how many times have you been wrong? Dean, you can’t keep aggravating them. As much as I hate to, I have to agree with Dad on this one.”

    “Oh, come on. You know I haven’t done that in ages,” Sam gave him a pointed look, “Okay, okay. Maybe not ages. But I’ve been doing better. Besides, this time it wasn’t my fault. The stupid basket broke on me. But, seriously. Don’t worry about me.”

    Sam pursed his lips and sighed through his nose, but they were both familiar enough with this conversation to know that nothing was going to come of it. He went back to studying his chunk of rock before throwing it into a pile of identical rocks behind his back.

    “I’ll see you tonight Sammy, okay?” Dean began to back away.

    “Alright, jerk.” Sam responded and looked up with a fond smile.

    “Bitch.” With that, Dean turned around and jogged back to his assigned area. No one questioned him as he began collecting the pile of rocks forming at the end of the tunnel. The rest of the day passed as usual and Dean went to bed tired and sore from head to toe from Fergus’s beating.

    He lowered himself carefully to the stone floor. It was these sorts of nights that he dreamed of his straw mattress back home. It had been seven years since he had slept on a mattress. Seven. In an instant a new thought dominated his mind: that was long enough.

    Dean turned over to his brother and nudged him with a foot. Sam turned over with a scowl that said What the hell, dude. I’m trying to sleep.

    Dean cocked his head and raised his eyebrows meaning It’s important. A few minutes less sleep won’t kill you.

     Sam raised his eyes to the ceiling. Whatever, Dean. Just get this over with.     

    Dean inched closer to Sam so that he could hear when he whispered, “We’re getting out. I don’t know how yet, but we’re getting out .”

    Sam’s eyes widened as Dean moved back into his own space. Sam looked like he wanted to ask a million questions, but Dean was done for tonight. He honestly had no plan. For years he had been memorizing the place. Finally, it was time to act. Tomorrow he would look at everything differently. Every thought would be devoted to How can I get everyone out? How can I get them out safely ?

CAS

    The only reason this month was different than the last eleven was because this was the month that, five years ago, Gabriel had died and Balthazar had disappeared. Castiel knew that this was why the palace was draped in black and why his parents pretended to mourn. He had learned years ago to tell the difference between honest emotions and fake ones. His parents hardly ever expressed their honest emotions, though Castiel could usually see through their masks. He was an excellent reader of people, especially since no one could read him.

    That was one of the reasons why his father had insisted he sit in on every single council meeting. He wanted Castiel to sharpen his skills. Castiel didn’t really care. Supposedly these meetings were boring. To Castiel, they didn’t really seem all that different from the rest of his life. Besides, he was crown prince now and he would eventually have to lead these things. He might as well know what happened in them.

    The latest meeting they had been discussing the assets of the kingdom. Apparently they had a surplus of wool but required more stone. The king hadn’t seemed to be listening closely to councillors and had only spoken twice. Once to ask how the shortfall of stone would affect their trade agreements and once to suggest that Castiel take a tour of all the most important assets so he could better understand how the kingdom ran.

    Another less social way Castiel had been spending his time was in the records room. He could retain endless amounts of data and figured it was a  more useful way to spend his time than going for a horseback ride or attending banquets. The only social gatherings he went to were the ones where his presence was required. He vaguely remembered a time when such frivolities excited him, but that naive boy seemed like an entirely different person.

    So Castiel read scroll after scroll of histories and family trees and annual production reports. It was while he was putting away the last scroll on this particular shelf that something caught his eye. It wasn’t a scroll, exactly, more like a collection of burnt paper scraps tied together and shoved as deep into the corner as they could go. He reached in and pulled it out. Apparently that scroll wasn’t the last thing on this shelf. He sat back down in his chair and carefully untied the bundle, careful not to damage any of the already fragile pages.

    The first paper he looked at was a portrait done in ink of a vaguely familiar man. The edges had been burnt away, so no name was attached. Castiel set it aside and reached for the next one. This was half of a battle report. This Castiel could memorize. He began to read it but didn’t recognize this battle at all. Apparently it was a siege on this castle several generations ago. He knew of every attack on this castle. He had memorized its weak points and the points which gave it a tactical advantage. Why hadn’t he heard of this one?

    A memory struggled up from a time when things still managed to bother him. He remembered his annoyance at the fact that no one would tell him about that certain siege five generations ago…

    Well, apparently he had found what he was looking  for all those years ago. He skimmed the rest of the report, curious as to what the rest of the pile holds. He would memorize it later. This was the first time in a long time that he was actually interested in something. Castiel wasn’t sure what he thought about that, but for now it felt good… or at least different from the monochrome life he was leading. He picked up the next piece of paper and it crackled at his touch.

    This one was a portrait of a woman, again strangely familiar. A name accompanied this one: Queen Ruth of Andala. Castiel knew for a fact that no Queen Ruth had ever ruled over Andala. He stared at the picture wondering if this was just a fake or if he had uncovered some dark secret of his kingdom. Castiel had just assumed that the pages had been burnt by accident, but it just now began to occur to him that maybe it had been on purpose.

    He picked up the next page but couldn’t focus on it because he was unable to tear his eyes away from the twinkling eyes of the woman on the page he had set down. He knew those eyes. In a flash of memories he realized why he knew those eyes. Those were Gabriel’s eyes. He snatched up the picture of the man and saw his own jawline and Balthazar’s nose. He stared harder at both portraits and identified more and more of his own features and his brothers’ features hidden and combined in those two faces. He felt a pressure growing at the base of his skull, but refused to name it.

    There were too many similarities for these faces to belong to distant relatives he had never heard of. These had to be their parents or at the very least their parents’ siblings. He put the two pictures down and almost knocked over a shelf in his haste. He went straight to the genealogy section. He pulled down the most recent book. He went to the back, to the most recent entry and saw his name. He flipped back past Balthazar and then Gabriel. As they had always been, there were King Crowley and Queen Ruby staring at him from the dusty pages.

      Castiel flipped between their faces and then his portrait and the portraits of his brothers. The eyes weren’t the same. The nose wasn’t the same. The mouth wasn’t the same. They shared no features with their supposed parents. Castiel slammed the book shut and flung himself back at the table where the rest of the papers lay. There was a record of death for Queen Ruth and King Mordecai. Mordecai. That must be his true father’s name. They had both died on the same day in a successful assassination attempt.

    The record listed the primary points in their will. The one Castiel was interested in was that the rule would pass to a regent of their choosing until Gabriel came of age. The regent they had specified was a man named Gadreel. Castiel had never in his life heard of anyone by that name. He looked back up at the death date. It was two weeks after he had been born. That would mean Gabriel had been two and a half and Balthazar would have been around one year old. No wonder they didn’t have any independant memories of this. If shown pictures Gabriel might have been able to recall something… but that could never happen now.

    The pressure behind his skull expanded and it was almost impossible to ignore. Castiel barely managed to refocus his thoughts on the mystery in front of him. There were still two pieces of paper left to study. One was the battle report and one was a hastily scrawled letter. Castiel decided to read the report first. The aggressors name was burnt away, but there were plenty of details listed below that. The attack had come from the south, but the army had quickly surrounded the castle. The King’s men were outnumbered, but not terribly. Only 1.5 to 1. However, the attacking army prevented him from sending for reinforcements. Apparently there had been a day by day account included, but those pages were not present. At least the overview gave Castiel the final result. After a rider from a nearby outpost noticed the siege, he rode in secret to gather the King’s men spread throughout Andala. With their help, the siege was soon over. The aggressor’s army was routed. It was the last line however which caused Castiel to abruptly stop breathing.

King Lucifer of Belroth was driven from Andala and all trade agreements were broken off.

    King Lucifer! The one who his father loved and invited to everything plausible? The one who was proud to call himself the first of that name ? Impossible. He had to at least be the second. This battle was five generations ago. He couldn’t be the same man. Of course there were the rumors that Lucifer was a mage or wizard or what not, but most people didn’t believe in magic these days. It couldn’t be. Lucifer must be lying or mistaken about being the first person in his line to be given that name.

    More confused than when he picked up the page, Castiel set it down. He reached for the last page hoping that it would clear up this entire mess. It wasn’t a letter as he had originally thought. It was actually a sloppily written journal entry by Gadreel, Regent to the Throne of Andala.

15 April

    I am weaker today. I fear the poison may finish me after all. I have fired most of the staff since it is no use attempting to deduce who betrayed me. The only solace I have is that I was the one to suffer from this treachery and not one of the three young princes. Crowley, my faithful advisor, is performing admirably as interim regent. I can only hope that he will continue to be as fair and just after I am gone.

    Even this short entry has tired me. If this is the last time I write, please entrust this journal to Prince Gabriel when he comes of age. It contains many useful facts otherwise not recorded.

    Castiel flipped the page over. That was all. Nothing else. A frightening idea began to form in his mind, drawing all this information together. Crowley, who until today he had believed to be his father, had assassinated the regent through slow-acting poison, convinced the same regent to fire the entire staff before he died, took advantage of the power vacuum to grab the throne, and hired a whole new staff loyal to him who would never breath a word of the events that had led to his rule.

     That was terrible enough, but there was still one piece missing. The battle. How did it connect to these events? Suddenly, Castiel knew where Crowley had called home before Andala: Belroth. King Lucifer was known for his cunning. They had no idea how deep it ran.

     Castiel saw red. He felt anger. He had never been overly fond of his “father”, but this? This was too much.

    “He will pay.” Castiel’s words slipped out in a snarl as he roughly grabbed the papers and stuffed them into his bag. He all but ran to his room and locked the door behind him. His hands were trembling as he desperately tried to shove this anger back behind his walls. He couldn’t. Every attempt was swept away in another tide of rage. Castiel hadn’t even known he was capable of feeling this deeply anymore.

    He took a deep breath and accepted the anger. It stopped crashing against his mind and settled down to fester as red hot embers. Castiel searched his mind and everything else was still contained. Good. The anger would help him accomplish his task but anything else would only get in his way.

    Castiel sat down and thought about this “task” he was setting himself: to bring down Crowley’s rule. By all rights, the throne should have been his at 16. But those were the rules for a regent. The rules Crowley had applied to himself as Castiel’s supposed father were that he ruled until death or he gave up the crown. Castiel was fairly certain that Crowley would never give up the throne and wasn’t going to die naturally anytime soon. For a moment Castiel was enraged enough to consider assassination. Then his common sense kicked in and he knew he could never commit such an act or convince anyone else to.

    There was no doubt in his mind that Crowley wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he confronted the pseudo-King with these findings. Crowley was not known for his mercy, but rather for his cunning and ability to manipulate any situation, or person, to suit his purpose. Therefore, Castiel had no plan. He had little to no evidence and no way to find any more. He let his head fall and his face slipped into place behind his hands. He sat like that for a good twenty minutes just thinking.

    He was startled by a sharp knock on his door. He grabbed his bag containing the burnt papers and flung it under his bed where it was hopefully hidden by the tan bedskirt. He calmly walked to the door, unlocked it, and opened it to reveal a young servant with his hand raised as if to knock again. He looked stunned for a moment and then quickly lowered his hand and adopted a dignified expression.

    “You have been summoned to eat dinner with His Royal Highness, King Crowley, and Her Royal Highness, Queen Ruby.” With an expectant look on his face, the servant finished his message.

    Castiel’s brain ground to a halt. Could he act as if this terrible knowledge wasn’t burning a hole through his skull? With a deep breath he resigned himself and looked the servant in the eyes. He responded,”He may expect me shortly. You are dismissed.”

    The servant backed up and with a small bow was gone. As Castiel splashed his face with water from a small basin on his bedside table, he worked on a conversation plan in his head. As long as he could get Crowley talking, he could mostly ignore the traitor. If Castiel was forced to talk, things would be a lot more difficult. With a sigh he checked his face in the mirror and saw that it remained in his regular neutral expression.

     When he arrived at the dining hall, the King and Queen abruptly stopped some conversation they were having. They were all fake smiles as Castiel took his place to the right of Crowley.

    “Hello, son. Have you been enjoying your day?” Crowley asked the same question he always opened with when they ate dinner together. And Castiel responded as he always did, even though he was seething over the word “son”.

    “No more than usual.”

    “We have some important news for you…” Crowley began.

    “But we don’t want to bother you before you’ve even been served dinner.” Ruby interrupted and looked pointedly at Crowley.

    “You don’t own me, woman.” Crowley rolled his eyes and spoke in a superior tone.

    “You might as well just tell me now.” Castiel said practically.

    With a smug smile, Crowley leaned forwards and announced,"We have finally found a bride for you. Her name is Meg, King Lucifer’s niece. This union would cement the relations I have been working my entire reign to maintain. She is the perfect option for this kingdom since…” Castiel had stopped listening. He could have sworn that a volcano had erupted and he was the only one who had noticed.

    Of course he had known that they were looking for a bride for him. He knew he would eventually be set up with some woman he had never met before and he hadn’t really cared. He understood that was how things were done. But this, marrying to cement the political relationship with King Lucifer, when Castiel suspected he already had an iron chokehold on Andala, was not acceptable or remotely bearable. He pushed his chair away from the table and stood up.

    “...plus I’ve heard she’s beautiful and..."

    “Excuse me. I need a moment.” Castiel ignored whatever Crowley was saying and fled the table. When he got back into his room, he slammed the door hard enough to make it shiver on its hinges. He gripped the back of his chair and bent over struggling to control his erratic breathing. He heard a small sound behind him and whipped around. If he had thought nothing could make this moment worse, then he was dead wrong. Standing in front of him was the young servant who had summoned him earlier holding the bag he had thrown under his bed.

    All of this new anger which had been building in his brain exploded upon the innocent boy, “What are you doing in here?” Castiel snatched the bag away, “You idiot! Don’t you know to leave royalty’s possessions alone? I could have you hanged for this! What were you doing in my room?” Castiel forced himself to be quiet because he actually wanted to know the answer to this question.

    “I was… I was just cleaning while you were gone! I swear! It’s part of my regular duties. You can ask the head of staff. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again!” the servant was practically grovelling.

    Castiel took a few deep breaths. Of course he was cleaning. That was normal. He calmed himself slightly until he was able to speak at normal volumes. HIs words were still hissed from between clenched teeth when they were finally forced from his throat, “Did you look in this bag?”

    With an expression which said otherwise, the boy shook his head. Castiel glared at him and said, “Speak the truth or this will become a hundred times worse for you.”

    “Yes! I looked in the bag. I swear, all I saw were a few pieces of burnt paper.” Again, his expression said something else to Castiel. Castiel could have sworn that he had recognized those pages. Taking a step forwards, Castiel pulled the pages out of his bag and let it drop to the ground. He used the few inches he had on the boy to intimidate him.

    “Do you recognize these?” Castiel fixed the servant with his best soul-piercing stare and put his handful of pages in between them. The servant’s eyes darted nervously from Castiel’s eyes to his hand. He licked his lips and opened his mouth, but no sound came out. “I feel I should warn that I will know if you are lying,” Castiel’s stare intensified.

    “I’ve never seen those pages, but my father has told me many times about how he rescued some important documents from a fire nearly two decades ago. He said that if anyone found them it would change everything. I’ve been watching the records room so that we’d know if they were.” he seemed unable to look at Castiel during this entire time, “I was supposed to give them to you when you turned eighteen, but something happened a few years ago which changed my father’s mind.”

    Castiel stared and waited for the servant to say more, but apparently he was done. Castiel grabbed the servants shoulder, making him jump, and commanded, “Take me to your father.”

    “Of course, my lord.” the boy replied in a polite voice at odds with his face which revealed that he was terrified. Of his father or of Castiel or of the meeting of the two was not as apparent.

DEAN

   In the days following his announcement to Sam, Dean was hyperaware of everything. More so than ever. Days of running scenario after scenario and years of observation and he still had nothing. The security was tight here. This mine must be a major source of income to the kingdom. There were always two shifts of guards covering each of the two exits. Before the first change, shifts 1 and 2 would be on duty. Then at the first change, shift 1 would switch with shift 3 while shift 2 remained vigilant. Next change would have shift 2 switching with shift 4 while shift 3 kept watch. And that was only one of his problems.

    The mines were large and spread out. It was very hard to manage to communicate with everyone at once and Dean didn’t think he could live with himself leaving anyone behind. The guards were also extra cautious when it came to anything Dean did. Anything he started would have to be fast and inconspicuous. And the last problem: the guards had weapons and they didn’t. The majority of people would probably make it out, but a significant number would die. That was not acceptable in Dean's book.

    Dean kept searching for a solution for a whole nother week until one day the solution was placed in his lap. He was carrying a load of pick axes to the smiths to be fixed when he passed a small room which was used as a meeting place for the guards and the occasional messenger from the authorities. Whenever the room was occupied, Dean made an effort to hear the conversation. New information was always passing through that place. Today, a messenger was there speaking with Alastair, who had recently been promoted to Captain of the Guard.

    “...pleasant ride. Are you in need of refreshments?” Alastair was always as sweet as honey when someone visited. It made Dean’s stomach churn.

    “No, thank you. It’s a short ride from the palace.” the mystery man sounded bored with life and not impressed by Alastair in the least. That made Dean like him without even seeing him.

    “Of course, my lord. Would you like a tour of your mines?” Lord? Who the hell was in there? They never got a visitor as important as a lord.

    “No. Let’s just get to business.” The lord’s voice would be pleasant to listen to if it didn’t sound so flat and Dean kind of wanted to see his face. Perhaps it revealed more than his voice did? The pickaxes were getting heavy so Dean looked around to see if anyone was approaching and carefully set them down. If anyone did pass by he’d pretend he was picking up one he dropped.

    “Of course. Whatever my lord desires,” Alastair drawled and Dean rolled his eyes, “You mentioned production rates?”

    “Yes. If we are to keep our trade agreements with neighboring kingdoms, we will need to increase the output of this mine.” The lord sighed wearily as if none of this really mattered, but he was required to read from a script given to him.

    “Of course, my lord, but we are working at near maximum with our current workforce.” Alastair sounded smug, signaling that he thought he knew more about this mine than anyone else and wouldn’t be afraid to go into a detailed description.

    The lord cut him off though with a voice that meant no one dares to disobey me. “I don’t care what you have to do. This is vital to the kingdom. I don’t care how hard you have to work the slaves. Get it done.” Dean’s eyes narrowed as his opinion of the lord fell rapidly. Did he have no idea what was going on here? Or did he just not care?

    “My lord, I would be completely willing to work them to the bone if that would benefit the crown if it were not for the troublemakers. Alone they aren’t that dangerous, but they have the annoying tendency to inspire others to follow in their footsteps. I fear that if their work were increased we would be facing rebellion.” Alastair sounded like he was building up to some grand defense of his current methods, but the lord interrupted him.

    “Who might these so called “troublemakers” be?” The lord still sounded like he was reading lines from a script.

    “Primarily, a Dean Winchester. There’s also a girl, Jo Harvelle. A few others but most of them get their ideas from those two.” Alastair spat out his name, making Dean flinch. He wasn’t expecting to be name dropped. Or be considered as the primary trouble maker. He wasn' t thrilled that Jo had gotten that high on Alastair's radar either. He tried to protect her as much as he could. A memory of when he and Jo had convinced the entire tunnel to call the guards Ma’am and refuse to work until their rations were increased surfaced. Dean winced and leaned up against the wall. That had been fun until the overseers had discovered that Dean started it. They didn’t get their extra rations and Dean got two days in solitary, no rations. At least that time Jo had gotten away.

    Dean was ripped from his memory by the lord’s next statement, “Make an example of them. That will fix things.”

    “We have, my lord, but it doesn’t seem to stop them.” Alastair was defending himself now.

    “Make it worse. Make it permanent.” The lord still sounded indifferent as if he wasn’t talking about human lives. Dean felt a wave of anger and had to keep himself from tearing into the room. If the guy had at least pretended to care, it wouldn’t be so enraging.

    “Are you suggesting… execution?” Alastair sounded incredulous. Dean closed his eyes in a silent prayer to anyone or anything who was listening that the answer was no . “Because the laws reserve that to runaways and thieves. These have done neither… yet.”

    “Of course not.” Dean released a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding, “Merely crippling or permanently, significantly reducing rations.” Son of a biiiitch! They had to get out NOW.

    “That can be arranged.” Alastair obviously enjoyed the taste of those words in his mouth.

    “Good. Also, I have received your reports that many of your guards are no longer suitable for their positions. I will be sending a new unit to replace thirty two guards of your choosing.” There was the sound of someone standing up. Dean quietly stood up as well, ready to leave at a moment’s notice, “They should arrive in three weeks. I would sentence that permanent punishment at the same time as a signal that things are changing. How about that tour now?”

    Dean snatched up the basket and jogged the several feet to the turn off. Just as he made the turn he heard footsteps echo in the main tunnel. Dean’s mind was working double-time. In three weeks there would be new guards. There would be confusion during the switch  and hopefully inexperience from the newbies. It was the perfect opportunity to escape.

    On the other hand that would cut it really close for him and Jo. Yet, it was the only plausible idea he had come up with so far. He decided he would have to risk it. He had solved the weapons issue earlier that week and had even discussed it with the necessary people. All that was needed was to activate it. Good luck had him heading that way without the piss poor excuse he otherwise would have conjured up.

    When Dean arrived at the smith’s cave, he moved to set his basket of pickaxes down in a pile of other tools to be mended but intentionally let them clatter across the floor loudly to join the many other tools scattered across the area. Everyone in the cave paused their work to stare at him. Dean was certain that the guards behind him were watching as well. He ignored them and forced a smile and wink that only the smiths could see. To their credit, most of the smiths merely turned back to their work without comment or reaction. They knew what to do from here.

    A guard slapped Dean across the back of his head as Dean pretended to regain his balance, “What the hell was that, moron? Did you even count them before you decided to just dump them on the floor?”

    Dean acted offended, “Of course I counted them, sir. There were twelve.” His whole plan revolved around this moment and how observant the guards were.

    “Well, it’s a mercy you know how to count. Smarter than you look.” the guard turned away with a chuckle and seemed to forget about Dean. He breathed a sigh of relief. His bruises were just healing from the last time he messed up. He hadn’t been looking forward to collecting more.

    He gathered the twenty pickaxes he had spilled across the floor and flashed eight fingers at the smith closest to him who gave a minute nod. Now all they had to do was hide eight pickaxes and not include them in the daily total. After a few days of this it would start to get suspicious, but Dean would have to push it considering they only had three weeks to collect enough “weapons” for most, if not all, of them.

    As he rounded a bend, Dean caught the grating sound of Alastair’s voice. Dean immediately took a different route. As much as he might like to hear the conversation he was not going to let Alastair or the unnamed lord see him. Either his self-control would snap and he’d do something stupid or the lord and Alastair would come up with… something painful.

    When he got back to his assigned tunnel, he picked up a pickaxe and took his place next to Bobby. “It’s happening. Three weeks.” Dean didn’t look at Bobby as he muttered these four words and Bobby didn’t react other than turning slightly away from Dean and muttering the words to the next person in a barely intelligible whisper. It wasn’t the most accurate or efficient way to pass a message around, but it was the only subtle enough method they could come up with. The one time they had tested it Dean had started with the sensible words: Is this a good way to pass messages? They had finished with the words: Is this a great way to mess with cabbages? That was why Dean had decided that simpler was better and limited this message to four words.

    So Dean pretended that this was just any other day and continued chipping away at the unforgiving wall trying to find any sign of a brilliant gemstone among all the grey stone.

Chapter Text

CAS

    It was well past dawn, but Castiel refused to get out of bed. Life was just a bit too much to handle at the moment. Considering recent events, it was no surprise. Castiel let his thoughts wander to the day his life had changed forever…

    Castiel followed the servant boy down a dingy hallway to the servant's quarters. His head was still spinning with the terrible knowledge of his true parents which had ripped him out of his fantasy world into reality. Before he left his room to follow the boy, he had placed the papers back in the bag and made sure to clip a dagger to his belt. He couldn’t trust anyone anymore.

    It was only when they arrived at the door which the boy claimed was his fathers did Castiel realize that he should have told the boy to summon his father to him. It would have put Castiel in the stronger position strategically  and he wouldn’t have to enter this room which was filthy, small, and smelled of something dead. Too late. Castiel shoved aside his mildly troubling thoughts of disease and strode into the room.

     A man was bent over a scrap of parchment, carefully and methodically writing. He kept glancing at the small potted plant next to him. He was so focused on his work that he hadn’t noticed that he wasn’t alone.The boy cleared his throat and his father jumped slightly and turned around with the expression of surprise,  but an obvious foundation of calm certainty.  

    “Father, this is Crown Prince Castiel. My lord, this is my father, Joshua.” the boy made the proper introductions and continued to explain the situation, “His royal highness found the pages this morning.”

    At this Joshua’s eyes widened. He stood up and took a few steps towards Castiel. It was a strange time to notice the man’s clothes, but Castiel couldn’t help it. His clothing, and he himself, were just so clean compared to the rest of the room. These thoughts were forgotten when Joshua demanded, “Tell me now. Have you mentioned anything to the King?”

    Castiel stared blankly at him, “He is hardly the King. And no, I did not tell him. I am in possession of a brain.” The extremity of the relieved look on Joshua’s face made Castiel even more curious about what he might have to say. Castiel wasn’t used to being curious and had forgotten about how... intense it was.

    “Thank God,” Joshua glanced heavenward, “What do you believe you know?”

    Castiel knew he should stop Joshua from acting like he was Castiel’s superior, but at the moment he decided to ignore that little voice which sounded suspiciously like his tutor from last year. Castiel recounted for Joshua the narrative he had stitched together. From Joshua’s lack of interruption Castiel assumed that he had gotten all the major points right. When he was done he went back and shared his thoughts about the two King Lucifers. At this Joshua shook his head.

     “There has only been one King Lucifer. He is indeed a mage, but he doesn’t make it public knowledge. I don’t know what his subjects think, but neighboring realms just assume that all the first-born sons are named Lucifer.” Joshua revealed this information as if he was giving the recipe for beef stew. Castiel blinked twice and filed ‘King Lucifer is an immortal mage’ in the same folder as ‘Hanna races sheep for fun’, his Strange and Unusual Yet True folder.

    “Okay. Can he be killed? Is Crowley a mage? Is Ruby a mage? Can I kill them?” Castiel listed these questions in a slow, even voice.

    “Not by you. Yes, but nowhere as powerful as Lucifer. No, she is a witch. Yes, but don’t.” Joshua answered his questions in order and Castiel had to think for an extra moment to assign the answers to their matching question.

    “Why not? Why shouldn’t I kill Crowley or tell the people the truth and have him executed for treason?” Castiel’s anger desperately desired an answer with reasoning it could tear apart or ignore.

    “Because if he dies his will would still be in effect. Four years ago he changed it to say that upon his death the crown would pass to his chief councillor, Lillith, who is also in league with Lucifer. If you somehow convince the people that Crowley is not the rightful ruler (which would involve some serious spell deconstruction) then his will would be invalid. But then Lucifer would hurry to fill the throne with another one of his game pieces. Almost the whole castle is loyal to him. You couldn’t eat or drink without being poisoned and you couldn’t sleep without getting a dagger between the ribs. After you are gone it would be simple for him to disguise the events as something else with his magic as he did for the death of your parents and put whoever he wants on the throne."

    “The reason he wanted the entire staff replaced in that event was because, with a disguise spell of that magnitude, familiar places or situations can easily uncover the original memories. You are so close to the events here in the palace that he would never risk using that spell on you. As soon as Crowley knows that you know, you’re dead. I honestly don’t know why you’re still alive. I couldn’t keep him from killing Gabriel, but I managed to hide Balthazar from him. He never intended to kill you. I don’t know why, but I am sure it is crucial to some future plan I have yet to figure out…” Joshua drifted to a halt and was obviously continuing the conversation in his head as he rubbed an ink stained hand over his face. Castiel didn’t notice. He had stopped listening at the mention of his brothers. Rather than another wave of anger, Castiel had gone numb. He knew that this was his defense mechanism, so he forced his brain to figure out what the appropriate questions to ask next were.

    “What does that mean? Gabriel fell. Magic didn’t kill him. And Balthazar ran away. He even left a note. And what could you have done anyway? You're just a servant!” Castiel’s anger had gone from nothing to raging volcano in less than a minute as his mind had absorbed the new information.

    After being startled  out of his own thoughts, Joshua seemed unaffected by Castiel’s anger. He calmly answered Castiel’s questions, “Yes, your brother fell, but have you ever considered why? He didn’t fall because he couldn’t hold on. He fell because a little extra push was applied to his body as he was in the most vulnerable position.” Castiel’s red-tinged mind flashed memories behind his eyes he had spent years trying to forget, “And, yes, Balthazar ran away. But don’t you find it odd that the entire kingdom was looking for him and no one found him? I performed a small concealment spell and disassociated his face from his name in everyone’s mind but yours and mine. I guarantee that if you ask anyone in this castle what your brother looked like they wouldn’t be able to tell you and if you showed them a portrait of him they would be convinced they had seen him before but be unable to tell you his name.”

    Castiel opened his mouth to say something, anything, to vent his rage but Joshua silenced him with  a commanding hand,” And before you ask how a servant knows such things I should inform you that I did not always live such a life. I was a member of your parent’s council and am the only one who survived the mass execution Crowley and his people committed.”

    When had he started pacing? Castiel didn’t even know. He had way too much to process right now and his brain was physically hurting. He only had one more question for Joshua and then he needed to go hack up a training dummy, “How do I proceed  in my day to day life?”

    “Exactly as you would have before you knew any of this. Do not let anyone suspect that anything is wrong. Do exactly as Crowley says, just as you used to. I am currently attempting to isolate the exact spell Lucifer used to disguise the assassinations. I know three of five components currently. When I confirm all five, I can construct a deconstruction spell and let everyone know the truth again.” Joshua let a small, compassionate smile lift the corners of his lips, “This will be hard, but at least you know the truth. Truth is powerful. Wield it wisely.”

    Castiel didn’t how to respond to that so he just dipped his head slightly and left the room. He needed to let this anger out in a flurry of deadly strikes with his sword. He stumbled blindly making random turns as he turned the information over and over again in his brain. It was only when he reached a dead end that he realized four things: he was very lost, Joshua’s son had followed him, his anger had almost completely faded, and he was exhausted. Apparently he wouldn't be going to the training field today.

    With a weary sigh, Castiel turned to Joshua’s son, “Get me back to my room.”

    The boy dipped at the waist in a bow and turned around to lead Castiel up a staircase and out of the servant’s area. Castiel paid no attention to where he was going; he was just following the boy. When they made it to Castiel’s room, all he wanted to do was sleep, but he knew he should eat something since he had left dinner early.

    He turned to the boy and requested that some soup be brought to him. The boy scurried off after a fumbled bow to find some and Castiel spread himself across the bed. His eyes shut and he jerked them open. He needed to think. The next time they shut they didn't open until dawn the next day.

    That was two weeks ago. Now, Castiel had new, different problems, namely the Starkin Mine. The Captain of the Guard was a difficult personality who would never admit that he was doing anything wrong. Castiel knew that the moment he had opened his mouth. Rather than exerting the energy to actually get out of bed, Castiel chose to review that memory again in an effort to come up with a better solution to the stone production “issue”.

    Crowley had sent Castiel on a brief tour of the kingdom’s assets in the near vicinity. He had already visited a farming area and a forest settlement which handled lumber production and some hunting and skinning. Now it was time for Castiel to actually do something useful. The Starkin mine was one of the major sources of income for the kingdom as it was rich in silver and diamonds, along with many other gemstones and precious metals in smaller quantities. The kingdom required a larger monthly output if trade agreements were to remain stable.

    Castiel was being entrusted with investigating the mine and correcting mistakes when necessary. As much as he hated Crowley, Castiel knew it as his duty to take care of the kingdom. That was why he had obeyed and was pulling his horse to a stop in front of a jagged opening in the stone wall. There were eight guards at the entrance and Castiel briefly wondered what could be so dangerous in these parts to warrant that number.

    A sharp-faced man introduced himself as Alastair, Captain of the Guard, and invited Castiel into the mine. Alastair led him to one of the few caves with something similar to a door and motioned for him to sit down. Castiel hadn’t walked through much of the mine, but could already see that the guards were well organized and that Alastair probably didn’t need the replacement guards he had requested.

   “Welcome to your mines, my lord.” Alastair bowed and spoke in a sickly sweet voice, “I hope you had a pleasant ride. Are you in need of refreshments?” Alastair motioned to a cabinet which probably contained food or possibly alcohol.

    “No, thank you. It’s a short ride from the palace.” Castiel said and would have said more to get to the point of his visit but Alastair was over eager to be hospitable and impress the Crown Prince.

    “Of course, my lord. Would you like a tour of your mines?” Alastair smiled with too many teeth and made a grand gesture towards the doorway.

    “No. Let’s get to business.” Castiel just wanted to leave these mines as soon as possible to get this tour over with as soon as possible, even though he still had three days left on his schedule. Castiel thought he heard a noise outside the door and turned his head towards it, but Alastair was talking again and Castiel didn’t hear anything else.

    “Of course. Whatever my lord desires,” Alastair sat down and smiled again. Castiel realized that this man would be tiresome and stubborn. He sighed and listened to the rest of what Alastair had to say, “You mentioned production rates?”

    “Yes.” Castiel began on his pre-prepared speech, “If we are to keep out trade agreements with neighboring kingdoms, we will need to increase the output of this mine.” Castiel sighed louder this time. There was no way this Alastair was going to understand the politics of this situation. Castiel cut his speech short and waited for Alastair to respond.

    “Of course, my lord, but we are working at near maximum with our current workforce.” Alastair’s smug tone wasn’t lost on Castiel, he just chose to ignore it.

    Cutting him off, Castiel said, “I don’t care what you have to do. This is vital to the kingdom. I don’t care how hard you have to work the slaves. Get it done.” Something was flicking behind Castiel’s ribcage, but he chose to ignore  it as he did everything else.

    “My lord, I would be completely willing to work them to the bone, if that would benefit the crown, if it were not for the troublemakers. Alone they aren’t that dangerous, but they have the annoying tendency to inspire others to follow in their footsteps. I fear that if their work were increased we would be facing rebellion” Castiel was already tired of listening to Alastair’s voice, but at the mention of so called “troublemakers” he had immediately paid more attention. He hated people who deliberately didn’t obey rules put in place for good reasons.

    Again Castiel interrupted Alastair, “Who might these so called “troublemakers” be?” These people had to be taken care of first if the mine was to remain functional.

    “Primarily, a Dean Winchester. There’s also a girl, Jo Harvelle. A few others but most of them get their ideas from those two.” Alastair seemed to truly hate the Dean Winchester person. The way he said his name was angry and bitter. This Dean must honestly be able to lead the people and was choosing to use it to promote chaos. Castiel hated people like him who messed with the smooth, well-oiled way the world worked. It just meant more work for Castiel.

    “Make an example of them. That will fix things.”

    “We have, my lord, but it doesn’t seem to stop them.” Alastair was defending himself which only tired Castiel more.

    “Make it worse, make it permanent.” Castiel felt that flicking behind his ribs again. He tried to cover it or destroy it, but all he managed to achieve was to ignore it.

    “Are you suggesting… execution? Because the laws reserve that to runaways and thieves. These have done neither… yet.” Alastair had apparently let his “nice face” slip. He sounded like he was questioning Castiel’s intelligence and almost sounded hopeful that Castiel’s answer would be yes. That white hot anger came bubbling up inside Castiel and he wanted to yell at him I know the laws! You are in no place to inform me of them! Instead, Castiel responded in an even tone.

     “Of course not. Merely crippling or permanently, significantly reducing rations.” The flickering was at full force behind his ribs and almost felt like a small, woodland animal had gotten trapped in his ribcage and was trying to fight its way out.

     “That can be arranged.” Alastair practically grinned at that news. Castiel’s anger flared and his opinion of the man fell. You do not take enjoyment in human suffering. You just don’t.

    Castiel replied, “Good, Also, I have received your reports that many of your guards are no longer suitable for their positions.” As much as Castiel did not find that necessary, he was willing to do anything to ensure the production rates rose. He could be very focused when he decided to be, “I will be sending a new unit to replace thirty two guards of your choosing. They should arrive in three weeks. I would sentence that permanent punishment at the same time as a signal that things are changing. How about that tour now?” Castiel had gotten to his feet while he was talking and was waiting for Alastair to follow suit.       

    Alastair scrambled to his feet and immediately walked towards the door-like structure. He opened it and bent in an exaggerated bow. This was going to be a long day. Castiel resigned himself to having to spend the day with Alastair and walked out.

    “Where does my lord desire to begin?” Alastair looked expectantly to Castiel.

    “Start at the beginning and take me through to the end.” Castiel wanted to think as little as possible. He was sure Alastair would be talking enough for the both of them anyways.

    “Of course,” Castiel was already tired of hearing that word, “If it is alright with my lord, we will begin at the entrance which you have already passed through and I will show you how we package and transport our produces.” Alastair began walking back the way they came.

    Castiel’s eyes tripped over the walls and concluded that this area of the mine had been depleted of resources. He wondered briefly if he should address the concern of the mine running dry until he walked into the cave which was full of precious metals and uncut gemstones. Alastair was explaining that this was where they stored the cleaned and sorted stock while they were waiting to transport it around the country. The amount of stone and metal here was enormous. Castiel couldn’t imagine that this wasn’t enough for the trade agreements. And Alastair had just said that this was only half of their regular monthly output. Even if he was exaggerating, which was most likely the case, this should be enough. More than enough. He started calculations in his head to prove his assessment with numbers. 

    Trying to move his features into something remotely disappointed, Castiel interrupted whatever Alastair was gloating over and said, “I see. You will have to increase your output substantially to keep up with the demand.” He had a job: obey Crowley until he could kill him. If all he had to do right now was lie to this frustrating mercenary, then he was absolutely willing to do so.

    Alastair’s face slipped and showed an emotion akin to panic for a moment until his happy and confident expression found his face again, “Of course. Everything possible will be done to maximize the output of this mine.”

    “Excellent.” Castiel gave a terse nod, “I’m done here. Show me the rest.”

   Alastair led Castiel down the main tunnel and he began to hear the sounds of mining for the first time. The tunnel steadily narrowed as Alastair pointed out many insignificant areas and places. The air became humid and a chill was wrapping itself around Castiel’s chest. He could practically feel disease creeping in with it.

    Castiel wanted to wrap his cape tightly around himself and walk quickly in the other direction. Instead, he kept his shoulders squared and strode forwards behind Alastair. That was when he took a right into a tunnel marked 3 and was able to see the source of the sounds echoing through the tunnels.

    This section of the tunnel was a straight shot back for a good while. Dozens of men, women, and children were lined up against the walls, digging at them mercilessly with various tools. Each and every person holding a tool was stringy and had skin the color of chalk. A guard barked an order and with a clatter, all the tools were dropped and each and every slave turned to Castiel and took a knee. Something in Castiel told him he should be disturbed by the emptiness of the faces and the state of their bodies, but he didn’t allow himself to care.

    “As you were,” Castiel ordered. They all got to their feet and resumed working without a second glance in his direction.   

    “This is one of eleven such tunnels currently active. We were planning to open a twelfth soon, but with your new orders we will expedite that plan and look into a thirteenth as well.” Alastair sounded proud of his work.

    “Very good,” Castiel replied, still lying for Crowley. Truthfully, his mind was not remotely on the number of tunnels.  He was pondering why Crowley needed so much stone, gems, and metals, The only thing he could come up with was that he was funneling all that money to Lucifer. Lucifer was known as one of the richest kings this side of the Great Sea. Castiel tried to control the spurts of anger this line of thought produced. But Alastair did nothing to help as he crowed over the smiths cave. He was saying how they had originally employed smiths from the surrounding villages to mend their tools and weapons, but had eventually taught slaves to do it just as well and saved lots of money.  Alastair seemed very proud of this and Castiel assumed that it had been his idea.

    They turned around and went back the way they came. The next cave they visited housed the basket weaving operation. Alastair seemed to have minimal interest in this area and they quickly moved on. Castiel was getting painfully bored.

    When they arrived at the sorting cave, Alastair got a strange expression on his face and pointed out a boy sitting cross-legged on the ground. He had a glass pressed to his face and was studying a blue gem.

    “That is Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester’s younger brother.” At his name, the boy looked up, his long hair settling around his face. His eyes seemed sharper than the others, like they understood more than they would ever admit. Castiel could only wonder how intense this Dean was. He had assumed Dean Winchester was one of those charismatic, but essentially of low intelligence, people who tended to start movements and rebellions. Looking at Sam and trying to imagine an older and more intense or more determined version made Castiel groan internally. This type of rebel was even harder to deal with.

    “Only mess with him if you want some serious and often creative retribution from his brother.” Alastair had continued talking about Sam Winchester while Castiel got lost in thought. Suddenly, Alastair’s strange expression made sense to Castiel. He was afraid of Dean. This was worse than he thought. As much as he disliked Alastair, he was going to have to spend some extra time showing that he himself was the one in the stronger position and not Dean. Sam had been watching the two of the out of the corner of his eye while pretending to work. As Castiel walked up to him, Sam dropped the charade and immediately knelt as was proper.

    “Stand,” Castiel commanded. Sam was just about as tall as he was. Castiel didn’t care to imagine how tall he would grow to be. Speaking to Alastair, Castiel asked, “Why does he keep his hair so long?”

    Alastair looked very confused but answered smoothly, “I suppose he likes it better that way.  There are no regulations for hair length here. However, if you deem it necessary, we can arrange that.”

    “Is this true?” Castiel ignores the last half of what Alastair said and turns back to talk to Sam. His eyes are wide and worried and he nods an affirmative. “So Dean would be upset if I did this?” Castiel grabbed the dagger from his side with his right hand while simultaneously grabbing a chunk of Sam’s hair with his left hand. He brought the dagger up and sliced off a decent portion before Sam or Alastair could react. Castiel didn’t want to hurt Sam, just prove to Alastair that he could defy Dean.

    Sam stumbled back a step and put a hand up to hair as if he expected blood. Alastair just stared for a moment before regaining his composure, “What was that?” Alastair was obviously struggling to be respectful.

    “You’re the one in the position of power. Let Dean see that. If he retaliates, don’t punish him, since he doesn’t seem to care that much about himself. Punish his brother. He’ll care a lot more about that.” Sam was still staring in horror at Castiel. Alastair however was looking like he’d just been promoted to General of the King’s army. Why this course of action hadn’t occurred to Alastair sooner would remain a mystery to Castiel. It was fairly obvious to him.

    “Get back to work.” Castiel addressed Sam, guessing that he would report all this to his brother. Sam sat back down gave his best expression of pissed off but pretending to pretend to be nice. “Let’s finish this tour.” Castiel was ready to be gone now that he had taken care of Dean.

    “Of course, my Prince.” Alastair began to walk out of the cave. The use of my Prince rather than my lord made Castiel think that he had impressed Alastair. The rest of the tour was just as boring as the beginning and Castiel was relieved when it was over soon enough for him to ride to a nearby inn and not spend the night in the cold, damp mine. Alastair’s last words as Castiel rode away unsettled something in him and made the scratching behind his ribs start up again in full force. As always, Castiel pushed it away and refused to admit its existence.

    “Thank you for all of your helpful advice on the Winchester brothers. I will take it to heart and maximize the benefits.” Alastair’s smile had been downright evil as Castiel spurred his horse and rode away from the Starkin Mines. He had no desire to ever return.

    Castiel was halfway back to sleep when he finished skimming this memory. However, that last smile of Alastair’s was enough to jerk him back to full consciousness. He had yet to come up with a different explanation for where the excess produce from the mine was going. He knew every inch of this castle and he was certain it wasn't being stored there. It had to be going to Lucifer. That made Castiel’s blood boil again. He took a deep breath and brought it down to a simmer. As much practice as he had with ignoring his emotions, controlling this anger was a whole different monster.

    Since his visit with Joshua, so many more questions had come up. He needed to see him again. Like that, he had motivation to get out of bed. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. He needed to find that boy.

DEAN

     Castiel. That obnoxious, selfish, ignorant prince had made his life a million times worse. The “unnamed noble” had turned out to be the Crown Prince. Sam had told him about his encounter with him only after Dean had thrown a fit about who had chopped off half of Sam's hair.

    Dean had to admit that cutting Sam's hair had been a dream of his for some time, but the idea of someone just grabbing and cutting his brother was infuriating. Dean flipped over on the ground where he was attempting to sleep. He immediately regretted it and barely restrained a pained noise as he rushed to roll back. He had forgotten about that particular bruise. He actually suspected that the rib itself was bruised, but he had no way of proving it.

    Ever since Prince Castiel’s visit Dean hadn’t gone a day without having one guard or another beat up on him, sometimes for no reason at all. He was sore all the time and they had even drawn blood twice. The only reason he hadn’t snapped and given them a taste of what Dean Winchester was capable of was because of the threat to Sam. Dean would never do anything to put Sam in danger.

    Despite Dean’s best efforts Sam’s life had also been impacted by that sadistic prince’s visit. He used to be completely under the radar. Sam just did what he was told and never caused any trouble. Now the guards, especially Alastair, watched him for anything that could have been considered breaking the rules or causing trouble. Two days ago, Sam had been given a beating for “assaulting a guard.” All he did was throw a diamond into the diamond pile which happened to be in the direction of a guard.

    Since then, Sam had been careful to gently place his rocks into their piles. Of course, he had been penalized for sorting fewer gems a day than he used to when he was supposed to be increasing his pace. The night Sam had gone to bed with a black eye, Dean was on the brink of running out of the cave to find and severely damage the nearest guard. Only Sam’s puppy eyes staring out at him from inside the black and purple bruise stopped him.  

     Dean’s only consolation was that he was getting everyone out in one day. One day and he would be free. One day and he would never have to keep himself still, hands trembling with the effort, as abuse after abuse was rained down upon him. One day and he would never see Alastair’s smug face again. One day and Sam would be safe.

    Since he couldn’t sleep despite his exhaustion, Dean decided to go over the plan in his head for about the hundredth time. He had to make sure it was foolproof. There would be no second chance. Runaway slaves were executed without a trial.

    He had worked it out with Jo that she would handle six of the tunnels and he would handle the other five. He wanted to take the larger number, but she argued that he was in charge of the entire operation so she could handle one extra tunnel. It made sense, plus she was the most stubborn person Dean had ever met. They had stocked up on close to enough “weapons” but not quite enough for each slave to have his own. It was good enough though when you considered that they did outnumber the guards.They were going to distribute these as everyone went to bed the night before. It would be tricky, but basically instead of handing everyone a blanket, they would be handing everyone a blanket with a sharp surprise wrapped inside. Their blankets were be so thin that if anyone looked at them it would be obvious that something else was inside them. So Dean had decided that he would make that night the night he cracked under the extra abuse having been heaped upon him for the past three weeks. He could be very entertaining when he wanted to be.

    They would sleep with these weapons. A few people had been selected to rotate keeping watch to wake them all an hour before dawn. That was when they would actually enact the escaping part of the plan.

    Dean closed his eyes to visualize the map he had been constructing for years. There was a small exit/entrance in the back which was less heavily guarded, but also a lot smaller. He was not going to have them go through there. While they could easily overpower the guard there, it would take so long for them to actually get through the opening that all the reinforcements would have arrived before even half of them were out.

    Dean was going to lead them through the larger main entrance. The guard was so heavy there that they had to distract some of them before they began to leave. This was where the thirty-two new recruits came in. They wouldn’t know the rules by heart or the faces on sight. Bobby had volunteered to pretend to be a guard (Dean and Jo had acquired and hidden Alastair’s entire wardrobe about a year ago; that had been a fun day) and call for as many guards as he could possibly get to come to the back entrance. He would claim that there were escaping slaves. He would keep them distracted as long as possible and, knowing Bobby, that would be a while. That man could spin a yarn as long as Sam’s hair.

    While the (hopeful) majority of the front entrance guards were distracted, Dean and Jo would be leading their respective tunnels out. Jo would get tunnel one out while Dean organized tunnel two. While he was getting them out, Jo would be organizing tunnel three and so on and so forth. However much Dean wanted to pay the guards back for the past seven years, he hoped that very little fighting actually happened. That would minimize the risk to his people.

    Even after they had escaped the mine, they would be wanted throughout the kingdom. The majority of them would probably be safe if they just scattered to different small towns and villages, but Dean, Jo, Sam, Bobby, and a few of the other organizers would have their faces plastered over every major city. Dean was planning to hide out in the country for a while until the frenzy had cleared up. He still didn’t have a clue about what they would eat, but they had to have some natural ability at hunting, right?

    Dean would have liked to go to the royal palace and give that prince a piece of his mind and probably his fists, but he knew he would be executed on sight. His life was worth more than petty revenge. He looked at Sam, his chest rising and falling in the slow breaths of sleep. His largest worry was for his brother. He knew it was unreasonable and that Sam could probably take care of himself, but his stomach always tied itself into knots when he thought about how he couldn’t be at Sam’s side the whole time. He might have to fight a guard all by himself. Dean would never recover if Sam died.

    Dean forced these thoughts from his mind and worked on thinking like an optimist. He was pretty terrible at it. It was really no surprise considering what kind of life he had lived. Jo always said that Dean needed to smile more. Dean had argued that he smiled plenty. Jo responded to that with a very serious expression and the words Dean Winchester. Don’t you think I know your fake smiles when I see them?

    Dean treasured that memory. He wasn’t sure why, but it made him feel warm inside. Maybe it was because someone besides Sam actually saw past all of his carefully erected walls. Whatever the reason, Dean wouldn’t trade Jo’s friendship for the world.

    Dean could feel his mind finally drifting into the realm of sleep and his last thought was that he hoped he didn’t have The Nightmare again.

