The Hunter and the Hunted - Chapter Five
The world had been reduced to putting one foot in front of the other as fast as possible. It was difficult for Castiel when one of his feet didn’t want to cooperate. But he ran or he died, and that’s all it came down to. So Castiel kept running with his lungs screaming and his foot aching. It had seemed easier before, when Dean was running alongside him. Dean lent him the strength to keep going. And now he was alone the voice at the back of his head happened to mention how much easier this would be with pills to deaden the pain in his foot. Castiel would have sobbed out a cry if he had the breath to do so… not that, not now, on top of everything else! It seemed Dean kept him strong in more ways than one. But Dean wasn’t running with Castiel, he was running after him. Castiel inwardly cursed, he knew the Master was not to be trusted, he should have insisted they try to escape. Now Dean was under the Master’s influence, and Castiel could only hope he was capable of breaking free.
The former angel was starting to flag, he ran off at angles, trying to make a more confusing trail. The sound of a horn blast renewed his vigour momentarily, but he couldn’t keep this up. His direction became more haphazard, there was no plan, no elaborate trail; he didn’t know where he was going… he was just running away. He ran through broken trees with raised roots designed to trip the unwary. Castiel leapt to the clear spots, trying to avoid them, but on landing heavily his leg buckled beneath him and he fell to the ground with an audible ‘oof’. The former angel gasped, trying to pull air back into his burning lungs. Part of him just wanted to lie there, breathe, and be caught. But a black mist filtered towards him through the trees. Castiel’s eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet as it reached his ankles. He launched himself forward, every step sending lightning up his leg, but Castiel tried to ignore it and carry on. He told himself it was just nerves sending messages to his brain, he didn’t have to succumb to it, he didn’t have to feel it. But he felt it… this was his body now, not a vessel and it was not so easy to separate sensations like that.
The drum beat became louder at Castiel’s back. The horn blew more urgently and drops of rain began to pelt him. On holding a hand up to his face the former angel saw the droplets marked his skin with black. He let out a sharp cry of alarm, mind reeling, assaulted by flashes of leviathans and lakes, but still he ran. The ground at Castiel’s feet became churned by the onslaught, making already shaky footsteps more unsteady. He couldn’t tell if it was rain or tears making his face wet. He just ran, spurred on by the thought of a lance coming from Dean’s hand to strike him down. Castiel could almost feel the cold metal tip embed itself in his back as he crashed to the ground. Still, a thought couldn’t keep this body going, he was nearing the end, as the lion had before him. Jaw hanging open, limbs becoming leaden. The former angel would collapse to the ground with barely a sound. The rumble of distant thunder told of horse hooves striking the earth. It was nearly time.
Up ahead Castiel could see the ground fall away into a gully. This would be it, this was where he would fall gracelessly to the ground. He couldn’t possibly leap to the other side. Instead Castiel would fall, he was always falling it seemed; at least if he broke his neck on the way down he wouldn’t have to die at Dean’s hand.
Stealing a quick glance behind Castiel saw the group of horsemen advancing through the trees. They all had black steeds with foaming mouths; their spittle flew through the air as they tossed their heads in agitation. The horses seemed as eager and bloodthirsty as their riders. One leather clad hunter spurred his horse on, cold blue eyes glared beneath his horned helm as he left the group. Castiel ran on, hoping he could reach the gully before the rider reached him. He could hear it coming up fast on his right side, the horse didn’t sound like a horse, it groaned and roared furiously. Then suddenly it flew past. Castiel momentarily met the animal’s eye and caught a deep red glow in its black depths. Then it was ahead, and jumping the gully easily to stand on the other side. The rider held it, a hurricane in a butterfly net, the horse angrily pawed the ground and reared to strike at the air. They blocked him off. Castiel whirled his head to either side at the sound of snapping branches and hooves. Through the trees he caught snatches of riders. They were boxing him in. The horse on the other side of the gully reared and roared, its coat was ragged and scarred, stained by a seeping dark liquid. The rider held aloft a black banner with crossed keys, its cruelly spiked end was lowered toward Castiel as he reached the edge. And as he wavered, teetering on an endless moment, recognition lit up the former angel’s eyes. “Dean!” But Castiel had lost his footing and fell. The hunter’s name was the last word on his lips as he plummeted down the gully. He momentarily felt the instinct to snap out his wings before a white light flashed before him. Castiel thought he saw the green of another world before he scrunched his eyes and braced for impact.
“Oof” Castiel hit the ground hard, he splayed out his hands and was surprised to feel lush grass beneath them. Opening his eyes he smiled with sheer relief. There was a blue sky, green grass, and fresh air. Castiel had eventually become used to the stale fetid rot of purgatory, only he hadn’t realised it until this moment when breathing suddenly seemed so sweet. Gingerly he got to his feet, holding an arm up to shield his eyes against the sun. Castiel really didn’t mind the too bright glare, he took a moment to enjoy the warmth against his skin. The joy of being back on earth didn’t last long however, Castiel’s thoughts turned to Dean. Had he made it back too? Where was he? Did he get left behind? The former angel spotted a road up ahead and started walking. He supposed the first step was to work out where he was and contact Sam.
The former angel didn’t get very far however, a flash of light and blast of air had him on his hands and knees in the grass again. Castiel looked back and dread gripped his heart, the Hunt had appeared. He choked back a gasp seeing Dean amongst them, banner held high. Scrambling to his feet Castiel ran for the road as fast as he could, he was far from recovered but at least the ground didn’t hinder him here. The sudden movement seemed to grab their attention and their pursuit began again. Like a dog suddenly catching sight of a fleeing rabbit. However the pursuit was over almost as soon as it began. The flat open space made it child’s play to cut the former angel down. Castiel heard a rider coming up alongside, and then he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head as the hunter flew past. Hitting the ground for the third time Castiel landed in front of the road sign. His fuzzy vision had time to read “Cass Lane” before everything faded to black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Castiel was awakened by an ache behind his eyes and a throb in his foot. As he gradually came to awareness he heard a ruined voice merrily sing “In summer times do beesie flew, maple pines and grackles coo. The grassies sweet with nectars dew, til harvest time when Him eat you”.
The former angel sat up slowly and looked around. He was in a cage, the bars looked old and rusted, but Castiel guessed there were more than just bars keeping him in. The owner of the voice came across to him then. A hunched old woman wrapped in brown hooded garments… though Castiel felt she was far from human. Her wide, sickly, amber stained eyes settled on him with the focussed gaze of a hawk. “It’s awake, it is. The new one… my new one to keeps”.
She had a strange manner of speech, a sort of pidgin English. It took Castiel’s brain a moment to catch up. “Who are you?”
“I am me”. She offered him a cracked smile, as if pleased at answering his question. “I am the keeper, I keeps the ones he trappers. He trappered you little birdsie”.
“You must have a name”.
“No name, I just be me”. Her smile fell and her brow knit. “Names are not for me. Not now… he trappers you and takes you. Takes your names eventually”.
Castiel suddenly felt a pang of pity for the creature. Had she been one of the hunted? His first thought was to find information, find out how to use her, trick her, maybe even kill her, and now he felt a little sorry for the creature before him… but maybe pity would be misplaced. If she was put in charge of the prisoners she must be more formidable than she looked at first sight.