    Dean was standing on the edge of a cliff. It was so high that he couldn’t see the bottom. He desperately wanted to step away, but someone came up behind him. He turned his head just in time to see Alastair’s face spread in an evil grin as he shoved Dean off of the cliff. Dean cried out as he fell, grasping desperately for any sort of hold. His fall slowed until he was almost hovering in the air. A scene began to form around him.

    Dean’s armed were somehow now tied above his head and his back was on fire. He could feel something wet and sticky running down his back. He looked down and saw the dark red color of congealing blood. So. Much. Blood. He could bathe in it. In fact, he was. It had risen to lap at his ribs. That was when Dean heard a small whimper. He strained to look around the pole he was tied to.

    What he saw on the other side made him forget all of his pain and fear. A nine-year old Sam was tied to the other side, his arms stretched above his head so far that he was forced to stand on his toes. His back was bare and a single strip was sliced across it, just beginning to produce beads of crimson blood. Dean saw an even darker red than the incredible amount of blood. He pulled against the restraints, probably shredding his wrists. He didn’t care. He had to get Sam out now.

    He was forced to watch as the whip was brought down upon his brother’s back again. Sam whimpered again and tried to arch his back but couldn’t unless he wanted to literally hang from his wrists. Dean snarled some choice curse words and pulled even harder at his restraints. From the pain in his shoulder, he figured he had pulled or even snapped something. He didn’t care. All that mattered was Sam.

    Three more times the whip bore down upon his brother’s bare back. Three more times Dean swore he would kill whoever was wielding the whip from within the cloud behind Sam. That was when Dean realized that the blood had been steadily rising around him. Now it was almost to his chin. Somehow, where Sam hovered on his toes there was no blood.

    Dean pulled and thrashed his body wildly around in a desperate attempt to free himself from the shackles before the blood covered him and he was no longer able to see his brother. He felt his left thumb crack in a burst of pain and one hand was free. As he was working on his right hand, a wave of the crimson blood covered his head and he inhaled a substantial gulp of the warm, salty liquid. He choked, only letting more of it in. His lungs burned as he yanked desperately at his other hand, his only thought to free Sam. He could feel his body weakening and his mind blacking out.

    Dean sat up, covered in sweat. His internal clock told him it was two hours from dawn. He wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight though. That nightmare had plagued him since he was thirteen and been taken to the justice ring for the first time. He hadn’t told anyone the details. He just couldn’t bring himself to share something that painful.

    Two hours later when the guards rang the bell signaling dawn, Dean had reviewed the escape plan in his head about twenty more times. He knew he was overthinking it, but he couldn’t help himself. It had to be absolutely perfect. At breakfast, which was a small, hard lump of something that had once been oatmeal, Dean immediately went to sit next to Jo. They usually avoided being seen together because of their reputations, but today was different.

    Dean looked at her and Jo looked at Dean. He saw that she was terrified but trying not to let him see. In all honesty, Dean was pretty scared as well. He was just better than Jo at pretending. Dean felt the need to say something, but nothing was coming to mind. Eventually, a few words made it to his lips.

    “Just act normal. Today is normal. Tonight the fun begins.” Dean grinned, cocky and smooth. Jo lips twitched up in a small smile. She seemed about to say something, but instead leaned forwards quickly and kissed Dean straight on the mouth. Dean was too surprised to react to the soft lips pressed against his own before they were gone and Jo was walking away. By the time Dean had found his voice, Jo had left the cave.

Chapter Text

DEAN

    The new recruitments had arrived around noon that day. Their armour was shinier, but otherwise were exactly the same as the guards they had had before. As Dean watched Fergus and thirty one other guards march out, he felt the urge to wave cheerfully. Despite how nervous he was about tonight, he couldn’t be anything but happy about seeing him go. That was until it was announced throughout all eleven tunnels that tomorrow morning some special punishments would be dealt out. Dean knew what that meant.

    Now, Dean was digging out what he believed to be a diamond, while thinking that this was probably the last gem he would mine. Dean flinched as the horn sounded signaling the end of the day. His nerves were drawn tight and that sound just pulled them tighter. He needed to get his head in the game. He had a part to play. He hurried ahead of everyone else as they trudged towards the sleeping quarters. Some glanced up at Dean with worry, some with hope. Others only looked annoyed. Dean could guess that those few were the people who were against the escape, but were too outnumbered to do anything about it.

    Dean made it to the front of the line and fell into step with the others. He was coming from tunnel 5, so he wasn’t very familiar with these people from tunnel 2 who were alongside him in the front of the line. He couldn’t look to them for support. Not that he needed to. He could handle this. All he had to do was distract the guards while Ellen, Jo’s mother, and a few other women handed out the loaded blankets.

    As they made the turn into the sleeping quarters, Dean met Ellen’s eyes and she gave him a slight nod. Dean’s shoulders tensed and he turned around and faced the two guards actively guarding the entrance. He wanted to fight them, but needed something that would last longer as a distraction and wouldn’t land him in a cell.These two were not new, so they were already prepared for Dean to do something crazy. They were not prepared for him to fall to his knees and beg for his life.

   “Please spare me!! I swear I’ll be good. I won’t steal extra rations anymore. I won’t touch any of you. I won’t even talk back to Sir Alastair. Just don’t execute me!!”

    Dean pretended to sob into his hands as he watched the guards eyes focus on him. Good. They looked surprised, but not like they saw through his farce. Dean was thankful for the announcement; it made this act of his believable.

    “I know that I’m the one receiving ‘special punishment’. I’ve been very rebellious. I’m sorry. There are rules for a reason. I understand that now!”

    Dean saw that one of the guards was about to talk back and probably demand he be quiet. Dean couldn’t have that. He needed to make this last as long as possible. Shoving his pride back even farther than it already was, he threw himself on the guard’s feet and grabbed one foot on each guard.

     “Just don’t kill me! I’ll take a whipping or anything, just not death. I’ll double my work effort! I’ll even convince everyone to behave. You know I have sway with them. Please! Tell me you won’t kill me!!”

    Dean estimated that half of the slaves had received their blankets and entered the cave by now. He could babble forever, but the guards were just about done taking it. He had to think up something new and quick. Just as he was thinking this, one of the feet he was holding came up in a swift kick under his jaw. He saw stars for a moment as he jerked up into a sitting position.

    “Stop your snivelling. What you get is what you get. Frankly, you deserve whatever they deal out in the Justice Ring tomorrow.” The guard who had kicked him sneered.

    “Fine. Maybe I do.” Dean sobered up.  His mind was blank, no change of tactic was coming to mind. He knew he had thought of what to say if this happened, but… nothing. He faked it.

    “At least let Jo get off easy. I told her to do everything. It wasn’t her fault.” The guards were still returning their attention to the line of people marching into the sleeping quarters. Suddenly, Dean remembered his plan. Just as he had with Fergus, he gathered all the information he had on these two men. He was lucky that Gordon and Marv were the ones on duty tonight. He had juicy material to work with.

    “Okay. I’ll change my tack. Make sure Jo and I are spared and I won’t tell Alastair anything about you.” Dean instantly had the attention of both men.

   “You don’t know shit.” Gordon scoffed, worry plain on his face.

    Marv, the one who had kicked him, let the fear on his face trickle into his voice, “What do you think you know, boy?”

    Dean smiled; this was his favourite part, “Well, Gordon, I wonder how your Captain would react if he knew what happened to your sister and that you are a fugitive from your own village. And, Marv. You know how Alastair feels about his religious beliefs. How do you think he’d take to the particular way you swing?” Dean raised his eyebrows and smirked as the two stared at him with open mouths. They shut their mouths almost in unison and darted nervous glances at each other.

    “Well… I don’t know about you Marv, but I don’t have a clue as to what young Winchester is referring to.” Gordon swallowed loudly.

    “Me either, Gordon. But… we don’t want Alastair to get any wrong ideas. Maybe we should take care of this.” Marv licked his lips.

    “Good point.” Gordon drew his sword and pointed it at Dean. Yes, Dean knew this was a possibility. He had decided the risk was worth it. Dean backed up and glanced behind him. There were three people left in the line.

    “You know, I guess you're right. I don’t know anything after all, I’ll just head over to bed. Sorry to bother you.” Before either of them could react, Dean had grabbed a blanket and darted into the room. He heard frustrated noises behind him, but ignored them. He could only hope that neither Gordon nor Marv would follow him into the room. He held his breath for a few moments until it was obvious they weren’t coming in.

    Dean spread his blanket on the ground and stared at the chisel he had received as a weapon. Not his first choice, but it was something. He looked to his left as someone snapped out their blanket in midair as they spread it out. Jo sat down on the blanket and placed a large hammer across her knees. Dean smiled to himself. She would be well-protected with that. Someone put out all the torches but one and it became hard to distinguish the details of Jo’s face, but her blonde hair still managed to catch flashes of the torchlight.

    Jo laid down as close to Dean as possible while still remaining on her own blanket. Dean glanced around the room to make sure that Garth was keeping watch. Dean saw his thin form leaning against the far wall. He gave Garth a thumbs up which Garth returned and Dean laid down, facing Jo.

    “You nervous?” Jo’s voice was barely a whisper in the room.

    Dean briefly considered being truthful, but decided Jo needed a confidence boost. “Nah. I’m cool as a cucumber.” He smiled and winked at her, not caring if she could see or not.

    “Great. Because I’m confident too.” Dean imagined Jo’s face set in determined lines. He smiled at her bravado, “Hey, Dean. Can we talk about what happened this morning?”

    “After we’re out we can talk about that as much as you want. For now, we need as much sleep as we can get.” Dean adjusted and got ready to roll over. He liked Jo, he really did, he was just way too focused on what would be happening in a few hours to even think about it.

    “It’s a date.” Jo’s voice indicated she was smiling, “Goodnight.”

    “Goodnight, Jo.” Dean rolled over and closed his eyes. He was asleep in moments.

    “Dean. Wake up! It’s your turn.” Jody shook his shoulder and her sharp whisper slid into his sleep fogged brain. As soon as he comprehended her words, he sat up. He was awake . More awake than he could remember being in a long while. He had chosen the last hour as his hour to keep watch. In an hour he would be waking everyone up and they would be getting out of here.

    As he stood up, grabbing his chisel, Jody took his place and settled down to attempt one extra hour of sleep. He carefully navigated the mess of bodies on the floor. He spotted Sam next to Bobby and John. He knew that he should let Sam get a little extra sleep, but he wanted to give his brother a few extra bits of advice.

    Dean gripped Sam’s shoulder and shook slightly. Sam rolled over a bit and squinted at Dean, “Is it time?”

    “No, in an hour. Come sit with me.” Dean went the rest of the way to the far wall and slid to the floor. Sam shook the sleep from his head and crawled over to Dean.

    “Why’d you wake me?” Sam yawned as he settled next to Dean.

    “I couldn’t let you go into a fight without preparing you.” Dean grinned at his brother and put his hand on his shoulder, “Besides, do you know how boring keeping watch is? I needed your annoying voice to keep me awake.”

    Sam scoffed, “Dean, if you wanted company you could’ve just said so.”
    “I didn’t though, did I?” Dean refused to believe that he had woken his brother just for some company, even though it was probably true that Dean wanted Sam to calm his nervous edges.

    Dean could hear Sam’s eyes rolling, “So, what’s this ‘preparation’ I need?”

    “What weapon did you get?” Dean would forcibly make someone trade with Sam if he had gotten something shitty.

    Sam held up a pickaxe, “I got a good one. How about you?” Dean could barely make out Sam’s features, but he knew Sam’s expressions well enough to recognize worry when he saw it.

    “I got a hammer. I left it by my blanket.” Dean lied as his chisel dug into the small of his back where he had stuck it into his pants.

    “That’s good. We can’t have our leader without a proper weapon.”

    “I’m hardly your leader. I’m just the first one who came up with a plan. And I didn’t do it alone. Jo helped. Hell, she probably could have done it all without me.” Dean looked at the floor.

    “Dean.” Sam was using his ‘serious emotional talk’ voice. Dean prepared himself. “None of this would be happening without you. You are the brains and the brawn behind this. Everyone in this room needs you. Tomorrow, when we’re all free, it will have been because of you. One courageous man who decided to save everyone and not just himself.”

    Dean hadn’t prepared well enough. His nose stung, but no tears fell. If he was being honest with himself, this was why he had woken Sam. He would never in a million years admit it.

    “Sammy, enough with the emotional bullshit.” Dean said. His voice was steady and firm, “I need to know that you’ll take care of yourself tomorrow. Don’t worry about anyone but you, okay?”

    “Everything will be fine, Dean.”

    “Promise me.” Dean refused to back down.
    “Okay. I promise. We’ll all get out of this.” Sam sounded so sure. Dean wished he shared that confidence. Sam yawned and Dean immediately felt guilty for waking him.

    “You should go back to sleep. I shouldn’t have woken you.”

    “No, I’m good.” Sam yawned again and his whole body quaked with it next to Dean.

    “Dude, I’ve got  to get Bobby ready anyway. Go back to sleep.”

    “Okay. Fine,” He grumbled, “Goodnight. See you in a hour.” Sam stood up, tottered over to his blanket, and practically collapsed. Dean adjusted the chisel so it wasn’t digging into his back anymore. He reviewed his part tomorrow. It wasn’t too hard. Just keep everyone organized. Don’t let anyone die. Simple, right?

    Dean waited half an hour before waking Bobby. Bobby was a little harder to wake than Sam and just grumbled something unintelligible when Dean shook his shoulder. So Dean slapped him gently across the cheek. Bobby sat up in a flash and grabbed Dean’s hand. As soon as he understood what was happening, Bobby released Dean and with a muttered idjit stood up.

    Dean went to the corner of the room where there was a small crack. The guards hadn’t noticed it because it looked small, but opened up into a much larger space. This was where they had stored Alastair’s leather and cloth outfit. Now, since his promotion, he wore metal armour, but the rest of the guards still wore the leather. The clothes were a bit small on Bobby, but they fit. Dean stuffed Bobby’s actual clothes into the crack. Bobby turned to face him and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

    “Listen to me closely, boy. Save yourself. I know that you’re focused on everyone else, especially your brother, and that’s great. You’ll be a frikkin saint one day, but what I don’t want is for Dean Winchester to be a martyr, understand? Take care of yourself. And don’t be coming back for this old fart.” Bobby was staring into Dean’s eyes this entire time. Dean swallowed and understood what Bobby was saying, even if he didn’t agree. Bobby knew that his role of distracting the guards was a dangerous one and didn’t want Dean to rescue him if he was captured.

    “Bobby, I ain’t gonna let you sacrifice yourself for this. I’m getting you out. I’m getting everyone out. And if I have to be a martyr for that to happen, then I’ll be a fucking martyr.” Dean backed up and his eyes got steely. He couldn’t leave anyone behind. Especially not Bobby.

    “Dean... “ Bobby started but Dean turned away and whistled sharply once. A few people stirred and started waking the others around them. Jo was awake in a moment and walked to the front of the room to stand with Dean.

    Once everyone was up, Dean silenced their whispers by putting both his hands in the air.

    “Okay, so I know most of you don’t know the full plan, but it’s simple. Organize yourselves into your tunnels. One on this side,” Dean pointed to the left side of the room, “through eleven on this side,” Dean gestured to the right,”I promise, this is the last time you’ll be organized as ‘tunnels’. Now, Jo will be leading the odd numbers and I’ll be leading the even numbers. No panicking! Stay with your tunnel. Everyone will get out if we stay organized. When you get out, scatter. Go as far as you can. Find a random village and find a job and live out the rest of your life in peace. Lastly, no talking. Not even whispers. Be as quiet as possible. We want  to keep the element of surprise for as long as possible. Got it?” Dean paused for a response.

    There were nods all round,”Okay, organize yourselves.” Dean turned towards the door as the noise of shuffling bodies erupted in the room. He looked at Bobby who looked pissed from Dean cutting him off earlier. Dean didn’t care. They were doing this. They were doing this!!

    Dean dug his fingernails into the space between the door and the wall. There was no handle on their side. He struggled for a few moments but finally got it and dragged the door slowly open. Two guards were keeping watch, but had their backs to Dean and Bobby. At the sound of the door, however, they turned around.

    These were new  recruits, so they didn’t recognize Dean. They were about to shoo Dean and Bobby back into the room when they noticed Bobby’s uniform. Their moment of confusion was all Dean needed to run up and knock one of them unconscious with the base of his chisel. The other had recovered by the time Bobby got to him. He was about to shove his spear at Bobby’s midsection when Dean flew into his side and straddled his chest as soon they both collided with the ground. The guard was about to call for help when Dean grabbed his throat and began to choke the man.

    Even though he had never met this man in his life, Dean felt his anger and hurt pride from the years of abuse flow through his arms and into his death grip around the guard’s throat. He blacked out and just kept squeezing harder and harder… and harder, crushing everything that ever hurt him or dared to hurt his family. Bobby touched Dean’s shoulder and suddenly Dean was snapped out of his fog of rage and pain. He let go of the man’s throat, having no idea how long ago he had passed out and whether he was dead or alive. Frankly, he didn’t want to know.

    He let Bobby drag the guard into the main tunnel off to the right. Bobby had already moved the first guard. That must have been why he had taken so long to stop Dean. Dean was a little shaken up by his emotional reaction, but pushed it away. He could be concerned with his mental health later.

    After Bobby had finished, he came over and gave Dean a hug which lasted a little longer than Dean was comfortable with, “Good luck, boy.” Bobby’s voice was gruff.

    “Yeah, you too, Bobby.” Dean patted him on the back, trying to signal him to let go. Eventually Bobby did and jogged off through the small passage that connected the tunnel one (the one they were currently in) with tunnel three. Bobby would take that and loop around to tunnel five.The he would turn onto the main tunnel and start running up it so that he would appear to have run all the way from the rear exit.

    As soon as Dean saw the guards following Bobby back, he would signal for Jo to lead her first group out. They would probably be doing the brunt of the fighting, but Dean wasn’t worried; most of those people could handle themselves.

    So Dean waited impatiently until he saw Bobby running past, towards the guards at the main entrance. That was when he began to listen. Out of breath, Bobby began:

    “The slaves,... rear exit,... help.”

    “Put yourself together, man.” one guard said.

    “What’s going on?” A second replied at the same time.

    There was a pause and then Bobby said, “There was an escape attempt from the slaves. They got weapons somehow. We need backup! Come on you lazy-bones!”

    “We were told to never leave our posts…” Guard two said.

    “Were you told what to do in an emergency? Come on! Hurry it up. This is urgent ya idjits.” Bobby started down the main tunnel and Dean signaled for Jo as soon as the guards who followed had passed out of hearing distance.

    With the first group in tow, Jo silently jogged out of the tunnel and turned left towards the main entrance. As soon as she was out of sight, Dean turned around and entered the sleeping quarters room. He heard a shout and few sounds of metal on metal. His instinct told him to go help Jo, but he had a job and he stuck to it. The people in the room were loosely organized so he began to tease out tunnel 2.

    “Okay, everyone from tunnel two,” he pointed to the left side of the room where they were hopefully gathered,”Come up to the front. You’re up next.” A few people from the right and center of the room came as well. Dean didn’t know if they were actually from tunnel two or if they just wanted to get out sooner; he didn’t care enough to comment.

    “Okay. Everyone have a weapon? Good. Now, remember as soon a ya’ll get out you need to scatter. No sticking together in a large group. I won’t be getting out until the last group, so you’ll have to find your own way.” Dean looked at all the faces and saw fear, determination, anger, and despair mixed throughout the crowd. The dominating expression though was hope. Whatever happened today, life would never be the same.

    Jo appeared behind Dean and he turned around. She had a cut across her forearm, but it wasn’t serious, “They’re almost out. You’re up.” She was slightly out of breath, but steady.

    “Let’s go.” Dean left the tunnel, his group of people following closely. He saw the last few stragglers of tunnel one exiting into the dark night. He couldn’t let the few guards remaining regroup. He broke into a run and let his adrenaline overtake his fears. He wanted to yell or let out the extra energy he had built up somehow, but he didn’t dare wake any more guards.

    The face of one of the new guards stared up at Dean as they realized that more slaves were escaping and that this wasn’t over. Dean noticed a few bodies off to the left and right. He didn’t know if they were slaves or guards and he didn’t have the time to check. The guard who had looked first raised his spear and Dean saw blood on its tip. He faked left and the spear followed him. Dean dove right and slammed into the guard, sending both of them to the ground. Without a second thought, he drove his chisel into the neck beneath his hands.

    The guard gurgled and blood spurted onto Dean’s chest and then he was dead. Dean knelt there in shock at what he had done until he heard a sharp cry from behind him, louder than all the other noises. He whipped around and saw Garth, knees bent, with a sword impaling his leg. The guard wielding the weapon pulled it out and Garth collapsed. The guard swung the sword above his head, aiming for Garth’s neck. Dean sprung into action and, standing up, swung his leg at the back of the guard’s knees. The guard collapsed and someone else drove a pickaxe into his chest. Dean was grateful he didn’t know who.

    The majority of tunnel two had already made it out. Dean pulled a barely conscious Garth to his feet and helped him limp back to where Jo was waiting. As soon as Jo saw him she left with tunnel three. Dean saw Sam’s face in the crowd. He was set to leave with the next tunnel.

    “Bandage him up.” Dean handed Garth to Sam. Sam immediately complied as Dean gathered tunnel four at the front of the room and gave them the same speech he gave tunnel two.

    “What do I do with him? He can barely walk.” Sam whispered in Dean’s ear, motioning to Garth who was sitting on the ground and moaning in pain.

    “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of him.” Dean was planning to carry him out himself if necessary, but someone else would probably assist Garth. “You remember the plan? They know your face, so we’re gonna have to hide out for a while. You get out and head left, finding the first tree or the largest rock. Hide until I find you.”

    “I can take care of myself.” Sam said fondly, but seriously, and went to join the group. Dean turned around and waited for Jo to show up. He realized he had left his chisel in the guard’s neck and he shuddered at the memory. He didn’t mind. He could fight just as well with his fists.

    The moment he saw Jo, he was off. As they approached the entrance, he saw no guards at all. He allowed the people behind him to stream out as he kept watch. Any moment now he was expecting a whole unit of guards to burst around the corner.

    But they didn’t. Dean watched Sam as he exited the mine for the first time in seven years. Joy bubbled up inside of him. Sam was free. It didn’t matter what happened to him for the rest of the night, Sam was free and never had to see the inside of this hole again. He grinned from ear to ear as he rushed back to get Jo.

    Everything went smoothly until someone in tunnel nine decided it was a good idea to whoop loudly and repeatedly as they ran out of the mine. Dean heard it echo from where he was waiting. He ground his teeth together. Idiot! If they woke too many guards they would all be as good as dead!

    There was a tense moment where everyone held their breath and listened. Then the sound of barked orders and feet beating against the ground threw Dean into action. He barked some orders of his own for the people he had gathered to go through the small tunnel connecting tunnel one to tunnel three. That was the nearest guard room and the one from which the noises were coming. All of the guard rooms had a narrow entrance to prevent slaves from getting in too easily. Dean was planning to use it in reverse: to keep the guards in.

    As those people hurried off, Dean motioned for the remaining people in the sleeping quarters to follow him. He led them out to the main tunnel, but turned right instead of left to the entrance. The guard room had two exits, he had to block both. Unfortunately, a few guards had already left by this other exit and were in tunnel five. Dean and his group blocked them by the end of tunnel five. It wasn’t as strong a position as Dean would have liked, his people were pretty spread out, but he had to allow the rest of the slaves to escape in relative safety.

    Suddenly Dean realized something and cursed himself. Tunnel five connected to tunnel three as a sort of loop. If these guards wanted,they could ignore Dean’s group all together and flank the first group he had sent out. Well, Dean would make himself impossible to ignore. Without a weapon and without a solid plan, Dean charged at the guards, still holding back a yell in the wild hope that this was the only guard room which had been alerted to current events.

    Dean’s group followed him and charged blindly at the still sleepy guards. Some guards raised weapons, some backed into the guard room to their right. Dean’s goal was to get them all back into the guard room where they could contain them with the fewest people. Dean singled out a guard who was only wielding  dagger. He didn’t know if he could handle a sword or a spear without a weapon. At the last moment, he fell to the ground and grappled the guard’s shins. The guard stumbled, but didn’t fall over as Dean had hoped. The guard brought the dagger down, probably aiming for the nape of Dean’s neck. The dagger instead buried itself in the back of Dean’s shoulder. He cried out, unable to hold the noise back.

    The guard ripped the dagger out and pulled it up for another swing. Dean quickly backed up and regained his feet. He couldn’t leave himself in such a vulnerable position. It hadn’t occurred to him that this guard wielded only a dagger because he was a better fighter.

    The guard advanced on him and his brain screamed at him to retreat. Dean held his ground, falling into a slight crouch to better ground himself. Dean spotted a fallen guard to his left. He dove towards him and landed in a roll, grabbing something metal as his hand passed over it. As he glanced down at his hand he realized he was slicing open his palm with the blade of a hatchet. He quickly switched his grip to the handle and ignored his blood smearing over it. He fell back into his crouch and faced the dagger guard while baring his teeth.

    The guard flipped his dagger menacingly as a challenge to Dean. Dean narrowed his eyes and tried to find the guard’s weak spot. The arrogant asshole spread his arms open in invitation. Dean took the bait and ran the two steps into the guard’s open arms. He knew that it was a trap,  but he needed to finish this fight so he could move on. Dean’s hatchet buried itself in the guard’s leather armour which covered his waist as the guard’s dagger plunged into Dean’s hip. Their momentum carried them to the tunnel wall where the guard’s back slammed against the uneven stone.

    It was the guard’s turn to cry out as a sharp stone collided with the small of his back. The guard doubled over as his reflexes took over to carry him away from the stone. Dean took the opportunity to replicate the strike the guard had originally attempted on Dean. He buried his hatchet in the back of the guard’s neck and the guard collapsed in a pool of blood. Dean dropped the hatchet, pushing any reaction to what he’d just done from his mind. Dean glanced around him. The tunnel was empty and his people were gathered around the guard room entrance. They had managed to corral all the guards who were still alive back into that room.

    It sounded like no actual fighting was going on anymore and Dean felt a bit useless that he had only managed to take care of one guard. He pushed his way through the crowd until he was practically inside the guard room. He could see his people plugging the other side of the room as well. The guards were standing in a defensive position with weapons in hand. In the center, Dean spotted Alastair. Of course it was just his luck that Alastair had been woken up. Alastair was looking the other way, so he hadn’t noticed Dean yet. Dean melted back into the crowd, wanting to keep it that way.

    “Stay where you are. Don’t let them leave.” Dean whispered over and over again as he made his way through the crowd. He looped around to tunnel three where the other half of the people he still needed to free were waiting for direction. He repeated the message through that crowd as well. Then he went to the main tunnel and turned left, looking for Jo. There she was, heading out of tunnel one, probably searching for him. Dean whistled softly to get her attention. She turned and jogged up to him. She hugged him tightly and then gasped, drawing away. She held up a crimson hand and then used her other hand to turn Dean around sharply.

    “What happened? Did that idiot wake up the guards?” Jo demanded as she inspected Dean’s back. Dean had actually forgotten about his injury with all the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Now it came back with a vengeance. He ground his teeth together as he turned back around and formed an answer for Jo.

    “Yeah. This whole guard room is awake. We have them trapped in there for the moment though.” He looked directly in her eyes, “I need you to start leading them out in small groups so the guards don’t notice. As soon as they think they have the advantage, they’ll strike. I need to go find Bobby.”

    “Okay. I got this.” Jo shouldered her hammer and began to head down tunnel three, “And you,” she pointed at Dean, “take better care of yourself. Don’t be an idiot.” She smiled and continued on her way.

    Dean turned around to head deeper into the mine. He turned down tunnel six. There was a passage to the rear exit through there. He assumed that was where Bobby was. As he walked he wondered how Bobby had kept the guards busy for so long. The only thing that kept him calm was the thought that he would have seen the guards returning if Bobby had been discovered and imprisoned… or worse.

    Dean broke into a jog, eager to get to Bobby. He felt blood slide down his back and leg. He’d get those bandaged later, after everyone was free. By now, he was passing through the end of tunnel ten. He could hear voices though he couldn’t understand them yet. He passed the natural spring on his right and slowed down. He didn’t want to be seen unless it was necessary. He slid along the wall, wishing that the tunnel had some sort of bend where he could hide. He found a small dip in the wall very close to where  a group of guards were gathered around Bobby. Dean could only hope that this hid him well enough. He was finally close enough to understand what was being said.

    “...and as I turned down the tunnel, they jumped out at me, fangs bared!” Bobby was animatedly telling some sort of story as the guards leered at thim from where they were leaning against the walls or sitting on the ground.

    One of them turned to the other and mock whispered,”Yep. This one’s crazy for sure. The stress of the job must have gotten to him after so long down here.” They sniggered to each other and Bobby whipped around to look at them. Dean got a good look at his face and was startled by how well Bobby conveyed insane .

    “That’s what Dimitri said, but he was wrong. I showed him in the ring the very next day. I’m as sane all you idjits, I just also happen to be a genius. Yeah. Didn’t know that did ya? I’ll tell ya now, I created all amethysts. Yeah, it’s true….” Bobby continued with his babbling, the guards obviously thinking this was the most amusing thing they’d seen since they got here.

    Dean needed Bobby out of there though. He had no idea how to get him to come without the guards who were supposed to be at the front to come as well. Suddenly, a plan sprung, fully formed, into his mind. He stepped out of the dip in the wall and strode up to the group. Bobby saw him first and stuttered to a stop, obviously surprised. Acting as if he had an important purpose, Dean began to speak.

    “Sir Alastair is very displeased with you. He requests that all of you who abandoned your posts at the front make your way to the justice ring to await the appropriate punishment per code 112. As for you,” Dean gestured at Bobby, “I believe he wants to speak privately with you.” Dean stared at all the guards, daring them to disobey an order from their captain, “Follow me.” He turned around and strode off as if he absolutely believed that they would follow. Luckily, they did, muttering among themselves about what was going to happen.

    Bobby joined Dean at the front and gave him an odd look. Dean didn’t know what to call it, but he couldn’t ask right now. Dean led them back the way he had come, stopping in tunnel eight to drop the guards off in the justice ring, warning them not to leave under pain of increased punishment ‘per code 213’. The way they were staring nervously at the column and the noose were enough to give Dean confidence that they would obey.

   As soon as he and Bobby were alone, Bobby took his shoulder and said,”Boy, that was a damn stupid thing to do. I told you not to come back for me.”

    “I never told you I would listen.” Dean had always intended to go back for Bobby.

    Bobby humphed and changed tack, “In that case, don’t ever speak of what was happening back there. Ever. Not even to Sam.”

    Dean smiled. Bobby had a right to his pride,”Alright, Bobby. I promise.” Dean popped out into the main tunnel and saw Jo and a small group of seven others making their way towards the exit, “Go with them Bobby.”

    “Have you gone soft in the head? I ain’t leavin’ you.” Bobby seemed insulted that Dean would even consider that.

    “Then at least take off the guard costume. I don’t want anyone getting confused.”

    “Fine. I’ll be in the sleeping quarters getting changed. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” Bobby walked off without looking back. Why did everyone think he was going to do something stupid? Dean threw his hands in the air, and instantly regretted it, his shoulder screaming at him. His nose stung and tears wanted to form in his eyes, but he held them back. Real men didn’t cry at pain.

    Dean looked at both groups guarding the guard room and saw that the one in tunnel three was larger. Dean went to them and held up five fingers. Six people peeled off from the group to follow him. Dean gestured for one of them to go back, but they all refused. Dean shrugged and began to walk lead them into the main tunnel. One more person wouldn’t make that big of a difference. Briefly Dean wondered where his father was. He had been in one of Jo’s groups so he hadn’t seen him at all. He hoped he had made it out safely.

    They saw the entrance and the people broke into a run, desperate for the open air. Dean couldn’t remember what a breeze felt like or how it felt to have the sun beat against his back. For half a moment, he contemplated stepping out for just a taste of free air, but he knew that once he had left, he would never want to go back in. No, he would be the last person to leave this cursed mine.

    As Dean turned around to pick up another group,  he tried to ignore the bodies littered along the floor. There weren’t that many, but he knew they weren’t all guards. Dean didn’t want to know which of his people he had failed. Then he heard the sounds he had been dreading: metal on metal. The guards had noticed the reduction in their ranks.

    Dean broke into a run, passing a group of slaves who had decided that a last minute break for it was the only option left to them. They were probably right. Dean rounded the corner into tunnel one just in time to see Alastair plunge his sword into Jo’s stomach. For a moment Dean froze as his brain tried to process what it was seeing. But as Alastair let Jo’s limp body fall to the floor, Dean became a wave of pure rage which crashed down upon Alastair. He had no weapon, but that didn’t keep him from being dangerous.

    Before Alastair could react, Dean gripped the blade of his sword with both hands and twisted it out of his hands. Dean hardly even noticed the way it created a second slice deep in the palm of his hand. He transferred his grip to the hilt of Alastair’s sword and began to hammer a series of blows upon the small shield Alastair had held up.  Eventually, the blade made it past the shield and dug into flesh. Alastair dropped the shield to clutch at his arm which was bleeding profusely. He backed up against the side of the tunnel.

    Dean bared his teeth in a snarl. Every strike Alastair had dealt him or Sam flashed in front of his eyes. In his mind, the smoke behind Sam in The Nightmare cleared and Alastair’s evil smile was exposed. The Alastair in front of him looked nothing like that Alastair in his mind. He looked shrunken and afraid, so very afraid. Dean’s anger applauded at that look. It wanted to preserve it forever. That was until he vividly recalled Jo’s body lying in a broken heap behind him.

    Nearly blind with rage, Dean yelled and drove his sword through Alastair’s chest. Alastair may have tried to say something, but Dean honestly had no idea. Suddenly drained, Dean let go of the sword and Alastair’s body slid down the wall to crumple on the ground. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around with a snarl. It was Bobby. Dean immediately stopped his aggressive reaction and let his shoulders fall.

    He tried to go to Jo’s body, but Bobby stopped him and started to drag him toward the main entrance, “She’s dead, Dean. There’s nothing else you can do for her. Everyone else has left. More guards are coming. We have to leave. Now.” Bobby pulled at Dean and Dean pulled against him, still desperate with the need to confirm that Jo was indeed dead. He heard the tramp of boots as more guards made their way down the tunnel and still he refused to go with Bobby.

    “Dean! We have to leave! Now! Sam is waiting for us.” That snapped Dean back to reason and he fled with Bobby out into the crisp night air.

CAS

    “I don’t know of any money being funnelled to King Lucifer.” Joshua sighed, “But I have been out of the loop for sometime.”

    “Can you see any other plausible reason for the demand of unrequired surplus?” Castiel asked Joshua.

    “No, the reason you’ve come up with seems as good as we’re going to get.” Joshua closed his eyes and breathed out. When he opened them again, he was staring straight at Castiel, “Patience. The proper path will reveal itself in time. Right now, we are to wait, no matter how hard that may be.”

    “You don’t need to worry about me, I can be very patient, if I know the eventual plan. What is that again?” Castiel questioned Joshua.

    “I told you. I need to figure out the remaining components of Lucifer’s original spell and then I can deconstruct it. Then we will reveal the truth.” Joshua looked into the distance.

    “That’s all well and good, but a few details would be appreciated.” Castiel crossed his arms, refusing to leave without an answer.

    Joshua sighed again, “I don’t really have details. That will be up to you when the time comes. You know the castle, Crowley, and these people better than anyone.”

    Taken aback, Castiel responds, “Me? So basically, you do a bit of fancy spellwork and then I have to manage all the rest? And when were you planning on telling me that I needed to be doing some serious thinking?

    “The path will be made clear.” Joshua interlaced his fingers and turned away. Castiel walked out of the room, frustrated. Obviously, this conversation was going nowhere. His conversations were getting shorter and shorter with Joshua and Castiel had begun to realize that Joshua wasn’t the solution he was looking for. Yes, Joshua played a part, but Castiel needed more.

    He had visited Joshua often enough in the past month that he could find his way back to his room without Joshua’s son. As he was walking to his room, he turned a corner and found Ruby standing there, her black hair rolled up in complicated curls atop of her head.

    “Castiel! It’s good to see you. You’ve been so distant recently. Why don’t you have dinner with us, honey?” Ruby smiled at him and held out her hands.

    Barely restraining a shudder, Castiel said, “I’m sorry. Mother , but I’m very busy. Maybe another time.”

    “Of course. Whenever you want, just pop in.” She smiled once more and continued down the hall.

    Castiel hurried back to his room and locked the door, feeling like he was in enemy territory. He sat at the desk and pulled out a few sheets of paper. He dipped a quill in ink and put it over the paper to write. Nothing came. He was trying his best to come up with a plan. Nothing. How would he get rid of Crowley, assassination? Execution? Imprisonment? Banishment? There were too many options for that one. He needed someone with a level head to tell him if his anger was clouding his decisions. It was almost a surreal experience for Castiel to feel the need for help with his emotions .

    He set the pen down, giving up for now. No sooner had he put away the paper than did a knock come at the door. He opened it cautiously, but it was just a messenger.

    “Prince Castiel, you told us to inform you first if anything happened with Starkin Mine. Well… most of the slaves have escaped. But we captured one of their leaders.”

    Castiel pressed his lips together. He had known Alastair was incompetent. Now he had to go deal with a prisoner and a mine without a workforce.

    “Lead the way.” Castiel reluctantly exited his room and followed the servant.

Starkin Mines Map Link

Chapter Text

JO

    She’d kissed Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester! What was she thinking? How amazingly hot he was, probably. Jo hefted her pickaxe and brought it down on a particularly stubborn section of stone. It had almost been the entire day and she couldn’t get that damn kiss out of her head. He’d been so surprised. She wanted to believe it was a good surprise, but she honestly couldn’t tell.

    She cursed herself for being a coward and running away rather than waiting to see his true reaction. She knew that she’d had a major crush on him for the good part of two years, but he hadn’t indicated any interest. He was always just so busy worrying about everyone besides himself. That was actually one of the top things she liked about him.

    The stone finally crumbled and, smirking, Jo moved it into the nearest basket. Nothing lasted long against her stubbornness. Dean would eventually come around. She’d talk to him tonight. Damn, but she had bad timing. Tonight was so crucial and yet all she could think about was the shock on Dean’s face as she walked away.

    The horn signaling the end of the day sounded and Jo thinned her lips as her brows knotted together. It was all starting. She joined the line and began trudging towards the sleeping quarters. She thought she caught a glimpse of the back of Dean’s head as he made his way to the front. She couldn’t be sure though.

    When she got close to the place where her mother was handing out blankets, she heard Dean’s voice say her name.

    “At least let Jo get off easy. I told her to do everything. It wasn’t her fault.” Dean sounded as if he was in tears. Jo figured this was the distraction he had promised. Dean begging didn’t sound right though; he’d never do that in earnest.

    “Okay. I’ll change my tack. Make sure Jo and I are spared and I won’t tell Alastair anything about you.” That sounded more like the Dean Jo knew: confident and smooth. Jo received a blanket (and weapon) from her mother and entered the room.The amount of human noise echoing around the relatively small space kept her from hearing anything else Dean or the two guards said. She waited by the entrance for Dean to come in. She still wanted to talk to him tonight.

    At last, Dean darted into the room, looking like he was escaping from something. He didn’t notice Jo and passed by her to spread his blanket on the ground. Jo followed him, removing a hammer from her blanket. She looked at it in approval. She could use this.

    Jo laid her blanket down next to Dean’s and then sat down, laying the hammer across her lap. She opened her mouth to talk to Dean, but the torches were suddenly put out and she decided to lie down before speaking. She scooted to the edge of her blanket to be as close to Dean as possible. Dean looked around the room for a moment and then settled next to Jo.

    “You nervous?” escaped from Jo’s mouth. Damn. Those weren’t the words she wanted.

    Dean hesitated a moment before answering, “Nah. I’m cool as a cucumber.” Jo eyes narrowed. She knew Dean well enough to know when he was lying. He was pretty good at it, but Jo was better at reading him.

    “Great. Because I’m confident too.” If Dean wanted to play this game, Jo would follow along. Pretending everything was fine. One of his favorites. But Jo had her original agenda to pursue, “Hey, Dean. Can we talk about what happened this morning?” Jo surprised herself at how steady her words were.

    “After we’re out we can talk about that as much as you want. For now, we need as much sleep as we can get.” Jo heard the sound of Dean readjusting and felt a brief stab of disappointment until his tone registered. He sounded like he was actually looking forward to that talk. It was probably the first sign of true interest he’d shown. Jo grinned from ear to ear.

    “It’s a date. Goodnight.”

    “Goodnight, Jo.” Jo heard Dean roll over and she did the same. She simultaneously couldn’t wait for tomorrow and wished it would never come. A knot of nervousness twisted in her stomach. She didn’t know how she could ever sleep, but it soon swamped her.

    Before she knew it, a sharp whistle woke her. She sat up and saw Dean and Bobby standing at the front of the room. She smoothed her hair down and grabbed her hammer. Jo walked to the front of the room and stood next to Dean. He was probably giving some rousing speech, but she wasn’t listening. She was focused on calming her own nerves and preparing herself for her job.

    Before she knew it, Dean was clawing the door open and had left the room. There were brief sounds of a quiet struggle. It went completely silent and she waited for Dean to come back and give her the go ahead.

    Soon, Dean was back in the room. He looked a bit shaken up but mostly fine. He motioned for Jo to leave and she led tunnel one out of the sleeping quarters and to the exit. Only a few guards remained on duty and Jo was sure they could handle them.

    “Remember, guys, the goal is to escape, not to pick a fight with the guards.” With that said, she charged and slammed her hammer into the nearest guard’s hip. He yelped and fell to the ground. She turned her back to move on, but as she did a sword was dragged across her left forearm, drawing blood. Apparently the guard hadn’t been decapacitated. She whipped around and brought her hammer down on his head. His arm fell to the ground and his body went limp.

    Jo turned back to her group and saw that most of them were already out of the mine. She smelled the fresh air and felt that familiar longing in her gut, but wrenched herself away. She needed to tell Dean that they were ready for him.

    The rest of the morning went in a blur for Jo until she came back from leading tunnel nine out and found no one left in tunnel one or the sleeping quarters. She panicked, thinking that the idiot who’d made so much noise earlier had gotten Dean, her mother, and everyone else remaining in the mine killed. She ran back to the main tunnel and turned right. She heard a whistle and turned towards it. Immediately, she saw Dean and a wave of relief swamped her. She jogged up to him and wrapped him in a hug. His back was wet. Soaked actually.

    Jo gasped and drew away from Dean, staring at her bloody hand. Dean had been injured? How badly? These questions didn’t make it to her mouth, but a few others did.

    “What happened? Did that idiot wake up the guards?” Jo would murder him it he’d gotten anyone killed.

    “Yeah. This whole guard room is awake. We have them trapped in there for the moment though.” Jo pinched her lips together. At  least Dean had gotten the situation under control. Then he gave her exactly what she needed, as he always did: a job, “I need you to start leading them out in small groups so the guards don’t notice. As soon as they think they have the advantage, they’ll strike. I need to go find Bobby.”

    “Okay. I got this. And you,” She pointed at Dean, knowing as she said it that he wouldn’t listen, “take better care of yourself. Don’t be an idiot.” She smiled thinking how Dean was the furthest thing from an idiot she had ever seen, even though he had his moments.

    She approached the group gathered in tunnel five. She estimated twenty-five people were gathered there. She could take five from the outskirts safely.

    “You five,” she pointed,”come with me.” They eagerly left and she escorted them to the exit. She repeated the process in tunnel three and just repeatedly switched between the two tunnels until she returned after her latest group left and heard a guard release a battle cry and the sounds of swords meeting hammers and pickaxes.

    She immediately lifted her hammer, turned the corner, and joined the fray. It was instantly obvious that they were outnumbered and wouldn’t be able to win. Already, most of her people had fled in a last, desperate bid for freedom. It had only been a few moments and the guards had a clear path to leave the guard room. She watched as Alastair emerged from the room and immediately singled her out with his piercing gaze. She lifted her hammer in a silent challenge for him to come and get it.

    He adjusted his shield and swung his sword back and forth a few times to clear a path to Jo. She let him approach and swung at his right shoulder as soon as he was close enough, her aim to disable his sword arm. Instead, he caught her hammer on his shield and while her core was still exposed, drew back his sword and plunged it deep into her stomach.

    White hot pain was all Jo knew for a moment before her face collided with the hard ground and she felt the sword slide out of the gaping hole in her stomach. She was pretty sure she heard Dean yell, but she couldn’t really tell. She heard crashes and voices but none of it made any sense. As she lost consciousness, she almost felt relieved. The world was really too much to handle.

    Jo was in pain. That was all she knew. She was finding full consciousness hard to reach, so she just let herself float in a sea of pain for an immeasurable amount of time. Something drew her attention to her wrists and she realized that cold, heavy shackles encased her wrists. Consciousness seemed a little more important now, so Jo struggled to find her eyelids. It took a while, but eventually she located them and forced them open.

    She saw a smooth stone floor with a few strands of straw scattered across it. There was no straw in the mine and almost all the floors were rough. She lifted her head with effort and saw bars. She knew that this was concerning but couldn’t quite remember why. She tried to sit up, but the sudden, sharp increase in the pain emanating from her stomach told her that might be a bad idea. It also snapped her to full consciousness and cleared the fog out of her brain.  

    Memories of the mine and the escape attempt flowed in and Jo gasped. Had Dean made it out? She remembered hearing his voice after she fell. As far as she knew most everyone else had been gone by that time. Where was she anyway? This wasn’t the mine.

     Answering both of those questions required her getting up and looking around a bit more. Jo wasn’t so sure that was a good idea with her stomach having been impaled only… actually Jo didn’t know how long ago that had happened. Frankly, she was just surprised at being alive.

    Jo heard a door open somewhere outside of her cell. Two sets of feet walked in, their footsteps echoing around the room. They stopped in front of her cell and Jo forced her head to look up at them. One was large in every sense of the word and obviously the jailor. He selected one key from a huge ring of them he had clipped at his belt. He slipped it into the lock, turned it, and opened the door. He entered the cell and grabbed the chain connecting Jo’s wrists. He yanked her to her feet and she cried out, something important ripping in her stomach. She felt fresh blood well up around the dried blood spread across her stomach.

    “Kneel in front of your prince.” The jailor kicked at the back of her knees. She complied, biting her lip to restrain the pained noises trying to make themselves known. Jo raised her head and looked at the second person. He had piercing blue eyes, a mess a short, black hair, and was wearing the fanciest clothes Jo had ever seen. Based on this and what the jailor had said, this must be Prince Castiel who Dean had complained so much about.

    “She’s injured. Don’t hurt her further.” The prince spoke in a rough but steady voice. Jo noticed how he sounded utterly bored, just as Dean had described.

    The jailor was a little gentler as he guided Jo to sit on the small bench she had been laying on. It still hurt more than anything else she’d ever experienced. She was breathing hard as the prince began to speak again.

    “I know that you were one of the leaders of the revolt which freed or killed all of the slaves working in Starkin Mines. I also know that you didn’t act alone. Tell me where Dean Winchester is and I can make your stay here so much more pleasant. Refuse me and you will wish you had died back in that mine.” Prince Castiel looked straight into her eyes with the surety that said he wasn’t used to being denied. Well, he better get used to it.

    “As if I would give him up to you. I’m as good as dead anyway. Do what you want to me. You’ll never get to Dean through me.” Jo stared right back into the prince’s eyes, challenging him to do his worst.

    Prince Castiel narrowed his eyes as he continued to stare back. He seemed to be contemplating Jo as a whole, as if he could look at her and understand the inner workings of her mind. Suddenly he seemed to come to a decision.

    “Leave her. She won’t give him up. Set her execution for tomorrow.” The jailor let go of her shackles and left the cell. Jo was wondering if the prince was expecting her to panic and hand over whatever information he demanded. If so, he was going to be disappointed. Jo had resigned herself to death since the moment Alastair’s sword slid into her. One more day wouldn’t break her.

    She laid down again with a great amount of pain and hoped that she could find that oblivion again.

DEAN

    The feel of fresh air on his face for the first time in seven years was probably amazing, but Dean couldn’t even think about that right now. His mind was battling grief as the image of Jo’s lifeless body flashed in front of his eyes. Bobby grabbed his arm and led him to the left to find Sam.

    Sam. Dean needed to focus. Sam shouldn’t see him like this. He had to be strong for Sam. Dean shook his head and tried to clear the storm of grief encircling it.  He managed to drag himself out far enough to become aware of his surroundings. The landscape was blank except for the beginnings of a small forest in front of him. That was where Sam, his father, and Ellen were hopefully waiting. Ellen . How would he tell her about Jo? Dean took that thought and buried it as deep as he could for now. He had to hold it together.

     As he and Bobby got closer to the treeline, he saw two figures standing just within the forest. Dean could tell that one was Sam and the other Ellen. Relief washed over him. They were alive! When he was close enough, Dean gripped Sam in a hug and refused to let go for a few moments. When he eventually did, he noticed the tears on Ellen’s face.

    “What’s wrong?” Dean demanded.

    “I was just telling Sam here… your dad didn’t make it out.” Dean’s entire world screeched to a halt. No breathing, no heartbeat, no thought. As suddenly as it stopped it started back up again at double the pace. His father was dead? Dean couldn’t grasp a world in which his father wasn’t always there as a steady constant in his life. His head was spinning. First Jo, then this. What had Dean done? He should have just left well enough alone and never tried to free them. It was too much of a risk. Too much. And now two of the people closest to him had paid the price for his foolish decisions.

    At some point Dean had fallen to his knees. He hadn’t realized at the time. He did notice when Sam knelt next to him and wrapped him in a hug. Dean vaguely heard Bobby tell Ellen that Jo wasn’t coming and Ellen begin to sob. Dean’s mind couldn’t handle all the stress in that moment, so he chose to focus on how his brother was safe and how they were kneeling together under the open sky. He forced Sam to let go so he could get a proper look at his face. Sam was crying and Dean was surprised by the fact that his own face was dry. He pulled Sam back to his chest and they stayed like that until grief and exhaustion eventually pulled them to the ground and they fell asleep.

     When Dean woke it was afternoon. Consciousness came with some hard, cold facts. Every memory of that morning was true, the forest contained absolutely no fruit-bearing plants, and the only weapon they had brought with them was Ellen’s chisel. Since Dean was the first one awake, he made the executive decision to sneak into town to find provisions. After freeing them from slavery, he wasn’t going to let them starve.

    He glanced back once at his family as they slept in the forest. Even though he wasn’t actually related to Bobby or Ellen, he absolutely considered them family. He was stubbornly not thinking about the two missing members of this improvised family unit as he trudged across the open plain. He felt exposed, but there was no one to see him so far.

    The closer he got to the small collection of buildings which stood for a town, the more cautious and jumpy Dean got. Any one of the people working in the fields beside him could recognize him and turn him in at a moment’s notice. Dean had no idea how the guards were organized here or even if they had any. His lack of knowledge was slowly eating away at his confidence.

  As he passed the first true building, Dean spotted a small basket with three loaves of bread in it. Perfect! He had three people to feed back in the forest. He didn’t feel quite right stealing it, but he didn’t have very many options. He glanced around and saw no one in the street. Odd, but it served his purpose. He picked up the basket and was about to head back when heard a loud voice began to speak from what he estimated to be the middle of the small town.

    “Listen up folks! The King has a very important message for you. As I am sure you are aware, a violent event took place at Starkin Mines early this morning. The workers rioted and killed a substantial number of guards. They have all either escaped or been executed for their crimes. For the most part, I want to assure you that you are safe. They have had their fill of blood.  Now comes the hard part. We have captured one of their leaders, a Jo Harvelle, and are holding her for questioning.” Dean dropped the basket of bread, “However, some others still walk free. They are to be considered dangerous and if you see them or hear of them you are to report it immediately to the nearest garrison. Their names are Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, and Bobby Singer. Their portraits will be posted on this board. Thank you for your time. Again, I want to assure you that you are safe.” Dean stood in shock for a moment before full on running back the forest. Everyone was awake and looked really worried.

    “Dean! Where…” Ellen started but Dean cut her off.

    “Jo’s alive! They captured her! She’s at the capitol!” Dean realized he was grabbing a shocked Ellen by the shoulders and quickly let go, “I’m going to rescue her. I'll be right back with her.” He practically beamed at the three very confused people staring at him.

    “Whoa, boy. Start from the beginning. Jo’s alive?” Bobby seemed to be questioning his sanity. Dean forced himself to calm down and tell the entire story of how he had gone into town and what he had heard. He was extremely impatient to leave and forcing himself to be thorough was almost painful. As soon as Dean saw the understanding and joy spread across their faces, he began backing up to leave.

    Bobby stepped forward and grabbed his arm, “Where do you think you’re going, Dean?”

    “I have to rescue Jo, Bobby.” Dean thought that this was fairly obvious.

    “Not alone, you don’t” Bobby looked liked he was going to make a big deal out of this.

    “Bobby. Did you not just hear me? Our portraits are posted in that small, little, nothing town. They know our names. We must have our faces posted in every town square from here to the damn capitol! We can’t travel together.” Dean hoped Bobby would understand that this was a safety issue and not Dean just being his usual stubborn self.

    “Then we don’t do it together, but we all do go to the capitol to free Jo. Anyway, if anyone’s going alone it should be me. I’m her mother and they don’t know my name or face.” Dean knew Ellen’s words were reasonable, but he didn’t want to listen to them. He looked at Sam, hoping for someone to back him up. Sam didn’t even need to say anything; his face said it all. Sam would not be staying behind.

    “Fine, but Sam stays with me. And we steal capes to hide our faces. And we meet up when we get to the capitol.” Dean pulled his arm out of Bobby’s grip. Bobby huffed and muttered something under his breath about who put him in charge. Dean considered commenting but decided he was too eager to be off to start a fight with Bobby.

    “Where would we meet up? None of us have ever been in the capitol before.” Sam, always practical, finally joined the conversation. Dean struggled to come up with a solution, but Ellen beat him to it.

    “The bar closest to the south entrance. I’m sure there is one. And if it isn’t obvious which one is closest, go to the one which comes first in the alphabet. You do know your letters, right?” Ellen raised her eyebrows and waited for an answer. It had been a long time since he’d actually read anything, but Dean was fairly confident in his ability. He nodded and Ellen was pleased.

    “Right, now. You boys be careful.” Ellen looked threatening, “I don’t want to go losing any more children.” Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat and managed to nod once more. He and Sam waved goodbye and they finally left the forest, Sam and Dean heading out first, Bobby and Ellen to follow separately. Dean knew they needed something to hide their faces and his stomach was telling him that they needed something to eat, but Dean was not going to risk entering the village again so soon after they had been told about the riot leaders from Starkin Mines.

    “Dean, how much of a chance do you think we really have of saving her before she’s sentenced and executed?” Sam asked, sounding despondent. Dean thought about it for a moment and then laughed, just slightly bitter.

    “How much of a chance was there that my crazy ass plan to get us out of there would work? How much of a chance was there that Jo survived at all? How much of a chance was there that I was in the town at the exact right time to hear about Jo and wasn’t spotted?” Dean cocked his head and looked at Sam, “We seem to be on the good side of luck for the moment. Let’s not let your negative crap ruin that for us.” Sam gave a half smile and kept walking. Dean knew Sam would eventually cheer up; he was an optimist at heart.

    By the time it was dark, they had walked just about as much as Dean’s empty stomach could handle. He had already passed by several towns or villages, too paranoid to stop. He saw a lone farmhouse in the distance and he began to think about stealing. One family living so far away from the rest of civilization probably hadn't heard about him and Sam yet. Plus it was fewer eyes watching his crime. Then he saw the silhouette of someone standing on the small porch and obviously searching the horizon in their direction.

    “Get down,” he hissed in Sam’s ear as he pulled at his brother’s arm. It was too late; the figure spotted them and waved them closer. Dean didn’t budge. Frustrated, the figure put his hands to his mouth and shouted at them.

    “If you’re Sam and Dean Winchester you better get your asses over here before I close up shop. My hospitality does have a time limit.” The voice sounded pissed and the exact opposite of hospitable. Dean frowned at Sam who shook his head. Dean’s curiosity won over however and he shouted back.

    “Why are you looking for the Winchesters?” Dean needed to know that first. Everything else could wait.

    “Bobby Singer, that’s why. Forcing his presence on me and demanding that I let you two impose on me as well.” This left Dean a little more confused, but confident enough to investigate. He stood up and walked towards the strange man, ignoring Sam’s hissed Dean! As he got closer he could make out the man’s features. His skin was dark and his face looked like it had never smiled and possibly didn’t know how.

    “Bobby?” Dean called out, not wanting to walk into a trap.

    “He’s inside somewhere. Bit deaf though, so he probably can’t hear you.” The man turned slightly and then bellowed, “Bobby Singer! Get yourself out here. Your boys are being morons.”

    Dean resisted the urge to cover his ears. Damn this guy could be loud. Then he heard Bobby’s familiar voice coming from inside.

    “Don’t put the blame on them when it’s probably your sunny disposition they’re finding hard to swallow.” Bobby appeared in the doorway holding a mug of ale, “Dean! I’m glad you made it.”

    Dean frowned,”How did you make it here before us?” This was starting to hurt his brain a bit.

    “Well, I came across Rufus here while I was walking and we recognized each other from way back when. He lived on the outskirts of our little town, so they must have missed him seven years ago. Anyway, I was, and still am, this idjit’s only friend. He's a bit of a loner. Anyway, he let me hop up on his wagon and we came back here.”

    Dean blinked. The only reason he accepted that story was because Bobby was the one telling it and he did vaguely remember the name Rufus. “Okay. Hey, Rufus. I’m Dean.” Dean held out his hand, hoping he could smooth the rough beginning to their relationship. Rufus looked at him like he was some new form of rodent and walked back into his house. Bobby scoffed.

    “He likes you.” Bobby said. Dean raised his eyebrows.

    “Yeah, I can tell. Real charming guy,” Dean said in a deadpan voice. Sam had come up to stand next to him while he said this.

    “Whatever. Come in and get some grub. You two have to be hungry. Rufus also agreed to let us stay the night. We’ll split up again tomorrow.” Bobby walked back inside.

    “Do you get the distinct feeling he might kill us in our sleep?” Sam leaned in to whisper to Dean.

    “Rufus? Yeah, he doesn’t seem to like visitors much. Don’t worry. Bobby said he likes me. If he kills anyone it’ll be you.” Dean got a classic Sam Winchester bitch face for that, but he didn’t care. They were going to get some food and, while Dean didn’t want to put off saving Jo, some sleep.

    Dinner had been awkward with Rufus glaring at his three unwanted guests, but it was the most delicious thing Dean had ever tasted. According to Bobby, it was a disgusting, thin soup, but Dean still found it far superior to the crap he’d been eating in the mine. After they finished Rufus had gone into his room and slammed the door. Bobby led them upstairs. Sam and Dean shared a room while Bobby got his own.

    Dean had tried for about an hour to sleep, but the guilt was just eating away at his insides. He had left Jo, bleeding out on the tunnel floor. It didn’t matter that he had thought she was dead. He left her without even checking. He rolled over and came to a decision. Careful not to wake Sam, he slid out of the bed and slipped on his shoes. He tiptoed downstairs and acquired one of Rufus’s cloaks. He would return it later if he could.

    He grabbed a small loaf of bread, which he would not be returning, from Rufus's kitchen and walked out onto the porch. He felt a little bad for leaving Sam and Bobby, but he couldn’t wait any longer and they were safer here anyway. Dean turned in the direction he had been heading, northwest he believed, and walked off at a brisk pace.

    After three hours of walking, Dean spotted the capitol for the first time. Two hours later and the sun began to peek over the horizon. He was almost at the gate. He figured that Sam and Bobby were probably just waking up. Dean still didn’t regret his decision to leave them behind.

    When he got to the south gate, they were already open for the day. He just pulled his hood a little lower and walked right past the guards, his heart beating a nervous staccato in his chest. He figured Ellen may have walked through the night as well, too worried to sleep, and began searching for a tavern. He caught a glimpse of a sign with a painted mug of beer on it off to his left. He forged his way through the crowd, struggling to keep his hood in position so that it covered his face. He finally made it through the doors and the street noise immediately lessened.

    Almost no one was in the bar. Dean wasn’t surprised; it was pretty early. He looked around and spotted a drunken guy missing his right pinky clumsily flirting with Ellen in the corner. Dean's only excuses for his hasty actions were that he was sleep deprived and stressed. He grabbed the man by his collar and swung him around, the seven years wielding a pickaxe day in and day out giving strength to his arms.

    “Leave her alone.” Dean growled.

    “Okay.” the man sounded calm but his fear was plain as he scurried away.

    “Dean! I was getting information out of him.” Ellen sat back looking pissed.

    Dean looked down, and then quickly back up again, “I ain’t gonna let some drunken ass get the wrong idea about you. Get your info in better ways.”

    Ellen’s face was firm,  but her tone kind, “I can take care of myself, young man.”

    “I know, Ellen. Anyone's who’s met you knows.” At this, Ellen smiled, “So what info did you get off of creeper dude?” Dean hoped it was something good. Ellen's face darkened.

    “Jo's set to be executed at noon today. Apparently she was… uncooperative. Classic Jo.” Ellen put her face in her hands. Dean was instantly relieved that he had left early. He wouldn't have been in time to save Jo otherwise.

    “Do you have a plan?” Dean desperately hoped she did. He didn't know enough about this city to come up with one on his own.

    “From what I hear the prison is pretty heavily guarded. I haven't actually gone to examine it though.”

    Dean was already standing, “Let's go then.” Ellen stood as well and followed him out of the bar, “Where is the prison again?”

    Ellen looked up at the imposing castle smack in the center of the city, “Under that.”

Chapter Text

DEAN

    The city had been easy enough to get into, but the castle walls were impenetrable. Dean and Ellen walked around the entire thing. Twice. There had to be weaknesses, but they were running out of time and needed a new plan, quick.

    Ellen and he had been discussing breaking Jo out as she was being transported to the scaffold. It left a sour taste in Dean’s mouth though. It left things too close. Just like last time. However, it was quickly becoming the only option as the sun inched towards its peak.

    By acting as if they were some sort of perverted execution fanatics, he and Ellen had collected enough information to trace the path Jo and her guards would likely take. She would exit from a small, heavily fortified door at the base of the castle.Then she would be led to the main road inside the city which circled around the palace. They would take her about one fourth of the way around this circle before cutting to the left and heading for some sort of event platform. Important events to which the public was invited, such as executions, were conducted there.

    This was the point at which Jo would be least guarded. She would be sat down on a bench while they waited for a royal to come and preside. According to the townsfolk, that could take hours depending on who was coming. Despite Ellen’s protests, Dean planned to use his presence as a distraction to the few guards left watching Jo while Ellen took her away. They would figure out what to do with her shackles later.

    In case her execution deviated from the norm, Dean and Ellen would wait by the door from which she should exit. They would then follow her, trying to blend into the crowd that an execution always drew. If she wasn’t taken to the event platform, they would improvise. Dean glanced at Ellen and saw a tear streak down the side of her face. She was holding herself together, but just barely. Once Jo was safe, there was probably going to be some sort of breakdown.

    Dean on the other hand felt numb. He wasn’t allowing himself to consider the possibility of failure. He wasn’t wishing Sam and Bobby were here. And he certainly wasn’t afraid. It was all pushed back as he focused on the most important task: free Jo.

    The sound of a lock clicking open startled Dean and he backed up even farther into the narrow alley in which he and Ellen had been waiting. The door to the prison ground open and two burly men emerged. Next was the smaller figure of Jo, in chains and bent nearly in half. For a moment Dean was confused by her posture and then he remembered her injury. She had to be in terrible pain! He ground his teeth together, unable to help her. Two more guards exited through the door before it was closed and locked behind them. Four guards. Dean thought This isn’t too bad.

    Two guards grabbed Jo’s chains, one stood in front, and the last one brought up the rear. They marched off, all four perfectly in step. Dean reevaluated his original assessment; these guards were of a much higher caliber than those in the mines. He and Ellen stuck to the edges of the crowd that was quickly forming around Jo and her captors. Dean spared a glance at Ellen. She looked like she was about to explode from stress and worry. Dean wanted to comfort her, but figured he looked very similar.

    They almost got stuck in the crowd when Jo was suddenly dragged off to the left. Dean panicked and would have started punching people if Ellen hadn’t found a small channel for them to squeeze through. They walked across the open space to where the stage waited. A noose was the centerpiece and Dean felt sick just thinking about the kind of show these people were expecting. Off to the left and right of the stage were rows of benches for particularly avid onlookers. On one side of the stage was a smaller bench where they had been told Jo would be seated while waiting for royalty to show up.

    Sure enough, the guards led Jo to the bench and sat her down they put their backs to Jo and faced out at the crowd. Dean wiggled to the front of the crowd, his cloak still mostly covering his face. This was his moment. He looked at Ellen. She looked worried and like she might be sick, but gave him an encouraging nod. Moments before he revealed himself, trumpets blasted, stopping Dean in his tracks. He looked up at the castle on his left and there stood a black-haired man wearing a silver circlet on his head. A servant introduced the man.

    “His Highness, Crown Prince Castiel, has graced us with his presence to oversee the execution of criminal Jo Harvelle.” The entire place went silent as Prince Castiel descended the steps. Rage and a thirst for revenge boiled in Dean’s blood as he watched the prince. Now was Dean’s opportunity. He saw Ellen had moved as close to Jo as she possibly could. Dean didn’t even pause, using his rage as an impetus. He leapt on the stage, simultaneously ripping his cloak from his shoulders and letting it flutter to the ground behind him. There was a collective gasp and Dean knew he had been recognized. Taking advantage of the following silence he announced his presence.

    “People of the Capitol! I am Dean Winchester,” Dean desperately wanted to check on Ellen and Jo but knew that he couldn’t draw attention to them. Instead he turned to Prince Castiel and pointed, “and I am here to tell you that he is the true criminal here. He ordered that I be maimed as punishment for my actions. All I had done was seek freedom from abuse for my people. We were already working nearly beyond our capability when this Prince who knows nothing of suffering or physical labor strode in and told us we had to, what were the words,” Dean looked directly into Castiel’s disinterested eyes, “oh yes, ‘significantly increase our output’. I’ll have you know that was impossible without killing every single slave in that mine. Oh! But guess what? They aren’t slaves anymore. I freed them all!” Dean spared a glance around him and saw that he was surrounded by guards. He looked a little farther away and saw that Jo was gone and she and Ellen were nowhere in sight. A ball of stress that had been slowly growing in his chest disintegrated.

    Now it was his turn to escape. HIs chances of making it out of this were decreasing at an alarming rate. He saw a space between two guards which was little larger than the others he dove off the stage at it. He made it past the guards and was running free. He almost laughed out loud. They’d made it! Then his foot collided with a loose stone and he fell face first into the dirt. He scrambled to get back up, but a heavy boot was placed between his shoulder blades and a strong fist grabbed his right arm and twisted it painfully behind his back.

    Dean swore in as many ways as he knew. Both he and Ellen had known this was a possibility and they had both decided the risk was worth it. Even knowing he would be captured, Dean would have chosen to rescue Jo. He had no regrets.

CAS

    Castiel had a headache. Again. He just wanted to do something. He could think on his feet pretty well, but this planning for when or if Joshua could undo the spell was killing him. There were too many variables and too much that could go wrong. He really wanted to just kill Crowley as soon as Joshua did his magic, but a small part of his brain that wasn't engulfed in rage told him that it wasn't that simple.

    He looked out the window and saw that it was almost noon. He stood reluctantly. He had to go attend the execution of that slave from the mines. She had surprised him with her force of will and loyalty to that Dean Winchester. He could have pushed her for information, but he could tell it would have been pointless.

    As he left the room, he grabbed the silver circlet he was required to wear at official events. It seemed a little pointless, but for now it was his job to follow the rules. And he was getting sick of it. Castiel sighed as he shoved the circlet over his head. After he finished with this he might go study some production reports in the records room. It might help him to block out the anger and frustration.

    When he walked through the front gates of the castle, a herald announced his presence, “His Highness, Crown Prince Castiel, has graced us with his presence to oversee the execution of criminal Jo Harvelle.” Castiel looked blankly at the crowd as he descended the steps, heading to the ornate chair designated specifically for royalty. Why they were so interested in watching someone die, he would never know. It seemed wrong somehow. Maybe he could change the way justice was served when he was king…

    Castiel’s thoughts were cut short as a figure leapt up out of the crowd and landed with graceful ease upon the stage. Castiel saw his bodyguards stiffen and ready their weapons. The figure grabbed a handful of the cloak which hid his feature from view and ripped it away from his neck.The crowd gasped and even Castiel was surprised. There stood Dean Winchester. A curl of curiosity passed through Cas’s mind. A small corner of his mind had wanted to meet Dean for some time now. Then his fully rational mind caught up and he realized that a criminal had just exposed himself in front of his home.

   “People of the Capitol! I am Dean Winchester and I am here to tell you that he,” Dean pointed at him, “is the true criminal here. He ordered that I be maimed as punishment for my actions. All I had done was seek freedom from abuse for my people. We were already working nearly beyond our capability when this Prince who knows nothing of suffering or physical labor strode in and told us we had to, what were the words, oh yes, ‘significantly increase our output’.” Dean was staring straight into Castiel’s eyes,  “I’ll have you know that was impossible without killing every single slave in that mine. Oh! But guess what? They aren’t slaves anymore. I freed them all!” Castiel stared straight back at Dean and was actually bothered to be mildly impressed. Despite being a hunted criminal surrounded by armed men, Dean was smirking and had flung out his arms at the last sentence, seemingly at ease. Then Dean glanced out at the crowd and Castiel was quick to follow his eyes to where the prisoner had been sitting. She was gone.

    Castiel watched as Dean made a desperate bid for freedom. His thoughts however were a million miles away. He understood exactly what had just happened. Dean had basically sacrificed himself to save his friend, Jo. That sort of bravery just didn’t happen in real life. Castiel had looked into Dean’s eyes and knew he wasn’t an idiot. He must have known that he would most likely be captured and executed if he gave his friend the opportunity to escape. He had done it anyway, with a cocky grin spread across his face.

    When Dean fell and Castiel’s bodyguards captured him, Castiel was almost sorry. He didn’t want to execute this man. The loyalty he inspired, his bravery, and his ingenuity were almost enough to spark Castiel’s faith in humanity that had long ago been smothered.

    The people were confused and Castiel looked at them with weary eyes. He was going to have to make an announcement. He stepped up onto the stage and the conversation in the crowd died out.

    “Dean Winchester has been captured.” Castiel announced to the crowd. A cheer went up, but Castiel held up a hand to silence them. “Unfortunately, Jo Harvelle has escaped. She is not believed to be dangerous, but if you hear any reports of her, please bring them to the attention of the castle immediately.”  Castiel stepped down, having said just enough to cover his duty. He walked as quickly as he could without running and was soon within the palace walls again. He walked straight through, past the throne and through the council room. There was a back door in the corner. He opened it, walked through and was out in the sun again. He took an immediate left and walked until he reached the corner of the castle. He rounded it and knocked firmly on the sturdy door placed in the wall.

    A small rectangle set at eye level was slid away. An eye milky with cataracts peered through it. Despite his visual impairment, the man seemed to recognize Castiel. The eye disappeared and Castiel heard the slide of several locks being undone. Eventually, the door swung open and Castiel strode in, brushing past the bent, old man holding the door. He heard the jailor hurrying to follow him, beginning to breath harder with the effort. Castiel came to a sudden stop and whipped around.

    “I will see the prisoner alone.” Castiel didn’t want to have to play any sort of role when he talked to Dean.

    “This man is dangerous, my lord.” The jailor was not going to make this easy.

    “I am perfectly capable of defending myself. Now, I command as your prince, go back to your post and stay there until I leave.” Castiel used his move or I will kill you where you stand look. It had the usual results. The jailor bowed, babbling a string of titles and apologies as he hurried back to the front of the dungeon.

    Castiel realized that he didn’t know which cell Dean was in. He pinched his lips together. That was bit inconvenient, but it wouldn’t be too hard to find him. Cas walked through the first row of cells, most of which were filled with men and women much less savory than Dean. A few yelled obscenities which Castiel ignored. He reached the end of the row without finding Dean. He ran to the front and turned down the other row. This one was less occupied. In fact, no one was being detained in the second half. Castiel finally found Dean in the cell at the very end.

    Dean’s wrists were shackled to opposite walls and Castiel could see bruises covering his face and arms. His clothes were stained with blood. He guessed that Dean had attempted to fight the soldiers who had captured him. Dean was looking at the ground and seemed to be pointedly ignoring Castiel. Castiel cleared his throat. Dean’s head snapped up. For a moment, Castiel saw a defiant mask, then recognition, then boiling anger.

    “Prince Castiel. What an honor. I would kneel, but…” Dean looked pointedly at his shackles.

    “No need.” Castiel waved Dean’s sarcasm off, “Tell me, who helped you to rescue Jo Harvelle?” He wanted Dean to know that he knew what his game was.

    “No one.” Dean said defensively. Where Castiel had seen a stone wall go up in Jo’s face, he saw an iron wall covered in more locks than he could count snap up in Dean’s. He didn’t mind. He wasn’t actually interested in questioning Dean about Jo. He was just terribly curious about him.

    “Fine. You don’t have to tell me anything…” Castiel was going to continue, but Dean forcibly interrupted him.

     “No, I don’t. But I want to. I wanna tell you about all the times I had to watch my little brother go to bed covered in bruises because of you. I wanna tell you about how you made me rush my escape plan and caused people to die. Because of you! I want you to know that for years before you were even aware of us we suffered and people starved to death because the laws of the land, your laws, didn’t see us as people! People, not slaves. A person just like you. Why do you get to dress in fine linen and silver while we're beaten and starved?!” Dean ranted, but not like he was out of control. He stared into Castiel’s eyes the entire time and didn’t break contact even after he finished.

    Castiel recognized the anger in Dean’s eyes. It was the same as the one burning in his mind. It was outrage at injustice, rage at suffering caused to loved ones, and willingness to do anything to make it right or avenge it. An idea came to Castiel and he knew that if he played his cards right, he could work it.  

    “The injustices you describe should never have occurred. I apologize that I was the bearer of the orders to increase your work load, but I was not the one who initially gave them. That would be the king, King Crowley.”

    “Do you think I give a damn about who gave the freakkin’ work order? You were the one who told Alastair to permanently disable me and Jo. You were the one who threatened my little brother and told the guards to punish him instead of me! Those orders didn’t come from daddy dearest. They came straight from you.” Dean was pulling at his shackles, as close to Castiel as he could possibly get.

    Castiel’s eyelid twitched. He had forgotten about the brother incident. This was going to be harder than he thought. From Dean’s current expression, Castiel began to understand why Alastair had feared him.

    “I apologize for cutting your brother’s hair and causing the guards to hurt him. At the time I thought you were one of those mindless rioters who had charisma and no over arching goal. I also had no idea what the conditions were in the mine. I was merely trying to bring peace…”

    “Cut the bullshit. Why do you want me to forgive you? What do you want me to do?” Castiel looked at Dean and reworked his opinion of him. That Dean had picked up on his true purpose so quickly spoke volumes about his skills of observation and knowledge of human behavior. This man who had cost the kingdom one of its major sources of income and had killed its soldiers might just be the one to help him save it from an even worse evil. Cas made a snap decision.

    “I want you to help me assassinate the king.”

    Whatever Dean had planned to say next died on his tongue as his face expressed pure surprise. “You want…. I.. Why?” Dean spluttered, the wind taken out of his sails.

    “That is my request. Agree and I will free you. Refuse and you will be executed tonight.” Castiel tilted his head and looked at Dean straight on. He didn’t want Dean to see how lost he was and how much he needed Dean’s fresh eyes and skills to solve his problems.

    “But he’s your father!” Dean looked revolted. Castiel reacted automatically.

    “He is not my father.” He snapped. Dean looked taken aback and then thoughtful.

    “So, I help you kill your fake dad and then I go free or I refuse and you kill me now?” Dean looked at the floor, but Castiel could still feel the waves of contained anger.

    “Precisely. I also want you to focus all that anger towards him. As I was trying to tell you earlier, I only ever act on his orders because I don’t fancy being killed. He is the one who caused the majority of the suffering your people endured. I apologize again for the role I played in the suffering of your brother. You can hate me all you want for that. Just hate him more and help me.” Castiel thought this might sound a bit desperate, but he also thought it was what Dean needed to hear.

    “Fine. I’ll do it.” Dean jerked his head up, “But on one condition. You call off the manhunt for Sam, Bobby, Jo, and me. If you don’t agree, you might as well kill me now. I won’t help you.”

    Dean had picked up on Castiel’s slight desperation and was using it to his advantage, just as Castiel had feared he would. Technically, Castiel was in charge of the issue at Starkin Mines. He could cease the manhunt. He probably should. From what Dean had described, Castiel figured the former slaves had every right to live out their lives in relative peace.

    “Okay. You have a deal.” Castiel nodded sharply and turned around, walking to the front, “You’ll have to ‘die’ first though.”

DEAN

    What was he thinking? He couldn’t agree to help Castiel . Even if it was to kill a tyrant. But then again… Castiel seemed fairly desperate. And lonely. Dean could ask for just about anything and he’d probably agree. There was only one thing Dean really wanted.

    “Fine. I’ll do it. But on one condition. You call off the manhunt for Sam, Bobby, Jo, and me. If you don’t agree, you might as well kill me now. I won’t help you.” Dean winced inwardly, his face still the determined mask he had arranged it as. He hoped he wasn’t leading them into a game of chicken. Dean watched a moment of indecision on Castiel’s face and then the decision came.

    “Okay. You have a deal. You’ll have to ‘die’ first though.” Dean had a moment of panic until he realized that Castiel meant that they had to fake his death. That was pretty smart actually. Dean would be the blind spot, the secret weapon. He liked that idea a little more than he should.

    Dean felt a bubble of joy growing in his chest. He was chained in a prison that smelled like a chamber pot. What reason did he have to be so happy? Then it burst and showered him with happiness as he realized why. Everyone was safe. Even he was in a twisted sort of way. With a stab of guilt, Dean remembered his father. He closed his eyes and shoved that to the back of his mind. He wanted to be happy for once.

    When Castiel returned, he had the chunky jailor with him, “....never speak of this again. Do you understand?”

    “Release Dean Winchester. Record his immediate execution. Let him leave with you. Forget the name Dean Winchester. Never speak of this again. Got it.” The jailor looked nervous as he fit a key to the lock of Dean’s cell. He entered the cell and cautiously approached Dean to unlock his shackles. Dean had the urge to growl at him or something to see if the man jumped back. He resisted.

    When both of Dean’s hands were free, he rubbed his wrists, straightened his back and walked out of the cell with as much dignity as he could manage. He looked at Castiel, close enough for the first time to note his eyes. The were the most freakin’ gorgeous shade of blue Dean had ever seen. Disturbed by that thought, Dean quickly looked away and shook it off.

    “Follow me. We’ll take the back way and then the servant’s tunnel.” Castiel walked off at what seemed to be his usual brisk pace. Dean followed easily, already creating a mental map of the place out of habit. Dean glanced back at the open cell and silently wondered if he’d gotten himself in deeper shit than he knew.

SAM

    Sam was going to kill Dean... if Bobby didn’t get to it first. What had he been thinking, sneaking off by himself? Some sort of big brother complex, Sam was sure. I must take care of Sam. I must think Sam is incapable of taking care of himself.That sort of thing.

    Rufus wasn’t awake yet, but that hadn’t stopped Bobby from grabbing bread and some cheese for breakfast for himself and Sam. He had also given Rufus's one remaining cloak to Sam and had acquired a hat for himself. Now, Bobby was practically shoving Sam out the door, hurrying in the vain hope that he might be able to catch up to Dean before he did anything stupid. Sam figured Dean hadn’t wasted much time about leaving and had already made it to the capitol.

    And yet Bobby was driving them at a breakneck pace, trying to catch Dean. Sam could see that Bobby was extremely worried, but Sam didn’t feel the same. Maybe a little worried, but Dean could take care of himself. Dean could probably free Jo all by himself if he had to. So after five hours of speed walking, Sam was ready to take a break and maybe find some food.

    “Bobby, can we take a break? We’re just outside the city and it’s only noon. We have time.” Sam slowed down, but Bobby would have none of it.

    “Time for what, boy? Dean could be discovered at any time. Jo could be executed at a moment’s notice and you talk about time.” Bobby scoffed and only sped up, reminding himself of the reasons to hurry. Sam hadn’t thought about the unknown time limit for Jo. He had just assumed Dean would take of her.

    As they entered the city, it was obvious that most of the residents were moving to a central location. Sam and Bobby followed, afraid of what they might see. The entire city seemed to be gathered around a stage with a lone scaffold standing in the center. Sam swallowed hard, hoping that it wasn’t meant for anyone he knew. Bobby started to ask people around him what was going on. Most of them had as much an idea as he did. Most had just followed the crowd but a few had heard some type of commotion. Eventually a slightly official-looking person stepped onto the stage and called for everyone’s attention.

    “Since it is obvious that none of you are going to leave until someone explains, again, what has happened, it falls to me to tell you. Dean Winchester, the rogue slave, has been captured.” Sam stopped hearing whatever the man was saying. Captured? Dean? It didn’t make sense. Dean would never let himself be caught. Bobby shook his shoulder slightly.

    “Son, we’ve got to go. We’re not safe in the open. We’ll think of some way to break the stubborn idjit out. You’ll see.” Bobby sounded hopeful.

    Sam let Bobby lead him away from the center of the city. He paid attention to his surroundings only when Bobby began to slow and turn into a building.

    “A bar?” Sam couldn’t believe Bobby could think of drinking at a time like this.

    “Yeah, the one we all promised to meet up at. I figured, hell maybe we’d catch some luck and join up with Ellen. Think up a way to break the two kids free.” Bobby  was scanning the bar but didn’t seem to find who he was looking for. He and Sam sat at a corner table from which they could watch the door and the stairs to the rooms for rent. Bobby looked over at Sam. Apparently his expression was worrisome, because Bobby reached out with one hand and placed it on Sam’s shoulder.

     “We’ll get ‘em out. Don’t worry, Sam. Heck, Dean may even get himself out. You know how resourceful he is.” Bobby smiled, but then jumped as a hand touched his back.

     “Hey, Bobby. Sam. Come on upstairs.” Ellen’s face was full of grief and pain as she led the two up to the room she’d rented.

JO

    Jo tried to keep her limbs from shaking as the guards forced her to walk forwards. Every nerve ending was being scorched off by the sharp, terrible agony in her stomach. When they finally got to the stage and made her sit, she was actually relieved despite being so close to death. The way the guards stood told Jo that she would probably be waiting a while. She settled down, ready to endure hours of the extra pain sitting up caused.

    There was no need. Almost immediately a servant loudly announced the arrival of Prince Castiel. Jo swallowed hard and bit the inside of her lip. This was it. She would be walked up onto the stage, the noose would be put around her neck, there would be a moment of fear and pain and then it would all be over. She was about to die. And then the impossible happened.

    Dean hopped up on stage and ripped off his cloak. Jo felt a surge of joy and then of horror as she realized how he had just exposed himself. Dean began to yell at the crowd and at the prince, but Jo couldn't quite concentrate on his words. Jo felt someone grab her arm and pull urgently. Her head whipped back and she was staring into her mother’s soft eyes. She was on her feet in an instant, somehow the pain not as overwhelming as before, and jogged after her mother into a side alley.

    Ellen didn’t stop until Jo fell to her knees, gripping her stomach in agony. There was absolutely no way she could go a step further. Ellen knelt down beside her.

    “Jo, honey, it’s just a little further. Come on. There’s a safe place just two blocks from here.” Jo nodded and struggled to her feet. Two blocks. That was nothing, right? Each step more painful than the last, Jo slowly made her way to the bar her mother had pointed out. That was where Dean would meet them. He had gotten away from the guards and when it was safe he would meet them there.

    Jo felt strange, as if her brain was on a different track than her mind. As if that made any sense. She kept repeating her own thoughts. She didn’t even remember climbing the stairs when she found herself at the top. Her mother guided her into a room and onto the bed. It was amazingly relieving to be lying down again. Ellen put a freezing hand to her head and muttered something about fever. She stood up from the bed to go fetch something. By the time she returned, Jo had fallen asleep.

Basic Map of the Capitol of Andala

Map of the Castle (Level 1)

Chapter Text

 CAS

    Castiel brought Dean around to the door which led to the council room. He cracked it open and peered inside. No one was there. He heard Dean shift behind him and he whipped around, raising his guard.

    “Whoa! Whoa! Calm down. I’m just standing here. Not causing any problems.” Dean held up his hands.

    “If you think I’m going to ever trust you, you are very mistaken,” Castiel enunciated this very clearly. As much as he found Dean interesting and potentially useful, he did not want Dean as a friend. Castiel didn’t do relationships well… actually at all.

    “Okay, okay. Geeze. So touchy,” Dean seemed perfectly at ease and Castiel just wondered at how the man’s brain worked. No one else reacted to him like that. They would just pull away and let Castiel distance himself. Dean was going to constantly surprise him. Castiel didn’t usually like surprises, but he felt himself looking forward to getting to know Dean. It had been forever since Castiel had actually looked forward to something. The last time… the last time was for his birthday party on that dreadful night. Castiel instantly began erecting wall after wall, trying to block out the memories. After a few tense moments, they disappeared back into the depths.

    Castiel opened his eyes. He hadn’t been aware of closing them. Dean was giving him a slightly odd look. Castiel ignored him, acting like nothing had happened. Inside, he was cursing himself. It was incredibly stupid to let his emotions through at any time, but especially when someone like Dean was watching. Castiel forced his thoughts to move on and he led Dean through the council chamber, past the records room, and up the stairs to the third floor. He entered the servant’s tunnel from the stairwell and made his way to the very last door. He was very determinedly not thinking about the two who had taught him every inch of these tunnels.

     When Castiel opened the door, he pushed Dean into his bedroom and then entered behind him, closing the door. When he looked up, he saw Joshua’s son standing there, looking very confused. Was that boy always in the wrong place at the wrong time?

    “Just leave.” Castiel looked between the boy and Dean meaningfully.

    “Me?” Dean asked looking lost.

    “No. You.” Castiel pointed to the servant who bowed quickly and exited by the main door. Dean raised his eyebrows and looked around himself, seemingly unimpressed.

    “Nice place. Mind if I stay awhile?” Dean grinned at Castiel and sat on his chair. Maybe Castiel hadn’t thought this through well enough.

    “I’m going to make you stay awhile. You are not to leave this room for two weeks,” Dean’s eyes grew wide and his mouth opened to protest, but Castiel kept talking, “When I introduce you to the palace, it will be as my new personal guard. Most nobility employ one. I have just refused to have one… until now. No one will remember your face clearly and if they have their suspicions, we have the official record of your execution.” Castiel looked at Dean for a response.

    “You’ll at least feed me, right?” Dean smirked at Castiel and looked up, trying to pass it off as a joke. Dean may be perceptive, but so was Castiel. He saw right through Dean’s farce of humor. Dean was frightened to be trapped in the room. Castiel only had to wonder for a moment before the answer came to him; Dean was finally free from the mine only to be trapped again. Oh well. That wasn't Castiel’s problem. Dean had chosen this path when he chose to save his friend.

    “My servant will bring you your meals. He is trustworthy and won’t  reveal your presence.” Castiel turned towards the door, “Stay here and remain quiet. I will lock the door so no one should disturb you.” And you won’t be able to leave. Castiel would have to tell Joshua’s son to lock the servant’s entrance too. Castiel exited the room, ignoring Dean’s pout, and closed and locked the door. He walked down the hall and realized that he didn’t have a headache for once.

DEAN

    Two weeks trapped in this room. Two weeks! How the hell was he supposed to let Sam and the others know he was alive? He hated the idea that he would have to let them believe he was dead. There had to be some way to pass a message. Dean stared at the wall in thought.

    Dean glanced at the bed in the far corner. He made himself focus on the wall again. His eyes came back to the bed. It would be wrong and rude and most importantly Castiel would probably kill him, but Dean really wanted to lay on that bed. He remembered how his desire for a straw mattress had been the impetus for the finalization of his escape plan. He was willing to bet that this mattress wasn’t straw. It was probably swan feathers or something else super fancy.

    Dean stared hard at absolutely nothing for a few more minutes and then finally caved. He stood up from the chair and listened. There were no footsteps. Dean walked over to the bed and let his body fall on it. Heaven. Absolute heaven. It was the softest thing he had ever felt. He moved himself up so his entire body was on the bed. Dean closed his eyes and felt his sleepless night catching up to him. He jerked his eyes open. He could not fall asleep on Castiel’s bed. He tried to get up, but his body really didn’t want to move. His eyes slid shut again without his permission and he slipped into unconsciousness.

SAM

    Sam paced back and forth across the small room. It only took three strides for him to finish a pass. It was annoying, but Sam couldn’t stop his body from moving. Jo had an infection in that gaping, horrible wound in her stomach and they couldn't go anywhere for medical assistance. And Dean… Dean was… well he wasn’t going to think about Dean. Sam turned and made another quick pass across the room. He chewed on his lower lip and turned again.

    “Sam! That's not helpin’ anything. Quit it. You're drivin’ me nuts!” Bobby spat out, finally frustrated enough with Sam’s pacing to stop him. Sam plopped himself down. He sat perfectly still on the floor. And sat there… and sat there. And he couldn't take it anymore. He started bouncing his knee up and down and drumming his fingers. Bobby sighed and rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

    Finally, Ellen slid into the room, turning around to close and lock the door. Sam leapt to his feet and waited for her news. Ellen turned to them and her face was ashen. Bobby walked up to her and gripped her shoulders.

    “Ellen. What is it?” Bobby was all seriousness.

    “Dean… He was…” she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose. Keeping her eyes closed she continued, “He was executed immediately.”

    Sam's legs gave out and he fell to the ground. His world was spinning. Dean was… dead? No. That wasn't possible. There was no way Dean had been executed like a common criminal. Dean was a hero. How could they not see that? Sam was vaguely aware of Bobby shouting and Ellen sobbing, but he was detached from it all.

    Sam had no idea how much time had passed when Bobby crouched next to him and shook his shoulder. Sam couldn't find a reason to react to the touch. Then Bobby said one word, Sam , and the reality of the situation rushed down on him like a waterfall. He was drowning, no he was sobbing into Bobby's shoulder. His body was shaking and Bobby was patting him on the back in attempted comfort. But nothing could possibly make Sam feel better.

   His brother was dead. Dead! There had never been a time without Dean and now there was and Sam had no idea how he could go on existing. How could there be a Sam without Dean? Sam had no idea how long he cried, but eventually his tears ran out and he just sat on the floor in shock. Bobby went to sit in the room’s one chair, his eyes red. Ellen was lying on the bed next to Jo, slowing petting her hair. Sam just took in what he saw and didn't even try to process it. His brain was numb and lifeless.

    All three of them sat in silence until Jo coughed twice and opened her eyes. She looked first at her mother, who held her own hand to Jo’s forehead, and then at Sam sitting on the floor. She frowned, taking in their blank expressions.

    “What's wrong? What happened?” Jo asked. Sam didn't want to hear it again. He laid down on the floor and tried to pretend the world around him didn't exist.

DEAN

    “Wake up!” someone was shaking Dean, “Why are you on his bed?” Dean abruptly sat up and turned to face the servant who had been in the room when he first arrived.

    “Srry. Didn' mean ta.” Dean slurred, his mind still heavy with sleep.

    “Get off! He'll be back soon,” the servant was pulling on Dean’s arm. Dean stood up and shook the sleep from his mind and body.

    “Are you the one who's gonna be feeding me?” Dean asked. The servant nodded. “Then we should properly meet. I'm Dean Winchester.” Dean held out his hand. Half of him was just being polite and the other really hoped that if the servant liked him then he would get better food.

    The servant's eyes widened at his name, but he took Dean's hand and shook it anyway, “I'm Samandriel, but you're welcome to call me Sam.”

    Dean shook his head, “Nope, Samandriel it is. I've got a little brother named Sam.” Samandriel cocked his head a bit, curious, but refrained from asking. Then he turned around and pointed out a covered dish on the table.

    “There's your dinner. It's not the best, but it's what I could take from the kitchen without it being missed.” Samandriel backed away, preparing to leave.

    “Hey, would you mind staying a bit. I'd like to know more about Castiel.” Dean took the cover off of the dish and his mouth fell open. Not the best? There was a full on steak and mashed potatoes. With gravy. Forget about talking, Dean was going to focus on eating this.

    “He’ll be back soon,” Samandriel repeated, “It's best if I'm not here.”

    “Is he cruel to you?” Dean asked, putting a piece of steak into his mouth. It was the single most amazing thing in the world. Dean closed his eyes, but forced himself to concentrate on what Samandriel was saying.

    “No, not at all. He just… he doesn't like interacting with others. He's always alone.” Samandriel shrugged, “It was before I worked for him, but my father tells me he lost both of his brothers several years ago and was never really the same after.”

    Dean imagined what losing Sam would do to him and shuddered. It was probably more than he could handle. Maybe he understood a little more why Castiel was… the way he was. It didn't mean he forgave him though.

    “Thanks. I like to know a little about the people holding me against my will,” Dean flashed a grin before taking another bite of steak. Samandriel smiled nervously at him and backed towards the servant's entrance.

    “I would be a bit more respectful around the prince. Three years in his service has taught me that much,” Samandriel said.

    “Why? Is that how everyone else treats him?” Dean asked. Samandriel nodded. “Well then, why in the world would I do the same thing? You just told me he doesn't like being around other people. We have to work well together. Maybe, I don’t know, I should learn from the mistakes other people are making?” Dean finished, speaking a little louder than he had intended. Samandriel was looking at him in shock, but not horror. More like awe.

    “You're braver than I could ever be. Good luck.” he really seemed to mean it as he ducked through the small door. Dean was fairly certain he heard the slide of a lock. He jumped up and tugged on the door. Yep. He was locked in. Fantastic.

    Dean sat back down in front of his food and contemplated going on a hunger strike until he was allowed to send a message to his family or actually go see them. He got the feeling that Castiel would just let him starve for two weeks. Plus this was really good food. Dean picked up the fork and finished his plate.

    Half an hour of tense waiting later, Dean heard the slide of the main door's bolt.

CAS

    After another council meeting grinding his teeth together as Crowley told lie after lie, Castiel was ready to relax in his room and forget his problems. But one of his problems was in his room right now. Castiel was planning to have Dean help him, but for now Dean was a problem that needed resolving.

    From what Castiel had seen, Dean had issues with authority. Castiel needed to be in charge of Dean's actions. He saw a potential disaster if he didn't address this immediately. Castiel stalked back to his room, carefully preparing his blank face. It had been so long since he had to worry about someone reading him.

    Castiel slid the bolt back and entered the room. Dean was lounging in Castiel’s chair, seemingly perfectly at ease.

    “Hey, Castiel.” Dean greeted him like they were old friends.

    “Dean, be quiet. We don't want anyone to hear you.” Castiel was especially grumpy after that council meeting and didn't know how to get Dean to keep his distance.

    “I think these walls are pretty thick. Nothing's getting through them. I should know.” Dean smiled. Oh, yes. Dean was a miner. He probably knew all about the stone that went into buildings.

    “How about I don’t want to hear you.” Castiel grumbled and sat on his bed.

    “Damn! Why so grumpy?” Dean asked.

    “It's none of your business.” Castiel muttered and ran a hand across his face.

    “Actually, yes it is.” Dean looked him straight in the eyes, “I still hate you, but we're supposed to be working together or some such shit. You can't keep me in the dark or I’ll be absolutely useless.”

    Castiel raised his eyebrows at Dean and then walked over to where he was sitting. He really needed to make it clear who was in charge.

    “Up. That's my chair. You can sit on the floor,” Castiel could tell Dean was seriously considering not moving. Dean eventually stood up with a pissed expression on his face. He then slowly and meaningfully leaned against the wall. Castiel got the message. I am NOT sitting on the floor. You don't own me. Castiel sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought.

    “For the record, we aren't working together. You are working for me. I make all the rules and you listen to me or I will put you on the execution fast track.” Castiel made sure his face conveyed just how serious he was. Dean shrugged, unimpressed. Castiel pinched his lips together. That's right. Dean wasn't like everyone else. He’d have to change the deal.

    “Or I'll reinstate the manhunt for your family,” Castiel corrected. Dean’s eyes darkened and Castiel could tell he'd hit gold.

    “You know what? I was thinking about considering forgiving you. But you just proved you’re a massive dick and I shouldn't waste the effort.” Dean crossed his arms across his chest.

    Castiel felt a ripple of disappointment, like somewhere he had wanted Dean to like him. Stunned and horrified that he had allowed himself to feel something, Castiel covered it up by being even more abrasive.

    “I don't want your forgiveness! I don't even want you to pretend to get along with me. Just do your job. That is the only reason you're alive. Right now, your job is to be quiet and not be discovered. Alright?” Castiel realized that he was speaking too loud, but was having trouble controlling his voice.

    Dean opened his mouth, but slammed it shut again and stared away from Castiel. Castiel looked down at his desk to begin his paperwork. Problem solved. Dean knew what Castiel expected out of him. So why did Castiel feel like that disappointment was only growing?

DEAN

    That massive dick. Dean had actually been feeling sorry for him. Not anymore. It was his own fault he was so alone. It had been an hour since either of them had said anything and Dean was really sick of standing. But he would die before giving in to Castiel’s demand to sit on the floor.

    Dean was not looking forward to spending two weeks alone with only Castiel for company. Well, there was Samandriel. He was nice enough, even if he was a bit cowed. Maybe he could help Samandriel to grow a backbone by convincing him to carry  a message to Bobby? It was the only plan Dean had, but he didn't know Samandriel well enough to be able to predict if it would work or not.

    Finally tired of the silence, Dean turned to speak to Castiel. Since he wanted to know more about Samandriel anyway, Dan asked, “So, where does Samandriel live? In the castle?” Castiel turned to him, a slight frown on his face.

    “Who?” he seemed truly confused.

    “Samandriel, your servant. Don’t tell me you've never bothered to learn his name?” Dean was horrified. Castiel looked down and actually seemed a little bit embarrassed. His words conveyed an entirely different emotion.

    “It wasn't important. He did his job well enough without me knowing his name.”

    “Are you kidding me? He's been working for you for three years and you never once thought, gee, I should probably ask this kid’s name? No wonder no one likes you. There's more to someone than just what job they can do for you!” Dean realized awkwardly that he wasn't talking about Samandriel anymore and forced himself to shut up.

    “Dean. I need you to help me save my country. I need you to understand that I tell you what to do and you do it. There is no room for error.” Castiel looked up at him and Dean thought he saw desperation hidden in his face.

    “If you truly want my help, you can't just order me around. I've got something up here too,” Dean tapped the side of his head, “and it would be awesome if you'd let me use it.”

    Castiel seemingly forgot to blink as he looked at Dean and considered what he had just said. Dean looked right back, letting Castiel know that he wasn't joking. He wanted a say in this too.

    “Fine. I'll explain everything. You still do what I tell you, when I tell you.” Castiel gave Dean a threatening glare, but his attitude had deflated. Dean smirked and moved closer to Castiel.