“Where is the Master of the Hunt? I want to talk to him”.
“The Woodsie Lord does not talk when little birdsie wants to talk. The trappered ones make no demands… He says if little birdsie does not behave I cans eater his flesh fingers”. She dropped her hungry gaze to Castiel’s hands and the pity he felt before quickly drained away.
The former angel brought his hands up to grab at the bars and pushed forward, in a threatening gesture… Though she did not flinch nor back away. “We had a deal!”
“Your man fool made a deal. Your man fool pays the price” With that she turned and shuffled away.
The strange keeper woman went to the cage across from Castiel. He sighed, noting it held the winged lion they had crossed paths with earlier. It lay flat and defeated on the floor of its cage, a sad sight for a being so proud. The lion didn’t even twitch when the keeper opened his cage to place a bowl of water inside. The former angel noted more cages scattered about between the trees. No doubt they held more prisoners, more victims of the Hunt. They seemed to be in a thickly wooded area. The trees blocked much of the sunlight from above, but at least the thins rays that danced across the forest floor told him he was out of purgatory. Castiel had never felt such frustration. That freedom was so near and yet so far. He felt he could scream and never stop.
Castiel shook the bars and growled. Achieving nothing he slumped and leaned against the bars of his cage with a sigh. He needed to get out, and he needed to get Dean. Presumably Dean was off with the Hunt, brainwashed… he was caged by other means. There must be some way to bring him back to himself. Castiel’s frantic mind worked through every possibility, from attacking the keeper and running, to standing firm and challenging the Master of the Hunt. Nothing seemed easy… everything seemed impossible. Deep in thought Castiel didn’t notice time pass and the night fall. The former angel came to awareness when a heavy set of footsteps advanced and the Master of the Hunt stood before him. Castiel couldn’t stop himself from leaping to his feet and yelling. “We had a deal!”
“A deal for you both to cross, and here you are”.
“You said you would let him go!”
At that the Master beckoned somebody forward from the shadows. Dean. He stood before Castiel, ramrod straight. His eyes, ice blue and so wrong stared through the ex-angel.
“Dean! Fight him!” But there was no reaction from the hunter. “Please Dean, you are your own master. Fight!”
The Master held up a hand, requesting silence. “Dean Winchester, you are free to go. I release you from my service, do you wish to leave?”
“No. I wish to hunt; I do not wish to leave your service”. Dean’s voice was dead. It shattered Castiel’s heart to hear those words.
“Yes you do! We need to go Dean! We’re home. We’re back on earth and Sam’s waiting for you. You want to see Sam don’t you?” Castiel reached forward through the bars, straining to touch Dean, trying to break the spell.
Then came words that stepped on the shattered pieces of Castiel’s heart and ground them into dust… “Who is Sam?”
“Don’t say that! If you forget me, your parents… even if you forget your own name you will still remember him!” Castiel pushed forward, straining to reach Dean, gritting his teeth with the effort.
“Enough! Leave us and ready yourself. This land is rich with prey and we ride out soon”. The Master dismissed Dean with a wave of his hand then looked back to Castiel. “I cannot release Dean if he does not want to be released. He lives for the hunt, he always has done. It is his nature, Dean is where he belongs”.
Castiel’s outstretched hand dropped as he watched Dean’s figure retreat into darkness. “Why are you doing this?” The former angel’s voice sounded hollow, defeated.
“I could give you much rhyme and reason angel. But each path leads to one answer: The thrill of the chase. Dean knows it as well as I do. The moment when you catch sight of your prey and your heart sings with the pursuit, your blood thrumming in time with the movement of the steed beneath you. Surrounded by your countless brethren, all intent on the same end, you feel alive…”
As the Master spoke Castiel felt himself transported. He was seated in a saddle, a lively horse beneath him. Men were all around on their own mounts. Then with the blast of a horn an electric impulse shocked through them all and they took off. Hooves thunderous upon the ground, Castiel’s heart straining against his chest. He wasn’t sure if this was the moment he would die or the moment he was being brought to life. But the longer they went on the surer he became that this was life. Henceforth every second spent with his feet on the ground would be an unbearable death. As they moved at breakneck speed the air battering Castiel’s face was the pure breath of life. He was sure that the wind of Heaven was that blowing between his horse’s ears.
The Master was still speaking as Castiel came back to himself “… and the only sadness from the blood of your prey is that it is over. But take heart, nothing ends. New quarry will cross your path and the chase begins again”.
Castiel found himself sitting splayed on the floor of his cage, looking up at the Master, wide eyed and gasping.
“You gave us quite the pursuit yourself. It was most enjoyable. And now here you are… my trophy on display”.
“Let us go, please…” Castiel managed to whisper.
“You think me a common fisherman? One who would throw back his hard won catch? No, you are mine now. Once we have finished hunting these lands we will return to purgatory. Eventually you will forget Dean, as he has forgotten you, and I will be your only Master”.
“He’s not my Master, he’s my friend”.
“And yet you follow at his heels like a hound”. Those words brought back a distant memory, the voice of another horseman ‘You set your dog on me…’ Castiel shook his head and offered a defiant glare. “This has been most pleasant, but I have business to attend to. Goodbye for now angel”.
As the Master stalked away the keeper woman scampered over, as if she was wary of being in his presence. Castiel fixed an eye on her “What business is he attending to?”
“No concern of the little birdsie, but it is the witcher of these woods. She deals with the Woodsie Lord, has done for many many years, since before me. The witcher will come soon, she will like the little birdsie, he shineses”.
The keeper reached into her robes and drew out a key. She had a bowl of water for him… Castiel would not be as docile as the lion. “Where are we?”
“Knaresborough, England. It asks lots of questions it does…” As she opened the door Castiel made to rush at her. He didn’t get far. From beneath her robes came numerous roots and long winding branches. They slammed into him and wrapped around his limbs. Castiel stilled with the shock of it, before trying to fight back. The appendages wound and flexed but were rough with bark. He knew now for certain the keeper wasn’t human. His flailing only caused her to tighten her grip, vines and leaves snaking out to wrap around Castiel’s throat. Sensing defeat he stilled again, though there was little he could do ensnared as he was.
“Does it want to loser its fingers? Maybe it will offer up a flesh eye? It only needses one to see”. A thorned tendril crept down the side of the former angel’s face in a mocking caress. Then the vines around his throat tightened, cutting off his breath. Castiel tried to bring his arms up, but they were held firmly in the keeper’s grasp, he couldn’t move an inch. The world seemed to blur around the edges… “Sleepsie now”.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Wake up”.
Castiel opened his eyes and let them lazily drift until they settled on the face before him. It was another woman beneath a robe, younger but with creased lines telling of the onset of middle age. His fingers brushed at his neck, it felt sore and was surely bruised.
“So you are the fallen angel? He was right… you are something to behold”.
“Let me guess, you’re the witch?” Castiel croaked out.
“Yes, well, that is the simplest way of putting it… The locals call me Mother Shipton, but Ursula Southeil is my name”.