    “Yeah, yeah. You're the crown prince and all.” Castiel looked slightly offended, but Dean was happy. Maybe he and Castiel could find a middle ground. He'd never enjoy spending time with the prince and he wouldn’t follow his orders blindly, whatever Castiel said, but at least, maybe,  they could get along.

    It was two hours later and Dean’s head was swimming. Not only was he running only on the half hour of sleep he’d stolen in Castiel’s bed, but he had just been force fed a story which made little to no sense and the prince was looking at him expectantly for some sort of brilliant idea. Nothing was coming.

    As far as Dean understood, the king and queen weren’t Castiel’s real parents. His real parents had been murdered magically by King Lucifer, who was like 500 years old or something, and Crowley and Ruby had taken over Andala basically to sit on the throne and pretend Lucifer didn’t rule the country through them. They both had a little magic and the entire kingdom was under some sort of spell, so they couldn’t just kill them. Oh, yeah. And Crowley had killed Castiel’s brother, Gabriel. What the hell?

    “Tell me about this Joshua guy,” Dean said, buying some more time to think, “He’s Samandriel’s father, right?”

    “Yes. Joshua was on my parent’s council and was the only one who survived. From what he’s said I believe that Crowley slaughtered them with magic and the only reason he is alive is because he practices himself,” Castiel said.

    “This whole magic thing makes my skin itch. How the hell am I supposed to make a plan around it when I have no freakin’ idea how it works?” Dean was frustrated and a bit confused but trying not to show it.

    “Maybe if Joshua explained this to you…”Castiel began.

    “No. I’ve got it. We wait for good ol’ Josh to break some sort of concealment spell and then do... whatever… faster than Crowley or Ruby can respond with magic. What about Lucifer, Castiel? How are you gonna stop him from just repeating the whole takeover process again? Or just killing you?”

    “I have planned for that. King Lucifer holds contracts in high esteem and would never break one, even if he would twist the words to his own benefit. King Crowley is currently in the process of arranging my marriage with King Lucifer’s niece, Meg. I will modify the proposed contract and when I marry her, the kingdom will be safe from him.” Castiel’s face didn’t express any emotion as he said this.

    “Have you met this Meg person?” Dean asked, slightly horrified by the idea of arranged marriage.

    “No. Does it matter? I have to protect my country.” Again, Dean couldn’t find any emotion in Castiel’s face. Castiel truly didn’t seem to care about himself in this arrangement. Dean hadn’t known Castiel for long, but from what Samandriel had told him and from what he’d seen, Castiel was very much alone and… empty. Dean was beginning to understand Castiel’s actions in the mine. He had been focused on one goal: follow Crowley’s orders and fix the problems in the mine. Since Castiel was so empty, he didn’t leave room for compassion in his actions.

    Dean had experienced that when he killed the soldiers in the mine. The first one or two had bothered him, but then he had allowed his mind to focus on the goal of escape and he just hadn’t cared anymore. Dean looked at Castiel and wondered when he had stopped caring and forgotten to start again. When Gabriel died? When Balthazar ran away? When he discovered his parents had been murdered? And when had everyone stopped caring about Castiel?

    Castiel was looking intently at Dean, waiting for a response. Dean didn’t have a proper one. Instead he just had what he felt would help Castiel to be a little more comfortable with him.

    “Hey, Castiel, “ Dean began, “I’m gonna call you Cas.”

    Cas raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked as if he was about to make some big deal about him being the crown prince and etc, etc, etc. But he didn’t. The left corner of  his mouth twitched, like he had thought about smiling for a second.

    “As long as you address me properly in public.” Castiel warned, lowering his eyebrows to let Dean know he was serious.

    “Yeah, yeah. Of course.” Dean grinned. He felt like this was a victory in the ‘let’s try not to hate each other’ department.

    “It’s late. We’re done for tonight.” Castiel stood up and Dean bounced up off of the wall. He was going to regret standing like that for so long in the morning.

    “Hey, where am I sleeping? If you’re keeping me captive in this room for two weeks it’s just common courtesy to give me your bed.” Dean knew Cas would say no, but he had to try. That bed had been amazing.

    “Samandriel will take you to the next room and lock you in.” Castiel had returned to being completely distant.

    “Fine,” Dean pouted, and sat pointedly in Cas’s chair.

Chapter Text

DEAN

    Four days into Dean’s imprisonment, Samandriel forgot to lock the servant’s entrance. Since Dean listened for that snick of the lock every night, he knew immediately that this was his chance. He didn’t want to escape; he was actually willing to help Castiel. Dean was just tired of the same two rooms, Cas’s during the day and the other room, which Samandriel told Dean used to be Cas’s brother’s, Balthazar’s, at night.

    Dean stood and hurried to the small door. He put his ear to it and couldn’t hear anything. He touched the handle, exerting just enough pressure to unlatch the door, and pushed gently. It swung open easily. Grinning like a madman, Dean closed the door again. He’d wait until he thought everyone was asleep.

    Two hours later, Dean tiptoed into the narrow passage. As far as he knew, everyone but the guards stationed in the main hallway was asleep. He still felt the need to constantly check over his shoulder as he headed in the opposite direction of Cas’s room.

    Dean quickly found the end of the passageway. In the wall there was a small door almost identical to the one he’d walked through earlier. He pushed on it and nothing happened. Disappointed, Dean almost turned around to look for another exit when he remembered where he was. He was in a servant’s passageway. The doors would open inwards to be as unobtrusive as possible. Dean grabbed the handle and pulled. The door opened easily.

    This opened into a stairwell which connected to the main hallway to his left. Well, Dean had been planning on leaving the servant’s passage eventually. He sucked in a deep breath and stepped from the rough stone onto the polished marble. He let the door close, praying that it didn’t lock behind him. There was an audible click as the door slid into place. Dean reached backwards, keeping his eyes on the staircase, and tugged on the handle. Nothing. He turned around and pushed and tugged a little more, but the door was sealed shut. Of course, just his luck.

    Dean forced himself to ignore the issue of getting back to the room. He needed to decide where to go. He briefly considered trying to find the library or records room where he could probably gather a ton of useful information. But Dean wanted to actually have a little fun tonight. It seemed to be a rule of Castiel’s that fun was off limits. No matter how many jokes Dean tried to crack (and some of them were hilarious, thank you very much) all he got out of Cas was a longsuffering look and a not-so-subtle direction back to whatever problem they had been discussing.

    So that left Dean at a loss as to where to go. He could wander as long as possible and memorize the layout of the castle. No, according to Samandriel the castle employed lots of guards. One was likely to catch him eventually. Dean would go downstairs and see if he could find someplace to bathe. He was filthy, but Castiel wouldn’t let him leave even to snag a quick bath. Dean hadn’t had a chance to clean himself since he escaped for the mine, and he was sure that he had dirt and dried blood everywhere. And if Castiel noticed that he was cleaner, well then Dean would fess up. Cas couldn’t be too angry since he hadn’t been caught.

    Dean started down the stairs, peering cautiously around the corner when he came to it. There was a guard at the bottom. Dean swore under his breath. There was no way he could get past him without being seen. He backed up silently and turned to go back upstairs. There was no guard at the top of the stairs, but when Dean looked into the hallway, he saw one every few feet. So he was trapped on the stairwell with a door back to safety which wouldn’t open. Damn! He’d been having such a great time breaking the rules too.

    “Think, Winchester, think.” Dean whispered to himself and rubbed his temples. He could just wait out the night chilling on the stairs or he could try to break into the servant’s passage. Dean was all for action, so he turned to the door. He pushed on it again, just in case, but it was definitely locked. Dean began to inspect the hinges and then the lock and handle itself when a hand landed on his shoulder.

    “Shit!” Dean whipped around, standing straight up in the same motion. There was Castiel.  And he was not happy.

    “Dean. Why are you here?” Castiel whispered, “For your own safety you were supposed to stay out of sight.”
    “I know, but I just hate being confined. I just had to stretch my legs a bit and I didn’t think the door would lock behind me…” Dean was babbling some form of explanation while his brain tried to figure out how Cas had snuck up on him, why Cas wasn’t in his own room, and why for the love of God Cas had decided not to wear a shirt.

    “Just, stop. Don’t leave the room again and I’ll forget this happened. Try anything, anything , else and I will throw you back in that dungeon and hunt your family down myself. Are we clear?” Castiel’s blue eyes were hard and Dean couldn’t think of a way he could have been clearer.

    “Yeah, yeah of course. Ten more days of agony and then I’m strapped to your side as your personal protector. Isn’t that fun?” Dean felt a sudden flare of anger as his mind was distracted from skin muscles eyes sofreakin’blue by the comprehension of the threat against his family.

    “I promise, I will be even less pleased than you. Now, come with me. Keep your head down. I don’t want anyone seeing your face.” Castiel began walking towards the hallway and Dean hurried to catch up. It felt like any progress they’d made in not hating each other had been destroyed tonight. Why did Cas always have to go for Dean’s family? Any threat against himself he could handle, but Sam? Jo? Absolutely not.

    Dean sucked a deep breath in through his nose. He understood, he really did. Castiel was smart and knew Dean’s weakness. If Dean wanted something badly enough, he’d probably do the same. Hell, if Dean hadn’t had Sam and Bobby he might be Cas. Cold, hard, uncaring, but focused on the good of the people he cares for. Dean could let his anger go. He could work with Cas. All he needed was for Cas to open up a little more and Dean felt that they would have actually work well together. All their progress wasn’t lost. Dean just had to not destroy it with his anger.

    So why was that so freakin’ difficult?

CAS

    That insufferable miner just didn’t know how to follow orders. No wonder Alastair had hated him so much. Alastair was an idiot, but he’d gotten one thing right. Dean was a troublemaker. As Castiel walked Dean back to his room, he was faced with a problem. He could take Dean to his own bedroom and let the guards make whatever assumptions they wanted or he could drop him off in Balthazar’s room and have them wonder why no one ever came out and risk Crowley or Ruby hearing that someone stayed in Balthazar’s old room which was strictly off limits. Castiel would just have to let the guards think whatever they wanted. He didn’t really care about anyone’s opinion of him anyway.

    He opened his door and pushed Dean inside, monitoring the guard’s faces. Most of them were trained well enough not to react, but two were smirking. Neither looked like they intended to gossip, so Castiel was hopeful of this not spreading far enough that Crowley would hear it. The last thing he needed was some sort of lesson from Ruby, or Crowley’s inquisitive and observant eyes watching him and Dean.

    Dean walked stiffly over to the small door in the back,  obviously intent on getting away from Castiel as quickly as possible. Dean grabbed the handle, pushed down, and slammed his shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge. Dean tried again and nothing happened. Castiel sighed and Dean turned around slowly, his face taught in an almost neutral, but still angry, mask.

    “I forgot. Samandriel always locks that when he leaves. It’s part of protocol to protect against assassins.” Castiel said, not happy with the realization. Dean’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. Cas continued, “You’ll have to sleep here tonight. No, you don’t get the bed. Find anywhere else that’s comfortable.” With that, Castiel turned his back and carefully laid himself down on the mattress.

    He heard Dean muttering to himself. Castiel was pretty sure he heard his own name and some colorful swear words. He didn’t care. He needed Dean to do a job. That was it. He didn’t find him interesting, he did not admire his spirit and courage, and he certainly didn’t feel that little wave of disappointment whenever Dean drew away.

DEAN

    This was fun partially because of the thrill of doing something Castiel would likely kill him for and partially because he was curious about the prince. Dean shuffled through papers on the desk and put them back down, disappointed. Just more production reports. Cas didn't leave many clues about himself in the room. It was almost clinically clean. This made Dean’s mission of snooping pretty difficult. The most interesting discovery Dean made was that Cas had very few clothes and they were all exact copies of each other. Except for his one set of tighter fitting fancier clothes which, and Dean pretended he hadn't thought this, he would probably kill to see Cas in.

    However much the prince annoyed him, Dean had to admit that he was distractingly attractive. Often Dean found himself forcing his eyes up to Cas’s face. It didn't really help. Those freakin’ intense, blue eyes were always enough to get Dean a little hot under the collar.

    Realizing he’d let his mind wander, Dean forced himself to focus. Samandriel would be here soon and he felt confident enough to try convincing him to get a message to Bobby. He'd been here one week and was flipping out thinking that his family either thought he was dead or was planning some stupid ass rescue mission. Dean knew how stubborn they could be. They would never leave him behind. The snick of the servant's door unlocking made Dean jump to his feet. Show time.

    “Hello, Dean. Time to go.” Samandriel had hardly entered the room before he was turning back around. Dean followed him, but stopped walking as soon as they were both in the passage. Dean took a deep breath. With Samandriel it was best to be upfront about what he wanted and not beat about the bush.

    “Samandriel, you know how I said I have a brother, Sam?” Samandriel nodded, “Well, he thinks I'm dead right now. So does the rest of my family.” Samandriel frowned, obviously not seeing where Dean was going with this. Right, straight forward. “Would you please just go tell them that I'm alive and, you know, not exactly imprisoned? I get that it's some big secret, but I don't want them to try to break me out or anything stupid.”

    Samandriel looked at him with eyes as wide as saucers, “The prince would kill me! No one is supposed to know about you.”

    “Does family, who have nothing to do with this shit, really count? All I want you to do is go down to the tavern by the south gate and see if they're still there. If they're not, I'm not gonna ask you to go find them. If they are, all you gotta do is tell them three things. Three. Dean's alive, Dean's not in prison, and that he'll come find them through Rufus when he can. Simple, right?” Dean flashed his most dashing grin.

    “Not simple. I could die. Prince Castiel would not take well to this.” Samandriel looked legitimately scared.

    “Ah. He's not that bad. He's just grumpy and doesn't know basic people skills. I've pissed him off about fifty times this week and I'm still alive.”

    “I'll try... I'm not promising anything.” Samandriel lowered his eyebrows, thinking, and began walking away down the tunnel. Dean trotted after him. That was the best he was expecting.

    “Thank you.” Samandriel let Dean into Balthazar’s old room. Dean always felt a little awkward sleeping here, but it was bearable.

    “Well, I owe you. You finally taught the prince my name. That's bothered me for years.” Samandriel smiled and glanced back at Dean. Dean chuckled and they said their good nights. Dean laid down on the mattress and listened for the snick of the lock as he did every night. He wasn’t exactly planning to sneak out again, but given the opportunity he wasn’t sure what he would do. He heard it slide closed and, sighing, rolled over. He closed his eyes and felt sleep taking him over.

     Cas was close, way too close, to Dean. Dean needed to back up or his hands were going to start doing things he would rather they didn't. But Cas moved a step closer and their chests bumped together. Dean’s breathing hitched and he tried to step back. Cas wrapped an arm around his waist.

    Nope, nope. Not okay. Dean began to pull away in earnest, but Cas continued to lean forwards while pinning Dean tighter to his chest. Then Cas’s soft lips were on his. A hot spike shot down Dean's spine. His brain screamed at him to pull away, but his body moved closer. He let his lips fall apart and Cas bit at his lower lip. Dean moaned and his hands moved without his permission to tangle themselves in Cas’s hair.

    Cas released his lip and Dean pressed his open mouth against Cas’s, his tongue roughly slipping between those perfect lips. It was Cas’s turn to moan as he began pushing Dean across the room. As Dean's back hit the wall, his lips were roughly broken away from Cas’s. Cas immediately began to suck at Dean’s neck. Dean's head slammed back against the wall and spots which had nothing to do with hitting the wall flashed in front of his eyes. Cas slipped his leg between Dean’s and…

    “Dean! Time to get up.” Samandriel yelled.

    Dean bolted upright before he was even properly awake. holyshitholyshitholyshit He did NOT just dream about Cas and him… No. As far as he was concerned, he never had that dream, never thought about Cas that way… Oh God. He was just glad Samandriel had woken him up when he did. He bull-headedly ignored the tiny piece of his brain which said that he would really rather have stayed asleep.

    He was halfway to Castiel’s room when Dean realized he’d been reliving the dream. Rewinding it, playing it at half speed, committing it to memory. Crap. He had to act normal. Normal, Winchester.

CAS

    One week. One week Dean Winchester had been rude, pushy, and disrespectful. One week Castiel had avoided his room and hid in the library. But surprisingly not because Dean annoyed him. No. Because he enjoyed spending time with Dean a little too much.

    It scared Cas. He wasn't supposed to feel or enjoy anything. If life was bland, then nothing mattered and he couldn't be hurt. But he couldn't be bland around Dean. Yesterday, Dean had almost made him laugh. It had been years since Castiel had even been amused. Castiel had freed Dean to be used like a tool to fix his problems. You don't enjoy spending time with your tools. You use then when you need them and leave them in a drawer when you don't.

     Dean felt more like a… partner. No, Dean was forcing himself to be a partner. Cas still remembered that first day when Dean had told him that they were supposed to work together. Castiel didn't work with anyone. He worked alone. He was always alone, even around others. Except with Dean. Dean saw through him and wasn't afraid to call him out on his bullshit. Annoying, but terribly addictive to be around.

    And that why Cas was running from it. Addictions were shameful and deteriorated your judgement. Castiel had no time for anything like that. That was why his face was always stone and his voice gravel when Dean walked in every morning. Castiel closed his eyes. That would be any minute now. He had to focus on that wall. The wall between rational thought and chaotic emotions. Ever since he’d let his anger over Crowley’s deception escape, that wall had been deteriorating, but Dean wielded a pickaxe compared to the drips of water others used to wear it down. Castiel saw the handle of the door turn and his eyes hardened.

    Samandriel walked in first and immediately went to make Castiel’s bed. Dean ducked in and closed the door behind him, pointedly not looking at Cas. He stomped over to the second chair Cas had had brought in for him a few days ago. Dean sat down hard and crossed his arms, still looking away from Cas. Cas cocked his head and stared at the back of Dean’s neck. He could swear he was blushing. Well, this was different.

    “Good morning, Cas,” Dean said in a deadpan voice.

    “Good morning,” Cas replied, allowing his concern to leak slightly into his voice before realizing that he wasn’t supposed to be concerned. He covered it with abrasiveness,”You’ve been here a little over a week and you still haven’t come up with a single plan. I’m beginning to wonder why I spared your life at all.” At this, Dean finally turns to look at him. He raises his eyebrows, unimpressed.

    “All your vague threats and insults got old day two. You’ll have to come up with some new ones. And, for your information…”

    “You breed with the mouth of a goat.” Cas blurts out, the first insult he can think of to meet Dean’s challenge. Dean stops short and stares at him for a second before breaking down laughing, gasping for breath. Cas is actually a bit worried for him. He seems to have had some sort of mental break.

    Gasping between laughs, Dean manages to choke out, “Cas… I didn’t… I didn’t actually want... you to… to insult me.”

    And then the impossible happens. Cas is just looking at Dean who is honest to goodness bent in half and incapacitated with hilarity. And then he feels it spread across his face unbidden. The second he is aware of it, it falls away. He smiled. He smiled without forcing his lips into the crescent. Dean Winchester made him smile. This was not good. If he couldn’t even control his face around Dean, he wasn’t sure how he could work with him. He couldn’t even be around him. He was destroying what Castiel had spent years building up!

    Castiel erupted out of his chair, sending it falling backwards, Dean had finished with his bout of laughter and his mouth was hanging slightly open as he stared at Cas. Castiel didn’t know why and he didn’t care. Dean was a tool. He didn’t care unless Dean was doing something useful.

    “When you actually do what you’re here for and come up with a plan, send Samandriel for me. Samandriel, you know where I’ll be.” With that he stormed off. He went straight to the library, his hideout from all things Dean . He stalked over to the section about war. It had some good strategy book which might spark some ideas. He walked up to the first shelf and stared blankly at the titles. He honestly didn’t care which book. Anything which would get his mind off of how he’d smiled because of Dean. Of all people. Why…

    Castiel violently grabbed a book at random off of the shelf and cut off his thoughts, clearing his brain. He found the nearest table and sank into the chair. He opened to the middle of the book and began pouring the words into his brain. He was 90% sure he’d read it before. It didn’t matter. It filled his brain and didn’t allow for other thoughts about… No. He wasn’t going there. He focused on the book.

     The siege tower is a costly, but effective structure. While it take more manpower, time, and currency to build than something smaller, such as a catapult, it is invaluable. A catapult can damage an enemy behind walls, but only by breaching those walls can a battle be won. A properly constructed siege tower offers protection, transportation, and…

    “I should have known I’d find you in the library. Always were a studious child.” Crowley had placed a hand on his shoulder. Castiel turned around, tucking the rage and disgust in a small, but very much aware, pocket of his brain. Crowley removed his hand, dragged the chair to Castiel’s left a little closer, and sat.

    “Hello. What may I do for you?” Castiel felt like this question was a bit odd, but he honestly had nothing better to say to this man.

    “Well, Castiel, we’ve talked a lot about this, but I think it’s finally time to make things official with Meg and King Lucifer. As long as you’re willing to sign, I’ll draw up the contract and you two can be married in six months, as is custom.” Crowley sounded smug and Castiel hated that he had to pretend to be fooled by him.

    “I’m perfectly willing to sign as long as I have reviewed the contract and have full editing privileges. It is my marriage after all.” Castiel spoke slowly and confidently.

    Crowley seemed reluctant to agree, but looking into Castiel’s eyes he saw the determination and he caved. “As long as it’s nothing too drastic, you may have full editing privileges. I’ll have the papers drawn up by next week. Thank you, Castiel. You’re doing your kingdom a great service.” Crowley patted him on the shoulder and stood up to leave. Castiel didn’t like the qualifier Crowley had tagged onto the beginning, but knew it was the best he’d get out of him.

    “My pleasure. Good day.” Castiel said, no pleasure in his voice, and returned to the open book in front of him.

DEAN

    Okay….Cas had totally just given him whip lash. One second Dean was laughing himself hoarse and then he looked up and Cas was smiling. Smiling! Dean’s stomach had done a little flip and he was pretty sure his mouth had been hanging open. It was the single most gorgeous thing Dean had ever seen. And then it was gone. Cas just got really angry and stormed off. For absolutely no good reason. None!

    Dean blinked hard and stood up. He turned to pace across room and saw Samandriel making the bed. Dean was surprised that Samandriel had been so quiet. Dean had actually forgotten that he was there until Cas spoke to him.

    “What was that about?” Dean jerked his thumb backwards to where Cas had been sitting. He hoped Samandriel had some insight that he didn’t.

    “The prince has never said anything like that before. You have an odd effect on him. I think he surprised himself.” Samandriel shrugged, obviously not caring much about interpreting Castiel’s reaction.

    “Yeah, right. That must be it.” Dean muttered and rubbed his face. Cas did have a point though. Dean needed to come up with a plan. Dean laid down on the floor and stared at the ceiling. He watched as Samandriel finished with the bed, collected the dirty sheets, and left. He went back to staring at the ceiling. His best plan was just to sneak up behind Crowley and knife him in the ribs. Obviously, that needed a lot more detail if it was to be remotely plausible. What he really needed to know was how Crowley did his magic. If Dean gagged or paralyzed him, could he still do it with mental juju or something?

    For that answer, Dean would have to visit Joshua. And to visit Joshua he needed to leave this room. So that would be six days from now. He would survive...barely if Cas kept acting like that. Dean closed his eyes and let his mind wander. Sometimes his craziest ideas came when he wasn’t trying to think of them. Dean was half asleep when someone tripped over his foot and he heard a rough voice curse. His eyes popped open. Confirmed, Cas had just tripped on him.

    “Dean. Get off the floor. I got you a chair. Use it.” Cas settled into his chair and faced Dean. Dean rolled his eyes, but complied. It really wasn’t worth fighting. “In a week or so I will have the marriage contract and I’ll want your help reviewing it. I don’t care about territories or safe passage, all I care about are the sections about aggression or war. Every word must be perfect.”

    “You’re getting married in a week?” Dean tried not to squeak. Events were moving faster than he thought they would.

    “No, I’m getting engaged when we send out the contract. I’ll be married in six months.” Cas explained. Dean relaxed. He had at least six months before he had to have a solid plan for deposing the two false rulers.

JO

    It was quite possibly too much for Jo. The idea that Dean had been captured and killed saving her would haunt her forever. It didn’t matter that he’d saved her life and that because he was captured they weren’t wanted anymore. He had sacrificed himself for them, like he always did.

     And Sam...Sam seemed to have had a mental breakdown and likely would never be the same again. He hardly talked and didn’t do anything unless Ellen or Bobby explicitly told him to. Jo got the feeling that he was very busy cooking up some complex revenge plot. Because that was Sam: sweet and loving until you got on his bad side and then he’d calculate the exact angle for maximum pain and gut you in your sleep.

    Jo knew that all they wanted to do was leave the city, and the memories, behind. But they couldn’t, again because of her. Ellen and Bobby agreed that if she travelled, her injury would get a lot worse and her fever could come back. So they waited and sat in that dingy little room all day. How her mother had gotten the money to pay for it, Jo didn’t even want to ask. It probably involved alcohol and pickpocketing.

    Jo was really tired of this bed and this room and this city. She turned her head to look past Sam’s hunched over figure to the door. Her mother had said they could probably leave in a week. They’d already been here a week and it was hell. No one’s sanity would last another one. Then a knock came at the door. All four of them were already in the room. Bobby stood up slowly and went to the door. Leaving the chain in place, he cracked the door. Jo saw a flash of curly blonde hair.

    “Are you Sam or Bobby?” she sounded sweet, but like she was prepared and able to beat up anyone who got in her way.

    “And who’re you?” Bobby said gruffly.

    “Samandriel sent me with a message. I just need to make sure you’re the right people,” she said.

    “I still don’t have your name. And I don’t know a Samaniel. ” Bobby said and Jo could imagine his eyes narrowing.

    “Goddamit, Bobby! Just get the message,” Ellen said.

    The blonde hair moved as if she’d cocked her head, “So you’re Bobby. I’m Jessica.”

Chapter Text

SAM

     Not only was Jessica probably the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, but she had just finished telling him the only thing that could possibly matter at the moment: Dean was alive. Sam just sat in the chair, in shock, staring at Jessica.

    “What in the hell? You better…” Bobby began, but Sam cut him off.

    “Take me to see him.” Sam demanded, standing up. Everyone’s attention shifted to him.

    “That wasn’t part of the deal. He’s sort of hiding out at the palace right now while helping the prince. He’s safe… the prince just doesn’t want him to be noticed.” Jessica explained.

    “Then make it part of the deal. I’m seeing my brother.” Sam refused to back down. Jessica considered Sam for a moment and then flipped her hair.

    “Alright, as long as you don’t slow me down. And if there’s trouble, I’m dumping your ass. Deal?” Jessica smiled and held out a hand. Sam shook it, thinking that he’d like to see Jessica smile a lot more. He shook his head slightly. He was focusing on Dean right now.

   “Deal. When do we leave?” Sam asked.

   “Now.” Jessica pulled her hood up and walked back to the door. Sam followed, but a heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him.

    “You think you’re goin’ alone?” Bobby demanded.

    “...Yes?” Sam tried.

    Bobby just glared at him, picked up two cloaks, and forcefully handed one to Sam. Sam and Jessica sighed at the same time.

    “See you boys later… and in one piece.” Ellen looked pointedly at both of them. Jo struggled to sit up a bit more so she could twist around to fully look at the two of them.

    “Tell Dean that I’m going to kill him for pulling that stupid ass move on the stage. K?” Jo grinned wide.

    “Will do.” Sam promised and turned to Jessica who was impatiently tapping her foot, “Lead the way.”

    Jessica hurried out and Sam and Bobby followed. Sam felt like a ball of nervous energy. He was sneaking into the castle to see his brother, who was supposed to be dead, and his guide was a blonde bombshell full of attitude. It felt like since this morning, when all his energy had been poured into grief, had happened ages ago in some distant past. Then, life had stood still. Now, life was racing forward and pulling him along in its wake.

    Sam was a little disappointed when Jessica simply walked in through the front doors. He was expecting some complicated break in. Jessica led him almost all the way up to the throne but turned off to walk through a door just before they reached it. She walked into a large room. Sam froze. He might have been seven the last time he actually read something, but he knew how amazing it had been. He was currently in a room full from floor to ceiling with books. He’d have to brush up on his reading skills, but nothing would keep him from coming back here and swallowing the place whole.

    “Sam. Come on.” Jessica urged him along.

    “Yeah, okay.” Sam turned to walk backwards as he exited the room, sending longing glances at the stacks of books. When he turned back around, he saw that Jessica was leading him to a staircase in the corner.

    “So, you like books?” Jessica asked, glancing back over her shoulder as she began to climb the stairs.

    “Uh... I guess… I mean I don’t really know. The last time…” Bobby interrupted him.

    “The kid loves reading. Couldn’t get enough of it.” Bobby says, looking at Sam suspiciously.

    “If the prince lets you come more often, once Dean isn’t in hiding, you could probably spend some time there.” Jessica said, a kind of sad undertone to her voice.

    “That sounds great. Thanks, Jess.” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. Why was she mentioning visiting more often in a sad voice? Had he made a really bad impression somehow?

    They passed the second floor and walked in silence up to the third floor. Jessica didn’t go to the main hallway. She ducked into a small door which led to a dark passage. Sam glanced at Bobby who just shrugged and walked through the door. Sam followed. Jessica led them past two doors and gently knocked on the third.

   “Samandriel! Why are you knocking?” Dean’s voice asked through the door. Sam went stiff. Dean’s voice had hit him like a freight train, knocking the last of the grief and worry out of his head. Jessica opened the door and Sam rushed past her. Dean was laying on a bed in the corner with his head and half of his body hanging off of it. Dean glanced up. He just about fell of the bed as he recognized Sam.

    “Sammy?” Dean asked as he actually did fall off the bed in his haste to get to Sam. Dean ran the three steps it took to get to Sam and then wrapped him in a hug. Sam was too relieved at being with his brother to even consider that it might be embarrassing. Then he remembered how Dean got there in the first place.

    “You idiot!” Sam said, shoving his brother away, “Why would you leave me behind?”

DEAN

    Soon after announcing that he would need Dean’s help with the contract, Cas left again. He was always leaving Dean alone. Dean might still hold what Cas did to Sam against the prince, but he was bored and lonely and really wished that Cas would spend more time in his room. Or Samandriel, he didn’t care. He just needed to do something.

    Thinking of Samandriel made Dean wonder if he had tried to get the message to Sam yet. Dean really hoped so. The idea that they thought he was dead or were risking their necks to free him was torturing him even more than the boredom. Dean sat on the floor and traced patterns in the stone under him. Snooping on Cas had gotten old a while ago, Cas didn’t keep books in here, and basically Dean had nothing to do. At all. His body was used to constantly being worked to its limit in the mines and here he was just sitting around. Maybe he should exercise? No, definitely not.

    Dean grumbled and flopped down on the floor. Four more days and then he’d be out of this room. But, then he would have to follow Castiel around. He might actually miss these two weeks of misery. Dean rolled to his side. The floor was so uncomfortable. He glanced longingly at the bed. Who cared if Cas killed him? Dean jumped up and laid on the bed.

    Staring at the ceiling only occupied him for so long. So he stared at the wall until that got old too. Then he hung his head off the bed and stared at the same wall, but upside down… it wasn’t really that different. Dean heard a knock at the door.

    “Samandriel! Why are you knocking?” Dean yelled. Should he get off the bed? Nah, Samandriel wouldn’t mind… too much. Dean looked at the door as it opened, preparing himself to possibly be shooed away from comfort. But it wasn’t Samandriel walking through that door. Dean’s body somehow managed to jump and he nearly fell off the bed.

     “Sammy?” Dean tried to swing his legs around to get off the bed. Instead he landed on his head, did a sort of roll, and jumped to his feet. He wrapped Sam in a hug, not even caring that there were two other people in the room. Sam was here and he was safe. Dean was perfectly happy until Sam pushed him away.

    “You idiot!” Sam shouted, “Why would you leave me behind?”

    “Cause you're a drag and a bother.” Dean grinned at him and then looked at the other people. One was a curly blonde around Sam's age and the other was Bobby.

    “Bobby? Why are you two even here?” Dean asked, suddenly afraid of what Castiel might be planning.

    “Cause you're a damned fool, boy. Running off without us, jumpin’ up on that stage. What's wrong with you?” Bobby seemed very close to losing his temper.

    “Well if you two are just gonna yell at me you might as well go.” Dean said, crossing his arms.

    “They can't stay anyway. Sam just wanted confirmation you were alive.” The blonde said and Sam’s eye were focused on her the entire time she was speaking. Oh no, Dean thought, we might have a problem here.

    “We're not just gonna leave him here,” Bobby said, outraged, distracting Dean from thinking about Sam and blondie.

    “Yes you will. I have important business here.” Dean looked sternly at Bobby.

    “Really? You get to laze around some rich, fancy room? How's that important?” Bobby demanded.

    “I can't tell you. You two weren't even supposed to come here. Samandriel was just supposed to give you a message. I'll stay here if I want. And I do. Who are you, anyway, and where’s Samandriel?” Dean directed the last sentence at the blonde.

    “I'm Jessica, Samandriel’s cousin. He didn't want to be recognized as the prince's servant, so he sent me.” She pursed her lips and silently challenged Dean to keep questioning her. Dean decided it was better not to and looked away.

    “But why would a prince need you? You don't have money or influence or anything,” Sam asked, dragging Dean back to the original conversation. Dean tried not to be hurt by that, but it still stung a bit.

    “I. Can't. Tell. You. And now I don't want to either.” Dean gave them a fake smile.

    “Whoa, boys. Calm down ya idjits. Dean, why are you helping him?” Bobby said, obviously frustrated.

    “It's a good cause, that's why, Bobby.” Dean said.

    “And if ya refuse he's gonna put you back in prison, right?” Bobby phrased it as a question, but said it more like a statement. Dean briefly considered telling him the truth that, no, he would make all of you wanted again and then probably have me executed, but he didn't want to worry them.

    “Yeah. So. He feels safer being able to hang something over my head. This is really serious business, Bobby. Don't make this harder than it has to be.” Dean would refuse to leave. He couldn't run the chance that the manhunt Cas would start would actually catch any of his family.

    “There's no talkin’ to ya when you're like this. Whatever. I trust you, Dean. As soon as you're done, you come find us?” Bobby looked Dean straight in the eyes.

    “Of course, Bobby.” Dean wasn't going to mention that it would be at least six months.

    “Where are we going to stay, Bobby?” Sam asked, “Dean will need to know where to go.”

    “Oh, I'm staying in the city where I can keep an eye on that one.” Bobby jerked his thumb towards Dean. Dean made an outraged noise and Sam chuckled. Jessica looked between the two of them with sad eyes but a ghost of a smile on her face.

    “We’ve got to go, guys. I don’t know when the prince will be back,” Jessica warned.

    “Yeah, it’s about time for Cas to come back.” Dean responded, even though he would love to have more time with Sam and Bobby, he knew Cas was probably just finishing dinner. All three of them looked at him a bit strangely and Dean realized he’d left out all the official title bullshit. Oh well.

     "I'll bring them back when the prince actually allows it," Jessica promised, smiling.

     "Thanks," Dean replies, "I assume no one's gonna tell... the prince about this?"

     "You guessed right!" Jessica pointed at Dean and clicked her tongue.

     “Okay, Jess, lead the way, I guess,” Sam said, gesturing to the door. Sam forced Dean to hug him goodbye while Jessica and Bobby ducked back into the servant’s passage.

    “Hey, Sam. How’s Jo doing?” Dean asked, the thought just now occurring to him.

    “She’s doing much better. Her stomach’s all closed up, but she’s still in pain. Um, she had a bit of a hard time when she thought you died saving her, but she’s fine now.” Sam said, shifting on his feet. Dean figured it wasn’t just Jo who’d had a hard time. Dean decided the mood needed to be lightened before Sam left.

    “So, you’ve already given her a nickname,” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. Sam looked confused for a moment and then pulled his bitch face.

    “So what? Like you’re any better. You’ve already given the prince a nickname.” Sam grinned.

    “It’s not like that. His name’s Castiel. That’s a weird ass name and…” Dean defended himself.

    “Yeah right,” Sam interrupted, rolling his eyes.

    “Sam! Get a move on! We don’t have all day.” Jessica shouted from the tunnel.

    Sam turned towards the tunnel, “Coming!”

    “Bossy, ain’t she?” Dean smirked. Sam punched him lightly on the arm.

    “Shut up, jerk.”

    “Bitch.”

    Sam smiled and disappeared into the passage, closing the door behind him. Dean sighed and sat on the floor. He was relieved that they didn’t think he was dead. One less thing to think about. Now, he really needed to worry about how to word that freakin’ contract.

Chapter Text

CAS

    It was time to kick Dean out of his room. Two weeks ago Castiel had impulsively brought Dean back from the dungeon and it had been one of the best decisions of his life. Cas caught himself and wiped the last half of that sentence from his mind. It had been a strategically smart decision. Yes, that sounded a lot better. Cas nodded to himself.

    He walked down the rest of the hallway and stopped in front of his door. Once he went inside, he’d have to drag Dean out and announce his presence to Crowley. Then Dean would sleep with the servants, not one room over, and he would be acting in an official capacity as Castiel’s personal guard. Would Dean stop acting like they were friends? Stop it. Dean is just a friendly person. He hates you, remember? Cas reminded himself for the third time that day.

    Cas stared at the door a moment longer and then turned around. He’d kick Dean out later. He told himself that he hadn’t thought of exactly how to introduce him to Crowley yet, but the truth was that he wasn’t ready to have his room be empty when he came back to it. He wasn’t ready to make Dean a servant or to be the only one sleeping on that side of the castle. He needed more time to prepare himself to be lonely again. Two weeks of Dean wasn’t enough.

    Cas shook his head. Why wouldn’t his mind stay on track? He was trying to think of how to introduce Dean to Crowley, and when he did he would go back to that room and remove Dean for good. Castiel marched into the lounge on the second floor and dropped into a chair. The castle had no guests at the moment, so it was empty. Cas stared into his lap for a while, not really thinking. His knee began to bounce. His teeth worried his lip and he hopped up to pace the room. He’d mostly given up the effort, but he tried once more to shove all of his emotions into that lovely, little, dark corner. He wasn’t worried. He wasn’t lonely. He wasn’t looking forward to his next conversation with Dean. He wasn’t even angry with Crowley. He just existed and did what needed to be done. Cas focused for a few minutes until he realized that his brain had started to replay the memory of Dean laughing in the back of his head. It was a hopeless cause. He was feeling again and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t even know if that was a bad thing anymore.

    Cas closed his eyes and resolved not to worry about it. He’d proven that he could still function with emotions, so it didn’t matter much one way or the other. One deep breath later and Cas was marching back through the halls to his room. Just because Dean wasn’t contained to his room didn’t mean that their relationship had to change. Dean would still be Dean and, despite how annoying Cas had found him at first, that made Cas’s life so much better.

    When Cas reached his door, he swung it open and marched in. Dean sprung up from the chair. Cas struggled to not smile at the surprised look on his face.

    “Why are you here so early? Is something wrong?” Dean asked.

    “I’m taking you to announce you as my personal guard.” Cas announced, keeping his voice monotone.

    “Awesome! I can finally get out of this room.” Dean seemed excited, but a little stab of hurt went through Cas. Dean obviously didn’t find him as enjoyable to be around as he found Dean. And why would he? Cas was the one who had caused so much trouble for him back in the mine and, even now, he was keeping Dean from his family and was more like a slab of stone than good company. Cas pushed these thoughts away, knowing as he did so that they would plague him later.

    “You’re still stuck with me though. Head out through the servant’s passage and meet me on the stairs. You know the way.” Castiel instructed. Dean looked down at the floor, slightly embarrassed since the last sentence referred to when he snuck out at night, but obeyed Cas. Cas walked out through the main doors, alone. He didn’t want anyone wondering where Dean had come from. No one paid attention to the servant passages. They wouldn’t notice Dean popping out. He hurried down the hallway and turned right onto the stairwell. Dean was already there, leaning casually against the wall.

    “What took you so long?” Dean asked as if he’d been waiting there a while when Cas knew it couldn’t have been more than a minute.

    “I promise you, I walked expeditiously,” Cas replied. Dean cracked a smile and walked down the stairs. Cas really didn’t want to do this, but it was necessary. “Dean. Stop. You’ll need to walk behind me like a servant would.” Dean looked back and his eyes hardened.

    “Oh, yeah. Right.” He stopped and let Castiel pass him. Cas winced inside at what he was going to say next. He didn’t see Dean as a servant and he really didn’t want Dean to feel like one, but it was necessary to keep up appearances.

    “You will also need to address me properly and not speak so casually. Address Crowley as your majesty,” those words were particularly distasteful, “and kneel in his presence. Also, don’t talk to him beyond that. You don’t really know the proper vocabulary.” Looking back, Cas realized that he probably should have been enforcing this and teaching Dean how to be a servant from day one, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret that lapse in judgement.

    “Ok, Cas,” Dean pinched his lips together and closed his eyes, “Your highness. ”

    “If it was just you and me, I wouldn’t care.” Cas blurted out. He mentally kicked himself. Dean probably didn’t care what he thought. Dean was here to do a job. He hated Cas. How could Cas keep forgetting that.

    Dean’s eyes softened a bit and he whispered, “Thanks, Cas,” as if the name was some big secret that only the two of them knew. Cas let himself smile, knowing that all Dean could see was the back of his head. Every once in awhile Dean would do something like that and confuse Cas entirely. He just had to keep reminding himself of Dean’s hate-filled face when he was in the prison cell. That always managed to kill Cas’s false hope for any sort of friendship.  

    They had reached the first floor and Cas led Dean out into the throne room briefly and then into the council chamber behind it. Crowley and three of the council members were sitting there. Two of the council members were arguing with each other while the third was intently taking notes.Crowley just looked disgusted and bored. Castiel marched up to him.

    “Father, I would like to acquire a personal guard.”

    “Finally. I’ve only been trying to convince you since you were fourteen.” Crowley laced his fingers together and waited for Castiel to continue.

    Motioning for Dean to come closer, Castiel introduced him,“This is Jensen. I would like him to fill that position.”

    Dean knelt and bowed his head. Crowley didn’t even spare him a glance. “Whoever you think is best Castiel.”

    “Thank you.” Castiel backed away. Dean glanced up, hesitated for half a second and then hurried to follow Castiel. Thank goodness Crowley was too busy being bored to notice Dean’s inexperience. Cas had been expecting a little more scrutiny from Crowley. He should have known that Crowley wouldn’t care about his safety. He had killed Gabriel after all. Cas ground his teeth together and his fists clenched. Cas walked into the library and sat down in one of the chairs. Dean shifted on his feet.

    “You can sit down. Just don’t get out of sight,” Cas instructed.

    “Yes, your highness.” Dean replied and sat in the nearest chair. It seemed physically painful for Dean to say that. Cas hated it.

    “When you see Samandriel next, he’ll take you to the garrison to get a sword and whatever other equipment you think you need.” Cas was having a hard time imagining Dean in full armour like a personal guard should have, so he figured it was best to let Dean choose what would work for him and let people criticize. Dean nodded, his lips clamped shut. Cas got it. He was unwilling to use a term of respect when he had no respect for Castiel. Cas closed his eyes in pain. Why did being around Dean have to be so confusing?

DEAN

    Cas closed his eyes in frustration. Dean knew he annoyed Castiel and that he should have used some term of respect, but he hated it. He hated that Cas saw him as nothing more than a tool and a servant. He wanted Cas to be his friend. Dean didn’t even know if Cas was capable of having a friend. He was so emotionally cut off. It was hard to get past that, but Dean had learned what some of the little shifts in his expression meant.

    When his eyes tightened, he was angry. When the corners of his lips twitched he was happy or amused. Dean continued to think about Cas’s face and then realized what he was doing. He quickly pushed those thoughts away. The chances of Cas wanting him as a friend were low, but the chances of… that... happening were nonexistent. That didn’t keep Dean’s mind from wandering down that path. What was wrong with him. He liked Jo, right? Women. Not Cas.

    The more Dean thought about it, the more he realized that since he’d been with Cas his only thoughts about Jo had been for her health and safety. Honestly, he didn’t think that much about anyone else when he was with Cas. Dammit, Dean. What was wrong with him? Cas had brought him here for a job and when that was over, Dean would leave and never see Cas again. For someone he had claimed to hate, the thought of never seeing him again felt oddly painful. Of course, if Dean was being honest with himself, he knew that he hadn’t truly hated Cas for awhile.

    Cas suddenly jumped to his feet and began pacing. Dean’s eyes followed him back and forth across the room. If they had been alone, Dean would be asking what was wrong and possibly saying something sarcastic about sitting still. But he couldn’t talk to Cas like that anymore. Dean sighed through his nose and settled deeper into his chair. He would be bored, lonely, and sexually frustrated… every day. For at least six months. It hadn’t taken nearly as long as Dean had thought it would to miss those two weeks of confinement. Time would be passing very slowly.

CAS

   The week it took for Crowley to get the marriage contract ready seemed to take forever, but when he finally did, Cas was ready to burn it and Crowley alive. He would never, NEVER, sign anything like this. Cas stumbled over his own foot as he paced the length of his room. He cursed at it and silently berated himself for not sleeping last night. It had been stupid, but he didn’t know that he could have slept even if he’d tried. He turned to walk across his room again when he heard a small knock on his door.    

    “Dean! How many times do I have to tell you that you can just walk in?” Cas yelled.   

    The door opened and Dean walked in, “Samandriel told me it was required of servants.”

    “I don’t care what is required of servants. You don’t need to knock.” Cas glared at Dean who frowned and seemed to process Cas’s slightly manic mood for the first time.

   “Cas, you okay?” Dean glanced from the rings under Cas’s eyes to the piles of paper covering his desk to his perfectly made bed, “You didn’t sleep.” Dean’s face looked like he was calmly preparing for the apocalypse.

    “No, I didn’t. Crowley, that lying snake, gave me the contract after you left. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to pretend to be fooled by an idiot?” Cas flung his hands in the air and turned to pace some more. Cas felt a warm hand settle on his shoulder. A shiver traveled down his arm as Dean pulled him so that they faced each other.

    “Where is the contract?” Dean’s green eyes were looking straight into Cas’s eyes. Cas never wanted to look away. Then he blinked and shook his head. Whoa, he was very low on sleep.

    “It’s somewhere on the desk.” Cas really couldn’t remember when he’d gone from studying the contract to just having an angry rant in his head.

    “Okay. You. Bed. I will look at the contract and will have made important notes and shit by the time you wake up.” Dean turned Cas around by his shoulders and pushed him towards the bed. Cas felt like this was wrong somehow but couldn’t really remember. He resisted Dean.

    “Cas! Just get into the damn bed.” Dean shoved at his shoulders again and Cas gave in. He wasn’t going to be useful with his brain like this anyway. He stumbled towards the bed and sank down on it as soon as he got close enough. A thought was niggling at the back of his mind. Something he wanted to say to Dean.

    “Dean…” Cas struggled to remember.

    “Yes, Cas,” Dean seemed amused, probably because Cas had slurred his name. Suddenly it came to Cas.

    “Please don’t leave me.” A warning bell went off in Cas’s head. He didn’t know why that wasn’t a good thing to say. He meant it. Everyone else had left him. His parents, Gabriel, Balthazar, his childhood friends. Dean made him feel alive again. He didn’t want him to leave too.

    “Don’t worry, Cas. I won’t. Go to sleep.” Cas heard the smile in Dean’s voice and he laid down, not even bothering with blankets. As he drifted off to sleep, he heard paper being shuffled and Dean muttering to himself. Somehow, that was very comforting.

    When Cas woke, he had a blanket on top of him and the growling in his stomach told him that he’d missed at least two meals. He rolled over and yawned. He heard someone behind him and he sat up faster than he would have thought possible.

    “Good morning, Cas!” Dean said cheerfully. He was grinning ear to ear and looking at Cas’s head, “I like your hair.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

    Cas scowled at him and reached up to smooth his hair. “It’s not morning. Don’t make fun of me,” He said grumpily.

    “Ohoh, okay. I think this one needs some food before having a civil conversation. I’ll go get Samandriel.” Dean stood and backed towards the small door, not taking his eyes off of Cas for a moment, “Be back in a flash.” He disappeared through the door.

    Cas got the feeling that he had probably embarrassed himself this morning, but he couldn’t remember the details. Considering the fact that he never slept much in the first place, missing an entire night was extremely unwise. Cas swung his legs off the bed. He sighed and rubbed his face. He really didn’t want to have to deal with that contract.

    Cas stumbled to the desk and sat down, yawning. He picked up the piece of paper on top and squinted at it. Dean must have written it because he didn’t recognize the writing. In fact, it was the most atrocious handwriting he’d ever seen. It took him a while, but eventually he realized that it was the contract, fully revised. Cas blinked a few times. How long had he been asleep? This must have taken Dean hours.

    After reading over the contract a few times, Cas saw a few minor corrections to make, but otherwise Dean had done most of his work for him. Cas was actually pretty impressed. He was expecting Dean to be sort of like a common sense check for this. He never expected a miner to have the brain of a strategist. Cas got out a pen, ink, and a blank piece of parchment. He began to copy the document, with his few revisions, in more legible handwriting. Halfway through this task, Dean popped back in with some soup and bread.

    “Sorry, this was all the kitchen had at the moment. And Samandriel was already asleep and I don’t know where he gets all that fancy crap at a moment’s notice.” He placed the bowl and plate next to Cas on the only free spot left on the table. Cas looked up.

    “Thank you, Dean. For the food and the contract. You did an outstanding job. I hardly have to do anything.”

    “Don’t sweat it. I was bored what with you sleeping all day. I needed something to do.” Dean looked slightly uncomfortable with being thanked. Cas kind of enjoyed it. Then Dean’s words hit Cas.

    “Wait. All day? What time is it?” Cas squinted at the candle he used to tell time in his windowless room.

    “Yes, Cas. This is what happens when you don’t sleep at night. You sleep all day instead. It’s after supper.” Dean seemed amused with Cas. Cas considered being annoyed by it, but decided not to be.

    “When were you supposed to be off duty?” Cas asked.

    “Uh… two hours ago.” Dean shuffled his feet a bit.

    “Dean. Go to bed.” Cas urged.

    “Nah. I’ll be fine. If you’re awake, I should probably be too.”

    “If you fall asleep in my chair I won’t put a blanket on you.”

    Dean blushed and looked at floor. Suddenly, the pit of Cas’s stomach dropped out. What had he done this morning to make Dean blush like that? Cas strained his memory until those four words popped back in. Please don’t leave me. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the table. Oh no. That was just pathetic and what did Dean think of him now?

    “Cas, you okay, man?” Dean asked.

    “Yes, Dean, I’m fine.” Cas lifted his head but kept his eyes closed. This is what happened when he let himself feel. He went too far and felt too much. He opened his eyes and focused them on the contract. He would finish rewriting this and try to forget those words and Dean’s response to them: Don’t worry, Cas. I won’t.

DEAN

    So it seemed like Cas didn’t remember that morning. That was fine. Dean could just keep that memory for himself. He’d think of it whenever Cas was being a dick to help him remember that Cas wasn’t always like that. Dean sat in the chair and rubbed his temples. He was exhausted, but it was technically his job to guard the prince. And he didn’t really feel like sleeping. His brain was still on overdrive from that friggin’ contract. First, he’d had to remind himself how to read. That hadn’t been too fun. Then he had to reteach himself how to write. It turns out the muscles used for mining are not the same muscles used for writing. His hand had been seriously cramping by the end. And, apparently just as a side note, he had to make a contract written to trap Cas subtly work in Cas’s favour. Basically, Dean wrote the contract to trade Cas’s status as a single man for a promise of perpetual peace between the two countries but he made it sound like the main point was trade and safe passage and shit. Trading Cas for safety really didn’t sit right with Dean, but it was a solid plan and he couldn’t think of any others.

    Cas muttered to himself as he rewrote the contract causing Dean to look up at him. His hair was still sticking up in the back and Dean smirked to himself. Cas’s bed head had been really adorable. Not that he thought Cas was cute or handsome or any of that crap. And not that putting a blanket on him that morning had made him feel warm inside. No, it was just the messy bed head. That was it. Cas slapped the pen down on the table and held up the completed contract.

    “Done. I’ll give it back to Crowley in the morning.” Cas gave Dean one of his rare smiles and Dean found himself tucking the image away in a safe corner of his mind.

    “Ok. What are you gonna do now? You just woke up, so I guess you won’t be sleeping,” Dean kind of wanted to wander the palace with Cas and kind of just wanted to go to sleep.

    “First, I’m going to eat. Then… I’m going to do something important. Alone.” Cas emphasized the last word and Dean got the message. Cas didn’t want him around and was sending him to bed.

    “Well, have fun with that. I guess I’ll head on over to sleep.” Dean stood up, ready to be gone. He hated when it hit him, again, that he was just Cas’s tool in their relationship.

    “Good night, Dean. Thank you for getting the contract done.” Cas looked at him in a way that made Dean think that maybe he was wrong about how Cas thought about him.

    “Good night, Cas. Actually try to sleep at some point.” Dean grinned and exited into the servant’s passage. He wondered what Cas planned to do. The prince didn’t hide much from him except his past. Maybe he was doing research? Who knew when it came to Cas. Dean certainly didn’t.

CAS

    The more he thought about exactly what he was trying to forget, the more hope bubbled up inside of Cas. Don’t worry, Cas. I won’t. Dean wouldn’t say that if he hated Cas, right? He at least wouldn’t have said it in that soft voice Cas remembered. The hope inside of Cas was slowly convincing him that maybe emotions weren’t so bad. Maybe the negative ones were worth the positive ones. Maybe if he confronted why he had shut himself off he could open up all the way. And even if that terrified him, maybe it was a good thing. Maybe Dean would choose to stay if Cas could show that he wanted him here. Whoa. Cas was planning for Dean to leave after Crowley was out of the picture, wasn’t he? No, not anymore. He wanted Dean to stay. Not only that, he wanted Dean to want to stay. He’d only known him three weeks and somehow Dean had dug his way under Cas’s tough skin.

    Cas sighed. He’d sent Dean away so he could something important, so he could confront that terrible event that had scarred him in ways he didn’t even know yet. He was going to go back to that tower.

Chapter Text

CAS

    Cas stood at the small door which opened to the stairwell which led up the tower to the that small ledge where he’d lost his brother five years ago. Cas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew that if he did this, there was no going back. He’d have to feel all the grief and pain he’d been holding back for years. But it would pass. Cas knew it would. Or at least it would dim. And without his emotional block in place, maybe he could enjoy the positive as well as the negative.

    Cas took another deep breath and placed a hand on the handle. Was this really worth it? Did he really want to do this to himself? Cas pulled the memory of Dean laughing to the front of his mind. Yes, happiness was worth the pain. He pushed down on the handle and let the door creak open. To his knowledge, it hadn’t been opened since he and Balthazar had been dragged through it after Gabriel’s death. Cas closed his eyes again and stepped over the threshold. A chill had collected in the stairwell and proceeded to leak into Cas’s bones.

    Cas opened his eyes and deliberately stepped onto the first stair, dispelling half a decade’s worth of dust. He could feel a tight ball growing in his chest. He went up another step. He started breathing a little faster. Three more stairs. His pulse began to race. Ten more steps. He was now hyperventilating. Cas stopped and leaned back against the wall. He was only fifteen steps up from the bottom. He could do better than this. Cas gulped in a little more air and allowed his pulse to slow.

   Keeping his mind blank, Cas made it up twenty more steps before the hyperventilating returned along with increasingly vivid images of Gabriel’s broken body. He stopped and put his hands on his knees. He needed to calm himself down. This was a high tower. He probably had at least ten times what he’d already done left to go. Cas straightened and made it up a few more steps before he leaned his head against the wall and tried to get a handle on his breathing, pulse, and rioting emotions. He panicked for a moment, unable to control what was swirling around his own mind.

    Then he took a deep breath and held it. What would Dean say if he were here? Probably something insensitive and humorous. Wow, Cas, I didn’t know you were THIS out of shape! Cas let out a nervous huff of laughter. Yes, that’s exactly what he would say. He imagined Dean’s face as he taunted Cas and then proceeded to narrate an entire conversation between the two of them in his head. When he finished, his pulse and breathing were perfectly normal and his emotions were no longer a ruffled mess.

    Cas peeled his forehead from the wall and walked up the stairs with more confidence than he’d shown since he opened the door at the base of the tower. He didn’t count steps and he didn’t worry about how close he was to the top. Cas focused on climbing the stairs and imagining exactly how Dean would respond to certain sentences.

    Cas almost didn’t realize when he reached the top. He was watching his feet travel up the stairs and trying to replicate the sound of Dean’s laugh in his head when he almost ran into the door which opened to the ledge. Cas stood stock still and told his hand to reach for the knob three times before it finally obeyed. Cas’s breath sped up. Dean’s voice ghosted through his mind, Dude, what’s so scary about a freakin’ door? Just open it already. Cas pushed the voice away. As much as he would like to be distracted by Dean Winchester, at this point he needed to focus on the present moment.

    Staring intently at his hand, he pushed the knob down. He felt the door unlatch. Cas pushed it. It swung open with a soft squeal, cobwebs trailing after after it. Cas’s pulse was racing as he kept his gaze focused at the ground and commanded his feet to carry him over the threshold. Reluctantly, they obeyed. He reached behind himself and closed the door. Then he looked up.

    He was a thirteen year-old boy again, reeling with grief and struggling to believe that his brother was dead. But he knew better now. He knew it was real. Cas staggered to the edge and leaned over, just as he had all those years ago. His eyes snapped shut in a self-preservation instinct. Cas felt the breeze pick up and ruffle his hair in a million different directions. Just open your eyes. Just open your eyes. It’s not like he’s still down there. Open them! His eyes flew open. All the oxygen was sucked out of the air. Cas was left gasping for breath.

     Gabriel was scrabbling for a hold, crying out as hel fell. His body crashed into the rocks. Cas couldn’t look away. He was pulling Balthazar from the edge, running back to it. Seeing Gabriel’s body…

    Cas jerked backwards and his mind snapped back to the present moment. His breathing was ragged and his pulse hammering inside his skull. He fell to his knees and then curled around them. Grief and agony were eating a hole through his chest. Time lost meaning as Cas rocked back and forth, emotions ripping through his mind. He didn’t know when he had started crying, but tears were dripping onto his hands and knees.

    Some time later, his thoughts began to come in sentences again rather than just screams of raw emotion. His pain began to recede and fold itself neatly in the back of his mind. Cas took a few deep breaths as his body calmed down. He let go of his knees and sat up properly. His muscles and joints screamed at him. He’d been curled up on the cold stone a little too long. Cas stretched, hearing multiple joints pop. He could think clearly again, but he was by no means emotionally stable. Those folded emotions were still there and could spring back anytime. It terrified Cas a little bit.

    Cas stood up and staggered as he walked through the door and back into the tower. He was cold, exhausted, and emotionally drained. The sooner he could sleep, the better. Cas nearly tripped three times while going down the stairs. His brain was a whirlwind, but no useful thoughts were really being produced. When Cas reached the bottom, he opened the door and peered out. He really didn’t need anybody seeing him like this. There were a few guards in the corridor, but if he kept his face down they wouldn’t look at him too closely. Cas slunk out of the tower and walked towards his bedroom. He slipped through his door and closed it, leaning back against it.

   He knew he should think about what his mental state was now and how he should prepare for tomorrow, but his mind and body were already dragging him towards unconsciousness. Bouncing off of the door to stand up, Cas stumbled to his bed and fell face first on it. He wiggled a bit so his legs didn’t hang off and pillowed his head on his arms. Cas was reminded of earlier today when Dean had made him nap and then covered him with a blanket. His last thought before he fell asleep was that he couldn’t wait to talk to Dean the next day.

JO

   Jo was tired of that lumpy bed. She had been walking around the room a bit, but only until that familiar spike of pain had her doubled over or screwing her face up. Her mother always made her lie back down after that. So when the tavern owner banged on the door and announced that they couldn’t stay there another night if they didn’t pay up, Jo was almost relieved. That was until her mother came up with the brilliant idea to bargain with the man. The eventual deal was that Ellen would fill the empty bar maid position in return for food and shelter, but no actual pay. Ellen agreed without discussing it with the rest of the group. When Bobby came back, he was pissed that Ellen made that choice alone.

    “Ellen, did you even think before you just sold your life to this guy? You know he’s gonna treat you like shit because he thinks you can’t quit.” Bobby was using large hand gestures and his voice was pretty intimidating. Jo just sank lower into the bed and wished she had never let Alistair get past her defenses, the catalyst for this entire situation.

    “I did. My thoughts were that you can get your lazy ass out of this room and find yourself a job and when Jo’s well enough, she can get one too. We won’t be completely dependant on this bar. I’m not an idiot, Bobby! As long as Dean is stuck here, we aren’t leaving. You get that, right?” Ellen had her hands on her hips and was looking exactly like the immovable obstacle she was.

    Bobby opened his mouth and then closed it. He tried again, “I know we ain’t leavin’ Dean. I just don’t like you makin’ decisions without talking them over first. The only reason we’re in this mess is because you and Dean made that damn stupid decision to go it alone.”

    “And you know very well that if we hadn’t Jo would be dead. Sometimes research and planning isn’t necessary.” Ellen relaxed a bit, sensing that she had won that round.

    “Well, just, be careful,” Bobby finished the conversation and headed back out, probably to abuse his new free beer privileges.

    “Mom, I can get a job now. I’m healed up enough.” Jo sat up and pretended that pain didn’t skip through abdomen. It was nothing like before, but it was obvious she wasn't back to one hundred percent.

    “You think I’m just gonna let you up and get a job when you can’t even walk half a mile?” Ellen was back into argument mode with her hands on her hips.

    “But I am sick of this bed and this room and of being weak.” Jo glared up at her mother.

    “Joanna Beth. You will take care of yourself. Do you understand me?”

    Jo intensified her glare, but answered, “Yes, ma’am.”

    “Now, I’ve got to go to work. You, stay here.” Ellen pointed to the ground and left the room.

    Jo laid back down and stared at the ceiling. Yay. Another day of boredom and staring at that creepy ass face in the dry wall. She sighed. Bobby would probably be hunting a job now. Her mother had a job. Sam was who knew where, probably tailing after that girl, Jessica. And Jo was stuck here. Alone. Sometimes, life just sucked.

DEAN

    Dean stood in front of the small door and  took in a few good breaths. He really needed to get Cas to agree to his request. He didn’t see how it could hurt, but Cas didn’t always think how normal people did. Dean found himself grinning, remembering the first time he’d tried to tell Cas a dirty joke. He was fairly certain Cas hadn’t understood even after Dean had awkwardly explained. The confusion on Cas’s face though had been adorable.

    Dean blinked hard, wiping the grin off of his face. Why did his hormones have to have a say in his friendship with Cas? A little voice in the back of his head told him that the adjective adorable might have less to do with hormones and more to do with emotions, but Dean ignored it completely. He tried to clean all of those thoughts out of his head and strode into Cas’s room.

    For the first time since Dean had come here, he found Cas laying on his bed, still asleep. Dean debated in his head for a moment whether or not to wake him up. When he found himself staring at Cas’s face as he slept, the decision was made for him. He would not be a creep and watch Cas sleep. Dean took two steps which carried him to the edge of the bed. He tentatively reached out a hand, praying that Cas wouldn’t scold him for this, and tapped Cas on the shoulder. There was absolutely no response. Then Dean grabbed Cas’s shoulder and shook him so very gently. Cas moaned and swatted at Dean’s hand.

    Dean chuckled and continued to shake Cas until his eyes opened. It took a moment for Cas’s eyes to focus, but as soon as they recognized Dean, he sat up in alarm.

    “What's wrong?” Cas demanded, voice still rough with sleep. Dean neglected to answer for a moment, stunned by Cas’s voice. He hadn't thought it could get any sexier, but the world just loved proving him wrong, didn't it?

    “Uh… Nothin’, Cas. It's morning. I figured you'd want me to wake you.” Dean backed up from the bed and nearly ran into a chair.

    “Well, um, okay,” Cas’s brows puckered in a frown. Dean's eyebrows shot up and a smile quirked across his lips. Was Cas always this adorably confused in the mornings?

    “Let's start over,” Dean suggested. He cleared his throat, “Good morning, Cas. Sleep well?” Dean plopped down in the chair he'd almost run into.

    “...Good morning. Uh, I didn’t sleep any better or worse than normal.” Cas looked down at his lap and seemed to contemplate the pros and cons of actually getting out of bed.

    “So that means terribly.” Dean grinned, but Cas looked up at him in a slight pout. Dean couldn’t help but look at that bottom lip stick out temptingly. Look at his eyes. No, not those gorgeous fuckers. How about his forehead? Whoa. Sexy bed head.

     “Hey, how would it be if my family came to visit every once in awhile? You’d love ‘em.” Dean blurted out, desperate to send his brain down a different track. Cas frowned again and looked back up at Dean. His gaze bored into Dean’s eyes for a lot longer than was socially acceptable. But Dean couldn’t look away. He’d never seen Cas’s eyes be so expressive. Granted, he had no idea what emotion they were trying to convey, but he knew that they were finally trying to communicate. They were the shifting blue of a summer sky, not the hard, cold blue of a glacier.

    “As long as your real names are not used, I don’t see why it should be a problem,” Cas announced, breaking his eyes away from Dean’s and standing up. Dean took in a larger breath than normal before processing Cas’s words.

    “That’s awesome, Cas. Thanks,” And then Dean’s body moved without consulting him. He stood and his arms wrapped around Cas in an awkward hug. Dean’s heart nearly stopped before proceeding to pound at double time. Everything was screaming at him to let go, especially Cas’s stiffened body, but Dean refused to flinch away. If he acted confident, it would be less embarrassing later. Moments before Dean let go, the impossible happened. Cas’s body relaxed and one of his arms came up to gently hug Dean back. Dean took a sharp intake of breath and let go of Cas. That hug had already lasted too long.

    Dean backed away, but Cas didn’t seem bothered. In fact, his eyes seemed lit from inside in a way Dean had never seen before. Dean chuckled awkwardly and then, to relieve tension, gently punched Cas in the shoulder.

    “You’re the best, man.”

CAS

    It had been a month since Dean had first hugged him and here he was thinking about it… again. Cas glanced over at Dean who was leaning back in his chair and seemingly drawing patterns in the air. Cas smiled. Nothing with Dean was ever straightforward or simple. One moment Dean had been hugging him (Cas couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been hugged before that) and as soon as Cas got over his shock enough to hug him back, Dean pulled away. They’d hugged three times after that, one instigated by Dean again, and the other two instigated by Cas. He had wanted to see how Dean reacted. At least that’s what he told himself. He knew, somewhere, that he just loved touching Dean. He liked feeling important to Dean.

    When Dean had brought up his family visiting, Cas had nearly refused out of jealousy and possessiveness. He thought that once Dean had someone else, someone he actually loved, to talk to then he’d stop pretending to be Cas’s friend. But apparently it wasn’t an act. Apparently, Dean actually did enjoy spending time with Cas. He had yet to meet any of the family who visited Dean, and that rubbed Cas the wrong way sometimes. However, in general Cas was happy. That was mostly because of Dean. Whenever Dean would enter a room, Cas’s mood immediately brightened. Especially when Dean hugged him. And now he had come full circle and his brain was mulling over Dean’s reactions to their four hugs. Cas sighed. He didn’t think he’d ever understand Dean.

    Cas looked back down at the tax report he was supposed to be approving. Somehow, that just didn’t hold a candle to the intrigue of studying Dean. Cas thought about the last month, how he’d finally been allowing himself to grieve for his brothers. It hadn’t been easy, but the pain seemed to be letting up. Seeing Crowley everyday didn’t help though. The burning thirst for revenge was still potent in his blood. Dean seemed perfectly willing to encourage that and join the ‘hate Crowley’ bandwagon. Dean also seemed to understand when Cas needed his space. For such an insensitive man, Dean was surprisingly understanding of Cas’s mood swings. Cas appreciated it, but didn’t understand.

    Focus, Castiel , he scolded himself. He had a whole pile of documents to approve and he had barely started. Thinking about Dean was not going to get them done. Cas managed to get through several documents before a knock came at his door. Dean stood up and opened the door, stiffening his body adopting the calm mask of a palace guard as soon as he did so. Crowley walked in. Cas stood and bowed at the waist. Crowley waved his hand and Cas took that as a signal to sit back down. Crowley took Dean’s seat, placed his elbows on his knees and stared into the middle distance.

    Cas looked over Crowley’s shoulder at Dean who was quirking an eyebrow and cocking his head in an obvious What the hell? gesture. Suddenly, Crowley sat up straight and looked Castiel in the eye. Cas straightened his already perfectly straight back and prepared himself for whatever Crowley was going to say.

    “King Lucifer is insisting that you and Meg meet before the wedding. I refused to travel, so he and Meg are coming here for a little meet and greet,” Crowley looked annoyed, but resigned. Cas’s lower eyelid twitched. He looked back at Dean and his expression was practically murderous. Cas refocused on Crowley.

    “Of course. Whatever King Lucifer thinks is best,” Castiel said, inserting the smallest trace of venom.

    “They plan to be here in a month. I expect you to be polite and courteous. Don’t make a fool of me.” Crowley gave Castiel an expectant look.

    “Of course, your majesty.” Cas replied, wondering when he had ever made a fool of Crowley.

    “Right then, I’ll be off. Don’t you dare forget.” Crowley stood up and stalked out of the room, Dean opening and closing the door for him. As soon as Crowley was gone, Cas slumped in his chair. Dean settled in his chair with a frustrated sigh.

    “So, what do you reckon Lucifer’s up to this time?” Dean asked.

    “I don’t know… yet. It’s certainly not just a meet and greet.” Cas looked at Dean, searching for answers in his face. Dean grinned.

    “Well, one thing’s obvious. They’ve been planning this for a while. You wanna see if Crowley is an idiot and kept the letters?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows and Cas couldn’t help but smile back.

    “You’re proposing breaking into the second most guarded room, the royal suite, to look for letters which probably burnt to ashes weeks ago?” Cas asked Dean.

    “That’s exactly what I’m proposing,” Dean pointed both hands at Cas in an exaggerated motion and gave him a lopsided grin.

    “You’re insane.” Cas stated, deadpan.

    “But you like it,” Dean responded, immediately looking down with a blush rising in his cheeks. Cas wondered about it for a moment, but then filed it in things about Dean he will never understand.

    “It’s the best plan we have, regardless,” Cas said, “We’ll need to make sure he isn’t in the room. I can take care of that. We’ll recruit Samandriel to distract his servant. You get to do the dangerous part.”

    “I live for danger.” Dean smirked and put his feet up on the back of Cas’s chair. Cas rolled his eyes and turned back to his paperwork.

Chapter Text

DEAN

    Dean’s heart pounded in his chest as he strode through the servant’s passage. He was headed to Crowley’s room to snoop on the King’s private belongings. But surprisingly he wasn’t really worried about himself. No, all he could think about was Cas. Was he okay distracting Crowley? Did Crowley sense something was off? What if Crowley’s magic could sense lies?

    Dean knew all of this was ridiculous. Cas had been lying to Crowley for over a month now and he’d never noticed. But Dean worried, not unlike the way he had worried for Sam when they were escaping from the mines. He knew intellectually that they would be safe, but something inside of him was screaming that they needed protection.

    He reached the small door which led to Crowley’s bedroom. Dean rapped his knuckles on it twice. When no one responded, Dean slowly unlatched the door and pushed it causing it to swing open. He glanced briefly around the room and then entered. Centered on the far left wall, there was a luxurious bed covered in a crimson comforter. Mahogany bookcases and dressers lined the walls around the bed. To his right was a table with two accompanying chairs, but what caught Dean’s attention was the large oak desk. It had drawers along each side and shelves above it. If any letters had been kept, Dean imagined they would be there.

    Dean crept into the room and hurried over to the desk. The faster he was out of here, the faster Cas could get away from Crowley. Dean shuddered at the thought of Cas having to basically “amuse” the man who had killed his brother. He gripped the handle of the first drawer and ripped it open. It was full of extra ink pots and quills. Dean slammed it shut and tried another. No, obviously notes from meetings. Another. Blank paper.

    Dean had finished with the drawers and moved on to the shelves before he found anything of interest. He held up a letter that had obviously been opened and then resealed more for indication of privacy than intent to fool. Dean slid his thumb under the wax seal, careful not to break it. The letter appeared to be a report about vegetable production. Why did Crowley go to the trouble of resealing it? Then Dean read the last two sentences.

Use this report for official documentation. Send the accurate one back with this messenger.

    Dean blinked and reread it. So, obviously whoever wrote this report was fabricating it and was commanding Crowley to use it as official data. Then one of the many subjects Sam babbled about and Dean tried to block out floated out of his subconscious. Sam had told him about rumors of some sort of crop failure in the south and how no supplies were being sent to help those in need. Were those rumors true? Even though the crown denied them? Dean stored the information to share with Cas later. This was probably important and Cas would know what to do.

    Dean picked up a candle Crowley had foolishly left unattended and dripped a small dot of wax onto the letter. He used it to reseal the letter. It didn’t look perfect,  but good enough that Dean hoped Crowley wouldn’t notice it had been tampered with. Dean reached up to replace the letter and resumed searching the shelves. He found a few more sealed letters, but a quick peak inside each told him that they were more fabricated reports for stone production, hunting grounds, lumber production, and even population.

    By the time he’d moved on to the dressers by the bed, Dean had begun to feel a sense of urgency. There was no telling when Cas and Samandriel’s distractions would fail and either Crowley or his servant would return. Dean dug faster. He was about to abandon the current drawer in favour of the one one below it when his fingers caught on something in the back. It was a small, hard cube. Dean gripped it and pulled it out from among Crowley’s shirts. The moment Dean saw it he knew he should put it back as quickly as possible, but it was hard not to stare.

    It was a glass cube perfectly sized to fit in his palm. Around its edges, a faint golden light shone. Its center was crystal clear; Dean could hardly tell there was anything there at all. But in the center, moving of its own free will to study Dean, was a single eyeball.

    Dean opened his mouth, tried to shut it, failed, and then clamped it shut. He shoved the cube… eyeball… back into the corner and rearranged Crowley’s shirts as they had been when he found them. He was sure the eye was for some spell and he really hoped it hadn’t come from a human. Dean made quick work of the last two drawers and concluded that Crowley had destroyed any incriminating evidence. Then he fled the room.

CAS

    “Castiel. Some thing just can’t be taught. Now, be a good boy, run off, and learn them.” Crowley made shooing motions with his hands and returned to his cup of tea. Castiel retreated one chair, but kept a watchful eye on Crowley. He wasn’t about to let him leave  and discover Dean searching his room. If anything happened to Dean and it was Cas’s fault… well even the idea was giving him a headache.

     Crowley shifted his position and Castiel whipped his head up, ready to restart his barrage of meaningless questions that sounded intelligent if Crowley was considering leaving the library. He seemed to just be readjusting to read his book at a better angle, so Cas relaxed. He returned to pretending to read some handbook on calligraphy and illumination.

    A few minutes later, Crowley made a grunt of discontentment and closed his book. Cas glanced up to watch him put his book back and not select another. Cas put his own book aside. Time for action. A hand was placed on his arm from behind and without thinking, Castiel swung around, putting a hand to the offender’s neck and slamming him against the nearest bookcase.

    Startled green eyes stared into Castiel’s and Cas was suddenly very aware of how close his body was to Dean’s. The feeling was disconcerting. Cas pulled his hand away with a snap and he stalked in the opposite direction. He couldn’t apologize to Dean in public. That’s something the proud prince everyone believed Cas to be would never do. He hoped Dean understood. Apparently he did, because Dean followed, even if it was at a bit of a distance.

     Cas made it to his door and ushered Dean through as well. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dean beat him to the punch.

    “You have some wicked moves, man. But maybe, next time, for me, tone it down a bit?” Dean sniggered and dropped into Cas's chair.

    Cas rolled his eyes and explained in his best stoic voice, “I didn’t know it was you. I was on high alert from Crowley. You startled me.”

    “I’d like to see what you can do when you actually mean it… You were pretty awesome.” Dean seemed to contemplate what he thought Cas could do and then quite suddenly turned beet red and looked down. The complement stirred a long dead part of Cas that took pride in his prowess at fighting. He remembered how, as a child, he would challenge anyone to anything, just to prove he could win. Smiling at the memory, Cas wondered if that could be a part of him again.

    He looked at Dean out of the corner of his eye. He appeared to have recovered from his odd embarrassment and was holding the tip of his knife to Cas’s desk seemingly contemplating whether or not to start carving. Cas prefered his desk unmarred, so he took the two steps to Dean’s side and pulled back on the chair. Dean tipped sideways with a shout and Cas was lucky he didn’t get a knife in the neck. Maybe he hadn’t thought it through, but the momentary panic on Dean’s face was well worth it.

    Cas laughed. Dean stared, making Cas laugh a little more. It was nothing like the wild abandon that Dean laughed with, but it was a start. And Dean. Dean was staring at Cas with his mouth hanging slightly open and his eyebrows all the way up. Dean quickly recovered and shook his head almost imperceptibly. His face now conveyed annoyance.

    “My apologies, Dean. I didn't want you carving into my desk.” Cas’s mouth twitched, but he kept himself from laughing again.

    Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably, “I wouldn’t… Anyway, I didn’t find what we were looking for, but I discovered some other interesting letters,” he paused, waiting for Cas’s reaction.

    “Okay. What?” Cas prompted him.

    “Crowley has been receiving letters from an anonymous person, but I think we know it's Lucifer, of what to report officially. Like, production reports and even population.” Dean grimaced and Cas lost any inclination to smile or laugh.

    “The famine? That’s real? Why is he hiding it? That also explains why he sent me to raise production of your mine when you were already producing at or above maximum.  And that's why Lucifer's kingdom is so rich. We are funneling resources to him!” Cas glared at the wall and was sorely tempted to punch it. He restrained himself and turned away from Dean.

    “Can we stop him?” Dean's voice was low and Cas felt that anyone who had that voice directed at them should run.

    “No. Not without taking him out of the picture entirely, which I can't do until I've married Meg.” Cas clenched his fists. He hated the idea of letting his people starve because of politics. Then an idea occurred to him. A perfect, but heartbreaking, idea. Dean was clever and could probably get to the bottom of the mystery without revealing that they knew Lucifer’s agenda. Cas closed his eyes in pain and leaned his head against the wall. Was he really willing to send away the one good thing in his life? The answer was yes, of course he was. He had a duty to his people.

    Cas turned back to Dean who was silently brewing over the information, probably trying to find a solution. “Dean?” Cas began, “I think you should go to the south. You can help those people and find out what’s really happening.” Dean lifted his eyebrows and cocked his head.

    “You’d trust me to do that? I mean, I’m totally trustworthy, but you did just free me from prison a little less than two months ago.” Dean looked at Cas questioningly. Cas froze. He hadn’t even considered that angle. He just automatically trusted Dean.

    “Well… you’ve, uh, you’ve had plenty of opportunities to betray me, but you haven’t, so I consider that a proof of trustworthiness,” Cas stumbled over a hurried explanation. The truth was that he didn’t know why he trusted Dean. It just felt right. Dean felt right. Cas’s frown deepened. He didn’t look forward to removing Dean from his life, even if it was only temporary.

   “Well, you can’t argue with that,” Dean leaned back in his chair, “When am I leaving and what will be the cover for why you’re suddenly without a bodyguard?”

    Cas thought for a moment and then spoke, “People are starving. You should leave as quickly as possible. As for the cover, we can tell people your mother died. It’s tradition for the eldest son to spend a week in mourning at her grave. Obviously, you had to travel to do that.”   

    Cas could tell by the stiffening of Dean’s jaw and the hardening of his eyes that he did not like some  part of that plan. “Okay. I’ll need food and a horse for travel. I also have no idea how to get to ‘the south’,” Dean made hand quotes, “so I’ll need a map or something.”

    Cas nodded sharply.”Of course. As for a map… just take Samandriel’s cousin. She grew up there.”

    Amused by something, Dean lips quirked up. “Do you know her name?”

    Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean, remembering how disgusted Dean had been that he didn’t know Samandriel’s name. Cas hadn’t understood at the time, but being around Dean had taught him a few things. Since then, he’d made an effort to get to know the people in his service and around the palace. “Yes, I know her name. It’s Jessica.”

     Dean grin turned even more mischievous at this. “Jessica, huh? Goes by Jess? Long, curly, blonde hair? I think Sam’s gonna want to come with.” Cas frowned gently, confused. Dean noticed and explained, “Sam won’t shut up about this ‘Jess’. Apparently Samandriel used her to tell Sam I was alive.” Dean suddenly looked down like he had accidently revealed a secret. Cas wasn’t sure what; he’d authorized Dean’s family coming to visit him.

    “I see.” Cas said, even though he didn’t really, “As long as you don’t think he’ll be a hindrance, I have no problem with Sam accompanying you.”

    Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you around to tell me how to run my life.” Cas could tell by Dean’s gentle smile that he didn’t mean any malice in that statement.

    “I don’t want you to go.” Cas blurted out, instantly regretting it. He continued anyway, trying to cover up his slip. “I mean, you need to go, but it has been nice to have someone around and to help me with Crowley…” Cas was staring at the ground in embarrassment.

    “It’s okay, man. I’ll miss you too. It’s only going to be few weeks though, right?” Dean was giving Cas one of those smiles which made Cas feel like he was at least a little special to Dean. Cas swallowed hard, unable to look away from Dean’s face. Dean cleared his throat, “Anyway… I’ll go get Sam to find Jess and we’ll get this show on the road. Hey, I can get Sam to carry reports back to you so you know what’s going on. How does that sound?”

    Cas blinked, processing that Dean had spoken and rewinding his memory to find an appropriate response. “Of course. I’ll have travel arrangements made. You can leave tomorrow morning. It’s too late to leave today.”

    Dean nodded and said something affirmative before heading out. Cas sat on his bed and stared at the wall. Why was Dean so important to him? And, more importantly, how was Cas going to handle being without Dean?

DEAN

    They’d been on the road two days and Dean already wanted to gouge his eyes out. Why he’d though travelling with Sam and Jess would be a good idea, Dean would never know. He couldn’t stand another set of puppy eyes exchanged or random periods of just staring at each other. They didn’t even seem aware of it which somehow made it even more disgusting.

    Dean grumbled to himself and rolled over to avoid a rock digging into his hip. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Cas he’d miss him. Not seeing those intense eyes everyday and not having Cas to talk to were two more reasons he wished he’d never agreed to this. The rest mostly consisted of bad food, cold ground, and sore legs from riding all day. The last reason however had hurt Dean the most.

    Because Cas was letting Dean leave the castle, Dean had immediately gone to visit Jo who he hadn’t seen since the day he’d been captured. As soon as she saw him, Jo had shot up and flung her arms around him. Then she’d kissed him. Dean had frozen. Somehow, he’d completely forgotten that Jo had kissed him and they had some sort of unnamed relationship going on. When Dean failed to respond, Jo immediately pulled away and crossed her arms. Dean had spluttered out some sorry ass apology, but he could see that Jo understood the truth: Dean just didn’t see her like that anymore. Their conversation had been brief and Dean felt like he’d hurt Jo without even trying. He hated that feeling.

   Dean rolled over again, this time to avoid a hard lump under his shoulder. He was never going to get any sleep with these depressing thoughts chasing each other through his brain. He looked around the small clearing they had camped in to see Sam and Jess already sound asleep. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, commanding himself to sleep. Eventually, his breathing did slow and his eyes drooped closed.

    Dean hadn’t slept nearly long enough when he was awoken by Sam shaking his shoulder. “Dean, Dean. It’s time to go. Come on, you usually wake up before I do.”

    “Go 'way. 'M gettin’ up.” Dean sat up and weakly swatted at Sam. Sam just ducked his head and chuckled.

     “We need to get moving if we want to reach the village by dark. I’m sure everyone would appreciate an actual bed for once.” Jess slung her pack over her shoulder and walked towards the tree where their horses were tethered. Dean groaned his agreement as he levered himself up off the ground. He began rolling up his blankets, fumbling and restarting more than once, his mind still fogged with sleep. When he looked up, Sam and Jess weren’t by the horses anymore. He looked around and saw no trace of them. Cursing the stupid kids in his head, he grabbed his sword and hurried into the woods behind the horses.

    Dean didn’t make it two yards before he found them, pressed up against a tree, kissing each other like there was no tomorrow. He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat causing both of them to jerk apart and stare at him. Dean opened his mouth, thought better, closed it, and stalked back to the clearing to finish packing his stuff. Or finally gouge out his eyes. One or the other.

    Sam ran after him, trying to apologize. “Dean, sorry, we didn’t mean to sneak off like that. Dean! I’m sorry, okay?”

    “It’s okay, Sam. You permanently scarred my brain, but that’s fine.” Dean put his blankets in his saddlebags, his annoyance with Sam evaporating as he took in his brother’s idiotic grin. “I’m happy for you. It’s a miracle a girl like Jess likes a bitch like you,” Dean joked.

    Sam managed to frown and pout a little while his face was still split in two. “Jerk,” he muttered and returned to securing his bags. Jess reappeared from the woods carrying their refilled canteens. Sam’s eyes followed her and so did Dean’s. When he managed to catch her eyes, Dean flashed her the universal I’m watching you signal. As Sam’s older brother, it was Dean’s duty to look out for him and he really didn’t know Jess very well. Jess just reacted to Dean’s warning with a half smirk and raised eyebrows before saucily handing him a canteen. As he secured the canteen to his packs, Dean thought that Jess was probably perfect for Sam.

       Ten hours later, Dean jumped off his horse and hobbled towards the inn. He didn’t think he’d ever walk straight again. But, he was finally here, in the south. Cas had given him a month to identify Lucifer’s plans, find a solution, and inspire the people to go along with said solution. No big deal.

    The rest of the evening was spent getting a room, eating dinner, and hanging out at the bar to get a feel for the locals. Most of them seemed friendly enough, discounting the ones who obviously spent all their time getting or being drunk. Every village had their fair share of those. No one seemed too bad off, but they had tales from even further south of crops being stolen or infested and families relocating in search of better living conditions.

    Since nothing was amiss, Dean left the next morning, the two lovebirds in tow. Dean spent the next two weeks in much the same way. Travelling between villages by day and hanging out at the local bar in the evenings to pick up news. He almost began to believe that the entire thing, Crowley’s letters and the tales of crop disease and famine were all part of some big act. Until he arrived at the village of Muln.

    Muln, Dean figured, had always been small, sad, and gray. But the air of despair and the desperation in the eyes of its inhabitants were all due to one fact: food was very hard to come by. Muln had originally been a farming village, and, while they still tried, crops rarely grew to maturity. Flooding, sudden drought, locusts, fungus, or any other number of issues would decimate the plants before they even thought about producing food. Some surrounding villages were providing aide, but, just as the rumors had said, the crown was providing no aid.

    According to the inhabitants, this wasn’t just happening in Muln. Every town or village further south than Muln suffered the same ailments. Drawing from his limited knowledge of magic, Dean deduced that, since Lucifer’s kingdom lay to the south, the crop failure was likely due to some spell that was affected by proximity. Unfortunately, that was the extent of his knowledge. Dean had no friggin’ clue as to how  to help these people. So, he wrote his first letter back to Cas. It took a while because Dean honestly needed to practice writing more often, but he got it done.

Dear Cas,

    I’m in the village of Muln, the first place I have found crop failure. According to the people here, every village south of Muln has the same problems. I believe that Lucifer is using a proximity spell to starve these people. The only theory I have is that he is trying to weaken the people’s faith in their rulers. Talk to Joshua about how this might be stopped or at least weaken the magic he is using. Then send Sam back with answers.

    I hope you’re doing alright. I’ve had to endure Sam and Jess and their silly, little romance for two weeks now. I need to tell you about that when I see you in a couple weeks. I think you’d get a kick out it. I hope Anyway, I’ll keep going south and send back anything important I find out.

-Dean

P.S. I forgot to mention, but I found something really odd in Crowley's room. You might want to ask Joshua about it. It was some eyeball in a glowing cube.

   Dean sealed the letter. Now he just had to find Sam and send him and Jess back to Cas. He smirked to himself. They’d probably enjoy the alone time as well.  

Chapter Text

CAS

    Cas wanted to believe that life continued as normal after Dean left, but he knew if he said that he’d be lying to himself. He barely talked and when he did it was in sharp snippets which caused everyone to draw away. The world seemed to grate against Cas in a way it never had before. A small voice in the back of his head told him it would be better if he cut his emotions off again. The small temptation he had to obey it was quickly squashed.

    The two and a half weeks without Dean or word from Dean crawled by and Cas felt like he could finally breath again when Samandriel opened his door and Sam and Jess entered. Sam seemed wary of him, obviously remembering the hair incident in the mine, but Cas did his best to show Sam that wasn’t who he really was. Trying to make a good impression on Dean’s brother sent a knot of nervousness into Cas’s stomach, but in the end Sam had seemed to relax and reevaluate Cas.

    Eventually they had left, saying that Cas needed to have a response to the letter by the next morning since they were leaving tomorrow. Cas looked down at the letter. Did Dean miss him too? If he did, would he bother to write about it? When Cas wrote back should he tell Dean that he misses him? What if Dean is relieved to be away? What if Dean isn’t planning to come back? Shut up. Just read the letter, Castiel.

    Cas reached down and unfolded the single piece of paper. Cas could tell that Dean had made an effort, but he still had to struggle to read the short letter. The first half was all business, but the second half was confusing. There were two crossed out words that looked a lot like ‘I hope’. Cas really wanted to know what Dean hoped. Then he glanced back at the salutation and saw a word crossed out up there as well. He had to stare at it for a few minutes before he got it. Dean had initially written ‘Dear Cas’. Cas read the second paragraph again with a stupid grin on his face.

    He sort of knew how Dean’s brain worked. In this case he was pretty sure that Dean was saying that he missed Cas without really saying it. And he wanted to tell Cas about something completely unrelated to Crowley or anything they had to talk about. Cas couldn’t wait for Dean to come back.

    Only then did Cas notice the postscript at the bottom of the letter. Dean had somehow forgotten to mention that he had found an eyeball? In a glowing cube? In Crowley’s room? Even though it was late, Cas needed to speak with Joshua now. He folded the letter gently and carried it with him out into the hallway. He hurried down the staircase and through the twisting maze of the servant’s quarters. By the time Cas made it to Joshua’s room, he had thought of several grim purposes for the eyeball, but he pushed them all to the side, ready to hear the truth from Joshua. He threw the door open, but the small room was empty. Cas sat on Joshua’s chair, ready to wait as long as was necessary.

    Half an hour later Joshua returned, holding what appeared to be a small rosebush in a red pot. Cas raised  an eyebrow at the rosebush but Joshua ignored it, gently set the plant on the ground, and pulled up another chair.

    “Hello, Prince Castiel.” Joshua spoke, voice calm.

    “Hello, Joshua. I have a few questions.” Cas leaned forwards, ready to share all the information he knew.

    “You always do. Continue.” Joshua dragged a pile of paper closer along with a quill and ink well. Cas took a deep breath and began by telling Joshua about the crops and the suspicions of magic. Joshua never spoke, just nodded and took notes. When Castiel finished with the explanation, he waited while Joshua wrote. Eventually, Joshua finished and looked up.

    “Magic is definitely an option. I would need more information to be sure, but your man can find that out for himself since he is near the event. If he can find a central location where the crops are the worst and even the people are falling ill, or are all dead, then he should be near the talisman used to cast the spell. Destroy that and the spell will be broken.” Joshua explained.

    “But, if even the people are sick wouldn’t it be dangerous for him to go?” Cas questioned.

    “Yes, but if he destroys the talisman and infection or disease he has caught should be dispelled.” Joshua leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. Cas glanced up, but it was obvious Joshua wasn’t really looking at anything.

    “How will he identify this talisman?” Cas hoped he could give Dean enough information to make his job easy.

    Joshua frowned a bit. “That is more difficult. It could be anything and someone without magic would have trouble identifying it. Your guard… he’s not…” Cas shook his head. As far as he knew, Dean possessed no powers. “Okay, well, he could… well it’s simpler to say it this way. He could ‘borrow’ mine for a time. It’s rather complicated, but if he’s as good as you seem to believe he should have no trouble with it. I can send the ingredients and instructions with your messenger if that’s what you want?”

    Cas  indicated that, yes, he would like that and the next hour was spent collecting ingredients from various parts of the castle. After they had all passed Joshua’s inspection, Joshua wrote out a page and a half of instructions explaining how to identify and destroy the talisman. He handed them to Castiel. Cas placed them back on the table. Joshua raised his eyebrows in question.

    “I have one more problem.” Cas admitted. Joshua looked tired, but motioned for Cas to sit anyway. Cas licked his lips, struggling to find the right way to word it. He ended up handing the letter from Dean to Joshua and merely pointing at the postscript. Joshua casually read it once and then gripped the letter tightly, ripping it from Cas’s hands and pulling it even closer to his face. His lips moved as he muttered the words to himself. Cas sat and stared, never having gotten such a reaction out of Joshua before.

    Suddenly, Joshua exploded in a wordless exclamation and threw his hands up in the air before slapping the letter back down on the table. He stabbed a finger at the words and Cas did not appreciate that he had wrinkled the letter.

    “Do you know what this means? Do you?” There was a light in Joshua’s eyes, but Cas shook his head mutely. “This is the answer to everything! The final ingredient! Of course Lucifer is using human magic energy! The practice is archaic and barbaric, but very effective. When it comes time to break the spell, I will need this eye. Genius! I should have thought of it before… The only question is who this eye came from?” Joshua seemed to calm down and even managed to sit down again, getting lost in thought. Cas understood that the eyeball was human and was one of the ingredients of Lucifer’s spell, but he was admittedly a little lost on the rest. So he asked the first questions that came to mind.

    “Is there a way to know whose eye it is? Is there a possibility that they are still alive somewhere, just missing an eye?” Cas placed his elbows on his knees, cupping his face in his hands, and looked expectantly at Joshua.

    “If I was holding the eye we’d already know whose it was. And as for if they’re still alive, no. They would have to be dead. This sort of magic requires the entire essence of the person. Whoever Lucifer killed to get that eye essentially now exists as that eyeball. Their consciousness and soul are both bound to the eye.” Joshua was still staring into space, not quite paying attention.

    Cas made a disgusted, horrified noise in the back of his throat. That was truly awful. “Is there any way to bring them back? I mean, their body is dead, but they’re still alive.”

    “It’s been centuries since this magic has been used. There are theories of bringing the victim back, but no evidence or solid facts to work off of. But if we could get that evidence, it would be a breakthrough! And that eye probably knows more of Lucifer’s plans than anyone since Lucifer essentially has to draw that person into his mind to use their power.” Joshua’s gaze flicked to Castiel and then back to the far wall. His back stiffened and it was obvious he’d had some kind of unpleasant idea.

    “What?” Cas demanded, “What did you just think of?”

    “Nothing… yet. If it’s true I’ll tell you, but there’s no need to tell you now. I need time to think. Lots of time. If I find anything out, I will have Samandriel tell you.” Joshua stood and Cas knew a dismissal when he heard one. He wanted to push for answers, but Joshua struck him as the sort of man who could be pushed fro hours and never give an inch of room. Cas gathered the items to send to Dean and stood.

    “Thank you, Joshua. You’ve truly been invaluable.” Cas inclined his head to show respect.

    “No need to thank me. Just keep up the good work.” Joshua smiled and opened the door for Cas. The exchanged good nights and Cas headed up to his room to compose his letter to Dean. He stayed up half the night because he felt the need to tell Dean everything and he kept rewording it in his head and cutting parts only to add them back in again later. He was not entirely pleased with his final product, but it would have to do.

Dear Dean,

    I hope this letter finds you well. I received your information and relayed it to Joshua who was more than helpful. Enclosed, you will find a letter from him including instructions on how to stop the spell killing the crops and the ingredients to do so. Please follow the instructions carefully. He implied that the process can be quite dangerous.

    As for the eyeball you found, that turned out to be the most useful piece of information. Joshua claimed that it was the last ingredient Lucifer used to create the disguise spell which makes the entire country claim Crowley is its king. I won’t go into detail in this letter, but it’s terrible. Because you found this, Joshua can now deconstruct the spell whenever we are ready.

   I think Sam has forgiven me for cutting his hair in the mine, but I want to make sure you know how sorry I am for what I caused to happen to you both in the mine. I take full responsibility. I hope you can forgive me someday. I hope you have a safe journey and return quickly. Everything is too quiet without you.

-Castiel

    Since he only wanted Dean reading this letter (he couldn’t quite trust Sam and Jess as much as he did Dean) Cas sealed it with red wax rather than leaving it open as Dean had. Cas wrote Dean’s name on the outside and placed it on his desk, finished. He almost wished he could take the letter himself, if only to see Dean again, but he knew Crowley disapproved of him leaving the capitol and Cas was playing the obedient son. He sighed and stood up. No good would come of wishing. Facts were facts.

DEAN

    It wasn’t that he was scared. It was just that he somehow knew in his gut that if he went any further he was going to die. When Dean had started feeling this way, he’d gotten off of his horse and led it, choosing to walk instead. He figured he needed to clear his head or something. But the feeling had kept growing until he’d reached this invisible line on the ground and his mind refused to move his body further.

    The small village in front of him wasn’t that frightening. Sure, the houses were a little odd with their mix of black and gray dust covering them from foundation to rafter, but they were just old. And the constant damp wind gusting over his face like invisible fingers was slightly disconcerting, but it was just air. The empty streets didn’t bode well, but Dean figured the residents had just moved on in search of food. The parched earth under him was certainly incapable of producing life. Dean told himself that it being night and a new moon furthered this strange paranoia that had set in, but he knew that it wasn’t the time or the sky that had him frozen in place. It was the village. There was no way in Hell he was going in there.

    Dean turned around slowly and deliberately, relief blossoming in his chest. He climbed back on his horse and trotted back to the town he had left an hour and a half ago. Since he was riding the whole way, it only took him half that time to get back.

    The  residents were barely alive and eyeing his horse like they might pounce on the fresh meat, but it was a thousand times better than that empty village. When Dean arrived, he quickly found the inn and walked in, looking for a place to stay. The owner refused his gold, saying food was the only valuable currency anymore. Dean couldn’t argue with him, but had nothing to eat himself.

    He ended up finding a large tree outside the town. He tethered his horse to it and spread out a blanket for himself. He told himself he would return to the strange village tomorrow, that it would feel sad rather than dangerous in the sunlight. He knew he was lying to himself. There was just something wrong about that place. Sleep came easily and when he woke he wasn’t alone.

    “Sam? Jess? What’re you doin’ up s’early?” Dean asked, wiping the sleep from his mind. They both looked exhausted. Sam shook his head and handed Dean a letter with his name on the outside before lying down and falling asleep instantly. Jess tried a little harder.

    “Rode through a few nights. Did a bit of searching for you. Cas said it was urgent.” She mumbled and then she was gone too. Dean sat there for a moment staring at his brother before processing that he needed to read the letter. He looked back at the letter and turned it over. He recognized Cas’s seal in the red wax. A thrill twisted through his stomach. He popped open the seal and hungrily read the letter. He’d missed Cas more than he cared to admit.