“A pleasure to meet you Ursula, if I may call you that”. Castiel added a hint of sarcasm to his voice as he pushed himself upright.
“You may, Castiel, Angel of Thursday”.
“Not so angelic now… human in fact. There is nothing to behold here, release me or leave me be”. Castiel answered bitterly.
“Oh Castiel, you do yourself a disservice” She stepped forward and wrapped her hand around a bar. A dark blue robe cloaked much of her features. She seemed to speak with a kindly voice. “Fallen though you are you will never be human, not really. You were not born to this body… it is not yours; another man owned it before you. Castiel your grace is gone but there is something so bright in you still. And though your wings are no more I can see where they once were, a ghost…” Her eyes skirted the air around Castiel’s back. He twitched nervously, she had indeed traced the outline of his former wingspan. But he wouldn’t allow himself to indulge in the possibility he could be something more than human, he knew it wasn’t so.
“I am human, nothing you say can make it otherwise”. He tried to sound firm, but his voice was rough and choked by the thought of his angelic form.
“You sound so determined, so resolute”. Her eyes narrowed as she examined him. “Humanity is a cage that keeps you Castiel… Do you really wish to die so soon and be forgotten?”
Castiel swallowed heavily. “Even great Kings of men are forgotten eventually. And angels are never really known to be remembered. We are just dust in the end… all of us”.
“Then maybe the trick is not to end”.
“Everything ends”. Castiel stated solemnly. Then he found some strength for his voice and added. “I say again, release me or leave me be”.
She reached for Castiel’s hand faster than he could draw it away. Then Ursula closed her eyes and a strange calm descended on the former angel. “Let me see…”
A frown creased her features, as if trying to fathom a great mystery. “It is not for me to release you. That fate lies with another… but if you are released Castiel there is much pain and sorrow on the path before you. I would not walk it, there are few who could”. She opened her eyes, and searched Castiel’s with a note of sadness that soon hardened. “Nor can I leave you be. You are just what I need; the children will dearly love to see an angel”.
That confused Castiel, but he was finding it hard to think through the calming fog. Conversation continued around him, it was hard to keep track, and eventually he drifted away.
“I’ll take this one as well. He will be perfect for my harvest”.
“The Woodsie Lord would not like for you to take his little birdsie…”
“He will get his little bird back, just like the others. He knows I only borrow them…”
“But that is his special shining one”.
“I have given him much, and he gives in return. He will give what I ask, special and shining or not. Now why don’t you…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When the fog cleared Castiel’s mind he found he was chained to a stake in the ground. Cold hard manacles were clamped around his wrists, he gave a pull at them but the powerful hum of magic in return told him they would not be easily removed. Castiel took a look around; he had been moved to a clearing, a few cages and another stake held more prisoners. Brightly coloured signs proclaimed a show of sights to be seen. Now it made more sense… she was luring people here, luring children here.
Ursula stood before the other tethered creature, it was one of the hunter’s savage horses. She held up a hand and slowly fire spread along its mane and tail. When it pawed and snorted a stream of flame licked the air. “There we are, a Nightmare. Not that you weren’t impressive enough already my dear, but the humans expect a little more ‘razzle dazzle’ shall we say…”
She patted the horse’s neck and turned to Castiel. He shrank away as far as his chains would let him. “Your turn now my little angel… I’m sorry to say that you don’t look like much of an angel, despite what lies beneath. We must do something about that”.
Again she held her hands up “We need wings they can see”.
Castiel felt the magic of a glamour wind around him. At first a faint outline appeared at his back, then the former angel gave a sharp intake of air as feathers solidified around him. They weren’t his, they were white and pure like the angels in old renaissance paintings, but they brought tears to his eyes all the same. Castiel knew the wings weren’t real but he still tried to flex them with muscles he no longer had. Of course they didn’t move. He got to his feet and they fluttered with him. The wings seemed to move of their own accord, but they mirrored the former angel and felt so genuine it hurt.
“There’s my angel. Of course you would have to put fake wings on a real angel for people to see it… humans are so dull”.
Castiel turned his tear filled eyes to the witch. “But I am no angel”.
The witch made to leave, but she suddenly held back, as if sensing an opportunity to twist the knife she had Castiel impaled upon. “And why is that?” She fixed him with a glare. “Why did you fall?”
The former angel recalled the moment his Lucifer tainted grace was removed at Dean’s command. “I didn’t have a choice”.
“We always have choices Castiel. We are all where we are because of choices… Look back and you will find it”.
He had no choice. Castiel realised his grace had to be removed. Lucifer had dug his claws into it and the core of his being was rotting away. The wings at his back festered and fell to pieces. But how had Lucifer come to infect him? Because Castiel had taken on Sam’s madness. And why did Sam suffer? Because Castiel had broken his wall… because Castiel was bad… because Castiel dealt with demons and made the wrong choices.
Ursula was picking at that fragile forgiveness he had only just found. The chains restraining Castiel were heavy. He started to entertain the thought that he deserved them… He was a monster that should be caged, a monster that belonged in purgatory.
The stricken stare on Castiel’s face told Ursula all she needed to know… He had found the root of his downfall. “Think on that angel”.
With a smug smile she turned to leave.
Castiel grabbed at one of the fake wings, holding it, feeling the delicate feathers between his fingers. “I’m not an angel…” He whispered quietly to himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the sun lowered in the sky Castiel tried his hardest to break free. Whether he deserved to be chained or not Dean was still a thrall of the Hunt. He did not deserve that. The manacles wouldn’t give, so Castiel dug out the stump he was tethered to, only to find it replaced even deeper the moment he got it out. The former angel let out a shout of frustration. The false wings at his back fluttered maniacally throughout his efforts, and spread wide as he yelled to the twilight air. Night fell and torches lit up the clearing, lighting seemingly of their own accord. The wings were an annoyance now. Shifting and so real, but not his… not his sleek black feathered limbs. He hated these fake ones, reminders of what he was and would never be again. In his frustration Castiel had pulled at them, tearing out feathers and casting them to the skies. But they grew back as soon as the former angel grabbed another handful.
Through all of the struggling and frustration a fire started to build in Castiel’s heart. The fight to get to Dean had put the hunter firmly at the front of his mind. Dean had forgiven him, he had forgiven himself and now this witch sought to tear it all down. He wouldn’t allow it. The first time Castiel saw Dean’s soul he had been torturing in hell. A bright shining thing twisted and made ugly. Still, he gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition. Dean struggled with what he had done, but he moved forwards, saving people and hunting things. Castiel might have been a monster, but he was going to make the right choices now. He was going to earn his redemption, he was going to stop Ursula, and he was going to save Dean. But first he had to get free, and that was proving a problem…
Falling to his knees Castiel slumped and turned back to lean against the stump he was tethered to. Then he held his breath, eyes wide with surprise. A young couple stood there. His arm was wrapped intimately around her waist… they were lovers then. He whispered something into her ear and she smiled, eyes lit up at the sight of an angel.
Castiel jumped to his feet. “You have to get out of here. The woman is not who she seems, she means to harm you. Turn and run as fast as you can, go! Please leave!”