    When Dean read the part where Cas asked for Dean to forgive him, Dean frowned. He thought that he’d made it fairly clear that he didn’t hold it against Cas anymore. The letter made it sound like Cas believed this forgiveness would be a long time coming, if it came at all. Then Dean thought about what he knew of how Cas thought. Okay, he could see that he needed to spell things out for Cas, especially when it came to emotions.

    Dean put Cas’s letter aside and unfolded the one presumably from Joshua. One side looked like a recipe. It turned out to be a spell for Joshua to temporarily see out of Dean’s eyes. Dean did not understand and was completely against the idea until he read the back, explaining about talismans and how to break the spell by destroying one. Dean sighed, resigning himself to the violation, and reviewed the spell. He hoped that Sam and Jess had brought the ingredients because there was no way he could get all of this here even when it was still a thriving town.

    He folded it back up and reread Cas’s letter. He’d been too disturbed by the forgiveness bit before to notice the last sentence. Everything is too quiet without you. Dean made a small choking noise. Cas missed him. Like really missed him. Dean’s desire to return to the castle doubled and he couldn’t wait to see Cas again. He couldn’t say why. He wanted to tell Cas what he’d seen, listen to Cas complain about Crowley and Ruby, sit in the library while Cas actually read a book and he pretended to read while really spying on Cas.

    Dean tilted his head back and gazed at the few stars he could see past the leaves of the tree above him. He wondered why he felt this way. It was actually starting to worry him. He felt that after they deposed Crowley, he wouldn’t want to leave. He would want to stay and Cas probably wouldn’t expect or want that and Dean just knew that was going to hurt a bunch more than it should. And he needed to stop thinking about all of that.

    Dean carefully folded the letter and placed it in his pack. He laid down and prayed to a god he wasn’t sure he believe in that he could go back to sleep and not have to think for a while. Whether it was an act of god or a natural one, Dean managed to find sleep for a second time that night.

    When Dean woke up it was to a crick in his neck and two sleeping teenagers wrapped in each other’s arms. Dean stared at Sam and Jess for a moment and decided to just let it be. They needed their sleep. If they wanted to strangle each other while they slept, that was up to them. Dean moved about as silently as he could, organizing his stuff and stealing some bread from Sam’s saddlebags after collecting all the ingredients for the spell.

    He wrote a brief note to Sam explaining that he would be back soon and to stay put. Then Dean slung his pack across his horse's back and swung up to sit astride the saddle. He took one last look at his sleeping brother and then rode  towards the strange village. Everything Joshua had written told him that the talisman was probably in there.

    Dean’s hopes that the village would feel less ominous in the daylight died as soon as he mounted the last hill. It sat curled in on itself, still clinging to the darkness of night. If anything, the sunlight accented how wrong the place was. Dean jumped off the horse and pulled out all the ingredients and the instructions. He began arranging the dried sage on the ground in a circle and put the apple in the center. He really didn’t understand any of this spellwork and he felt pretty foolish doing it, but he trusted Cas and Cas trusted Joshua.

    Fish eggs, cow blood, and a chicken liver were laid down next. All Dean could think about was a group of magician’s having a serious conversation about spellwork and worrying about how this one just wasn’t working until one of them suggested fish eggs. And somehow that was the missing piece. Dean rolled his eyes and then wrinkled his nose as he read the next step.

    He took the knife and reopened one of the scars on his hand from the fight in the mine. He then took a few strands of Joshua’s hair that had been wrapped in a cloth and pushed them into the cut. He made a fist and extended his arm out over the odd assortment of items which he had arranged in a vague pattern Joshua had called a sigil. The instructions said to drizzle the blood over the sigil, so Dean moved his hand slowly, making sure to drip blood on each of the ingredients.

    As soon as he finished, a pressure began to build in his head and he felt a questioning presence enter his mind. Dean shrank away from it before realizing that it was only asking permission. Dean gathered up his courage and threw an affirmative thought towards it, but limited the yes to control of his eyes. He didn’t know if this spell allowed for complete mind control and Dean was not going that far no matter what Cas said.

    The presence solidified and took root in his eyes. Dean could still see, but he couldn’t move his eyes. His eyes pricked strangely as if they were drying out, but Dean was actually blinking more than was necessary. Dean heard the voice of an older man echo in his head, urging him to approach the village. Assuming this was Joshua, Dean took a few steps forwards until he hit that invisible, intangible barrier. His stomach knotted and he felt like he might pass out. Grinding his teeth together, he took a deep breath of air, squeezed his eyes shut, and stepped into the wrong feeling.

    Dean had fallen seriously ill when he was first brought to the mine. He remembered the burn of the fever through his body, causing every joint and muscle to ache. The feeling which flooded his body as soon as he took that step was similar, a hot and cold feeling which left a lasting ache everywhere it touched. Every instinct in his body was telling Dean to run, but the voice in his head urged him on and Dean swore to himself that he was not insane but Joshua was actually speaking to him.

    Dean took small halting steps towards the village, forcing each muscle to move closer. Eventually, he passed the first house and shuddered at the feeling of emptiness emanating from it. Joshua was using his eyes to inspect everything, no matter how small. Dean was still in control of his body, so he staggered through the village, weaving between the houses allowing Joshua to look at everything, As he reached the far edge of the village, Dean began to struggle to keep himself from vomiting. They must be getting closer to the talisman.

    Suddenly, without a doubt, Dean knew he had found it. A small wooden bucket stood upright near the left side of the road. Dean saw tendrils of black energy licking the air and seeping into the ground around it. Dean shuddered, but managed to pull the pouch of salt from his back pocket and slowly approach the bucket.

    As soon as he was close enough, Dean stretched out his arm and dumped the bag of salt into the center of the bucket. He watched as the tendrils froze and then trembled as if in pain. Dean felt the pressure behind his eyes grow and knew that Joshua was pumping magic through him to set the bucket on fire. But nothing happened. The tendrils were beginning to recover and Dean was regretting using his entire bag of salt.

    “Josh, you better hurry up.” Dean muttered under his breath.

     I’m trying Dean. It seems our connection is too weak. Find another way to set it on fire and find it now before it manages to dislodge the salt. Joshua sounded genuinely concerned, so Dean didn’t spend time thinking. He grabbed the bucket and stumbled  back to where he left his horse. It took three times longer than it should have since the dark energy from the bucket seemed intent to lock Dean’s joints and freeze his muscles.

    When he reached the horse, Dean dropped the bucket, careful to keep all the salt inside, and dug into his pack searching for the tinderbox. He was grateful the talisman was wooden and not something stone or metal. It made it easier to burn. He felt the box brush against his knuckles and grabbed it. He stumbled to where the bucket lay an half knelt, half fell in front of it. He gripped it by the handle, his hand screaming in pain, and tipped it so he it lay on its side and the dry wood at the base was exposed.

    Dean struck the flint with the steel, catching the char cloth on fire after three tries. He laid the flaming cloth on the wood of the talisman, praying that it would actually light. The black tendrils were already causing small sprays of salt to fly out of the bucket. Dean held his breath as he watched the fire burn through the char cloth and lap against the bucket. When it finally caught, he released the breath and stood up.

    He glanced down at the hand he’d used to tip over the talisman. A burst of black was spread across the center of his palm. Dean touched it gingerly, but it didn’t hurt. It was as if the black energy had tattooed him. Disturbed, Dean looked away to watch the talisman being destroyed. The black energy was writhing, but slowly fading and becoming more and more transparent. By the time the bucket was no more than two metal rings and a few nails, the energy had completely faded. Dean felt the pressure let up from behind his eyes and with a few words of farewell, Joshua’s presence was no longer in his mind.

    Dean looked back down at his palm and could no longer see the black starburst. He flexed his hand, relieved for it to be gone. Dean struggled to mount the horse, his muscles sore from fighting against the talisman. When he got back to the tree he’d spent the night under, his brother and Jess were still asleep. With a groan, he dismounted and tethered his horse. He delicately lowered himself to sit with his back to the tree. Letting his mind wander, he watched the clouds drift across the sky and waited for his two companions to wake up.

Chapter Text

DEAN

    While Dean was sitting under the tree, a cool breeze had picked up. He could almost feel it blowing away all traces of the contamination from Lucifer’s spell. Unfortunately, it didn’t magically pull crops from the earth. People were still starving. Dean mulled over a few solutions to that particular issue while Sam and Jess slept away their exhaustion. The plan Dean decided on was simple and effective.

    He would return to the palace and convince Cas to send food to the towns and villages which were worst off. He knew the capitol had an excess of just about everything. The part that made this plan perfect was the part where Cas hid this from Crowley and made sure that the people transporting the food were clear that the orders came from Prince Castiel with no mention of the king. This would, hopefully, allow Lucifer’s supposed intended undermining of the crown to continue, but leave Cas unaffected and even better  off, paving the path for him to take over.

    Sam stirred, knocking Jess in the ribs. Jess groaned and opened her eyes, squinting at the bright sky. In a flash, her brain seemed to process how late in the day it was. She kicked Sam twice and sat up. Sam curled in a ball then stretched out and sat up as well. They both noticed Dean watching at the same time. Sam turned bright red and looked away but Jess seemed unaffected

    “Good morning, snuggle bunnies,” Dean quipped at Sam.

    “Shut up,” Sam muttered, standing up and stumbling to where he had thrown the saddlebags last night.

    “Good morning,” Jess chirped back cheerfully. Dean chuckled and returned to watching the clouds. It took a little under ten minutes for Sam and Jess to wake up enough to start grilling Dean.

    “Hey, did you read the letter?” Sam began.

    “Yep.” Dean’s monosyllabic response frustrated Sam who threw a bitch face Dean’s way.

    “What are you supposed to do next?” Jess asked patiently.

    “Already did it. I just had to burn a bucket. No biggie.” Dean explained. Twin faces of confusion stared at Dean.

    “A...bucket?...caused the famine?” Sam seemed dubious. Dean chuckled and took mercy on his brother.

    “That was a talisman through which magic could be worked. It was an actual spell which caused the famine.” Dean wasn’t allowed to tell anyone, including Sam, all of what he and Cas knew. So just saying ‘a spell’ and not going into detail about motives or suspects was easier.

     “Oh. And burning it was enough to stop it?” Sam asked.

     “I also threw a little salt on it, but yeah, that took care of it. I’m gonna get Cas to send some food down here as well to help out until they can grow their own again.” Dean stood, hoping to get on the road soon. He really couldn’t wait to see Cas again.

     Jess had her arms crossed and was looking at Dean as if she didn’t believe a word he’d just said. Dean quirked an eyebrow at her but she just shrugged and turned away. They began to pack up the few items sitting around and all grabbed some jerky to eat for breakfast. Sam complained about having to be on a horse again so soon, but stepped into the stirrup and swung his leg over the saddle anyway. Jess explained that it had taken them three days to get back to the capitol, but they had exhausted themselves and their horses to do so. She recommended taking closer to a week. As impatient as Dean was to get back, the exhaustion still present on Sam’s face couldn’t be ignored, so he agreed to take it slow.

    The journey back was uneventful, consisting of mostly cold nights and early mornings. Dean couldn't wait to sleep in an actual bed, under a roof. Even in the mine, he'd never woken to the heavens opening and soaking him from head to toe. By the time they made it back to the palace, Jess had a cold and Sam was flitting around her like a mother hen every chance he got. It was even more unbearable than the puppy eyes.

    Dean watched as Sam carefully helped Jess down from her horse. He snorted. As far as he knew, having a cold didn't affect your legs. He hopped down from his own horse and took both his and Sam's neglected horse to the stables. He handed the reigns to a man with shifty eyes.

    “Hey! Don't I know you from somewhere?” the man demanded. Dean's eyes widened a fraction, but he kept his voice under control.

    “I don't think so. I certainly haven’t met you before,” Dean clenched his fists, forcing his face to remain neutral. He did not need all the problems that would come from people recognizing him as the rebel from Starkin Mines.

    “Oh, I know what it is. You kinda look like that criminal they were huntin’ a while back. You know, the one who murdered all those guards in the mine?” The man nodded to himself, having satisfied his curiosity.

    Dean forced a laugh. “Yeah, I've heard that before. Trust me, my face is as far as the similarities go.”

   “I don't remember them releasing a full body portrait, boy!” The man guffawed and shuffled off with the horses. Dean turned around and suppressed the urge to run out of the stables. He couldn’t afford to look suspicious. If anyone actually tried to detain him, it would be nothing but trouble. When Dean returned to where Sam and Jess were waiting, they seemed to be having a mild argument.

    “Why won't you just tell me where you live?” Sam sounded frustrated as he threw his hands in the air.

    “I'm perfectly capable of taking myself home. You should go back to your family,” Jess croaked, her throat raw from congestion.

    “There is no way I’m letting you walk home alone, especially without knowing if there’s anyone to take care of you there,” Sam crossed his arms and adopted his ‘immovable obstacle’ posture.

    “Whoa, guys. Jess, just let Sammy take you home. It's no big deal. It's not like he's a creep or anything,” Dean stepped in between them and held up his hands.

    Jess shot him a murderous glare and grumbled to herself before agreeing reluctantly, “Fine. But just Sam. You have to go report back to the prince.” Jess looked at Dean and he saw the plea in her eyes begging him not to argue. With as eager as he was to see Cas, Dean had no plans to cross her.

    “Yeah, sure. You two good from here?” Dean asked, beginning to back up, “No more fighting?”

    “Yes, Dean,” Sam groaned, meaning Go away already . Dean grinned at Sam, then turned around and headed towards the palace at a light jog. In no time he reached the front entrance. At this time of day, the doors were standing open so he had no problems getting past the half a dozen guards.

     Dean headed straight for the stairway and almost ran up to the third floor. Making sure to square his shoulders as if he had an important purpose, Dean strode between the guards lining the hallway. When he reached Cas’s door, he hesitated only a moment before knocking. Dean realized that his face was split in a ridiculous grin. He wiped it off and tried to stand still as the door opened.

    “Dean? Dean!” Samandriel threw the door open and gripped Dean in a bear hug. Dean grunted and raised his arms, not returning the hug. Samandriel remained unfazed. Eventually, the boy pulled away. “Thank goodness you're back! I don't think anyone could have taken another day of this.”

    “Day of what?” Dean asked, thoroughly confused. Samandriel pulled Dean into the room and sat him in his chair.

    “The prince! He has been incredibly,” he paused searching for a respectful, but accurate, word, “irritable ever since you left. I was convinced he was going to send me to the dungeons three times this past week alone.”

    “Well, I'm not sure I'm going to help with that, but I can sure try,” Dean said, wondering what had happened since he left to make Cas react like that. Samandriel gave him an odd look and shook his head.

    “Just wait here. I'll go inform him you’ve arrived,” Samandriel gestured at Dean and Dean gave him a thumbs up. He leaned back in the chair and let his head fall back. The ceiling hadn't changed much. He could still easily pick out that one odd squirrel shaped crack.

CAS

    Cas paced the inside of the council room. The next meeting was scheduled for two hours from now, but he’d arrived early. After taking care of some paperwork, practicing his swordplay, and going for a run he’d finished with all his plans for the day. So, getting here a little early hadn’t seemed like a terrible idea. He at least felt like he was doing something sort of important. Letting out a huff of frustration, Cas plopped himself down in one of the chairs surrounding the long table. Okay, so maybe the truth was that he was bored and couldn’t find anything of interest to do. He wasn’t even required to be at this meeting. The door at the far end of the room slid open and Samandriel walked in.

    “My lord, Dean Winchester has returned,” Samandriel announced as he bowed deeply in Castiel’s direction. Before Samandriel even had a chance to straighten his back, Cas had stood and moved to stand next to him.

    “Where is he?” Cas demanded.

    “In your room, my lord,” Samandriel quivered under the intensity of Cas’s stare. Cas ignored him and rushed out of the room, not caring  if Samandriel followed or not. When he reached the stairs, he took them two at a time. He slowed down as he walked down the third-floor hallway, not wanting to confuse or worry the guards. Cas came to his door and threw it open. Dean was standing next to his desk, leaning over to look at some report he’d left on top.

     Dean looked up and Cas was certain he saw Dean’s face light up as he straightened to greet him. It seemed as though Dean intended to say something, but Cas didn’t give him a chance. He flung his arms around Dean and hugged him, letting Dean feel the three weeks of tension and loneliness melt off. Surprisingly, Dean immediately responded, wrapping Cas in a warm embrace. Cas turned his head so that his cheek was pressed against Dean’s neck. Dean let his head relax and laid it on top of Cas’s. Cas sighed and relaxed his grip around Dean’s chest. He gently rubbed his face into Dean’s neck, content to just stand there as long as Dean allowed. He didn’t think he’d ever been more comfortable.

    “Miss me?” Dean chuckled. Cas enjoyed how he could feel the words rumble through Dean’s chest. Cas made a small noise of agreement and lifted his head to look at Dean. And Dean’s face was right there , not three inches away from his own. Cas surprised himself with the sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss him. He glanced down at Dean’s lips and felt himself blush. With a jerk, he abruptly pulled away, heart beating faster than it had during his morning run.

    “Yeah,” Dean cleared his throat and took a step back, “missed you too, man.” They both stared at the floor for a moment before Cas broke the tension.

    “Did everything go as planned?” Cas asked, glancing up at Dean. Why had he wanted to kiss Dean? Dean was male. Cas had never thought that way about a man before, not that Cas had ever seriously thought about kissing any females either.

    “Oh. Yep. Burned one bucket talisman and got the Hell out of dodge.” Dean smiled tightly and flexed his left hand. Cas watched the movement as he turned over the idea of kissing Dean. He did consider Dean very attractive with his bright, green eyes and muscular build and… stop! Dean was male.

    “Bucket?” Cas repeated, not putting much thought into the conversation. Something must be wrong with him. He wasn’t supposed to want to kiss men. His gaze slid up to Dean’s lips again. He definitely still wanted to kiss Dean.

    “Joshua said it could be anything. My guess is Lucifer wanted something that would just blend into the town and never be noticed,” Dean’s eyes were looking everywhere but at Cas, “Hey, isn’t Meg supposed to be visiting soon? Have you nailed down a date yet?” Cas’s thoughts ground to a halt. Meg. He was getting married in four months. To a woman. Like a normal person should. Cas pinched his lips together and frowned at the opposite wall.

    “Yes. We don’t know exactly when she’ll arrive, but she is on the road and estimates one more week of travel.” Cas announced in a stiff, business-like voice.

    “Well, I guess prepare for anything,” Dean lips tried for a smile but failed miserably. He shuffled nervously and flicked his gaze between Cas and the wall to his left.

    “I need to get to a council meeting,” Cas announced, slightly desperate to escape whatever awkward situation he’d placed them in. He looked into Dean’s eyes and he felt his face soften. “I’m really glad you’re back.” Then he slipped out the door without letting Dean respond.

    After his race down the stairwell, Cas walked slowly and deliberately down the second-floor hall, Cas made his way to the lounge where he could be alone. He needed some time to think. Or maybe forget. He hadn’t decided which yet.

DEAN

    That had just been… odd. One moment, Cas was snuggling, honest to goodness snuggling, into Dean’s arms and then he looked up and glanced at his lips. Dean had actually, like an utter moron, allowed himself to anticipate kissing Cas and then Cas was gone, pulling himself away like Dean was poison. Yet Dean could swear Cas had glanced back at his lips several times during their short, awkward conversation.

    Then, Cas had gone all stiff and clinical on him like he’d been when they first met. To top it all off, Cas had fled to go to some council meeting Dean knew couldn’t be necessary or probably even important. What was he supposed to think of that? Dean growled in the back of his throat and threw himself down onto his chair. He reached up to touch the side of his neck where Cas had rested his cheek. With the number of wet dreams and even occasional, guilty, daytime fantasies paired with how much he had freaking missed Cas, there was really no denying it anymore. Dean was head over heels for Cas. And Cas was repulsed by that. Dean groaned and let his head fall into his hands. This wasn’t happening to him. This was supposed to be simple. Dean’s freedom for assistance with deposing Crowley. No messy... feelings or whatever. Dean leaned back and stared at the ceiling again. He didn’t really know what Cas had thought was going on with the almost-kiss, so Dean was going to pretend like nothing happened. He didn’t want anything to be awkward. Eventually, things would return to normal. He wouldn’t lose what he had with Cas over this.

    It was a good half an hour before Dean remembered that, as Cas’s personal guard, he was supposed to accompany him everywhere. He sighed and stood. He also still needed to bring up the idea of sending crops to the south. Cas was either in the library or the lounge. He always went to one of those two places when he encountered a problem or needed some time alone.

SAM

    Sam followed Jess as she navigated the streets. All he knew about her home was that she didn’t live in the castle. He didn’t know why she had been so reluctant to talk about it or take him there and he really didn’t care. It wouldn’t change the fact that he was pretty sure he was in love with her. Sam watched as Jess stumbled over a stone. He rushed forward to grab her arm to support her. Jess shook him off.

    “I have a cold. I’m not suddenly incapable of taking care of myself,” she snapped. Sam pinched his lips together. She’d been snappy ever since Dean left and he really didn’t know why.

    “Sorry. I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Sam said, bowing his head. Jess stopped and turned around.

    “I know. I’m sorry for snapping. I just… I don’t really want anyone seeing where I live. But I’d rather show you than anyone else.” Jess gave him a soft smile before turning back around. Sam grabbed her shoulder to stop her.

    “Why? Where you live isn’t going to change how I see you,” Sam claimed, trying to comfort her.

    “I… You don’t know everything about me. Actually, you don’t know a whole lot,” Jess frowned at the ground.

    “I know you’re the sweetest, yet toughest, person I know. You’re smart and kind and utterly gorgeous. I don’t need to know whatever it is you haven’t told me to know who you are,” Sam declares, both of his hands on Jess’s shoulders.

   Jess blushed and looked up at Sam with a small smile, “Sam Winchester! I didn’t know you could be so sentimental.”

    “You’ve never given me a chance to be,” Sam grinned at Jess and leaned forward to kiss her. It was short and chaste, but it made Sam’s smile even brighter.

    “Come on. Let’s get this over with,” Jess grumbled past her own smile and started walking again. This time they took a more direct path with fewer turns and Sam realized that Jess had been buying time. They headed away from the gate and the main road. The houses slowly got smaller and the streets narrower. Sam began noticing people camping in the street and in small adjacent alleys. Eventually, Jess stopped in front of a dirty, slumped hovel.

    “So… this is home,” Jess gestured weakly with one hand and stared at the ground, refusing to look at Sam. Sam stared a moment and then collected his thoughts.

    “Cool. I’m looking forward to meeting your family,” Sam touched Jess on the elbow but she drew away.

    “I, um, I…” Jess shuffled her feet a bit, “I don’t have a family. It’s been just me for a while now,” She finally looked up at Sam and began talking at speed, as if she was afraid he would interrupt her, “I told you that you didn’t know everything about me. There’s a reason I don’t talk about my family. My parents were executed for treason when I was five. I lived with Uncle Joshua and Samandriel for a while, but when I learned how my parents died I refused to live in the palace. This was the best place I could afford with the little money I’d saved up from odd jobs I’d picked up. I can’t read; Uncle Joshua was always too busy to teach me and Samandriel didn’t know how. He tried, but… he was as young as I was, so it didn’t really work” Jess took a breath, apparently intent on continuing, but then let it out in a sigh and remained quiet.

    “Jess. That’s terrible. I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through. But supporting yourself? That’s amazing. Most people couldn’t do that,” Sam took both of Jess’s hands and waited for her to look up at him. When she finally did, he continued, “You shouldn’t be ashamed to show me your home or tell me your history. You should be proud. Listening to your heart and refusing to stay in the palace, even though it must have been a million times harder, is remarkable. I wish I had your courage. Don’t be ashamed of your history.” Sam smiled at her and Jess smiled back weakly.

    “Thanks, Sam. You…” Jess started coughing. Sam let go of one of her hands as she reached up to cover her mouth. “Sorry. I think I may have been talking a bit too long,” Jess coughed once more before continuing, “Would you, uhm, would like like to come inside?”

    Sam nodded and began helping Jess to the door, “Of course. You need some rest,” Sam opened the door and was surprised by how clean the inside was compared to the filthy street outside. Sam cleared his throat nervously, “And if you want, later, I would be thrilled to teach you to read. I’m a little rusty, but we can learn together.”

    Jess looked back at Sam with a spark in her eyes. She turned all the way around and wrapped Sam in a hug, burying her head in the crook of his neck. Sam reached up and ran a hand over her hair, “So, that’s a yes?” Sam whispered in her ear. Jess nodded against his shoulder and tightened her hug for a moment before letting him go. She kissed him on the cheek before sitting down on a small bed in the corner.

    “What do you need? Can I make you tea or something?” Sam asked. Jess nodded and told him where everything he needed was located in her small kitchen.Sam followed her instructions and soon he was finished. As he handed her the hot cup of tea and he sat down next to her, Sam thought that he’d never been more content.

CAS

    The week before Meg’s arrival seemed to fly by. Things between Cas and Dean switched back to how they had been before Dean left and Cas wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. He had agreed with Dean’s suggestion to send supplies to those in need without letting Crowley take credit. It had taken a few threats and some blackmail, but everyone involved agreed to keep it secret and the much-needed aid was sent off.

    The day Meg arrived started off very pleasantly with Dean telling Cas stories of Sam. Cas always enjoyed seeing the love shine out of Dean’s eyes when he talked about his brother.

    “He didn’t even see it coming. Jo just came up behind him, flipped her oatmeal bowl, and slammed it down on his head. The surprise and horror on his face were hilarious. Jo and I lost it. Of course, I was the one to pick the oatmeal out of his ridiculous hair, but it was  totally worth it,” Dean laughed, reliving the memory.

    “You two sound like Gabriel and Balthazar. They were terrible pranksters. I once woke up to 20 frogs in my room, more than half of them in my bed. It’s my belief that they had all originally been in my bed. I have no idea where they found so many,” Cas smiled gently at the memory. He’d been horrified and angry at the time, but now it seemed like one of his best childhood memories. He missed his brothers but was no longer overcome with pain when he thought of them.

    Dean’s eyes shone with mirth, obviously imagining Cas in a bed full of frogs, before doubling over in renewed amusement. Suddenly, Cas was worried, “Don’t you dare even think about repeating that prank! I will send you back to the dungeon.”

    Dean looked at him, eyes twinkling, “Oh, come on! It would be fun. And we both know you’d never send me back there. That threat lost it’s bite ages ago.”

    Cas crossed his arms, “We both know that, do we? Maybe you’re just mistaken.” He had to struggle to keep the smile off his face.

    Dean leaned forward in his chair, “Cas! You don’t....” He was cut off by the door flying open.

    Samandriel shot into the room, slightly breathless, and announced, “The Lady Meg of Belroth has arrived. His Royal Highness, King Crowley requests your presence.”

    Cas sent Dean a slightly desperate look before adopting his neutral mask and standing to follow Samandriel. Dean stood as well and took up his position slightly behind Cas’s left elbow. As they were leaving the room, Dean leaned forward and wrapped his hand around Cas’s arm right below the elbow.

    “It’s gonna be okay, Cas. We’re just meeting a visiting noble. You’ve done this a million times and this time I’m right behind you. You’ve got this,” Dean released Cas and returned to the stiff posture customary for guards. Cas didn’t dare look back at Dean. He didn’t know if he could keep himself from just grabbing him and kissing him. He had no clue how he’d made it all those years without Dean. His dependency on him was probably bordering on unhealthy, but Cas didn’t care. As long as Dean was here, everything would be okay. He took a deep breath and slowly released it as entered the throne room.

   Crowley was seated on the throne, looking impatient. Two women  with four guards in a small arc around them were standing in front of the throne. The taller woman was obviously a servant, probably Meg’s personal attendant. The second woman had dark curls cascading down her back and was dressed in an extravagant, purple dress with gold detailing. When Crowley caught sight of Castiel, he stood and descended the few steps to be level with him.

    “Castiel! Thank you for joining us,” Cas stopped next to Crowley and turned to face his future bride. Crowley placed a hand on Cas’s shoulder, “This is my son, Prince Castiel. Castiel, this is Lady Meg.”    

    Meg held out a gloved hand and Castiel obediently bent to kiss it, “Greetings, Lady Meg. It is my honor to meet you.” Cas stood.

    “So polite!” Meg clasped her hands in front of her, “There’s no need to be so formal with me, Clarence.” She smiled and Cas realized that she would be considered beautiful. He didn’t care.

    “Castiel,” Cas corrected.

    “Oh, I know. Clarence just rolls off my tongue better,” Meg nodded as if that was perfectly normal. Cas felt rage radiating off of Dean from behind him. He only hoped Dean was managing to keep his face blank. Cas glanced left at Crowley to see if he would complain. When he didn’t Cas decided not to bother about it. He never intended to like Meg anyway.

   “How about you two take some time to get to know each other and give Lady Meg a tour of the castle?” Crowley suggested.

    “That sounds lovely,” Meg purred. She held out an arm and Cas allowed her to loop it through his. He could play dutiful fiance as long as they wanted him to. Meg looked to her attendant and motioned for her to follow but keep her distance. Cas looked back at Dean, intending to indicate the same, but Dean immediately nodded his understanding. Cas was alarmed at Dean’s expression. It was nothing. Absolutely nothing, not just a blank mask. Dean seemed to have shut down a bit. Cas wrenched his head back to face the front. He couldn’t worry about Dean right now. He needed to focus on playing his part. He led Meg off to the right, intending to show her the ballroom first.

Chapter Text

DEAN

    Dean was going to break Meg’s face. He was clenching his teeth so hard he was sure he going to break them. He was surprised that he had managed to keep himself from yelling or at the very least scowling at Meg. When Cas had kissed Meg’s hand, jealousy and anger had assaulted him. He’d struggled to contain it behind a blank face. He knew that Cas marrying Meg was important, but he hated it with every fiber in his body.

    Then Meg had called Cas fucking Clarence. It was disrespectful and Cas hadn’t even seemed to care. Cas wasn’t standing up for himself and Dean wasn’t allowed to do it for him. It went against everything Dean was, but he forced himself to stay still and allow Meg to loop her arm through Cas’s. He was planning to be glued possessively to Cas’s side, but then Cas looked back at him and Dean knew what he was going to ask him to do. Dean had to hang back while Cas and Meg had some private conversation. The anger and jealousy rioting in Dean’s chest was too much and he just shut it down. He couldn’t keep feeling that and not act out in some way. So Dean fell into auto-pilot and allowed his feet to carry him along behind Cas.

    Eventually, Meg had inspected seemingly every room in the castle and found them lacking, if Dean had properly read the small frown she made whenever she entered a room. She and Cas had eaten dinner with Crowley and Ruby. Cas had told Dean he could go eat dinner as well, but there was no way in Hell Dean was leaving Cas alone with any of the three people in that room. So he’d stood off to the side at attention, eyes never leaving Cas as he navigated the fine art of polite conversation with people you hate.

    Dean was on the edge of exploding by the time dinner was finally over and Cas had bid Meg, Ruby, and Crowley goodnight. He managed to keep his cool as he followed Cas up the stairs and down the hallway, but as soon as Cas’s door clicked shut, he lost it.

    “What the fuck does she think she’s doing calling you Clarence and practically treating you like a pet? Did you see the way she’s already trying to tell you what to do and planning how she wants to change the palace?” Dean was close to shouting, but he reigned himself in and slammed his fist into the stone wall instead. His whole hand stung, but he barely noticed.

    Cas sighed and seated himself in his chair, “Yes, Dean. I noticed. It’s fine.”

    “It’s not fine, Cas. You… you don’t deserve that,” Dean almost continued, but stopped himself.  Who knew what he’d say if he continued. Probably something he’d regret. His anger had evaporated and he plopped himself down in the chair opposite Cas. All he felt now was a lingering sadness and the gnawing feeling of wrongness he felt when thinking of Cas and Meg in an arranged marriage.

    “It has to be fine. It doesn’t matter what I do or don’t deserve. The kingdom needs this and my first duty is to my people,” Cas explained as he wove his fingers together.

    “Did she say how long she’s staying?” Dean asked.

    Cas nodded, “Two weeks, give or take a few days.”

    “She can take all she wants,” Dean muttered. Cas chuckled, glancing up at Dean from under his lashes and if that wasn’t the cutest thing in the world, then Dean didn’t know shit.

    “You haven’t had dinner. Do you want me to get Samandriel to bring you something?” Cas suggested.

    Dean shook his head, “I can scrounge up some bread or something. I don’t want to bother the kitchen this late.”

    Cas hummed, signaling his understanding and stared at the far wall. Technically, Dean was supposed to go to his bunk in the servant’s quarter now, but Cas seemed disturbed. While Dean was absolute crap at emotional stuff, he wasn’t just going to leave Cas alone. The two of them sat in silence awhile and it was actually quite peaceful. Dean caught himself tracing the outline of Cas’s body with his eyes. He switched his gaze back to the wall, but that was painfully boring compared to Cas. Eventually, Cas broke the silence.

    “It’s late you should have left a while ago. I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner,” Cas stood abruptly. Dean remained seated.

    “It’s okay, Cas. I was going to stay until you went to bed,” Dean readjusted himself, letting Cas know that he had no intention of getting up. Cas looked at Dean like he was about to complain, but then he did the little eye smile Dean loved and sat back down.

    “I don’t know if I’ll be sleeping much tonight,” Cas announced. Dean’s mind immediately provided him with several tempting, but off-limits, options. He shook them out of his head.

    “That’s cool. I probably wouldn’t have either. This whole thing seriously makes my blood boil,” Dean could feel the simmering start up again.

    “I’m touched that you care so much, but there’s really no need for you to worry. I’ve been resigned to an arranged marriage for as long as I remember. It doesn’t affect me much anymore,” Cas seemed to be trying to comfort him.

    “It’s not just...:” Dean cut himself off and began again, “You shouldn’t have to be resigned to it. It’s just fucking wrong.” Dean gripped the back of his chair tight enough that his knuckles turned white. He couldn’t make Cas fully understand without telling him about the terrible jealousy eating away at him. And that was something he was not willing to do. He didn’t want Cas to retreat back into his shell and shut Dean out. It had taken him long enough to come out in the first place.

    “It’s the way my country has handled marriage for generations. It’s only reasonable that I am subject to the same standards as my ancestors,” Cas seemed perfectly calm and his lack of indignation only caused Dean’s to increase.

    “Well, maybe it’s time for things to change,” Dean nearly growled. Cas shouldn’t be forced to marry anyone! He deserved to choose who he wanted to be with. Hell, if you asked Dean he’d say Cas deserved the entire freaking world.

    Cas sighed, apparently letting Dean have the last word. He rested his chin in his hands and looked at Dean. Dean fidgeted slightly under Cas’s stare. If the guy was going to stare at him with those intense, blue eyes, Dean was going to have a problem. Just as Dean’s dick was seriously considering joining the conversation, Cas looked away and Dean released a breath he’d been unaware of holding.

    “I’m going to try sleeping. You should too,” Cas stood and looked down at Dean with such fondness that Dean almost gasped, “Thank you for staying with me.”

    Damn but Dean wanted to kiss him. Maybe he could settle for a hug? Cas didn’t seem to mind those. Dean chose that moment to remind himself of how Cas had reacted the last time they’d hugged. He ignored the reminder and stood. He stepped towards Cas, lifting his arms in invitation. Cas fit himself to Dean’s chest and wrapped his arms around his chest without hesitation. Dean leaned his cheek into the side of Cas’s head. If this was all he got to have of Cas, he’d enjoy each moment to the fullest.

    After a few seconds, Dean drew away, not wanting to make Cas uncomfortable. They both said goodnight and Dean left through the servant’s entrance. All the way back to his bunk his mind replayed the conversation they’d had. Dean was still disturbed by Cas’s calm acceptance, but he understood a little better now. When Dean finally reached his bunk, he laid down, not even removing hs sword belt, and was asleep almost instantly.

CAS

    The next two weeks ground on Cas’s nerves. He was supposed to be with Meg everyday, entertaining her, listening to her, teaching her about Andala. Every smile he forced, every touch of her cold hands, every superior look levelled at him wore at Cas’s patience. Normally, playing his part came easily, but by the last day, Cas was struggling to remain civil.    

    Dean was no better. The bags under his eyes and the dragging of his feet told Cas that Dean wasn’t sleeping properly. Dean hardly bothered to make conversation anymore and when he spoke it was short and lifeless. If Dean hadn’t given him a perfect reason by making it abundantly clear how much he hated the idea of the arranged marriage, Cas would be quite concerned for his health. As it was, standing next to Dean outside the palace and waving goodbye to Meg as she rode off in her carriage was a moment of profound relief.

    “I think I will build a new wing, just for her. If she never comes out and I never go in, life will be bearable,” Cas mused.

    Dean tried for a smile, but his lips just ended up twitching, “Sorry to break it to you, but I think you’re going to need a whole new palace.” Cas pinched his lips together and nodded. It was an idea.

    “Let’s go inside. You need some rest. Go to bed,” Cas ordered. Dean made a weak noise of protest before Cas cut him off, “If you’re going to say that it’s your job to guard me, then I’ll just have to officially dismiss you for the day. As soon as you’re in bed, you’ll sleep, I can see it in your eyes.” Dean frowned, but didn’t argue any further. He trailed after Cas as he climbed the few steps up and through the front door of the palace. When they reached the staircase, Dean mumbled a goodbye and headed down to the servant’s quarters while Cas headed up to his room.

    Now that Meg was gone, Cas felt something in his chest relax and sleep was sounding like a really good idea. He shuffled into his room and yawned as he pushed the door closed. He sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled off his shoes. He let his arms fall limp by his sides. Three and a half months That was how much longer Cas had as a single man. That was the amount of time until he could act against Crowley. That was how much longer he had with Dean.

    Cas’s eyes widened. He’d had a taste of life without Dean. He didn’t to ever feel that way again. He wanted to keep Dean. But Dean wasn’t his to keep. Dean had a family waiting for him. He wouldn’t want to stay with him. Cas felt like he was about to hyperventilate. He’d somehow forgotten that Dean wasn’t here by choice and would be leaving after he’d completed the job.

    But… just because Dean wouldn’t be living in the palace didn’t mean that Cas would never see him again. Cas only realized he’d been gripping the bed when his hands began to relax. Dean was his friend, Cas was sure of it. Maybe Dean wouldn’t mind if Cas visited him wherever he and his family settled. Yes, that’s what he’d do. Cas’s hands relaxed all the way and he stood to change into his nightshirt.

    By the time he slid under the covers, he’d worked himself up again. How was he supposed to handle being married to Meg without Dean? The only reason he’d made it through her visit without violence was because of Dean. He had refused to leave Cas’s side and wouldn’t go to bed until Cas did. Cas calmed a bit and smiled at the memory of Dean practically falling asleep on his chair. Dean was really the best person Cas knew. After a few more efforts to calm himself, Cas managed to fall asleep.

DEAN

    As relieved as Dean was to have Meg gone, he couldn’t properly enjoy it. He was exhausted down to the bone. He had been sleeping just fine, maybe staying up a tad later with Cas, but nothing major. Yet, waking up was like pulling lead weights of off his eyes and falling asleep was as easy as giving into gravity. His thoughts were still clear, but every move he made was sluggish and took twice the effort it should have.

    The weeks after Meg left were, Dean managed to hide his exhaustion from Cas. Something was up with Cas, and Dean needed to focus on him. Cas was… clingy. There was no other word for it. It wasn’t necessarily anything he said or actively did. Cas was just sitting closer and leaning in towards Dean and looking like a beaten puppy whenever Dean had to leave. If Dean was being honest, he really enjoyed it, even if it was worrisome.

    Three weeks from the day Meg left, Dean barely got out of bed. Sometimes he felt almost normal, but other times his exhaustion weighed on him like an anchor. This day had to be the worst day yet. Dean staggered out of his bunk, hitting his head twice, and got several curious stares from the three other servants he shared his room with. He ignored them and staggered around the room as he got ready for the day. He felt that he could hardly lift his feet to walk, much less put effort into getting dressed. Somehow he managed to climb up the stairs and make it to Cas’s room.

    “G’d morn’n, Cas,” Dean grumbled as he fell sideways into his chair.

    “Dean? Are you alright?” Cas sounded worried. Dean struggled into a normal position.

    “Yeah, Cas. ‘M just tired,” Dean turned his head to look at Cas and gave him a small, loose smile.

    “And you tell me to sleep more,” Cas shook his head and turned back to whatever paperwork was on the desk in front of him. Dean yawned and tried to sit up straighter to stay awake. He’d slept just fine last night but had no intention of using energy to tell Cas that. With a monumental effort of will, Dean managed to stay awake for the next two hours before the council meeting Cas felt obligated to attend.

    As he was following Cas down the hallway, Dean felt a sharp tug on the knot of exhaustion in his chest and he collapsed to his knees. He was vaguely aware of Cas holding his face and yelling, but he was too busy desperately clutching at the last threads of consciousness which were slowly evaporating in his grasp. The last thing he knew was falling forwards onto Cas and the startled gasp Cas released.

CAS

    Cas was worried. Dean had seemed off for a while, but Cas had let it be knowing that Dean didn’t like to seem weak. Now Dean was sitting in his chair obviously fighting for every moment of consciousness. Cas felt bad asking Dean to get up, but he really did want to go to this council meeting. They were going to discuss the crown’s budget for the upcoming season and Cas wanted to know what lies Crowley was going to tell.

    Cas walked down the hallway slower than he normally would have because Dean seemed to currently  have an impaired sense of balance. Cas heard a soft thump and looked back. Dean was on his knees and sinking to sit on his heels. Cas fell to his knees in front of Dean and grasped his face with both hands, forcing Dean to look at him.

    “Dean! Dean? What happened? Are you okay?” Cas felt his chest imploding with worry and fear. Dean’s usually bright green eyes were dull and, while they were technically looking at Cas’s face, Cas could tell they didn’t see anything. Cas slapped Dean’s face gently with one hand, “Come back. What’s going on?”

    Dean let out a soft moan and Cas could see the last wisps of his willpower fail as Dean’s eyes closed and he fell forwards against Cas’s chest. Cas let out a small gasp as Dean’s head fell to his shoulder. Cas looked up. Two guards had left their stations against the wall and were leaning over Cas.

    “Could you lift him up?” Cas asked in a level voice, desperately trying to shove his panic away.

    “Yes, my lord,” The guard on his left grabbed Dean under the shoulders and lifted him unceremoniously, “Where shall we take him?”

    “Take him into my room. It’s the closest,” Cas instructed. Whatever was wrong with Dean, Cas would have fixed. He wasn’t leaving Dean until he knew he was going to get better. Cas followed the two guards as they carried Dean between them. After looking back at him for confirmation, they laid Dean down on Cas’s bed. Cas told one of them to fetch a healer and the other to return to his post. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put a hand on Dean’s forehead, checking for fever. His head was cold. Cas frowned and moved his hands to Dean’s shoulders. They nearly burnt his hands. Cas hissed and drew away.

    Feeling awkward, but deeming it necessary to try to cool Dean off, Cas began to pull Dean’s shirt up and over his head. It was a bit of a struggle for Cas to remove the shirt without looking at Dean’s chest. When he got it off, Cas threw it to the side and kept his eyes firmly fixed on Dean’s face. He was unnaturally still. Most people were always moving a little bit, even in sleep. Suddenly filled with fear, Cas put his hand up to Dean’s nose, checking for breath. He couldn’t tell if he felt anything or not. He put a hand on Dean’s sternum and, behind the blistering heat, felt a shallow rising and falling.

    Cas breathed a sigh of relief. And then realized that he was touching Dean’s bare chest. He yanked his hand away, but his eyes still drifted down to where it had laid. He gasped. Dean had a thick, ropy scar running from the left corner of his collarbone diagonally across to his opposite rib. Cas reached out as if to touch it, but drew his hand back. His eyes skimmed the rest of Dean’s exposed skin. Along with several other minor scars, Cas noticed hundreds of long, thin scars wrapping around Dean’s sides. Cas wedged his hands under Dean’s side and rolled him over. He cursed. There wasn’t a spot on Dean’s back that wasn’t scar tissue. The thin ropes ran across his back in every imaginable direction. Cas traced one running almost straight down Dean’s spine. He couldn’t imagine being whipped often enough for this to happen.

    Rage bubbled up within Castiel. If Alistair wasn’t already dead, Cas would have hunted him down and gutted him slowly and painfully, enjoying every second. And Crowley. Crowley was the one in charge of the kingdom. How could he have let this happen? No one deserved to be treated this way, especially not Dean. Then the wave of Cas’s anger fell as suddenly as it had risen.

    How many of these scars did Dean bear because of him? Cas traced one that ran from the nape of Dean’s neck to the base of his shoulder blade. Was that one because of him? He had known that things had gotten worse for Dean in the mine after his orders, but Cas had never actually visualized what had happened. Dean was whipped because of him. Cas was never going to forgive himself.

    The door opened behind him and Cas turned around in his chair, guilt and self-hatred swirling through his mind. A female healer stood in the doorway. He couldn’t remember her name.

    “You summoned me?” the healer asked, tying up her long, black hair with a strip of cloth. It didn’t escape Cas that she hadn’t used the customary title of respect.

    “Yes, my… bodyguard collapsed in the hallway. I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” Cas tried to keep his voice neutral, but felt himself slip up on the last sentence. The healer looked at him with eyes that seemed to see right through his farce. She drew up Dean’s chair and sat next to the bed, never taking her eyes off of Cas.

    “Okay. My name is Lisa and I will take care of him. There’s nothing to worry about,” the healer murmured in a calming tone. Cas got the feeling that she knew exactly how important Dean was to him. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

    “Thank you. Let me roll him back over,” Cas stood to grab Dean’s far side and roll him so he was face up, but Lisa put a firm hand on his chest, stopping him.

    “I’ve got this. Just sit back down,” she instructed. Cas sat back with a huff but let her roll Dean over. He watched as she touched his chest and then his forehead. A cloud of black jealousy seethed in his gut. He forced himself to stay seated. Lisa frowned.

    “This isn’t a natural illness. His entire body should either be hot or cold. I need to get the court mage. He’ll know what to do,” Lisa turned to leave. Cas grabbed her wrist.

    “It’s okay. I know someone. Thank you,” Cas said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

    “It’s my honor. If you need anything, just send for me,” Lisa left the room and Cas stood to leave as well. He needed to find Joshua. Halfway down the hallway, Cas found Samandriel. He sent him to fetch his father and returned to his room. He didn’t want to leave Dean alone. It was only when Joshua opened the door half an hour later that Cas realized he’d been holding Dean’s hand. He quickly unlaced their fingers.

    “What happened? Samandriel said you didn’t give him details,” Joshua asked, slightly out of breath.

    “Dean, he collapsed in the hallway.The healer said this wasn’t natural. I’ve been worried about him for a while. He’s seemed off ever since Meg left,” Cas explains.

    Joshua nodded and motioned for Cas to move away from the bed. Cas reluctantly stood and let Joshua take his place on the chair. Joshua reached out and touched Dean’s forehead. He drew his hand back faster than if Dean had been a snake.

    “No! How did I miss this? I was in his head,” Joshua muttered and ran out of the room, Cas following closely.

    “Miss what? What’s wrong?” Cas pleaded.

    “Dean… when he destroyed the talisman it must have marked him. I can’t believe I didn’t feel that,” Joshua whipped around a corner and Cas almost ran straight into it.

    “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

    “Essentially, Lucifer is trying to feed off of Dean’s magical energy. If Dean had been a mage, the only effects would be the loss of his magic, but Dean isn’t a mage. So it’s been slowly killing him. I’m actually surprised he remained functional this long,” Joshua darted into his room and Cas stood stock still in front of the door. He had been watching Dean die and he didn’t even know it. How could he have let that happen?

    Joshua emerged from the room with a long, silver knife, a bundle of wet herbs, and some gauze bandages. Cas hurried after him in silence, still berating himself for not getting Dean help sooner. When the reached his room, Cas was alarmed at the change in Dean’s appearance. His skin was ashen and if it wasn’t for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, Cas would have thought he was dead. Joshua placed the knife on the edge of the bed and began running the herbs up and down Dean’s arms. When he reached Dean’s left hand, a black flame enveloped the herbs. Joshua tossed them to the ground and stamped the fire out while Cas watched, worry twisting like a sword in his gut.   

    “Ok. I know where it marked him. Come here,” Joshua ordered. He handed Cas a bowl and pulled Dean’s hand to hang off the bed, “Hold this under Dean’s hand. I need to bleed it out of him.”

    Cas crouched and did as Joshua instructed. Joshua placed the silver knife to one of the scars across Dean’s palm and sliced in one efficient motion. The blood spurted a moment before beginning to flow. Cas felt sick to the stomach. He’d seen lots of blood in his life, but this was different. This was Dean’s blood. He watched in horror as the blood stopped flowing and instead a thick, black ooze began to slide out of the slice and fall in large drops into the bowl. Cas wrinkled his nose. It smelled of sulfur.

     “How much of this stuff does he have in him?” Cas wondered after a few minutes.

     “It’s hard to tell when it’s gone so long without being removed. We’re probably halfway through.”

    “It won’t hurt him, will it?” Cas worried.

    “Of course it’s going to hurt him, but it beats dying,” Joshua replied, “He’s probably not going to be up to much for at least a week.”

    “What will I need to do for him?” Cas wasn’t going to entrust Dean’s care to anyone but himself.

    “Just keep him fed. This sort of thing can’t be treated by any sort of tonic. He literally just has to gather energy. He was almost completely drained,” Joshua informed him.

    Cas nodded and continued to watch the black slime drop into the bowl. There was no warning before the blood began to flow freely again. Joshua tied a piece of gauze around Dean’s palm and moved Dean’s hand back to the bed.  

    “So, is all connection to Lucifer severed?” Cas asked.

    “Dark magic works through blood and physical contact. That’s why Lucifer needs that eye to harness that person’s energy,” Joshua explained, “Now that he no longer has a physical connection to Dean’s blood, so he can’t access his energy.”

     “Thank you, Joshua, you saved his life,” Cas looked into Joshua’s eyes and tried to convey his deep sincerity. Joshua gave him a small smile and shook his head slightly as if he knew something amusing Cas didn’t.

     “My pleasure. If anything unusual happens, have Samandriel fetch me immediately,” Joshua instructed as he gathered his leftover supplies. With one last nod, he exited the room and Cas was alone with Dean. Ignoring the chair, Cas sat on the bed next to Dean. He knew he probably had a hundred more useful things to be doing right now, but the most important thing was to be with Dean when he woke up.

    Fours hours later, Dean did just that. The first signs of life were a small moan and clenching and unclenching his left hand. Cas leaned over Dean and put a hand on his face.

    “Dean? Are you awake?” Cas whispered.

    “Mh-hmmm. Give me a little longer,” Dean slurred. Then his eyes popped open. “Cas?” he asked, eyes full of confusion.

    “You collapsed in the hallway, remember?”

    Dean shook his head. He stared into Cas’s eyes. “You’ve got really beautiful eyes, ya know? Fucking gorgeous,” he announced. Cas’s mouth popped open before the corners pulled up in a smile. Dean liked his eyes. He had no reasonable explanation as to why that comment made him feel warm, but he wasn’t going to question it.

   “Dean…nevermind. I don’t think you’re going to understand if I try to explain what happened. Maybe that’s better left for tomorrow,” Cas decided. He started to pull away. He had forgotten he still had a hand on Dean’s face. Dean reached up and pulled Cas back down by his shoulder.

     “‘M tired. Stay with me?” Dean mumbled, already halfway back to sleep. Cas’s heart began to beat faster, but he ignored it as he let Dean pull him down to fit against his side. Cas let his neck relax and his cheek landed on Dean’s bare chest. He almost jerked it away, but Dean didn’t seem to mind. Cas knew when Dean recovered he’d never get this again, so he decided to enjoy it while it lasted. Dean was warm again and Cas relaxed into it, committing every moment to memory.

Chapter Text

JO

    Jo was sweeping the bar floor... again. She didn’t know how the floor could get so dirty in such a short time. When she was finished, she returned the broom to behind the bar and joined her mother who was waiting for the next order. It wasn’t very busy this time of day. In fact, the tavern owner, Ezekiel, had even popped out for a walk around town, leaving Ellen in charge. They stood there, watching a few moths circle a lantern. Suddenly, there was a burst of activity at the door.

    A group of men slammed the door open, carrying someone in the midst of them. Two who weren’t supporting the body drew two tables together and the rest slung the body to lay on them. Jo gasped. She recognized the man. It was Ezekiel and his blood was spilling everywhere.

    “What happened?” her mother was demanding as she strode towards the group of men.

    “Some idiots were horse racing down the street and didn’t look where they were going,” reported a large, scruffy man in a dangerously quiet voice. By this point, Jo had joined her mother next to Ezekiel.

    “Damned idiots,” Ellen muttered, feeling for a pulse. She drew away a bloodied hand, “He’s alive, but just barely. Jo, get me some gauze and some cheap alcohol. Some needle and thread too.”

    “Yes, Ma’am,” Jo ran to retrieve the items. She had to make a sprint upstairs for the needle and thread, but was back at her mother’s side in no time anyway. She was absolutely freaking out inside, but tried to appear calm and collected. Ellen made quick work of Ezekiel’s major injuries while the crowd of men loomed over her, watching intently.

    “Your assistance is no longer required, thank you,” Ellen spoke stiffly while tying off the ends of some thread. The group as a whole muttered to themselves and began to disperse. A few requested drinks and Jo served them. When her mother had finished, Jo helped her mother and the two men who had stayed behind to carry Ezekiel upstairs and into his room. When he was properly situated, the men wished them good luck in caring for him and left to return to their normal routines. Jo heard the jingle signaling that customers had arrived.

    “Jo, I just heard the bell. I have to go run the bar. Would you stay with him?” Jo nodded, leaning against the wall opposite the bed on which Ezekiel lay. “Thanks, honey. Come get me if he wakes up.”

    Jo just nodded again and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Her eyes followed the steady up and down of Ezekiel’s chest. He had a gash in his abdomen, several lacerations along his chest and bruising all over his body. One leg might be broken, but Jo wasn’t curious enough to actually touch him and see. There were probably more injuries hidden from her. Eventually, Jo took to staring at the ceiling while her mind drifted off. An hour after her mother had left, Jo returned her gaze to Ezekiel’s chest. It wasn’t moving.

     Jo's heart stopped for a moment. She jumped up and ran over to him. She placed one hand on his chest and the other under his nose. He wasn’t breathing. Jo ran downstairs, straight to her mother who was busy behind the bar.

    “Mom,” Jo whispered in her ear, “I think he’s dead.” Ellen jumped, spilling some vodka on the counter.

    “Okay. Take over, baby. I’ll go check on him,” Ellen handed her the bottle and rushed upstairs.

    “What would you like?” Jo asked a rather short, blonde man.

    “Two shots,” he ordered and sat at the bar, staring at Jo. She poured him two shots, refusing to make eye contact. After handing him the drink, she stood behind the bar awkwardly for a moment.

    “Guys, listen up! We’re gonna be closing early tonight,” Ellen announced from the bottom step, “No more drinks. Finish up and get out of here.” Dissatisfied groans and angry muttering was heard, but most of the customers finished off their drinks and headed out. Jo walked up to her mother.

    “So?” she questioned.

    “He’s dead,” Ellen announced in a hushed voice, “He has no family I know of to take care of his affairs. I don’t think he ever married and I know he was an only child. I think we’re going to have to deal with it since we’re living here at the tavern.”

    “Does that mean the tavern’s ours?” Jo asked, strangely excited at the prospect.

    “I don’t know. I suppose it could, yes. We’ll have to see how everything goes. Let’s leave it there for now.” Ellen responded and moved to eject a particularly drunk looking individual from the back corner of the bar. Jo frowned. She hated how Ezekiel had died, but hadn’t really known him that well and was rather excited about the prospect of her mother actually owning this place. Just wait until she told Bobby. They’d have to rename it. Something like the Beerhouse? No, that wasn’t quite right.

DEAN

    It took a solid month for Dean to return to absolutely fine. After one week confined to Castiel’s bed, Dean refused to spend another minute as an invalid. Plus, he was embarrassed by what few hazy memories he had of the first two days and wasn't willing to ask Cas if they'd actually happened or not. Just randomly asking Cas Hey, did we cuddle while I was sick? was not an option.

    The first week out of bed was rough. Dean insisted on continuing as if nothing had happened, but it was a struggle to remain awake and alert for an entire day. Three weeks after collapsing, he was mostly fine and Cas had stopped shooting him worried glances. As far as Dean understood he had somehow been marked by the talisman he destroyed and it was sapping his energy. Or rather, it was trying to sap his magical energy but he didn't have any. All he cared about was that he had his energy back and wasn't constantly dropping off to sleep.
    After his recovery, Dean was forced to face that fact that there was only a month-and-a-half until Cas’s marriage. Crowley ordered that Cas’s bedroom be rearranged to fit two and servants were busy cleaning every obscure corner of the castle to perfection for the upcoming wedding. Dean watched all the preparations with emotions varying from anger to jealousy to dejection. He tried to tell himself he was just worried about Cas’s happiness, but he knew better. The jealousy told him that he didn’t want to see Cas with anyone but him. It was selfish and wrong, but Dean couldn’t help it. Even if he thought about it, he couldn’t tell anyone how his hatred for that pompous prince turned into… this for Cas.

    Dean could tell that the upcoming wedding was weighing on Cas too, though he would be foolish to believe that it was for similar reasons. No matter how many times Dean suggested that he cancel the wedding and they find another way, Cas always refused. He would talk about his duty to his country and how if there was a better way they would have found it by now. Dean hated it. He hated every second he spent thinking about that stupid contract and the wedding and losing Cas.

    Actually, Dean had expected Cas to ask him to leave after Dean had played his part during the wedding, but it was the week of the wedding and Cas hadn’t mentioned anything. Dean sure as hell wasn’t going to either. He was pretty sure Cas would need him around if he was going to be married to Meg. There weren’t any selfish reasons. At all. None.

    The day before the wedding found Dean, Cas, Samandriel, and Joshua cramped in Joshua’s room discussing the plan.

    “First step,” Dean began,”I have to go steal that creepy ass eyeball, right?”

    “Exactly,” Joshua confirmed, “You’ll bring it to me and I’ll prepare the deconstruction spell. As soon as the ceremony begins, I will initiate it. By the time everything is official, it should have taken effect. Samandriel will come tell me as soon as he sees evidence of it so I know when to stop.” Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was convinced Samandriel had only been given that job because Joshua wanted to keep him safe.

    “Yes, sir,” Samandriel agreed, “When people start clutching their heads and bleeding from their ears.”

    “Yes. And, Prince Castiel, your job is to get married and then assist Dean in assassinating Crowley and Ruby. There will be a small window where the deconstruction spell will block their magic, so as soon as you see the signs or see Samandriel run out, go for it,” Joshua paused, “Any questions before tomorrow? It’s not complicated, but timing has to be near perfect.” Everyone shook their heads. Dean glanced at Cas. He hadn’t said anything. In fact, he looked kind of sick.

    “Well, I think we all need some sleep before tomorrow. We’re gonna head off,” Dean announced, his eyes never leaving the side of Cas’s face. Cas didn’t really react as Dean grabbed his elbow and led him out while Joshua and Samandriel wished them goodnight and good luck. Dean led Cas all the way back to his room. Only when Dean had closed the door behind them did Cas actually say anything.

    “I don’t want to get married, Dean,” Cas stated as he collapsed into his chair.

    “I get it, Cas. I don’t want you to get married either, at least not like this. But you’ve chosen your country over yourself and that’s awesome,” Dean tried to cheer him up but felt that he was failing miserably.

    “I know,” Cas sighed, “You wouldn’t understand.” Dean barely caught the dark mutter Cas spoke into the floor.

    “Hey, dude, talk to me,” Dean urged, feeling foolish and girly, but trying really hard to be there for Cas, “I’m not gonna turn you in.” Dean grinned at Cas, but Cas’s lips just twitched in response.

    “No,” Cas responded in one, short syllable. Cas stood abruptly, “You said we needed sleep. You were right. You should probably go to bed.” Cas spoke stiffly, refusing to look at Dean.

    Dean repositioned himself till he was right in front of Cas, “Do you think I’m gonna give up that easy?”

    “I can hope,” Cas spoke to the ground. Dean placed a hand on his shoulder and Cas twitched. Dean almost drew his hand away, but was feeling bold.

    “You don’t need to be alone tonight,” Dean forced out, blocking the part of his brain that was screaming CHICK at him, “This wedding is going to be hard on all of us, but especially you.”

    Cas’s head popped up and his gaze bore straight into Dean’s eyes, suddenly angry “Why do you care so damn much?”

    Dean dropped his gaze to the floor. “I… I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered. The hand still on Cas’s shoulder felt like it was vibrating. He felt Cas stiffen under it and cringed internally. He should have kept his stupid, big mouth shut. He began to draw his hand away, ready to flee the scene, but Cas grabbed his wrist.

    “I’m not dying, I’ll be right here,” Cas whispered. Dean glanced up at his face. Cas looked… cautiously hopeful. That face was the only reason Dean’s mouth ran ahead of his brain and spilled out another idiotic sentence.

    “But you won’t be mine, and you never will be,” Dean muttered, staring into Cas’s eyes. He felt as if his heart was being shredded. He had physical pain in his chest. He shouldn’t have said that. Cas was going to send him away now. Cas was probably disgusted.

    Cas’s hand came up to grip the back of Dean’s neck and pulled him closer. Dean began to gasp in surprise, but a set of warm, soft lips were pressing against his and all brain function ceased with a snap. As abruptly as it had begun, Cas ended the kiss.

    “I apologize, Dean. I had to do that once before tomorrow,” Cas explained. Dean was standing utterly still and staring at Cas’s face. His brain had been fried and was only pretending to work on why Cas had kissed him. Then Dean’s hands made a decision for him. They shot up and dug into the soft curls on the back of Cas’s head. He pulled Cas into a hard, bruising kiss. Cas didn’t seem to mind.

    His hands flew up to grip Dean’s elbows. He was kissing Dean back, returning as much passion as Dean was giving. When Dean felt the tentative swipe of a tongue along his lower lip, he eagerly opened his mouth to Cas. He felt Cas’s hot breath blow into his mouth and he groaned into the kiss. The groan seemed to unlock something in Cas. He grabbed Dean by the waist and began stumbling forwards while refusing to stop kissing Dean.

    Dean’s back slammed into a wall, but he didn’t even register the pain because, holy shit!, Cas was kissing down his neck and swiping his tongue over the small dips. Dean pulled Cas away and brought their lip together again. This time, Cas moaned and Dean felt a shot of heat travel to his gut. Cas’s hands found the hem of Dean’s shirt and began pushing up. Dean’s eyelids fluttered. With a monumental effort of will, Dean shoved Cas back a few inches.

    “I’m sorry, Dean. I should have asked. I’ll just…” Cas began, but Dean cut him off.

    “Stop. Cas. This is awesome, and trust me, I want to. But you’re getting married tomorrow. You’ll regret this,” Dean spoke wistfully.

    “I won’t. Dean, let me have this. Just once,” Cas pleaded and stepped close to Dean. Dean held back a whimper as he stared into the depths of Cas’s eyes and heard the desperation in his voice.

    “You sure, Cas?” Dean asked, having already given in, grabbing Cas’s waist and pulling Cas closer to him. Cas’s response was something similar to a growl as he surged forward to kiss Dean again. Dean closed his eyes and kissed him back fiercely.

CAS

    “I...I don’t want to lose you,” Den was looking at the ground. Did he… no, he couldn’t mean that.

    “I’m not dying, I’ll be right here,” Cas whispered, that forbidden hope building in his chest.

    “But you won’t be mine,” Dean responded, “And you never will be.” Cas gasped. Did Dean mean that he felt the same way Cas did? Why would Dean Winchester want him? He couldn’t find an answer, but he didn’t care. He needed to touch Dean now.

    Cas’s hand shot out and gripped the back of Dean’s neck. The short hairs dug into his palm as he pulled Dean closer. He kissed him once, softly and gently then drew away and fell into a slight panic. “I apologize, Dean. I had to do that once before tomorrow,” Cas tried to calm himself. What had he been thinking? Dean would forgive him, right?

     Apparently forgiveness wasn’t necessary. Dean’s hands were gripping the back of his head and before he could process anything, Dean’s lips were pressed against his in a hungry kiss. Cas grabbed onto the nearest part of Dean and kissed back. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Cas licked at the bottom of Dean’s lips, wanting to commit every line, texture, and taste of him to memory. Dean opened his mouth and his tongue began dancing over the top of Cas’s mouth. Dean groaned and Cas felt a sudden rush of heat. His hands relocated to Dean’s waist and he began pushing him, blindly trying to find the bed. Instead, he found a wall. Perfect substitute.

    Cas kissed down Dean’s neck, memorizing every curve, tasting every patch of skin. Dean grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head up to kiss him again. Cas moaned into the kiss and let his tongue wander into Dean’s mouth. He needed more. He needed to touch every inch of Dean’s body. He shoved his hands under Dean’s shirt and began to tug upwards. Cas felt Dean’s hand push against his shoulders and Cas immediately backed up.

    How could he have let himself get so carried away? He still didn’t have confirmation of Dean’s desires. He was so wrong. He ruined everything. Dean had to forgive him.

    “I’m sorry, Dean. I should have asked. I’ll just…” Cas started, about to make every apology and excuse he could think of. He just needed Dean to stay.

   “Stop. Cas. This is awesome, and trust me, I want to. But you’re getting married tomorrow. You’ll regret this,”  Dean whispered the last sentence. Cas looked into Dean’s eyes and knew he loved this man. He could be as confused and conflicted about it as he wanted, but the truth was that he had fallen in love with Dean.

     “I won’t. Dean, let me have this. Just once,” Cas begged. He needed to be with Dean, someone he actually loved, at least once. To pretend for tonight that Dean was his and the world consisted of just them. Dean’s hands found their way to his waist and pulled him forwards.

    “You sure, Cas?” Dean asked, voice rough and clipped. Fire ran down his body. Cas was barely aware of the growl he made as he roughly grabbed Dean’s face and kissed him with as much passion as he was capable of. This time, Dean’s fingers found the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head. As Dean’s hands travelled down his muscled chest, Cas started to remove Dean’s shirt. Dean lifted his arms and his shirt joined Cas’s on the ground.

    “Stay with me,” Cas found himself requesting.

    “I was never planning to leave,” Dean responded, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. Cas kissed his smile. And then kissed his freckles and his jawline and his neck. When Cas looked up, Dean’s pupils were blown wide and his lips were parted. Dean grabbed Cas’s head and began to suck and kiss at various spots on his neck, spending more time on the places where Cas moaned or gasped. Suddenly, Cas had enough of standing against the wall. He shot one quick glance over his shoulder to locate the bed. He grabbed Dean and pulled him towards the bed.

    Dean took a few steps, then pushed Cas causing him to fall backwards across the bed. Cas watched as Dean’s hands worked at the knot keeping Cas’s pants on. His gaze drifted over Dean’s scar ridden chest and back. Guilt stabbed into his chest. He leaned forwards and ran his hand over the large scar on Dean’s chest. Dean’s skin twitched and he looked up at Cas.

    “I’m sorry,” Cas choked out.

    “They aren’t your fault, Cas,” Dean rasped. He pulled down Cas’s pants in one swift motion. All thoughts of guilt flew out of Cas's head as cool air wrapped around his erection. He sucked in a breath and grabbed Dean by the neck, pulling him closer. Dean’s knees were straddling Cas’s hips and the kiss was sloppy and desperate. Cas didn’t care. Every time he kissed Dean was perfect.

    Dean kissed down Cas’s neck and began sucking at his pulse. Cas grabbed at Dean’s hips desperately. He wanted to touch every part of him, memorize him before he could never have this again. Dean let Cas pull his hips down and they moaned into each other’s mouths as their hips ground together. Dean backed up and Cas whined, trying to hold him down.

    “Cas,” Dean panted, “I've gotta take my pants off. Give me a sec.” Cas nodded weakly and watched every move Dean made. Dean fumbled with the tie for a moment before slipping off his pants and crawling back on top of Cas. Cas instantly brought their lips together and ran his free hand down to Dean’s hips. Dean moaned as he brought his hips down and ran his erection along Cas’s. It was the most beautiful noise Cas had ever heard.

    Dean ground down on him again and Cas clutched at Dean’s back. He might be drawing blood, but he didn’t care. His own blood was fire and he couldn’t breathe, but it felt incredible. Nothing else matched it. Dean was covering his body, his skin pressed against every inch of Cas’s.

     Dean’s head lolled onto Cas’s chest, his short hair brushing up against Cas’s jaw. Cas gasped, his entire body burning, as Dean’s hips continued to grind their bodies together.  Dean began sucking at Cas’s collarbone, causing pleasant tingles to join the racing heat in his body. His hips were bucking up into Dean’s. The friction was slightly painful, but completely bearable.

    Something tensed inside his gut and Cas’s back arched, then bowed and he cried out. He buried his head in Dean’s neck and gripped his back harder than he thought possible. As he spiraled down from his high, he heard Dean panting in his ear and felt his erection sliding against the side of his own hip. He turned his head to press a kiss behind Dean’s ear and graze his lips down the side of his face. Dean’s hips stuttered and he moaned Cas’s name as warm liquid splashed on Cas’s side. Dean collapsed next to him, still breathing hard.

    “Dean,” Cas began. Dean held up a hand and made a shushing noise. Dean pulled Cas to his chest, reminding him of when Dean was sick. He smiled, but twitched uncomfortably. He struggled back out of Dean’s arms. “Dean, we’re sticky.”

    With a dramatic sigh, Dean leaned over the side of the bed and retrieved his pants. He wiped them both down and then tossed the pants away. “Better?” he asked.  

    “Much,” Cas replied and wiggled back into Dean’s arms. He put his head down on Dean’s chest and closed his eyes, perfectly content. He didn’t think he’d felt this peaceful in years.

    “Cas, what…” Dean started, but this time Cas was the one to shush him.

    “Later,” he demanded. Dean chuckled gently and wrapped his arms around Cas, pulling him closer. Cas reached behind him to pull the blanket over both of them. The beginning of a thought about the next day brushed against his mind, but he blocked it before it even formed. It didn’t hurt to live in the moment just this once.

DEAN

    Dean refused to open his eyes. He wanted to stay in this dream as long as possible. To be honest, this particular dream usually evaporated by now. But the warmth of Cas’s body pressed up against his chest still felt very real. As long as his brain was offering it, he wasn’t going to ask questions.

    Dean felt Cas sigh against his neck and press himself a little closer. He responded by tightening his arms around Cas. Dean heard a gasp and Cas’s body stiffened next to him. Automatically, Dean’s eyes flew open. He saw Cas’s surprised face and the memories of last night came flooding back. Dean’s face hurt from how hard he broke into a smiled.

    “Good mornin’. Cas,” Dean beamed at him. Cas’s face relaxed and a lazy smile spread across his face. He let himself fall back to Dean’s chest. Dean wasn’t certain, but he was pretty sure he heard Cas purring as he snuggled deeper into Dean’s arms.

    “I’m sorry to break it to you, but we kind of need to get up,” Dean whispered in Cas’s ear despite wanting to spend the rest of the day in bed with Cas.

    “No,” Cas mumbled, “I’m a prince, I don’t have to do anything.”

    Dean snickered, “Yes, but you should. Come on, Cas.” Dean bounced up a little. Cas groaned and wrapped his arm all the way around Dean’s waist. Just a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like either of them were eager for today.  Dean relaxed and buried his face in the soft, black hair on top of Cas’s head. If he had honestly pictured this moment before, he would have figured that the morning after would be awkward, but this felt completely natural, as if they had woken up next to each other for years. Unfortunately, this was a one-time deal.

    That thought immediately sent Dean’s mood plummeting. He tried to scrape together the few pieces of utter contentment he was left with. He hadn’t quite managed it when a knock came at the door.

    “Prince Castiel?” Samandriel’s voice sounded hollow through the door, “The King is requesting your presence in the Council Room.”

    Cas lifted his head off of Dean and shouted at the door, “Tell him I’ll be there shortly,” and collapsed back on Dean. He moaned, but slowly lifted himself up and pushed away from Dean. Dean closed his eyes and gathered his bravado for the day. He lept out of bed.

    “Okay! Let’s do this.”

Chapter Text

DEAN

    Dean stood in front of the small door and listened. He was in the servant’s passage right behind Crowley’s  room. He could hear someone, he assumed it was Crowley, moving around inside.Hopefully Crowley would be clearing out soon to greet the guests who hadn’t arrived yesterday.

    Dean heard a muffled knock and indistinct conversation. He didn’t understand what they were saying, but Crowley’s tone of voice implied that he was frustrated. Then one sentence rang loud and clear through the door.

    “Tell her that everything is already planned!” Crowley shouted. Without hearing any of the conversation, Dean knew that he was talking about Meg. She had arrived the day before and hadn’t stopped complaining about what she wanted to change about the ceremony or the guest list or… basically everything. The only good thing about her coming was that it had been in the evening and they only had to spend two hours with her.

    Dean heard a few more muffled sentences exchanged before the main door slammed shut and the room went quiet. He pressed up to the servant’s door and listened intently. He couldn’t hear Crowley anymore. Hoping desperately that he had actually left, Dean slowly turned the knob and cracked the door open. He peeked his head around the opening and scanned the room. Empty.

   Dean stepped into the room and walked over to the dresser, hyper-aware of everything around him. He opened the second drawer and pulled away the shirts, looking for the eye. For a moment he panicked, unable to find it. The he saw the faint golden light reflecting on a white shirt. He grabbed it and shoved it roughly into a bag hanging at his side.

    He retreated to the servant’s passage and hurried to the servant’s quarters in search of Joshua. Hopefully he had gathered all the other ingredients for both the deconstruction spell and the experimental spell to resurrect the eyeball’s original owner. By the time Dean had arrived at Joshua’s room, he was practically vibrating with anxiety. This was it. What they’d been building up to for over six months. Dean stopped in front of Joshua’s door and leaned his forehead against it in an attempt to calm his nerves. He just needed to shake it off. With a deep breath, he slapped on a confident face and strode into the room.

    “Good, you’re here,” Joshua barked and held his hand out to Dean, “Hand it over.” Dean reached into his bag and produced the eyeball cube.

    “Here you go. One eyeball,” Dean gave it one last wary look before handing it over.

     “Good, Good,” Joshua took it and placed it gently down in the middle of a complicated pattern drawn in what looked like blood. Dean watched Joshua work for a moment and then began to back away.  “And Dean,” Joshua suddenly stilled and looked into his eyes, “Castiel needs you. Don’t let him be alone.”

    Dean frowned slightly, unsure where that was coming from. “I would never dream of it,” Dean swore and exited into the hallway. He jogged to where the servant’s quarters connected to the main palace and slowed to a fast walk. After depositing the bag back in Cas’s room, he searched a while before he found Cas in the library entertaining some guests.

    “...and that’s the story of why my Beatrice hate horses, isn’t that right my dear?” a stuffy-looking, middle-aged man asked his pale wife who was fanning herself.

    “Yes. Please, change the subject,” Beatrice responded.

    “Perhaps you would like to hear about my recent tour of Andala’s assets?” Cas suggested. Dean slid into place next to and slightly behind him. Cas glanced over his shoulder and Dean could see the smile trying to escape at the corners of his mouth as he leaned nearly imperceptibly closer. Dean held back a smile of his own, choosing rather to tilt his head in an indication of respect. He was still just Castiel’s body guard in public. Cas looked back at the couple.

    “Yes, that would be lovely,” the man droned. Dean frowned. He didn’t like that story. That was when he’d first heard of Cas, when Cas had still been a giant dick head and made his life a hundred times worse. But, Dean stood there and listened. No mention was made of the slaves, but Dean saw Cas tense up when he began to talk about Starkin Mine.      

    An hour later, Dean tapped Cas on the shoulder and reminded him that it was time to prepare for the wedding.  Cas nodded and said his goodbyes to the guests in the library who in turn offered him good luck and congratulations. Dean followed Cas back to his room, winding tighter with every step.

    “Dean, I need you to focus. You look like you’re about to have a panic attack,” Cas whispered as they walked down the hallway.

    “I’m fine,” Dean muttered with a little more venom than was necessary. Cas reached his door and Dean opened it for him. They entered and Dean closed the door behind them.

    “Just promise me you’ll stay calm during the ceremony?” Cas asked, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

    Dean nodded, “You don’t need to worry about me. I know my job.” Cas quirked an eyebrow at the slightly bitter tone Dean had spoke in, but otherwise ignored it. “How come you’re so calm?”

    “I spent years as the emotionless person you first met. If needed, I can call that out again,” Cas explained. Dean frowned, and then lifted his lips in a mischievous grin.

    “Well, I prefered last night’s version of you getting ready,” Dean quipped. Cas scowled at him, but leaned forwards and kissed him anyway.

    “It was a one-time thing, Dean,” Cas warned as he pulled away.

    “Uh, huh,” Dean kissed Cas once more before turning away. Dean could feel Cas glaring at his back, but he could also feel that it didn’t contain true anger. A knock came from the servant’s passage and Samandriel entered.

    “Dean, Joshua needs us to fetch several things. He said something about the spell needing to be stabilized,” Samandriel said.

    “Okay, one moment,” Dean replied. Samandriel bent in a half bow and retreated to the passage. Dean turned to Cas, “I’ll see you at the altar,” Dean took a step towards him, “And I’ll be right behind you. I’m not leaving, okay?” Cas, who had been staring at the floor, looked up and nodded. Dean gave him a half smile and followed Samandriel into the passage.

CAS

    Cas was doing his best not to throw something. Dean had left Cas to get ready all by himself and somehow that had shattered his calm. He did not want to marry Meg and did he did NOT want Dean to be his servant. He was angry at Lucifer for taking over his kingdom, at Crowley and Ruby for helping him, at Joshua for allowing Cas to stay in the dark so long, and at Balthazar for selfishly leaving him alone. All Cas wanted to do was return to that bubble of peace he’d had that morning with Dean and never leave.

    Cas placed his fists on the edge of his desk and closed his eyes. It was fine. It would all be fine. I’m not leaving you, okay? Cas pinched his lips together and forced himself to relax. He needed to head down; the wedding was supposed to begin soon. Cas straightened, attempted to fix his hair, and placed his silver circlet on his head. He marched to the door, but froze when he placed his hand on the knob. Once he opened that door, all of his actions determined the fate of the entirety of Andala.

    With a deep breath, Cas pushed open the door and strode out. Only two guards stood in the hallway. The rest must have been reassigned to man the wedding. Cas inserted their presence into his calculations. He’d have to be extra careful. With his head held high, taking measured steps, Cas made his way to the main hall. As soon as he entered, a few of the maidservants swept him aside to fix his hair and straighten his clothes. Cas didn’t care. He just closed his eyes and took it.

    Soon enough they were done. He was told to sit in a smaller chair placed next to throne where Crowley lounged. He complied and even managed to have a civil conversation with Crowley. Cas heard footsteps approaching him from behind and looked up. Dean positioned himself behind him and took up the rigid stance of a palace guard. Cas hated it.

    After another half hour of greeting foreign dignitaries and distant relatives, A trumpet blast announced the beginning of the ceremony. The guests hurried to find their seats, the minister stood in front of the throne, and Cas moved to stand to the right of the minister, ready to receive Meg. He looked to the back of the room and noticed the overdone, white, flowery decorations covering the room for the first time. The music began and the bridal procession began walking up the aisle. As Meg stepped into the hall, white dress flowing down in silky folds, the music’s volume increased and Cas grit his teeth.

   Then he felt a reassuring hand brush against the small of his back. He thanked all the gods above that Dean was right there behind him. Meg stepped in time to the music, steadily approaching the altar. Her veil hid nothing. Cas could see her plastered smile from here. At least he had the decency not to pretend this wasn’t a political agreement. When Meg reached him, she handed her bouquet to her attendant and reached for Cas’s hands. Cas obediently held them out and let her take them. Her hands were cold, but her grip was tight.

    The minister started speaking. When had the music stopped? Cas needed to focus. He blinked twice.

    “...the joining of Prince Castiel of Andala and Lady Meg of Belroth. May their unity bring peace to both lands,” the minister intoned, “Bow your heads for the blessing.” Cas lowered his head and studied the tops of his shoes. Joshua was probably doing the spell right now. Part of Cas wished it that it would take effect too soon and he wouldn’t actually have the chance to get married. Dean kicked at the back of his ankle and he glanced up. Oh, the blessing was over.

    Cas watched the minister as he droned on about married life and the gift of family, but he could feel Meg’s eyes on him. The minister placed a hand on Cas and Meg’s entwined hands.

    “The two before us here today shall…” the minister began. Cas felt himself be yanked roughly backwards and a burst of pain exploded in his chest as he was shoved to the floor. He heard a collective gasp accompanied by a few screams and attempted to struggle up. Dean’s hand was pinning him to the ground. He looked to the side and watched Meg’s lifeless body crumple to the floor, a crossbow bolt buried in her chest. Cas’s eyes widened. Had that bolt been meant for him? A wedding would be a perfect time for an assassination.

    “Stay down,” Dean hissed and pushed off of him to stand up. Cas obeyed him for a moment out of sheer confusion, but quickly stood. He was a warrior; he would not hide while others fought. Dean was already half way across the room, sword out, heading for a man holding a crossbow Cas drew his sword and cursed at it. It was his ceremonial one so the balance was off. At least it was sharp. Someone grabbed him from behind. He twisted just as a knife missed its target and grazed his ribs. He heard a strangled gurgle and the man released him.

    Cas turned all the way around and saw a guard pull his sword from the attacker’s body. Cas nodded his thanks and began examining the room. His strategic mind immediately categorized the situation. Three swords in the left corner surrounded by five armed guards. Two bows in the back already disarmed. One pike dueling… Dean. Cas’s concentration broke for a moment, worry washing over him. He watched as a snarl passed over Dean’s face and he brought his sword down on the man’s arm, severing it right below the elbow. Dean finished him off with one quick stroke to the neck, causing blood to spray everywhere. Cas had nothing to worry about there. Then he noticed five swords running up the main hallway, unchecked.

    Cas jogged past a group of cowering noblemen and women to meet them. He dispatched the first easily with a swift slice of his sword to the man’s lower back. The other four heard their companion’s scream and turned to address the threat. Cas hefted his sword and felt it shift in his hand. He didn’t have good control over it and he knew it. Yet, here he was facing four swordsmen alone. The youngest one seemed to have never handled a weapon before, but the other three had taken up solid stances and were obviously watching him with a trained eye, assessing his weaknesses. Cas heard a twang and one of the experienced fighters dropped dead with an arrow in his chest,

    The other two charged him while the young one held back. Cas met the first strike with his own sword while side stepping a stab. He swept his sword around and slashed, his swipe broad so as to threaten both men at once. One curved their sword upwards, presumably aiming for his head, but Cas knew a faint when he saw one. He moved backwards rather than ducking and felt the air rustle as the sword came down no more than an inch from his face. The faint had caused the man to overreach and stumble. Cas took the opportunity to plunge his sword into the man’s stomach. He fell with a shout, not dead, but too injured to continue.

    The second swordsman had drifted to his left, so Cas immediately reoriented himself. The man spun the tip of his sword in a circle and drew a dagger from his belt. Cas’s eyes narrowed as he focused on catching any subtle signs of the man’s next move. Cas heard Dean shout, but refused to be distracted. He jumped forwards and swung his sword at the man’s legs. The man jumped back, but not fast enough. Cas’s sword found flesh and sliced open his thigh. The man cried out in pain and hopped on one foot, but kept his eyes focused on Cas. Cas feinted to the left, watched the man take the bait and dove right. Cas rolled, came up on his knees and slid his sword neatly between the man’s ribs. He fell without a sound.

    “Cas!” Dean shouted. Cas looked up, but apparently too late. He watched as Dean threw a dagger, aiming for something behind him. Cas turned and saw that one inexperienced fighter choke on the dagger buried in his throat and then fall to the ground, thrashing. Cas had forgotten about him, allowing the boy sneak behind him and almost plunge his sword into Cas’s back. Cas whipped his head up and met Dean’s eyes. Dean’s face was covered in someone else's blood and he had a long, thin cut running down one arm, but he spared a smile for Cas. Just before he could return the smile, Cas noticed someone pick the crossbow up off the ground and carefully aim for Dean’s back. Cas’s eyes widened in horror.

    “Dean!”

     TWANG

    The bolt sped through the air and buried itself in Dean’s chest, the tip of it poking out of his front. Dean tumbled forwards hitting the ground with a thump Cas felt in his bones. Cas was standing and running to Dean’s side in the same thought. He watched as a guard sliced through half the bowman’s neck. Too late. He had been too late! Cas dropped to the tile, ignoring how both knees cracked and pain shot up his legs. He grabbed Dean by the side and rolled him over. Dean coughed and gasped wetly, seemingly unable to breathe.

    “Dean! It’s okay. You’ll be fine,” Cas sat down all the way and pulled Dean into his lap. Dean’s blood immediately soaked his pants. “Somebody, get me a healer!” Cas shouted. He could hear the fighting surrounding him, but it made no difference anymore. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. You said you wouldn’t leave me, remember?” Cas looked down at the tip of the arrow poking through Dean’s shirt. It had punctured a lung and from the sound of it, that lung had collapsed. People could survive with only one lung, right?

    Dean’s face was paling and a blue tint was gathering around the edges. Cas glanced at the rest of Dean’s body, cataloging every other cut and scrape. He looked back at the bolt and realized that even if Dean could live with one lung, the blood loss was about to kill him. Cas ripped off his fancy shirt and tore a piece off. He couldn’t bind the crossbow wound because if he removed the bolt, his shirt was not going to adequately plug the wound. Instead, he wrapped the cut on Dean’s arm and moved to one on his leg. Anything to lessen the bleeding. In the back of his mind he knew it wasn’t working, but he continued to repeat, “It’s okay. You’re going to be fine.”

    Cas had removed Dean from his lap to bind his leg, but pulled him back on as soon as he was done. Dean’s eyes were shut, but his chest was still rising, struggling for breath. His face was so pale. Cas’s hands trembled as he pushed a stray hair out of Dean’s face. He couldn’t lose him. Dean couldn’t die because of him. This was all his fault. Dean would have been happily living with his family if Cas hadn’t forced Dean to help him. If he’d just paid more attention, Dean wouldn’t have been distracted saving his life. It wasn’t fair. It was his fault He should be the one dying, not Dean. Dean deserved to live more than anyone else Cas knew.

    Dean spasmed and Cas wrapped his arms around him. He suddenly realized he was crying. He didn’t know when he’d started and he didn’t particularly care. Dean was dying and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. A terrible headache burned into Cas’s mind and he only halfway realized that Joshua’s spell must be taking effect and now was his window to take out Crowley. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered without Dean.

    Eventually, the fighting stopped. Nobody came to kill him, so Cas assumed the palace guard had taken care of everything. He had the vague impression that several people tried to talk to him, but he didn’t respond. Dean had stopped breathing sometime after the headache had passed. Cas didn’t know how long ago it had been. The sunlight had faded, the room was dark, and nobody had tried to talk to him in a while. An unexpected hand pressed against Cas’s shoulder.

    “Cassie, Let’s take him somewhere else, okay? You don’t need to stay on the floor all night,” a voice spoke from above him. Something about the voice broke Cas’s stupor. He looked up. The face was familiar, but Cas didn’t care to use the effort to recognize it.

    “You’re right,” Cas croaked, “I’ll take him to my room.” Cas stood and then bent to pick Dean’s body up off the floor.

    “I’ll help,” the man offered, reaching for Dean.

    “I’ve got him,” Cas snapped, pulling Dean over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He took a step, almost fell, righted himself, and headed for the staircase. The man sighed, but followed closely.

DEAN

    “Cas!” Dean shouted. A boy was standing behind him, ready to stab Cas in the heart. Cas looked up, but he wasn’t going to react in time. Dean threw the dagger in his hand. By a stroke of luck,  it found the boy’s throat. Dean was reminded vividly of when he’d stabbed that guard in the mines with his chisel. Cas had looked back at the dying boy and was now moving his gaze back to Dean, eyes wide in shock. Dean shook off the memory and smiled at Cas. Instead of smile back, Cas’s eyes widened further. Dean’s smile morphed into a concerned frown as Cas shouted his name.

    “Dean!” Pain. Burning hot and searing cold pain erupted in his left ribcage. The force of the blow knocked him over and he struggled to catch his breath while attempting to gather his wits enough to face his attacker. He felt someone roll him over and he saw Cas’s worried face hover over him.

    “Dean! It’s okay. You’ll be fine,” Cas pulled him into his lap and Dean held back a cry of pain. “Somebody, get me a healer!” Cas shouted. Dean was still struggling to breathe. What was wrong? He couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen no matter how much air he sucked in. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. You said you wouldn’t leave me, remember?” Cas almost whispered to him. Dean wanted to respond, tell Cas he was fine and not to worry, but he couldn’t speak. He was too focused on breathing. Dean was half aware of Cas removing his shirt and pushing him off his lap. Dean’s mind was clouding and he couldn’t concentrate. Nothing felt real.

    Where was his mother? She used to take care of him, didn’t she? Maybe she was just running late, she used to do that all the time… Wait, no. His mother was dead. He was with Cas. And Cas was getting married? Was he marrying Cas? He’d like that. Why was he on the floor then? Maybe...maybe… Dean lost his train of thought and his eyes fluttered closed. That’s right, it was time to sleep. He was vaguely aware of Cas pulling him back into his lap and Dean rested his head against Cas’s side. This was nice.

    Then there was nothing.

    Light. So much light. It was way too bright. And voices. Someone was talking. It hurt his head and his ears and he didn’t know what else. He moaned and turned his head away. The talking immediately ceased and the world became more bearable. He cracked open an eye, letting in a beam of burning brightness. He closed it again as tears spilled out. One voice whispered something, but the other didn’t respond. Dean forced both eyes to open and he stared directly into familiar blue ones.

    “Dean?”

Chapter Text

CAS

    Cas pushed open his door and staggered to the bed. He rolled Dean off his shoulders and laid him carefully across the mattress. As soon as he had Dean situated, Cas curled up next to him on the bed.

    “Cassie…” the man began.

    “Don’t. Just don’t,” Cas cut him off. He knew that what he was doing wasn’t healthy, but he’d do the healthy thing later. He just couldn’t right now. “Who are you anyway?” Cas barked. Cas couldn’t see because he was staring at Dean, but he heard the man shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

    “Um… I’m your brother.”

    Cas turned his head to look at the man and realized why his face had looked so familiar. He really should have known because of the way he called him Cassie.

    “Balthazar?” Cas breathed. Balthazar nodded and anger rose in Cas’s chest. He jumped off the bed and stalked up to Balthazar. “How dare you? How dare you just show up and pop back into my life after leaving me completely alone? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? How alone I’ve been? He,” Cas gestured wildly to Dean’s body, “is the only one I was ever able to trust. And now… now he’s gone! I don’t care if you’re back for good. You will never make up for what you put me through!” Balthazar looked as if he wanted to say something, but Cas didn’t let him. “Just go,” Cas ordered and turned back to the bed. His anger was evaporating and grief filling every cell in his body.

    Balthazar may have said something, but Cas didn’t acknowledge it. After a few moments, he left, closing the door behind him. Cas was stretched out next to Dean on the bed, but not touching him. He was afraid that he’d already be cold. The world narrowed to him and Dean. He briefly remembered last night and how he craved that feeling. Tears welled up in his eyes again. Not like this! he screamed at his brain.

    There was only thing he wanted: Dean alive. Nothing else mattered. Crowley and Lucifer could keep Andala, he could never see Dean again, it didn’t matter. He just couldn’t exist in a world where Dean didn’t. A warm prickle flowed over his body and Cas shuddered. He curled in on himself as a sob broke out of his mouth. Life didn’t matter without Dean. Cas didn’t think he’d survive this. His chest physically ached and Cas wrapped an arm around his sternum.

     His mind was swirling with grief, pain, and despair. Cas started to frantically dig through everything he knew about healing and magic. Healers were no use and Joshua claimed that magic couldn’t bring back the dead. Maybe there was some forbidden magic… Lucifer. He knew how to make himself immortal, maybe he could bring Dean back. Cas didn’t care if he had to sell his soul to Lucifer. He’d do anything.

    Cas uncurled and looked at Dean’s ashen face. He dug a hand into Dean’s hair and left it there. His head was cold. No. Dean wouldn’t accept something like that. What would he say? Cas, you idiot! How dare you? Cas squeezed his eyes shut as the pain constricted around his heart. He couldn’t let Dean stay dead. It was his fault, he had to fix it. Dean deserved to live. Dean needed to live! Cas’s hand twitched as a tremor passed through his body and for a moment he swore Dean’s head was warm again.The door to Cas’s bedroom was roughly thrown open.

    “Cassie! Come here,” Balthazar panted.

    “Go away,” Cas moaned. He ran his hand through Dean’s hair and then down the side of his face.

    “But, Cassie, you’re never going to believe it unless you come,” Balthazar begged, his eyes flicking to Dean for a moment before going back to Cas’s face.

    “I’m not getting up,” Cas stood firm. He wasn’t going to leave Dean. Not yet. He didn’t know if he ever could.

    “But…” Cas flipped over so he face Balthazar.

    “Do you not understand? I want nothing to do with you. I want nothing to do with anything. I don’t care anymore. I’m done trying,” Cas growled. He just needed to be left alone. It hadn’t been a problem before, why was it now?

    “Oh, you’ll care about this,” Balthazar claimed.

    “Will it bring Dean back?” Cas asked. Balthazar opened his mouth to speak, but Cas could see the denial in his eyes, “I thought not. So… Go. Away.”

    “Just…” Balthazar began, but a soft moan from behind Cas cut him off. Faster than he thought possible, Cas flipped back over to face his Dean. Had his head moved? Cas was sure it had. Then Cas swore he saw Dean’s eyelids lift a fraction an inch. He had to be hallucinating.

    “What is it Cassie?” Balthazar asked. Cas ignored him. And then the impossible happened. Dean’s eyelids quaked and then opened, displaying the most beautiful sight Cas had even seen. Tears welled up in Dean’s gorgeous green eyes.

    “Dean?” Cas breathed the name, afraid to break whatever hallucination he was experiencing.

    “Could ya keep it down, please?” Dean whined and raised a hand to his head to cover his eyes. Balthazar gasped.

    “Dean!” Cas practically squealed, ignoring what Dean had just said, and wrapped him in a hug. His chest was warm again and Cas sighed in contentment. He wasn’t letting himself think. He was just feeling and breathing, allowing Dean’s breath on his neck to blow away the tight knot of grief.

    “Cas, buddy, I can’t breathe,” Dean gasped. Cas ripped his arms away from Dean and nearly fell off the bed.

    “I’m sorry, Dean. Are you okay?” Cas began to run his hands up and down Dean’s body in an attempt to look for injuries. He brushed over Dean’s chest and felt a hard nub. His hand came away with the head of the crossbow.

    “Can someone please explain to me what is going on?” an exasperated Balthazar exclaimed from the doorway

     “Who’s that?” Dean demanded, sitting up with only a small groan of pain. Balthazar looked offended and opened his mouth to explain, but Cas beat him to it.

     “This is my brother, Balthazar,” Cas explained, “What do you remember Dean?” Dean frowned and then suddenly his eyes widened and a gasp escaped his mouth. His hand flew up to feel his chest.

    “I was shot… Where’s the wound?” Dean asked.

    Cas held out the arrow tip, showing it to Dean, “Yes, you were shot. And then… then…”

    “You died,” Balthazar spat out. Cas glared at him.

    “I… what?” Dean gasped.

    “Dean… you were dead. I watched you die,” Cas’s voice quavered and he sucked in a deep breath before continuing, “And then you woke up.”

    “You’re shitting me,” Dean looked like he might go into shock at a moment’s notice.

    “He’s not,” Balthazar claimed, “Now that everyone’s alive and all, will you actually listen to me?”

    “Go away,” Cas repeated his request from earlier. Balthazar was still just as insensitive as Cas remembered. And Cas was still angry.

    “Cas… um, he is your brother. Maybe, play nice for once?” Dean asked. Cas pouted slightly at him.

     “See! Dean’s on my side,”  Balthazar leaned back against the doorway, face smug.

     Cas gasped as Dean jumped up and strode across the room to stand in front of Balthazar. He watched as Dean leaned way too far into Balthazar’s personal space.

    “I am not on your side! You left Cas alone! How could you? You’re his older brother. You were supposed to take care of him! You have no idea what you did to him. I’ve watched him recover. What you’re seeing is the Cas who pulled himself out of hell all on his own. If I’m telling Cas to ‘play nice’ it’s because I think that it’s what’s best for him. Why are you even here?” Dean growled. Cas’s eyes were glued to his back. It was caked in dried blood. Suddenly the reality of the situation hit him. Dean had been dead. Not a near death experience. Dead.

    “I wasn’t going to miss my baby brother’s wedding. I’ve come back for a few other special occasions,” Balthazar was explaining, but Cas ignored him. He pulled Dean away from Balthazar and flung his arms around him. He didn’t care if his mind had broken and he was hallucinating all of this. He could happily live out the rest of his life in this delusion. Before Dean could react, Cas pulled his face down and was kissing him. Dean kissed back and the world narrowed to them and one fact: Dean was alive.

    “For the love of... “ A new voice gasped. Dean pulled away, causing Cas to whine. He wasn’t done kissing him. Joshua was standing in the doorway looking breathless. “Never mind. I need all of you to come. Now.”

    “See? If you had just come when I told…” Balthazar cut himself off with a pained groan as Dean punched him in the chest.

    “What’s going on Joshua?” Cas asked, trying to bring himself to care about something other than Dean’s warm arms wrapped around him.

    “Well… the eye… It’s working. I can bring him back to life,” Joshua said, motioning for them to follow him down the hallway.

    “Who?” Cas and Dean asked simultaneously.

    “Gabriel.”

DEAN

     So, he’d been dead. That was cool. At least he was alive now. It was nothing to worry about… Who was he kidding? He was completely freaked out. But he couldn’t focus on that right now. Cas had just watched him die, come back to life, had one brother come out of hiding, and was about to have another resuscitated from an eyeball. According to the way Cas was clinging to him as they hurried down the hallways, Dean figured he was freaking out a bit too.

    When they reached Joshua’s room, he opened the door and let the three men enter. He walked over to the table and picked up a small bowl. “This,” Joshua said, “is Gabriel.” Dean peered over the edge and saw the same golden-brown eye that had been in the cube.

    “As I’ve explained before, this contains Gabriel’s consciousness and soul. To bring him back, all I have to do is create a new body for him. It takes a lot of energy, but is a fairly simple spell.”
    “Really?” Dean asked, skeptical.

    “I just have to attract all the molecules that used to be Gabriel and let them alter themselves to be a living being again,” Joshua explained, “But that’s not why I needed you here.”

    “Why then?” Cas let go of Dean and reached out as if to touch the bowl.

    “Because I figured out a lot from Gabriel. A lot you need to know about,” Joshua set the bowl down on the table and gestured to a spot on the floor that had been swept clean, “That’s where I’m rebuilding his body. It’s still on the molecular level, so you can’t see it. Just avoid that spot.”

    “Joshua,” Cas’s voice was low and threatening, “Explain.”