He couldn’t understand why they stood there still. Had they been struck dumb by the glory of an ‘angel’? Then the answer came with the woman’s gentle voice…
“I wonder what he’s saying…”
Ursula appeared at their backs, like a ghost out of the mist. “Like all angels he speaks Enochian. Few mortals are granted knowledge of their tongue”.
Of course she would make sure Castiel couldn’t warn them…
Stepping forward Ursula put on a show woman’s dance, arms aloft, full of mysticism and lies. “And so here we have our angel. His name is too elaborate for our base language to comprehend. He was cast down from Heaven for punishment and fate has entrusted him to my hands. It is a hard lesson in life that not all angels are good. Come now, next I have a Nightmare to show you, a demon horse of the underworld!”
The couple were ushered on by the witch, Castiel followed with angry eyes until they were out of his sight. In the quiet that followed he struggled once again in vain. It felt good to be doing something, trying if not succeeding. Then some time later Ursula reappeared and came striding towards Castiel. He quickly ceased his struggles and stood to meet her defiantly.
“You can shout at them all you like little angel, they will not understand a word you say”. There was a hint of amusement in her voice.
“What have you done with them? You have me, let them go”. Castiel stepped forward, though the chains held him back. He tried to be strong in facing her. And in coming closer Castiel noticed the witch appeared younger, the lines had gone from her face.
“You are already serving your purpose Castiel. They have served theirs”.
“What did you do to them?” He was already putting two and two together, and then the witch confirmed it.
“I think you already know… I am taking their life essence to extend my own. One has to keep their youthful good looks somehow”. She mockingly caressed her own cheek. “Give me any more trouble Castiel and I will steal your life too. Though there is not much left, fallen as you are… it is why I prefer the children, they have many years for me to store away”.
“Stop this”. Castiel growled.
She just laughed. “I have been here hundreds of years and had many harvests, why would I stop because you tell me to?
“When I am free - and you told me yourself I would be freed - I will come for you and end this”.
“I told you of a possibility little angel. If I killed you now it would never come to pass. All I know is that it is not my fate to free you if freedom is your fate”.
“Fate and destiny mean nothing, we made sure of that”. Castiel strained at the end of his chains.
“Ah yes, the apocalypse that never was, your tearing up of the rule book… Somebody can always write a new one you know”. She stood frustratingly just out of reach, demeanour calm as ice, ignoring Castiel’s rising ire.
“And we will tear that up too!” He spat at her.
“Calm down, or your now fragile heart might give out”. She spoke with a derisive smirk. “I have more visitors to attend to, if you’ll excuse me…”
Sure enough Castiel watched more people approach the clearing, walking unknowingly to their deaths. Anger left his heart for sorrow. Seeing the delight on their faces and knowing the end they would meet.
“Why do they come? After so many harvests the people of this place must know…” He spoke quietly, the chains lax now he had backed off.
“They know, and they are complicit. In a place as old and insular as this respect for me has passed down the generations. They even bring me gifts hoping for protection. The ones I take are newcomers and tourists, they come here for entertainment and so I will give it to them”. She smiled coyly as she turned her back and approached her prey.
Castiel sat down heavily. He desperately tried to think of a way to stop Ursula as she showed her latest visitors around. The former angel glared angrily when they approached, and the people kept their distance. He embodied the wayward dangerous celestial in the witch’s peddled spiel. She repeated it for them, adding embellishments, telling them what a wicked perilous creature he was. When they moved on her stories became larger and more terrible, the poor people’s gasps of awe filtered across the clearing to Castiel. Then he started at seeing a couple of children emerge from the undergrowth and make a beeline for him. He held up his arms and shook his head but they kept coming. The first was a little girl, as she stood before him her eyes shone with wonder. She couldn’t have been any older than six or seven, with warm brown eyes and long brown hair to match. The boy following close behind her was some years older with similar features. They looked to be brother and sister, he slung a protective arm over her shoulder as if stating the fact.
Castiel jumped to his feet with a strangled sound as he desperately wondered how to warn them off and do so before the witch noticed their presence.
The boy spoke quietly to his sister. “Ok, you’ve seen him, now can we go?”
“Not yet”. She pushed his arm away and stepped forward. Castiel knelt before the little girl, his winged form reflected in her eyes.
“Dad would kill us if he knew we were here. He forbid us from coming. Let’s go”. The boy hissed but was met with silence.
Instead the girl spoke directly to Castiel. Her voice was a soft and gentle whisper. “I prayed when my mum was sick. The doctors said they couldn’t do anything else, so I prayed. She always told me angels were watching us, were you watching? Did you hear me?”
Castiel wasn’t sure what to say. Even if he could say something she wouldn’t understand it. Despite this he tried. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you… you should not put your trust in angels”. He looked up to her brother. “You should put your trust in family”.
“What language is that? What is he saying?” The boy’s nose wrinkled in confusion.
“My mum died, but I don’t blame you… my dad said you needed her for Heaven. She had a beautiful voice, she used to sing to me at bedtime. I’m sure you enjoy it too”.
Tears threatened Castiel’s eyes at hearing the girl speak. He needed to get her out of here, but he couldn’t say a single word to her…
“You’re sad…” She raised a delicate hand to his cheek and wiped away a lonely tear. Castiel leaned into her touch and the wings at his back reacted to hood around them. “I think that lady lied. I heard what she said, I don’t think you’re bad”.
Castiel shot back then, an idea suddenly striking him. He turned to the earth at his tether. The grass was long gone thanks to his earlier scrabblings, and the earth was loose. With a finger Castiel quickly traced words. “She is evil. Go now”. He looked to the girl with earnest eyes and motioned her over. The boy followed and read carefully.
“Lucy, we have go”. Castiel immediately recognised the protective older brother going into action. The boy grabbed his sister’s arm and pulled her to her feet.
“Wait, what’s your name?” She held back and looked to Castiel as if his answer was more important than her own life.
The former angel gave a small smile before tracing “Castiel” into the dirt.
She smiled back. “Thank you Castiel”. But before they left she looked across at others entering the clearing. “What about them?!”
“I have to get you out of here. I’ll come back to warn them”. Here was clearly a hero in the making.
He grabbed his sister and pulled her away, but before they made it Lucy yelled out. “Run! She’s evil! Get away from her!”
Ursula strode over to see what the commotion was about. Lucy and her brother turned tail to run, and the young girls that had just come in backed off again. The witch’s little crowd dispersed as she headed for the fleeing children. They ignored her angry shouts for them to stay put and made a hasty exit. As Ursula passed by in her pursuit Castiel rushed forwards, he slammed his body into the witch, trying to slow her down. They tumbled towards the ground, Ursula ended up on top of Castiel, hand clamped about his throat. The fake wings were spread out to either side of him; they twitched weakly and flickered out.
“You think you can stop me Castiel you feeble thing? Too weak to fight for who you are!” A wild look had taken the witch. It was as if she was unravelling at the seams.
“I am no shadow, taking of other’s light to extend my own meaningless life!” The former angel might have been ensnared by her sorcery, but he could still choke out his dangerous words. “I have been a saint and a sinner, a soldier and betrayer. I know who I am. I am Castiel”.