    “Do you remember how I couldn’t figure out why Lucifer left you alive? Well, uh, now I know. The reason he is so powerful and has been able to live so long is because he’s tapped into your family line. You two,” Joshua pointed at Cas and Balthazar, “are either mages or wizards. But you’d never know because Lucifer is using all of your magical energy. And has been using your ancestor’s energies for who knows how many generations.”

    “Like what he was trying to do to Dean,” Cas breathed and slid closer to Dean. Dean put a hand on his shoulder.

    “I believe that your parents figured this out and that’s why he killed them. But then the link became weaker and he needed a direct link to the current generation. And that’s why he killed Gabriel. Now, your brother is fully aware as an eyeball. Aware, but unable to act. For five and a half years,” Joshua raised his eyebrows slightly for emphasis. Dean understood. Gabriel might not be mentally stable. He glanced over at the patch of clean floor and shuddered.

     Cas shifted uncomfortably next to Dean, “Joshua, is it actually possible to bring someone back to life?”

    “Not really. The only reason I can do this for Gabriel is because his soul was bound to this plane by Lucifer. Why?” Joshua asked as he dumped a fine, dark green powder on top of Gabriel’s eye.

    “I died,” Dean responded. Joshua froze. Slowly, his head turned to stare at Dean. In a flash of movement, Joshua was in front of Dean, hands on his face, turning it left and right. Dean felt Cas nearly vibrating next to him.

    “Are you sure you were completely dead?” Joshua was now running his hands along Dean’s body and something close to a growl was crawling out of Cas’s throat.

    “He was cold and completely unresponsive,” Cas spat out.

    “Yeah, I saw him too. Dead for several hours actually,” Balthazar confirmed with an amused smirk spread across his face. Suddenly, Joshua switched his attention to Cas.

    “Did you do something?”

   Cas swallowed loudly, “Not that I know of. I mean… what are you asking?” Dean leaned closer to him, sensing his discomfort.

    “Maybe Samandriel was right…” Joshua muttered. Then louder, “Is it possible that you two…” he made vague gestures with his hands. Cas tilted his head and frowned in that utterly adorable way, but Dean understood.

    “Yeah, we did,” Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. Balthazar’s eyebrows shot up and he chuckled under his breath.

    “It’s possible to… swap pieces of your soul that way. It’s rare, but not unheard of. If that had been the case, you, Castiel, would have been the anchor for Dean’s soul. You must have been so entirely focused on wanting him alive again that as soon as I severed the bond,” he gestured vaguely towards Gabriel’s eye, “ and you were in possession of your magic again, you used it without realizing it.”

    Cas was staring wide-eyed at Joshua, but Dean was staring at Cas. That was interesting to say the least. Dean really wanted to kiss Cas stupid for basically… what? Giving him life? Cas turned his head and his gaze bore into Dean’s eyes. Well, that was unfair. Now he wanted to shove him up against the nearest wall and...

   Balthazar cleared his throat, “Okay, enough of this soulmate crap...”

   Dean interrupted with, “He never said soulmate!”

    “...let’s go on with resurrection of my big bro!” Balthazar rubbed his hands together. With one last piercingly curious glance at Dean, Joshua returned to pouring various things into the bowl with Gabriel’s eye.

    “Hey,” Dean asked, “Where’s Samandriel?”

    When Dean found Samandriel, he wished he hadn’t. He was lying on the left side of the throne room, a stab wound piercing him straight through the heart. The boy’s small body was pale and utterly lifeless. Dean scrubbed at his eyes, forcing himself not to cry. Apparently, he’d grown pretty fond of that boy and seeing him like that sent ripples of pain through his chest.

    “Cas!” Dean called. The prince turned around and came to stand next to Dean.

    “Oh, no,” he breathed, “Poor Joshua…”

    “Poor Joshua, poor Samandriel!” Dean retorted.

    “Yes, but at least he’s at peace now. Joshua’s the one who has to live with his death,” Cas explained in a heartbroken voice. Dean sighed. He had a point.

    “What do we do?”

    “We should move him somewhere nicer but…” Cas hesitated, “not tell Joshua yet. Let him finish with Gabriel.” Dean nodded his agreement. It left a sour note in the air, but it also made sense. Joshua would probably forget all about Gabriel if he saw his son’s body.

    “Where do you want him?” Dean asked as he worked his arms underneath the boy’s cold body and lifted him easily.

    “We can just take him to my room, I guess,” Cas offered. Walking through the throne room was horrifying. Too many people were dead and blood was smeared on the walls, the floor, and the benches. Dean realized that he didn’t know who sent the assassins or even if the had been captured. He briefly wondered what they were going to do about Crowley now, but pushed the thought away. He had other things to focus on at the moment.

    Dean made it to the stairs without much of a struggle, but the three flights of stairs were murder on his thighs. He carefully arranged Samandriel on Cas’s bed and felt the urge to cry again. Samandriel didn’t deserve this. He pushed back the tears and dragged a rough hand over his face.

    “Come on. Let’s see if Joshua has made any progress,” Dean grabbed Cas’s hand and dragged him out into the hall.

    Apparently Joshua had made progress. The eyeball was ‘becoming saturated’ with the cocktail Joshua had poured over it and a ghostly outline of Gabriel’s body was forming on the floor. Dean shivered; it really creeped him out.

    “Any luck finding him?” Joshua asked, obviously worried.

    “No, I’m sorry. We’ll look again later. He’s probably helping with the unfortunate.. Ah… cleanup in the throne room.” Cas told Joshua with utter sincerity, “How is Gabriel coming along?”

    “Maybe another two hours until the body’s ready? And then I have to transfer the soul. That won’t take long, just a lot of effort,” Joshua rubbed his hand over his face, already tired.

     “Anything Balthazar or I can help with?” Cas offered. Dean almost got offended at being left out of the offer, but then remembered the whole magic thing.

    “Actually, yes. Just let me channel your energy while I manage the transfer,” Joshua eagerly accepted.

   “Of course,” Cas agreed. Joshua smiled in relief and Dean tensed up, sudden waves of guilt washing over him. They shouldn’t have lied about Samandriel. Cas approached the ghostly outline of Gabriel’s body and sat down on the floor next to it cross-legged. Dean sat next to him, slightly farther away from the forming body. Balthazar padded into the room and claimed Joshua’s chair, sprawling across it as if he owned the place.

     Joshua was spot on with the timing. Two hours later saw Cas leaning against Dean’s side, halfway asleep and Gabriel’s body fully formed on the ground, the exact same age and appearance as the night he’d died. Unfortunately he happened to be naked but, when Dean had suggested covering him, Joshua had insisted that the blanket fibers would mesh with his skin molecules.

    “Cas, wake up,” Dean whispered, “Joshua said he’s ready.” Cas moaned and lifted his head up. His cheek was red and squished from sleeping on Dean. It was utterly adorable.

    “Up, up. You too, Balthazar. I’ll need both of you for this,” Joshua was a ball of nervous energy as he paced the room, pretending to be busy. He pulled the eyeball out of the mixture and placed it on Gabriel’s chest. Cas stood and walked over to Joshua. Balthazar grumbled, but complied as well. Joshua held out both of his hands. Cas immediately took a hand but Balthazar balked.

    “I’m not holding your hand! No way,” he crossed his arms and sulked not unlike a toddler. Joshua sighed and grabbed his elbow instead. Joshua began to mutter under his breath and a soft, golden glow emanated from the eyeball. Cas gasped and Dean was instantly at his side. He gripped his shoulder, intending to ask Cas if he was okay, but a tug in his gut thoroughly distracted him.

    Energy was being pulled from him and fed into Gabriel’s body on the ground. He could feel the flow of it, out of him, through Cas, through Joshua and into Gabriel. It was a prickling, warm sensation and entirely unnatural. He tried to let go of Cas, but he couldn’t. With one last heavy syllable, Joshua must have ended the spell because Dean was released. He stumbled backwards, barely not falling over.

    “Dean!” Cas exclaimed, lunging towards him.

    “I’m fine, I’m fine,” Dean insisted. His eyes were drawn to Joshua who had one hand lifted high in the air. He brought it down and his open palm connected with eyeball on Gabriel’s chest which exploded, sending small pieces of it scattering across the room. Dean inhaled sharply and Cas mimicked him. They stared for a moment, surprised and horrified. Then Gabriel sat up with a gasp which quickly devolved into a hacking cough. Joshua finally covered him with a blanket and patted him reassuringly on the back.

    Gabriel stared at the room with wide eyes. His right eye was milky white. He began to speak, but something caused him to curl in on himself. He started breathing heavily. Without warning, his scream of agony ripped through the air. Cas dropped to the ground next to his brother and held him.

    “What’s wrong? Gabe? Joshua?” Cas looked desperately between the two. Gabe was sobbing through his screams. Dean took a step towards them but paused, feeling suddenly faint. His stomach churned and his left palm itched. A headache swamped him and he failed to suppress a whimper. His legs felt like jelly. He sat abruptly on a chair and gripped his head with his hands.

    “Hey, uh, Dean…” Balthazar was the first to notice. Cas and Joshua were too busy with Gabriel. Dean opened his eyes, but his vision was blurry and colors blended together. He grit his teeth together as a wave of burning pain washed over his entire body. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and bent over. The agony only increased. Dean fell off the chair, but he barely noticed. His throat burned and that was the only reason he knew he was screaming. Cool hands touched his back. Dean twitched and tried to lean in closer to them, but with a final spasm of pain, he blacked out.

Chapter Text

GABRIEL

    Darkness. It was always so dark. Unless Crowley was holding him. Then he wished he could have the darkness back. He might have craved the light, but more than anything, he needed silence. The neverending voice, whispering, shouting, growling, muttering, it didn’t matter. It never shut up. Lucifer. That was his name. The man, if you could even call him that anymore, was always plotting, always planning. And constantly, there was the thought MORE. He wanted more power, more wealth, more life. He was in his head. He heard every thought, and it was driving him insane.

    Lucifer pulled enormous amounts of power through him, stripping him bare and leaving him raw. Whenever he would feel an especially large amount rip away, he would cling to the one memory left to him: two smiling boys leaning against rough grey stone, the background a navy sky filled with twinkling stars. That memory had been so long ago. He didn’t remember their names or who they were to him. Come to think of it, he couldn’t even remember his own name. All he knew was that he loved them and if only he could get back to that time, everything would be right again.

    The darkness around him shifted and he braced himself for Crowley’s leer and that extra drop of power he always managed to squeeze out of him. He looked up at the face of the person holding him. It wasn’t Crowley. A freckled man with green eyes stared at him in obvious shock. Before he could properly assess this new person, he was shoved back into the dark place. An immeasurable amount of time passed. Power flowed from him, constantly rubbing away pieces of who he was. One day he would be completely gone. Crowley made a few appearances, but mostly it was darkness and demented chatter.

    Then the freckled man returned. This time he looked worried but determined. Instead of placing him back in the dark like he expected, Freckles put him in a lesser dark which swayed and moved in a way he’d didn’t remember the world ever doing before. He wasn’t sure, but it seemed to be a very short time until Freckles pulled him out of the dark again and handed him to an older man. The man placed him on a symbol of some sort that hummed with power. He watched as Freckles hurried out. A panic settled into his chest. Freckles was the only one who’d never hurt him. The pain in darkness had at least been known. Out in this light, he had no idea what was going to happen.

    Nothing happened for a while. The older man ran around the room, appearing agitated and busy. Lucifer continued to pull power, and he watched. It was easier to measure time out in the light. It was both better and worse than the dark. The man began incanting some sort of spell next to him. All he could do was hope that it didn’t hurt. Fire exploded to his left and he mentally cringed away. Four more bursts of flame came from various places around him before the man approached him. A small piece of metal tapped against the side of the glass box he was in. A moment before it came crashing through, he recognized it as a hammer.

    The glass around him shattered and he fell onto the symbol, the line he was lying on burning into him. Lucifer’s voice cut out. SIlence enveloped him for the first time in he didn’t even know how long. But then warm hands were beneath him, lifting him up to the man’s face. A voice spoke in his mind, clearer than Lucifer’s constant babble had ever been.

     Hello, I am Joshua. I’m truly sorry this has happened to you. Can you tell me your name?

    He tried to focus his thoughts towards Joshua. I can’t remember my name. What do you want with me?

    I want to help you, Joshua claimed, What do you remember?

     He focused on that one memory, the two boys against the starry sky, and pushed it towards Joshua.

     Gabriel? The man gasped. A waterfall crashed down on his mind. Gabriel. Gabe. That was his name. He had two brothers: Castiel and Balthazar. He was crown prince of Andala. Memories crashed through him, searing into his mind. Gabriel was shaking. Or maybe he wasn’t. He didn’t have a body. Or did he? Was he dead?

     Gabriel! The man was shouting, Calm down! You're fine. I’m going to take care of you.

    I died, Gabriel thought, How… What happened?

     I’ll explain it all, Joshua claimed, For now, I’m going to bring you back.

    Joshua placed him in a curved, wooden place. Probably a bowl, Gabriel thought. He waited for a while, seeing nothing but the ceiling and occasional glimpses of Joshua’s face. Then he was moving and the bowl was tilting and he saw three faces peering down at him. One was Freckles and the other two looked vaguely familiar. Gabriel watched them talk, but couldn’t hear anything. Then he was placed back on the table and an itchy green powder was thrown on top of him.

    At least seven more things thrown on him and more than three hours later, Joshua’s hands gripped him and lifted him out of the bowl. He was placed on skin and he was stuck staring at the ceiling again. Something invisible coiled around him, pulling at his edges. It hurt. He was raw and bleeding from Lucifer and this thing was pulling at all of the most sensitive spots. Gabriel braced himself for whatever was coming. It couldn’t be worse than Lucifer. He was wrong.

    He saw a hand lifted high above him and it came crashing down. He exploded, flying across the room. But then he wasn’t. He gathered above the body he’d been lying on, his body, and then he fell straight into it. Fire etched every vein and bone in his body. Gabriel’s eyes snapped open and he shot up. His lungs twitched and, before he could process that he even had lungs, he was bent over in a hacking cough.

    A blanket was wrapped around him and someone was patting his back. The cough ended and the pain drew back. He sat up and looked around the room. There was Joshua next to him, Freckles and someone who looked like an older version of Cassie next to him. The man sitting on the chair had a smile that screamed Balthazar…. but it couldn’t be. They were so much older. Gabe opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on, but the pain crashed back down. He didn’t know what was happening. Fire licked at his bones and acid burned his flesh. He was going to explode inside his skin. Things were stretching, snapping, cracking. He couldn’t survive this.

   Gabe desperately reached out, looking for someone, anyone. He latched onto a mind. It was hard, but kind. It knew suffering. It could help him. He channeled his pain into the mind, trying to make it understand. The mind shrank away, but he held it tighter, wouldn’t let it leave. He needed help, he couldn’t do this on his own.

    An immeasurable amount of time passed before the pain began to recede. Gabriel didn’t even notice at first. Slowly, he realized that his fingertips were numb and pain-free. The numbness inched its way up his arm and into his chest. Soon, he could feel the beat of his heart thumping steadily in his chest. When his entire body was numb, he worked on opening his eyes. It had been so long since he’d had a body, the attempt seemed surreal. A sliver of soft light peeked between his eyelids. It didn’t hurt, so he let more in.  

    “Cassie! Get in here,” a voice yelled.

    “Balthazar?” Gabe croaked.

    “I’m here,” a face came into view, “How do you feel, Gabe?”

    “Numb,” Gabriel responded and sat up. The face in front of him was definitely his brother, but he was much older. “I’m also starving.”

    Balthazar chuckled, “I’ll get you something sweet.” Gabe frowned at him a moment and then understanding dawned on him.

   “That’s right. I used to have a major sweet tooth.”

    “Don’t you still?” Balthazar placed his hands on his hips.

    “I have no idea,” Gabe shrugged, “It’s been… I don’t know how long since I’ve eaten anything. Hey, where’s Cassie and Freckles?”

    “Oh. You mean Dean?” Balthazar looked at him and Gabriel shrugged. He didn’t know, “Well, I think you pissed Cassie off since he’s not coming. Apparently you don’t mess with Dean without risking his rage. He’s in the next room. As far as I know, Dean’s still out cold.”

    “What did I do?” Gabriel asked. He hadn’t hurt Freckles - Dean - had he? The sensation of grasping onto the mind popped up in the forefront of his mind. “Oh.”

    “Yeah… Joshua says you made a link with him. I don’t know. But basically you gave him a shit ton of your pain,” Balthazar was watching him while pretending not to and it was beginning to unnerve Gabe.

    “I didn’t mean to!” he snapped, “I just came back from the freaking dead! You think Cassie could give me a break.”

    “So did Dean,” Balthazar announced.

    “What?” Gabriel spluttered.

    “Nevermind, Cassie can tell you about his adventure with resurrection. He’s the one who did it anyway. Can you walk?” Balthazar held out a hand. Gabe slapped it away.

    “I’m fine,” he stood, wobbled, and strode towards the door, “Let’s go see Cassie.”

CAS

    Why did it always happen to Dean? This was the third time Cas had seen Dean severely injured and fall down and it was three times too many. Why did Gabe have to latch on to Dean? Why hadn’t Gabe latched onto him? Cas could probably have taken it better since he had magic too.

    Cas turned his head to look at Dean’s face. He looked peaceful, but who knew what he was feeling under that. Cas scooted closer to him on the bed and touched the back of his hand. It was warm. That was what mattered. Dean was still alive and he was strong. He would make it through whatever this was.

    “Cassie!” Balthazar burst through the door. Cas grit his teeth. He was still angry with his brother. “I brought a visitor.”

    Cas looked up and saw Gabriel. He was walking with a limp, his hair was a mess, and he had bags packed under his eyes. Gabe stared back at him in slight confusion. Something in his mind seemed to click and his usual mischievous twinkle sparked in his eyes again.

    “Aw, Cassie. You actually did grow up big and strong. Who would’ve guessed?” Gabe smirked at him and Cas frowned. He really wasn’t used to being teased like that.

    “And you didn’t grow up at all, you little shrimp,” Balthazar caught his brother’s head and scrubbed the top of it, messing up his hair even further.

    “Hey, it’s not my fault I was stuck as an eye for a  few years,” Gabriel shot back. Cas stared at them with wide eyes, feeling very out of place. Right before his eyes, they had snapped back into place. Exactly as they had been five and a half years ago. Cas wasn’t that boy anymore. Did he fit in their equation any more?

    “Cassie, what’s up?” Gabe asked, looking concerned.

    Cas blinked and looked away, back down at Dean. “Nothing. How are you, Gabe?”

    “Fit as a fiddle,” Gabe replied. He stepped forwards and almost tripped over the perfectly even floor. “Or I will be,” he chuckled. He stumbled his way towards the nearest chair, which happened to be Dean’s, and dropped into it.

    “So, what’s next,” Balthazar rubbed his hands together, “We wait for Dean-o to wake up?”

    “No,” Cas said. He touched Dean on the cheek and then stood up, “We find Crowley and Ruby.”

    “Why?” Balthazar asked. Cas rolled his eyes.

    “That’s right. You don’t know. Come, walk with me,” Cas headed towards the door with one look back at Dean.

    Balthazar snickered, “Still just as official as ever, I see. Freckles hasn’t managed to loosen you up.” Cas looked back over his shoulder at his brother.

    “Freckles?” he asked.

    “That’s what Gabe was calling him earlier. Pretty good nickname, don’t you think?” Balthazar had a smile teasing around the edges of his mouth as he pointed a thumb at Dean. Cas thought about Dean’s face and his freckles. Maybe it wasn’t half bad. His freckles were lovely.

    “Umm…” Gabriel began, “Cassie, you’ve got this really odd dreamy look on your face and it’s kinda freaking me out to be honest.”

    “He’s head over heels in love with Freckles,” Balthazar fake-whispered in Gabriel’s ear.

    Cas stopped walking and turned around to give them both his death stare, “We have more important topics to discuss. I need to tell you how Crowley and Ruby aren’t our parents.”

   Balthazar’s face was full of confusion and shock while Gabe just pinched his lips and nodded. Cas started walking again. This was going to be interesting.

DEAN

    Fire. He had been burnt away and all that was left was fire. The last moment of relief he’d had was when a cool hand had been dragged over his cheek. That had been some time ago. He didn’t know how he could still feel when all of his nerves must have been burnt away. And then it was like a bucket of ice water, dousing the flames and causing a whole new, sharp pain. But it was over quickly and he was drifting in a sea of darkness.

    There was something important, something he needed to wake up for. Was it really that important? He was very comfortable. Cas. Cas needed him. Sammy needed him. He had to wake up. He pushed against the barriers of the dark and he felt them flex and crack. He pushed harder. Light shown through and his eyes were open.

    He knew this ceiling. He was in Cas’s room. He sat up and groaned. He felt bruised all over. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the pain and glanced around the room. He was alone. Where was Cas? Gingerly, he lowered his feet to the floor. For a moment, pins and needles shot up his legs. Dean walked across the room and opened the door. The hallway was empty. He stepped out and walked towards the stairs. He was going to systematically check every floor until he found Cas.

    Cas ended up being on the first floor in the second conference room. He was standing with Balthazar and Gabriel, facing two people who were sitting at the round table: Crowley and Ruby. Dean opened the door wider and entered.

    “Dean, you’re awake,” Cas announced, still looking forwards. He was using his official tone which meant serious business was happening. Balthazar and Gabriel both looked back at him briefly, but refocused quickly on the two false rulers.

    “I just don’t know what you’re talking about, boys,” Crowley began, obviously working off of something he’d been saying for a while, “I’ve always been your father.” He was darting furtive glances at Gabriel, obviously confused but refusing to ask about anything.

    “Yeah, no,” Gabriel stepped forwards, “You’ve been using me to steal my brothers’ magic and funnel it to Lucifer. Not cool. And you forget… we broke the connection,” he smirked, “I can see the lines of energy connecting you to Lucifer. They’re grey and broken but they’re there. And without that energy, you’re just an empty vessel. You never had any magic of your own, did you?”

    “Darling,” Ruby cooed, “What are you talking about? King Lucifer is our ally, yet you spoke his name with such venom. We aren’t the bad guys. All we care about is....”

    “If you say the good of the kingdom, I swear you will not leave this room alive,” Cas threatened, stepping forwards to lean into her space. Ruby pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair, away from Cas.

    “Wait,” Balthazar held up a hand and turned to face Gabriel, “You’re telling me that they don’t have magic? I can’t see anything like that.”

    “It's as clear as day to me. Technically, I've been using my magic for a while now, so I'm more advanced,” Gabriel smiled impishly at Balthazar who narrowed his eyes.

    “So, you're not a threat anymore. You don't really matter,” Cas murmured. Dean’s eyes widened. All this time it had been Crowley this and Crowley that but now… he didn't matter. As simple as that.

    “Let's throw him in the dungeon. This dickwad killed me,” Gabriel growled in a low voice. It was like whiplash. One moment he’d been teasing his brother and the next he looked like a hardened executioner.

    “That’s a good enough solution for now,” Cas nodded his head and then turned around,”Dean, what do you think?”

    Gabriel and Balthazar kept their eyes on Ruby and Crowley, but Dean could see them stiffen in surprise. “Um, the dungeon’s cool with me. I mean, we don’t have to kill them now that they’re

powerless, right?” He really wasn’t sure why Cas was asking him; it was really the three brother’s job to decide.

    Cas nodded and looked back towards his false parents, “I’m sure you know that we broke the spell and that most people in this country are now aware of how you attained the throne and are probably out for your blood. Putting you in the dungeon is almost like doing you a favor.”

    Crowley had just been staring at the four men for a good while, a small smile playing across his face as if he found the entire thing amusing.

    “Boys,” he began, “You all need to grow up. Do you really think this is a good idea? There will be a power vacuum and none of you are well-equipped or well-liked enough to fill it. You need me. Plus who knows what King Lucifer would do if you crossed him.”

    “I have to disagree,” Castiel argued, “I am fairly popular in certain areas due to the fact that I and I alone provided aid during a  famine which, incidentally, your boss, King Lucifer, caused and we ended. My contract with Lady Meg was signed and ratified and I followed through as well as I was able. Within that contract it was promised, from all existing angles, that no acts of aggression would be perpetrated against Andala. And as for well-equipped… I’ve been sitting in on every council meeting you’ve held for a while now and seen through every lie you've told because I knew which reports you'd falsified. I think I can handle it.”

    Crowley stared at Cas in shock and seemed to tense up as he was considering running. Dean felt like laughing. That was his Cas! Being all tough and smart as if it was nothing. Gabriel and Balthazar moved to hold Ruby in place. Dean rushed to help Cas with Crowley.

    “As much as it goes against my values to drop a lady in prison, I’m perfectly willing to forget that for a moment,” Balthazar whispered to Ruby.

    “She isn’t a lady,” Gabriel protested darkly. Dean had to agree. They passed a few people in the halls but most just stared at them and said nothing. Dean wondered briefly where all the guards were. He hadn’t seen a single one since he’d woken up. Not that he was complaining. They always made him a bit edgy.

    Crowley continued to try to talk his way out of the hole he’d dug for himself, his attempts getting increasingly more laughable. Ruby just scowled and refused to speak. When they got to the dungeon, the ancient doorman was still there. He let them in and handed them the ring of keys.

    “The jailer gave me those when he left. Said something about leaving to kill someone. Probably one of them,” the doorman pointed at the two new prisoners, “I know what you did.”

    Crowley and Ruby blanched but pretended to ignore the old man. Cas motioned towards the second row of cells and they all followed his lead. He walked all the way to the end of the block and opened an empty cell. Dean recognized it as the one he’d been locked in by the manacles hanging from the ceiling. Cas shoved him in and Dean released the arm he’d been holding. Behind them, Balthazar and Gabriel were doing the same to Ruby.

    “A little poetic justice, Cas, putting him in my cell?” Dean asked as he leaned closer to Cas.

    “He should be grateful I’m not putting the manacles on,” Cas growled and slammed the door shut. He slid the key and turned it. The solid clunk of metal was one of the most satisfying sounds Dean had ever heard. Cas handed the keys to Gabriel.

    “What now?” Dean put an arm around Cas’s shoulders as they walked away.

    “Now, we deal with Lucifer. He won’t do this again. Anywhere,” Cas wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist. Apparently they weren’t going to care who thought what. Awesome. Dean found himself grinning. He felt amazing.The first guard he’d seen all day came running up to their little group.

    “Your highness,” he panted, “There’s a mob in the street. They’re calling for the King and Queen’s blood. We can’t hold them back much longer.” A look of horror passed over Cas’s face.

    “I will speak to them. Lead the way,” he released Dean and followed the guard. Dean, Balthazar, and Gabriel followed further behind.

    “He’s going to have to execute one or both of them if he expects the people of Andala to trust him,” Balthazar whispered to Dean.

    “I know,” Dean replied. Cas would do it too. Heaven knows the couple deserved it.

Chapter Text

CAS

    So things weren’t going as smoothly as he might have hoped. That was okay. They could handle it. As he hurried to the front of the palace to address the mob, he glanced back at his brothers. He couldn’t trust that Balthazar would stay and he still partially wanted to bash in his face for leaving in the first place. On the other hand there was Gabriel. He still didn’t really know what Gabe had been through and if it had left him scarred or not.

     A week ago, he had been next in line for the throne. As it was now… who knew? Gabriel was technically the eldest, but now physically the youngest. Balthazar had never been trained for the throne and he really didn’t think Balthazar would stick around for very long. So was Cas still the Crown Prince? Cas shook his head and dislodged these thoughts. They could wait for later. He had a mob to deal with.

    Intellectually, he knew that the wisest course of action would be to execute Crowley and Ruby. And, oh, did he want to. But that’s why he wasn’t planning to. As a ruler, he could not make decisions based off of emotion. Plus, it wouldn’t send the right message if his first act as king was to call for a double execution. They had reached the large double door at the foot of the throne room. Cas paused a moment, listening to the dull roar of the crowd outside.

    “I need all of you to stay here ,” Castiel commanded.

    “No fucking way,” Dean shot back.

    “Yeah, we’re not letting my little bro face an angry mob alone,” Gabe argued. Balthazar shrugged, apparently not caring either way.

    “Gabriel, I’m technically older than you now. Plus, nobody knows you are alive. We don’t want to run the risk of someone recognizing you before we’re ready with an explanation. And Dean, just stay here. You were dead earlier today,” Cas tried to look as serious and determined as possible.

    “I agree Gabe should stay but, technically, I’m still your body guard. I’m coming with you. No more arguing,” Dean approached the doors and Cas had to hold back a smile. He was so stubborn. There was no way Cas was going to convince him to stay behind.

    “We’ll be right back,” Cas promised his brothers.

    “Stay safe, Cassie,” Balthazar nodded at Cas.

    “I can’t promise you that,” Cas replied and then slid the door open. The roar of the crowd immediately grew louder. He slipped out, Dean right behind him, and the door closed behind him with a solid thunk .

    A row of palace guards were holding back a large collection of people. All of them were angry and most of them were yelling at the guards or the palace area in general. When they spotted Castiel, they broke out into even louder shouts mostly consisting of things like “Kill the imposter!” and “Where is the false king!?” The whole scene was overwhelming and Cas wanted to turn around and let someone else handle it. He didn’t want to have to deal with so much emotion being thrown at him. But it was his duty. He took a deep breath, glanced back at Dean, and held up his hands for silence. The guards noticed and began shouting for silence. The people were hesitant to obey, so Castiel didn’t wait for complete silence. He began speaking as soon as he thought the majority of the mob could hear him.

    “People of Andala!” a few more voices quieted, “As I am sure most of you are aware, some memories were recently returned to the kingdom. Anyone who was aware of political events at that time is now also aware that who we assumed to be our ruler, Crowley, unlawfully seized power,” the shouts increased and the guards began drawing weapons to contain the crowd, “Stop! I will not have the palace guard draw weapons on the people! They have a right to protest.” The crowd grew silent. Apparently he had said the right thing. Cas curled his fingers in his fist, trying to keep them from shaking.

    “Keep going,” Dean whispered in his ear, “They’re actually listening.”

    Cas cleared his throat, “We have both Crowley and Ruby in the dungeon. Now I know you wish to see them punished, but a proper trial will be held and their fates decided there. It will be held in two days time at noon here, in the courtyard,” Cas pointed to the seating, “You are welcome to attend.” The guards glanced back fearfully, but Castiel was certain of his decision. However he handled this would send a message to the people about how he was going to rule. He didn’t want to be an inaccessible ruler who used his people for personal gain as Crowley had.

    “For now, would you all please return to your homes. Any concerns you may have can be brought to me tomorrow. I will be holding an open court from sunrise to sunset,” Cas nodded and watched as people began to drift away, apparently satisfied. He had no idea what he’d signed himself up for, but he knew that it was good for morale and his public image. A few people stayed behind, looking hopefully up at Castiel. He inclined his head towards them and turned around to head back into the palace. As soon as the doors closed behind them, Dean exploded.

    “What did you just do?”

    “What was needed,” Cas deflected.

    “Don’t give me that shit. I can see right through it. Do you know how many unsolvable problems they’re going to bring you tomorrow? The insanity that there will be at the trial? And what if you decide to banish them imprison them for life or anything other than execute them?” Dean was using large hand motions and was getting increasingly upset.

    “What now?” Gabriel asked, a frown puckering between his eyebrows.

    “Cas just went and signed himself up for a whole bucket load of problems, that’s what,” Dean huffed and crossed his arms.

    “I did what was needed, Dean,” Cas stopped walking and turned to face him, “Yes, it may be bothersome for me, but I need to win the trust of the people. Their trust in the crown was just shattered and for many of them even their basic beliefs have been challenged. It has sort of fallen out of style to believe in magic. There is no way other than magic to explain what just happened. I did the smart thing, even though it’s the hard thing.”

   Silence. The three men in the room with him stared at him and then Balthazar broke the silence.

    “You’re gonna be a great king, Cassie. I’m tearing up just hearing you talk about it.”

    “Shut up, Balthazar,” Cas brushed past him and headed towards a conference room. He needed a quiet place to think, “Since I am the Crown Prince, I have the authority to preside over the trial so we don’t need to assemble a new council quite yet.”

    “Not to steal your fire, but aren’t I next in line for the throne?” Gabriel asked.

    “You were,” Cas looked his brother in the eye and hoped that he wasn’t going to make this a problem, “But then you died. I have had more experience and instruction than you have. I already have a good reputation with the people and you have yet to build one. Plus, you look too young to rule.”

    “I… suppose you’re right,” Gabriel said hesitantly, “Ruling never sounded like much fun anyway.” He smirked, brushing aside any discomfort he was feeling.

    “Okay, so it’s settled?” Cas needed to make sure everything was clear in this terribly muddled situation. Gabe nodded. Cas gave him a small smile and then entered the council room.

    “We’ve still gotta tell Joshua about, ya know, Samandriel…” Dean mentioned. Cas closed his eyes in pain. He had somehow forgotten about that. “I can tell him,” Dean rushed to say, “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Cas.”

    “Thank you, Dean,” Cas turned to him with a grateful smile, “Would you tell him while we,” he motioned to Balthazar and Gabe, “sort out what happened and what the future holds.”

    Dean gave him an odd look, but nodded and walked towards the exit, “I expect to have full report when I get back.”

    “Of course, dear,” Cas replied. Wait. He didn’t just call Dean dear, did he? According to the slightly uncomfortable, but happy, smile from Dean and the twin smirks from his brothers, he had. Oh well. He meant it.

DEAN

    He was not looking forward to this. Why had he volunteered to tell Joshua about Samandriel again? Oh yeah, cause Cas had too much on his plate already and didn’t need to take care of that too. Steeling himself, he knocked twice on Joshua's door.

    “Come in, just cleaning up,” Joshua’s voice travelled through the door. Dean opened the door and walked in. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments more than was customary. Joshua stilled and gave him a curious look.

    “Look, man, I have some awful shit to tell you,” all of Joshua’s attention was immediately on Dean.

    “Go on,” he said in a hushed voice.

    “Well, Samandriel… he, uh, I’m sorry, but he’s dead,” Dean winced as Joshua’s eyes widened and the bowl he had been cleaning fell from his grasp.

    “No. He can’t be...  Where is he?” Joshua demanded.

    “He’s up in Cas’s room,” Dean told him, “We found him in the throne room then moved him there.” Without another word, Joshua pushed past him and headed presumably towards Cas’s room. He almost followed him, but decided he needed to be alone for a bit. Besides, Dean didn’t really do emotions well. He sighed and glanced at the mess, considering cleaning it up for Joshua. He really wanted to get back to hear whatever conversation Cas and the others were having. With a sigh, he picked up the bowl and placed it on the table. Joshua had already done most of the cleanup anyway. He might as well finish.

    He was done in under twenty minutes. Giving the place one last sweep, he backed out of the door. Dean desperately wanted to get back to hear whatever important decisions were being made. And maybe he was a tiny bit afraid that now that Cas’s brothers were back, Cas wouldn’t need him. Not that Dean would admit it. He jogged down the hallways, noticing that the palace staff had begun to trickle back into place.

    “-- and just trust the rumor mill not to fuck this up!?” Gabriel was shouting. Dean opened the door as quietly as he could. Only Cas noticed him, his brothers too busy arguing to care.

    “Do you have another suggestion, my dear?” Balthazar purred, but Dean felt that it was his version of yelling.

    “I just don’t think a brief announcement of my return and then leaving everyone hanging would give the right impression,” Gabriel responded, sitting back and crossing his arms.

    “He’s right,” Dean added, pulling out a chair next to Cas and sitting down, their arms brushing, “People would assume black magic or whatever nonsense. I wouldn’t be pretty.”

    “Thank you for your opinion, slave,” Balthazar threw back, obviously in a mood to start a fight.

    “What did you say?” Castiel asked, rising from his chair, “Take that back.”

    “Well, technically he is a slave, I mean I was being nice and not calling him a fugitive or a traitor,” Balthazar started to stand as well, but surprisingly Gabriel put a hand on his arm.

    “We don’t need to start a fight now. God knows I’m all up for it later, but we have less than 24 hours before we have to give the people answers. We need to handle this peacefully for now,” Gabriel shrugged, “Plus I’m pretty sure Cassie here could kick your ass.”

    “Dean is no longer a slave!” Cas growled and sat back down, brooding, “How did you know anyway?”

    “His poster was slapped up over every billboard over town. I got kinda used to the sight of his face,” Balthazar’s eyebrows twitched up.

    “Seriously, let’s all just let this go,” Dean held up a hand, “What did I miss?”

    “Okay, Freckles,” Gabe began, “Short version. Cutting out the near murders… we didn’t decide on a lot. Cassie’s going to rule against Crowley and Ruby and pull the lever himself as another sign to the people that he’s a responsible ruler or whatever other nonsense,” Cas was glaring daggers at Gabriel but either he was oblivious or studiously ignoring him, “Also, neither Balthy nor I are gonna contest his claim to the throne. Leave the hard work to him. We need to clean up the throne room tonight. Oh, and we think Lucifer may be dead and if he’s not he’ll be easy to take out since he’ll be dying. That about sums it up.”

    “Okay, I got all of that except the part where we actually have some good luck and miraculously Lucifer is just randomly dying,” Dean frowned.

    “He was using magic to keep himself alive for over 500 years. Now that Joshua has severed the link by resurrecting Gabriel… it’s quite possible Lucifer will just wither and die. A massive portion of his power came from our family line which only grew stronger as each new member was born,” Cas explained. Dean felt his eyes widen. That actually made sense and it would mean that… they didn’t really have an enemy anymore.

    “Cool. Some good news for once,” Dean cracked his knuckles, “What’s next?”

    “We were still deciding what to tell people about Gabriel when you burst in. It was very public knowledge that he died,” Balthazar put his arms behind his head.

    “Right…” Dean looked up to the ceiling, thinking.

    “We need to tell them something, why not tell them the complete truth?” Cas proposed.

    “Cause that’s too complicated, rumors and gossip would warp it. We should just tell them that it had something to do with the spell that returned their memories and no one really understands it,” Gabe suggested.

    “Just lump it all into one, big unknown… not half bad,” Balthazar nodded his head.

    “Yeah, if we’re calm, they’ll stay calm and remember it years later as a really weird thing that happened,” Dean agreed. He understood Cas wanting to tell them the whole truth, but it honestly was too complicated.

    “If you all believe it to be best,” Cas stared down all three of them. No one buckled. “Okay, that is what I will announce.”

    “Now, we can move on to cleaning up blood and gore. I think I’ll skip this part, go up to my room and clean there…” Balthazar stood, but Cas was faster and grabbed his shoulder.

    “You’re not going anywhere,” Cas growled, “You’re going to help whether you want to or not.”

    “Maybe I should have made a big deal out of giving you all the power,” Balthazar grumbled, but headed in the direction of the throne room. Gabriel followed him. Cas walked out next to Dean, their arms brushing.

    “Where does this plan leave me?” Dean whispered. He knew he shouldn’t bother Cas with his issues, but he really hoped Cas still needed him.

    “Wherever you want to be, Dean,” Cas answered, suddenly stiff and cold.

    “Then I think I’ll stay right here,” Dean replied, nervously. Cas hadn’t sounded very open to him staying.

    “Are you sure? It’s not going to be easy. I’m going to be a king. You would probably prefer going back to your family and not dealing with politics day in and day out.”

    “Maybe,” Dean felt a little more confident now. Cas’s tone of voice had soothed something in his mind, “But I’d be missing something very important.” He looked pointedly at Cas.

    “Hmm?” Cas glanced up at him. Shit. That smartass was actually going to make him say it.

    “You,” Dean cringed inside. This was way more emotional than he was comfortable with, but if it convinced Cas that he actually wanted to stay then it was worth it. Cas looked up at him and if the near-blinding smile was anything to go by he was more than happy with Dean’s answer.

    “So you’re staying?”

    “I’m staying, Cas.”

SAM

    Sam was worried. Jess hadn’t stopped pacing and muttering to herself since the terrible headache they’d both had. Noises of a large crowd had passed by outside, but Sam was too worried about Jess to check it out. At first, she had sat on her bed and stared at the opposite wall. He’d talked to her, slapped her, and snapped his fingers next to her ear but no response. Then she had blinked as if snapping out of a trance and was pacing furiously back and forth. At least she was responsive, but just barely. Whenever he’d ask her something, she’d wave him off with a later, Sam.

     “Jess, you’re really starting to worry me,” Sam begged, “Please just tell me what’s going on.” Jess whipped around to face him.

    “Did you notice anything… different in your head after the headache?” she asked, head slightly cocked.

    “No. What are you talking about?” Sam’s brow furrowed. Now he was really worried about Jess.

    “It’s just…” Jess groaned and began spinning a ring on her finger, “I remember some things from when I was a toddler where I didn’t before and they’re pretty crazy things.”

    “It’s alright,” Sam patted the bed next to him, “Tell me. Maybe I can help.” Jess slowly approached the bed and sat down on it slowly. She leaned against Sam’s side and sighed.

    “I have a few normal memories of living in the palace. I remember my mom being stressed about something. At the time all I noticed was that she didn’t spend enough time with me,” Jess chuckled, “But now I can see the memory correctly. The weird stuff starts right before when my… when I went to live with Uncle Joshua.” Jess sighed and Sam wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her shoulder.

    “My mother came in one day sat me down on a counter. She was telling me that I had to remember for her. That Uncle Joshua would know what to do. Then she put two fingers to my forehead and this flood of vivid images flooded in. Her memories. Then she kissed me and dropped me off with Uncle Joshua. That was the last time I ever saw her,” Jess sniffled a bit, but was obviously refusing to cry.

    “Those memories are so bright in the forefront of my mind. They’re brighter than most of my own. She’s watching a man kneeling in front of an empty throne. He seems to be talking to himself, except for the voice responding to him. The man is King Crowley, but my mother doesn’t know the voice. They’re talking about an eye; my mother is horrified, apparently it has to do with energy funneling? That’s not clear. But he’s also talking about protection of an… ankh pendant. My mother gasped. Something suddenly makes sense. Something about immortality? Crowley noticed her. She ran. The memory cuts out,” Jess looked up to Sam shakily, “Do you think it could be real?”

    “I don’t know… we could go ask Joshua? And I could see Dean. He might be able to ask the Prince about some stuff,” Sam offered.

    “Okay,” Jess rubbed her left eye, “Let me get some dinner and then we’ll go.”

    “Make it quick,” Sam said, “It’s getting kind of late.”

    “Bossy, aren’t you?” Jess quipped and rolled her eyes, “Don’t worry, I’ll be quick. And I’ll feed you too.”

Chapter Text

CAS

    Cleaning the throne room was a horrible, messy task, but necessary. When they got there, several of the guards and some servants were already working and most of the bodies had already been removed, but blood was splattered everywhere and shards of broken objects littered the floor. The palace staff eyed him nervously as he joined in on the effort. Cas knew it was unconventional but that was the point. He wasn’t going to be an absent sovereign.

     It didn’t take long for the blood to soak through the towels he was using and begin to stain his hands red. He stared at them for a moment, wondering if some of it was Dean’s, before taking the towel to the large tub of water in the middle of the room and cleaning it off. The main doors at the back of the throne room cracked open and a guard popped in.

    “My lord? There are two very insistent commoners who wish to see you and your bodyguard,” he reported, seeming slightly confused.

    “What are their names?” Cas asked.

    “Sam and Jessica.”

    “Ah. Let them in.” The guard jogged back to the doors. Cas turned and scanned the room for Dean. He was just across the main aisle scrubbing blood out of one of the benches.

    “Dean?” he called.

    “Yeah, Cas?” Dean replied, looking up from his task.

    “Sam and Jess are here to see us.”

    “Shit,” Dean scrambled off of the bench, “We can’t let Sam see this. Let’s take him to the ballroom.” Cas nodded and they both headed to the double doors to guide Sam away from the bloody mess that was the throne room. They reached the doors just as they were opening to let their two visitors enter. Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and practically shoved his brother into the open doorway that led to the ballroom. Cas watched Dean’s over-protectiveness and shook his head slightly while directing Jess to follow him. When they all made it into the ballroom, Sam spoke up.

    “I don’t know what that was about,” He started, motioning to Dean’s grip on his arm, “But we have some pretty important information.”

    “Go on,” Cas said, trying not to worry too much. Sam didn’t look like this was good information and Cas really didn’t want to have yet another problem on his hands.

    “Okay,” Jessica said, stepping closer, “So… You know how my mother and father were executed? I think I know why. My mom, she overheard a conversation between Crowley and some… voice.”

    “Lucifer,” Dean muttered angrily.

    “They were talking about an eyeball -”

    “That would be Gabriel,” Cas interrupted, hoping this would be the only thing they had to say.

    “O-kay,” Jess said, “I don’t know what that means, but I’m gonna guess you took care of it. I also heard about this ankh pendant. It sounded really important. And I’m pretty sure it had to do with immortality.”

    Cas blinked at her, unsure of what to say. If she had just given them the key to defeating Lucifer, that would be… amazing.

    “Wait. You remembered?” Dean asked.

    “Yeah, my mom gave me her memories when she thought she’d get caught,” Jess replied.

    “Oh, that makes sense,” Dean said.

    “Dean,” Cas said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Not important. If we could defeat Lucifer by just taking this amulet… It would keep us from war.”

    “Whoa! Back up,” Sam raised both hands in the air, “Lucifer? War? What exactly is going on?”

     At that moment, a servant with her arms covered in blood up to the elbow popped in and said, “Your Highness, the former king is asking for you. We wouldn’t have bothered you, but he says he has something to tell you.”

    Cas sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be there momentarily.” He looked up and saw Sam’s expression frozen in confusion. He rubbed Dean’s shoulder. “You got this?” he asked, using his other hand to gesture to Sam and Jess.

    “Of course. Take Balthazar or Gabriel with you. I don’t want Crowley to try anything.” Dean looked at him and let his stoic mask slip for a moment, allowing Cas to see the worry it masked. He kissed Dean on the cheek.

    “I’ll be perfectly fine.” He loved Dean’s protectiveness. That’s how he showed that he cared. Sam made an odd squeaking noise and looked a little like he might faint right there. One corner of Cas’s mouth lifted in a smile. The poor boy had just had a lot of new stuff dumped on him.

    “Crowley, get to the point,” Cas growled, “My patience is running out.” He’d been trying to get a straight answer out of him for at least half an hour and Balthazar had abandoned him after ten minutes, proving his loyalty as a brother. Cas grit his teeth. He had more important things to do, but he couldn’t just dismiss this.     

     “You know, if I had more comfortable accommodations, I might have a much easier time remembering what I needed to tell you,” Crowley replied, smooth and unbothered as ever.

    “You’ve been saying that and I’ve been telling you that I can’t move you. I can bring you blankets and I can have better food brought, but that is it. I will not let you escape,” Cas declared.

    “Look,” Crowley said with a sigh, “I’m only telling you this because I’m dead if Lucifer finds out about this… He wears an amulet that keeps him alive.”

    Cas nodded, “Yes, I know.” Crowley’s eyes widened, but he didn’t voice his surprise.   

    “Well, there’s only one way to destroy it. If you take it from him he’ll just get a little weaker, still strong enough to kick you all the way to Helton.”

    “How?” Cas asked and crossed his arms.

    “Now that information is going to cost you,” Crowley smirked at him.

    “What do you want? I know it has to be more than a comfortable bed,” Cas asked.

    “I figure that you will hold a trial for me cause you’re too weak to make the decision by yourself, so I want you to make it. Set me free. Promise not to kill me. I’ll tell you the way to destroy it after the trial,” Crowley asked, toeing the line between begging and demanding.

    “I can’t do that,” Cas said. Then he remembered something Joshua had mentioned in passing. “Or, I could exile you. There’s this lovely little island I have in mind. Do you really think this city would accept you? I’d actually be doing you a favor sending you there.”

    Crowley frowned, thinking it over. “Deal.”

    “Then I expect my answer tomorrow.” Cas turned on his heel and stalked away.

DEAN

    Explaining everything to Sam and Jess had been interesting and he was pretty sure they were kind of in shock, but he felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He never liked to keep secrets from his brother. When he finally left them in the ballroom to find Cas, he found the throne room actually looking halfway normal. There was no more blood and, yes, there was a pile of broken glass and damaged weapons in the corner, but that could easily be fixed.

    He headed towards the dungeon, already planning the ways he would hurt Crowley if he’d even laid a single finger on Cas. He only got halfway there, intercepted by Cas leaving the dungeon.

    “Dean!” Cas began, “I was looking for you. Do you remember when Joshua mentioned that island locked in time?”

    “Yeah. I’m still not convinced it actually exists. Why?” Dean asked.

    “I’m going to put Crowley there instead of executing him. He says he knows how to destroy Lucifer’s pendant but he’ll only give up the information if he survives the trial.”

    “I don’t trust him, Cas.” Dean put his hands on Cas’s shoulders.

    “Neither do I, but we can’t pass up this information,” Cas said, leaning forward to rest his head on Dean’s chest.

    “Come on, you’re exhausted. Let’s get you to bed,” Dean pushed Cas away from him and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the staircase.

    “You’re going to stay with me, right?” Cas asked, following Dean.

    “You couldn’t keep me away if you tried,” Dean grinned back at him. And he meant it. He was completely in love with this beautiful man and never wanted to leave him. Hell, he’d even defied death to be with him. Well, technically Cas had defied death for him, but that didn’t sound half as impressive.

SAM

    “I can’t believe Dean kept this from me,” Sam said, burying his head in his hands, “I thought we always told each other everything.”

    “He was just trying to protect you,” Jess comforted, putting a hand on his knee, “And Castiel. He couldn’t risk you telling anyone .”

    “We’re going to help them now. I don’t care if Dean wants to protect me. I can take care of myself,” Sam announced. Jess laughed.

    “That’s my stubborn Sam,” she leaned against him and sighed. “Will you come home with me? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

    “Of course,” Sam promised. “Tomorrow we’ll come back. Dean can’t keep me away.”