He took hold of her arms then and worked to pry off her grip.
She just laughed. “So there is some fire in you after all! But I make good on my promises Castiel. Your life is mine”.
The witch opened her mouth wide and ice ran through the former angel’s veins. Ursula straddled his body and Castiel bucked helplessly beneath her, resistant to the last. His movements stilled as the cold spread, numbing his limbs. Eventually Castiel’s arms dropped to the ground, his head fell back, jaw lolling open. She bent down to take his lips with her own and a soft glow lit up the former angel’s chest. It filtered towards his mouth and across to the witch. But at her first taste she recoiled as if shocked and sat up. Her eyes were wide and aflame with a light that wasn’t her own.
“No… no…” She gasped at the air as if drowning.
Castiel started to come out of his daze, he looked up at her, puzzled. But before he had a chance to gather himself and try to push the witch away her chest burst open. Blood and gore spattered over Castiel. The ice and magic abruptly fell from around the former angel and he looked up in horror at the witch astride him. Her face was set in a shocked expression, a mess of roots protruding through the place where her heart should be. They retracted with a messy wet sound and Ursula’s eyes dropped to Castiel.
“Something… bright in you… still”. Her bloody lips echoed her earlier words before Ursula fell to one side, dead.
“Nasty witcher woman should not have taken little birdsie, he be mine to keeps. Not hers. Mine”. The strange keeper stood beside Castiel, reaching down to break his chains from the tether. As terrible as she was she had just saved his life, and he couldn’t help but be relieved to see her.
The keeper hauled Castiel to his feet, wrapping vines tight around his arms and pulling on the chains to get him moving. “The Woodsie One will want his shining one back. He is not for nasty witcher woman”. She spat on the witch’s body as she passed by, pulling Castiel along with her. They left the sick scent of earth and blood behind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While Castiel endured his captivity Dean was a captive of another kind. Tied to the will of the Master, he cared only for the hunt and nothing else. His mind was a blank slate to be written on with the blood of their prey. There was some primal instinctual part of Dean that intensified under the influence of the Hunt. It was the natural hunter in him, but magnified until it encompassed the entirety of his self. This was a Dean Winchester that would give demons nightmares.
When the hunting horn blew he mounted his horse. The drums started beating, mirroring the pounding of blood through his veins. And he was consumed. The Hunt set out and Dean was swept away with the chaotic clamour of thundering hooves, howling creatures and raging winds. They moved as one, directed by a single intent, seeking their prey. The first had been a drunk, stumbling home along a darkened road. He was no challenge to cut down and that left Dean unsatisfied. The second gave them more sport. He thought he could escape by taking to his car. The Hunt galloped after, Dean’s every nerve felt electrified, this is what he lived for. With every step they took the ground shook, and it resounded through Dean, riding high on the energy of the horse beneath him. It was a beast made to run, and it did so with an explosion of power that seemed to leave time behind… If you have never run with a horse you have never been free.
But Dean wasn’t free, not really. He was given the illusion of freedom while bound to the will of another. The Hunt dropped back, allowing their prey to think he was safe. The man slowed his car, frantically searching his mirrors, breathing a sigh of relief at seeing only darkness… a road at night. Then he made the mistake of stopping. He sat silently, trying to get his breath and heart under control. Shaking hands gripped the wheel as he stared through his windscreen. The car’s headlights lit up a short section of road ahead, but night concealed all else. Their nameless victim began to think he was going mad. Then he heard the clatter of hooves on concrete… He raised his eyes to the rear view mirror, seeing sparks strike off the road. But before he managed to get the car in gear they were upon him. Three riders… two came alongside, the other took to the air at the back of his car. He yelled at the crunch as it landed on his bonnet, the car crumpled in beneath their weight, then the horse stepped down to the road. The rider turned his horse about to face the car, it reared in the glare of the headlights. He started shaking again and blanched at the sight before him. A horned helmed rider sat upon a horse that seemed more of a beast. It had matted black hair that appeared to seep with black blood. Glowing red coals served as eyes, and it gave otherworldly groans and roars as the rider held it back. He met the rider’s ice blue stare with trepidation. That unwavering gaze told him this was it, and his attention fell to the lance held tightly in the rider’s hand…
With his brothers Gordon and Tala at his side Dean leapt over the car and crashed down on its bonnet. Their prey had no means of escape now. The vehicle was crippled, he had a huntsman to either side, and Dean stood ahead. The horse beneath him was a coiled spring waiting to lash out, he wanted blood just as Dean did. So staring into the man’s soul Dean raised his lance and threw it forwards. The windscreen shattered and glass sprayed the air as his weapon embedded in their quarry’s chest, impaling him to the seat of the car he took refuge in. A great cry of victory came from the Hunt as they emerged from the shadows. Smaller beasts pushed forwards, swarming around the car, breaking in to lap at the pooling blood. They scattered as Dean walked forwards and reached in to retrieve his lance. The taste of victory was sweet on his tongue. Blood ran down from the tip of the lance to stain Dean’s hand. He looked at it coldly, this is what he lived for, the blood of his enemies… this was his ecstasy. Dean looked up to the Master of the Hunt who watched proceedings with an air of appreciation. There was only one thing to fathom from Dean’s stare… bring me another neck to hew.
After riding these lands the Hunt moved on from Knaresborough. It seemed there had been an incident with the witch their Master dealt with… but Dean cared little for such matters. He only cared for the next hunt. So their rampage continued. Dean worked most closely with Gordon and Tala. Their hunting skills surpassed all others and it seemed to please the Master to see them at work. Dean and Gordon’s shared background seemed to lend itself to their fluidity in working together, although neither could really remember much of the other. As for Tala, Dean could tell he was more than human, he didn’t know what he was, but it didn’t really matter… Tala seemed another favourite of the Master and the three fit together like pieces of a puzzle. They were Dean’s brothers; he had forgotten he ever had another family…
The Hunt moved locations frequently. Sometimes they were summoned by a spell to hunt down prey marked for them… but mostly they followed the will of the Master, cutting men down and taking souls on his orders. They were quiet at the encampment when not riding out. Whether eating together or whetting blades every man did so with an intense focus, each just waiting for the next hunt, as if they were enduring their existence until then. The Master had told Dean to keep away from his caged creatures, his prizes. But passing by was unavoidable at times. And he noticed the eyes of the fallen angel following him. It called out to him once, and the next time he saw the angel it was bruised and bloodied on the floor of its cage.
Sometimes the Master had them capture prey instead of kill it. He seemed to like some sport in the camp and would imprison certain worthy victims. They would be taken from their cages later and made to fight each other. The victor could join the Hunt or be killed. If they refused to fight then both would meet their end. So the Master found it particularly entertaining if the two were connected… father against son, brother against brother… who would sacrifice themselves and who would give in to their slaughterous instinct? The Master found joy in such cruelty.
Dean was escorting one such prisoner to the cages; they had been hunting a group of friends and taken two for a fight. The hunt had largely been knife work; the group had taken shelter in a hollow where the horses couldn’t follow and so Dean had dismounted to take them apart with his blade. Their blood painted a scarlet motif across Dean’s face and down his front... There was no escaping the hunt. As Dean brought his prisoner over to a cage the Keeper scampered over to unlock the door. The man was little more than a boy, a teenager with a loud mouth. He kept begging for his life, but Dean was deaf to his pleas and roughly shoved the boy inside. Dean turned to leave as the Keeper locked up… but he found himself staring into a pair of blue eyes. They watched from behind the bars of the cage across.
“Dean”. The angel hissed his name as if he were afraid.
He knew he shouldn’t really approach, but Dean found himself walking over to the angel anyway.
“You watch me”. It was an observation more than an accusation.
The angel looked over Dean, eyes seeming troubled by the blood down his front.
“Yes… you know me, though you don’t remember”.
“You are one of the Master’s captured creatures, nothing more”.
“No Dean, you know me. We have fought side by side, we were like brothers. I raised you from perdition. There is a scar on your arm, it is mine”. The angel spoke in hushed tones as if wary of being discovered. His eyes seemed to plead with Dean to remember… but Dean knew nothing. Then he saw the flash of a barn… lightning… wings.
The Keeper scurried over to them, interrupting with urgency. “You stay away from little birdsie. You are not meant to talker to him!”
But Dean stood there still and the angel continued. The Keeper left and he started talking faster, as if trying to get out as much as he could while he had the chance.
“You were born to John and Mary Winchester and your brother is Sam. You’re both hunters, you hunt supernatural creatures. Demons killed your parents but you got your revenge. You went to hell, you started the apocalypse, and I helped you end it”.
The angel paused, seeing if anything was sinking in. Dean just stared at him coldly. “You had a family for a time, Lisa and Ben. But we’re your family, Sam and me… Sam means everything to you. You went to hell to save him. You have to remember him! Please Dean, you don’t belong here, you have to believe me…”
Heavy footsteps approached then, and a voice filled with danger spoke. “Leave”.
Dean turned to meet the Master’s eyes, but they were fixed firmly on the angel, so he just obeyed, feet taking him elsewhere. The sound of raised voices and blows followed as he retreated. But the angel was soon forgotten as he joined his brothers and they spoke of their return to purgatory…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste
Of the blood on my lips, again
As Sam reached for another glass of demon blood he kept a mantra running through his mind… This is for Dean. I’m doing it for Dean… He believed it at first, but now strength was flooding through his limbs and power electrified his heart. Sam realised he missed this feeling. He felt confident, absolute. Nothing could stand against him.
After draining his last drops of blood Sam set the glass down on the table in front of him. He concentrated his mind on it, each transparent red stained surface down to the atoms. Then he reached out with a thread of power and willed those atoms apart. The glass shattered. Sam held up an arm to shield his face from the spray of glass. When he lowered it he found nothing left but shards and dust.
Sam allowed himself a small smirk before leaving the table and making his way to the cabin’s basement. His footsteps were heavy on the stairs. They creaked in protest, and the table down there groaned as Sam easily pushed it aside. He reached a hand into his pocket and placed the amulet on the now clear floor. Sam wasted no time on sentiment, to him it no longer had meaning or significance; it was a tool, a means to an end. Then taking a knife he slit his arm open and set to marking the ground with blood. He daubed three triangles spaced evenly around the amulet, each with a point directed at the trinket. Around them went a circle, and around that he started painting symbols and sigils.
It would not be long now… this would work. He was sure of it. He would save Dean and Castiel, and then imagine what he could do with this power. As Sam’s wet fingers slid over the floor his mind was given over to ambition. He could scour this world of demons; he could break them apart as easily as that shattered glass. The path of good intentions was firmly at his feet again.
Note: Fun fact - there actually is a Cass Lane in Knaresborough! Some time ago I started researching Knaresborough's Mother Shipton legend for another SPN fic (which I've used here instead), I decided to have a look at the place on Google maps, zoomed in, and the first place I saw was "Cass Lane" XD It was fate, I had to use it! Although, as we all know, it should be "Cas Lane" ;)
Chapter Six - Run Boy Run
The former angel was starting to flag, he ran off at angles, trying to make a more confusing trail. The sound of a horn blast renewed his vigour momentarily, but he couldn’t keep this up. His direction became more haphazard, there was no plan, no elaborate trail; he didn’t know where he was going… he was just running away. He ran through broken trees with raised roots designed to trip the unwary. Castiel leapt to the clear spots, trying to avoid them, but on landing heavily his leg buckled beneath him and he fell to the ground with an audible ‘oof’. The former angel gasped, trying to pull air back into his burning lungs. Part of him just wanted to lie there, breathe, and be caught. But a black mist filtered towards him through the trees. Castiel’s eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet as it reached his ankles. He launched himself forward, every step sending lightning up his leg, but Castiel tried to ignore it and carry on. He told himself it was just nerves sending messages to his brain, he didn’t have to succumb to it, he didn’t have to feel it. But he felt it… this was his body now, not a vessel and it was not so easy to separate sensations like that.
The drum beat became louder at Castiel’s back. The horn blew more urgently and drops of rain began to pelt him. On holding a hand up to his face the former angel saw the droplets marked his skin with black. He let out a sharp cry of alarm, mind reeling, assaulted by flashes of leviathans and lakes, but still he ran. The ground at Castiel’s feet became churned by the onslaught, making already shaky footsteps more unsteady. He couldn’t tell if it was rain or tears making his face wet. He just ran, spurred on by the thought of a lance coming from Dean’s hand to strike him down. Castiel could almost feel the cold metal tip embed itself in his back as he crashed to the ground. Still, a thought couldn’t keep this body going, he was nearing the end, as the lion had before him. Jaw hanging open, limbs becoming leaden. The former angel would collapse to the ground with barely a sound. The rumble of distant thunder told of horse hooves striking the earth. It was nearly time.
Up ahead Castiel could see the ground fall away into a gully. This would be it, this was where he would fall gracelessly to the ground. He couldn’t possibly leap to the other side. Instead Castiel would fall, he was always falling it seemed; at least if he broke his neck on the way down he wouldn’t have to die at Dean’s hand.
Stealing a quick glance behind Castiel saw the group of horsemen advancing through the trees. They all had black steeds with foaming mouths; their spittle flew through the air as they tossed their heads in agitation. The horses seemed as eager and bloodthirsty as their riders. One leather clad hunter spurred his horse on, cold blue eyes glared beneath his horned helm as he left the group. Castiel ran on, hoping he could reach the gully before the rider reached him. He could hear it coming up fast on his right side, the horse didn’t sound like a horse, it groaned and roared furiously. Then suddenly it flew past. Castiel momentarily met the animal’s eye and caught a deep red glow in its black depths. Then it was ahead, and jumping the gully easily to stand on the other side. The rider held it, a hurricane in a butterfly net, the horse angrily pawed the ground and reared to strike at the air. They blocked him off. Castiel whirled his head to either side at the sound of snapping branches and hooves. Through the trees he caught snatches of riders. They were boxing him in. The horse on the other side of the gully reared and roared, its coat was ragged and scarred, stained by a seeping dark liquid. The rider held aloft a black banner with crossed keys, its cruelly spiked end was lowered toward Castiel as he reached the edge. And as he wavered, teetering on an endless moment, recognition lit up the former angel’s eyes. “Dean!” But Castiel had lost his footing and fell. The hunter’s name was the last word on his lips as he plummeted down the gully. He momentarily felt the instinct to snap out his wings before a white light flashed before him. Castiel thought he saw the green of another world before he scrunched his eyes and braced for impact.
“Oof” Castiel hit the ground hard, he splayed out his hands and was surprised to feel lush grass beneath them. Opening his eyes he smiled with sheer relief. There was a blue sky, green grass, and fresh air. Castiel had eventually become used to the stale fetid rot of purgatory, only he hadn’t realised it until this moment when breathing suddenly seemed so sweet. Gingerly he got to his feet, holding an arm up to shield his eyes against the sun. Castiel really didn’t mind the too bright glare, he took a moment to enjoy the warmth against his skin. The joy of being back on earth didn’t last long however, Castiel’s thoughts turned to Dean. Had he made it back too? Where was he? Did he get left behind? The former angel spotted a road up ahead and started walking. He supposed the first step was to work out where he was and contact Sam.
The former angel didn’t get very far however, a flash of light and blast of air had him on his hands and knees in the grass again. Castiel looked back and dread gripped his heart, the Hunt had appeared. He choked back a gasp seeing Dean amongst them, banner held high. Scrambling to his feet Castiel ran for the road as fast as he could, he was far from recovered but at least the ground didn’t hinder him here. The sudden movement seemed to grab their attention and their pursuit began again. Like a dog suddenly catching sight of a fleeing rabbit. However the pursuit was over almost as soon as it began. The flat open space made it child’s play to cut the former angel down. Castiel heard a rider coming up alongside, and then he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head as the hunter flew past. Hitting the ground for the third time Castiel landed in front of the road sign. His fuzzy vision had time to read “Cass Lane” before everything faded to black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Castiel was awakened by an ache behind his eyes and a throb in his foot. As he gradually came to awareness he heard a ruined voice merrily sing “In summer times do beesie flew, maple pines and grackles coo. The grassies sweet with nectars dew, til harvest time when Him eat you”.
The former angel sat up slowly and looked around. He was in a cage, the bars looked old and rusted, but Castiel guessed there were more than just bars keeping him in. The owner of the voice came across to him then. A hunched old woman wrapped in brown hooded garments… though Castiel felt she was far from human. Her wide, sickly, amber stained eyes settled on him with the focussed gaze of a hawk. “It’s awake, it is. The new one… my new one to keeps”.
She had a strange manner of speech, a sort of pidgin English. It took Castiel’s brain a moment to catch up. “Who are you?”
“I am me”. She offered him a cracked smile, as if pleased at answering his question. “I am the keeper, I keeps the ones he trappers. He trappered you little birdsie”.
“You must have a name”.
“No name, I just be me”. Her smile fell and her brow knit. “Names are not for me. Not now… he trappers you and takes you. Takes your names eventually”.
Castiel suddenly felt a pang of pity for the creature. Had she been one of the hunted? His first thought was to find information, find out how to use her, trick her, maybe even kill her, and now he felt a little sorry for the creature before him… but maybe pity would be misplaced. If she was put in charge of the prisoners she must be more formidable than she looked at first sight.
“Where is the Master of the Hunt? I want to talk to him”.
“The Woodsie Lord does not talk when little birdsie wants to talk. The trappered ones make no demands… He says if little birdsie does not behave I cans eater his flesh fingers”. She dropped her hungry gaze to Castiel’s hands and the pity he felt before quickly drained away.
The former angel brought his hands up to grab at the bars and pushed forward, in a threatening gesture… Though she did not flinch nor back away. “We had a deal!”
“Your man fool made a deal. Your man fool pays the price” With that she turned and shuffled away.
The strange keeper woman went to the cage across from Castiel. He sighed, noting it held the winged lion they had crossed paths with earlier. It lay flat and defeated on the floor of its cage, a sad sight for a being so proud. The lion didn’t even twitch when the keeper opened his cage to place a bowl of water inside. The former angel noted more cages scattered about between the trees. No doubt they held more prisoners, more victims of the Hunt. They seemed to be in a thickly wooded area. The trees blocked much of the sunlight from above, but at least the thins rays that danced across the forest floor told him he was out of purgatory. Castiel had never felt such frustration. That freedom was so near and yet so far. He felt he could scream and never stop.
Castiel shook the bars and growled. Achieving nothing he slumped and leaned against the bars of his cage with a sigh. He needed to get out, and he needed to get Dean. Presumably Dean was off with the Hunt, brainwashed… he was caged by other means. There must be some way to bring him back to himself. Castiel’s frantic mind worked through every possibility, from attacking the keeper and running, to standing firm and challenging the Master of the Hunt. Nothing seemed easy… everything seemed impossible. Deep in thought Castiel didn’t notice time pass and the night fall. The former angel came to awareness when a heavy set of footsteps advanced and the Master of the Hunt stood before him. Castiel couldn’t stop himself from leaping to his feet and yelling. “We had a deal!”
“A deal for you both to cross, and here you are”.
“You said you would let him go!”
At that the Master beckoned somebody forward from the shadows. Dean. He stood before Castiel, ramrod straight. His eyes, ice blue and so wrong stared through the ex-angel.
“Dean! Fight him!” But there was no reaction from the hunter. “Please Dean, you are your own master. Fight!”
The Master held up a hand, requesting silence. “Dean Winchester, you are free to go. I release you from my service, do you wish to leave?”
“No. I wish to hunt; I do not wish to leave your service”. Dean’s voice was dead. It shattered Castiel’s heart to hear those words.
“Yes you do! We need to go Dean! We’re home. We’re back on earth and Sam’s waiting for you. You want to see Sam don’t you?” Castiel reached forward through the bars, straining to touch Dean, trying to break the spell.
Then came words that stepped on the shattered pieces of Castiel’s heart and ground them into dust… “Who is Sam?”
“Don’t say that! If you forget me, your parents… even if you forget your own name you will still remember him!” Castiel pushed forward, straining to reach Dean, gritting his teeth with the effort.
“Enough! Leave us and ready yourself. This land is rich with prey and we ride out soon”. The Master dismissed Dean with a wave of his hand then looked back to Castiel. “I cannot release Dean if he does not want to be released. He lives for the hunt, he always has done. It is his nature, Dean is where he belongs”.
Castiel’s outstretched hand dropped as he watched Dean’s figure retreat into darkness. “Why are you doing this?” The former angel’s voice sounded hollow, defeated.
“I could give you much rhyme and reason angel. But each path leads to one answer: The thrill of the chase. Dean knows it as well as I do. The moment when you catch sight of your prey and your heart sings with the pursuit, your blood thrumming in time with the movement of the steed beneath you. Surrounded by your countless brethren, all intent on the same end, you feel alive…”
As the Master spoke Castiel felt himself transported. He was seated in a saddle, a lively horse beneath him. Men were all around on their own mounts. Then with the blast of a horn an electric impulse shocked through them all and they took off. Hooves thunderous upon the ground, Castiel’s heart straining against his chest. He wasn’t sure if this was the moment he would die or the moment he was being brought to life. But the longer they went on the surer he became that this was life. Henceforth every second spent with his feet on the ground would be an unbearable death. As they moved at breakneck speed the air battering Castiel’s face was the pure breath of life. He was sure that the wind of Heaven was that blowing between his horse’s ears.
The Master was still speaking as Castiel came back to himself “… and the only sadness from the blood of your prey is that it is over. But take heart, nothing ends. New quarry will cross your path and the chase begins again”.
Castiel found himself sitting splayed on the floor of his cage, looking up at the Master, wide eyed and gasping.
“You gave us quite the pursuit yourself. It was most enjoyable. And now here you are… my trophy on display”.
“Let us go, please…” Castiel managed to whisper.
“You think me a common fisherman? One who would throw back his hard won catch? No, you are mine now. Once we have finished hunting these lands we will return to purgatory. Eventually you will forget Dean, as he has forgotten you, and I will be your only Master”.
“He’s not my Master, he’s my friend”.
“And yet you follow at his heels like a hound”. Those words brought back a distant memory, the voice of another horseman ‘You set your dog on me…’ Castiel shook his head and offered a defiant glare. “This has been most pleasant, but I have business to attend to. Goodbye for now angel”.
As the Master stalked away the keeper woman scampered over, as if she was wary of being in his presence. Castiel fixed an eye on her “What business is he attending to?”
“No concern of the little birdsie, but it is the witcher of these woods. She deals with the Woodsie Lord, has done for many many years, since before me. The witcher will come soon, she will like the little birdsie, he shineses”.
The keeper reached into her robes and drew out a key. She had a bowl of water for him… Castiel would not be as docile as the lion. “Where are we?”
“Knaresborough, England. It asks lots of questions it does…” As she opened the door Castiel made to rush at her. He didn’t get far. From beneath her robes came numerous roots and long winding branches. They slammed into him and wrapped around his limbs. Castiel stilled with the shock of it, before trying to fight back. The appendages wound and flexed but were rough with bark. He knew now for certain the keeper wasn’t human. His flailing only caused her to tighten her grip, vines and leaves snaking out to wrap around Castiel’s throat. Sensing defeat he stilled again, though there was little he could do ensnared as he was.
“Does it want to loser its fingers? Maybe it will offer up a flesh eye? It only needses one to see”. A thorned tendril crept down the side of the former angel’s face in a mocking caress. Then the vines around his throat tightened, cutting off his breath. Castiel tried to bring his arms up, but they were held firmly in the keeper’s grasp, he couldn’t move an inch. The world seemed to blur around the edges… “Sleepsie now”.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Wake up”.
Castiel opened his eyes and let them lazily drift until they settled on the face before him. It was another woman beneath a robe, younger but with creased lines telling of the onset of middle age. His fingers brushed at his neck, it felt sore and was surely bruised.
“So you are the fallen angel? He was right… you are something to behold”.
“Let me guess, you’re the witch?” Castiel croaked out.
“Yes, well, that is the simplest way of putting it… The locals call me Mother Shipton, but Ursula Southeil is my name”.
“A pleasure to meet you Ursula, if I may call you that”. Castiel added a hint of sarcasm to his voice as he pushed himself upright.
“You may, Castiel, Angel of Thursday”.
“Not so angelic now… human in fact. There is nothing to behold here, release me or leave me be”. Castiel answered bitterly.
“Oh Castiel, you do yourself a disservice” She stepped forward and wrapped her hand around a bar. A dark blue robe cloaked much of her features. She seemed to speak with a kindly voice. “Fallen though you are you will never be human, not really. You were not born to this body… it is not yours; another man owned it before you. Castiel your grace is gone but there is something so bright in you still. And though your wings are no more I can see where they once were, a ghost…” Her eyes skirted the air around Castiel’s back. He twitched nervously, she had indeed traced the outline of his former wingspan. But he wouldn’t allow himself to indulge in the possibility he could be something more than human, he knew it wasn’t so.
“I am human, nothing you say can make it otherwise”. He tried to sound firm, but his voice was rough and choked by the thought of his angelic form.
“You sound so determined, so resolute”. Her eyes narrowed as she examined him. “Humanity is a cage that keeps you Castiel… Do you really wish to die so soon and be forgotten?”
Castiel swallowed heavily. “Even great Kings of men are forgotten eventually. And angels are never really known to be remembered. We are just dust in the end… all of us”.
“Then maybe the trick is not to end”.
“Everything ends”. Castiel stated solemnly. Then he found some strength for his voice and added. “I say again, release me or leave me be”.
She reached for Castiel’s hand faster than he could draw it away. Then Ursula closed her eyes and a strange calm descended on the former angel. “Let me see…”
A frown creased her features, as if trying to fathom a great mystery. “It is not for me to release you. That fate lies with another… but if you are released Castiel there is much pain and sorrow on the path before you. I would not walk it, there are few who could”. She opened her eyes, and searched Castiel’s with a note of sadness that soon hardened. “Nor can I leave you be. You are just what I need; the children will dearly love to see an angel”.
That confused Castiel, but he was finding it hard to think through the calming fog. Conversation continued around him, it was hard to keep track, and eventually he drifted away.
“I’ll take this one as well. He will be perfect for my harvest”.
“The Woodsie Lord would not like for you to take his little birdsie…”
“He will get his little bird back, just like the others. He knows I only borrow them…”
“But that is his special shining one”.
“I have given him much, and he gives in return. He will give what I ask, special and shining or not. Now why don’t you…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When the fog cleared Castiel’s mind he found he was chained to a stake in the ground. Cold hard manacles were clamped around his wrists, he gave a pull at them but the powerful hum of magic in return told him they would not be easily removed. Castiel took a look around; he had been moved to a clearing, a few cages and another stake held more prisoners. Brightly coloured signs proclaimed a show of sights to be seen. Now it made more sense… she was luring people here, luring children here.
Ursula stood before the other tethered creature, it was one of the hunter’s savage horses. She held up a hand and slowly fire spread along its mane and tail. When it pawed and snorted a stream of flame licked the air. “There we are, a Nightmare. Not that you weren’t impressive enough already my dear, but the humans expect a little more ‘razzle dazzle’ shall we say…”
She patted the horse’s neck and turned to Castiel. He shrank away as far as his chains would let him. “Your turn now my little angel… I’m sorry to say that you don’t look like much of an angel, despite what lies beneath. We must do something about that”.
Again she held her hands up “We need wings they can see”.
Castiel felt the magic of a glamour wind around him. At first a faint outline appeared at his back, then the former angel gave a sharp intake of air as feathers solidified around him. They weren’t his, they were white and pure like the angels in old renaissance paintings, but they brought tears to his eyes all the same. Castiel knew the wings weren’t real but he still tried to flex them with muscles he no longer had. Of course they didn’t move. He got to his feet and they fluttered with him. The wings seemed to move of their own accord, but they mirrored the former angel and felt so genuine it hurt.
“There’s my angel. Of course you would have to put fake wings on a real angel for people to see it… humans are so dull”.
Castiel turned his tear filled eyes to the witch. “But I am no angel”.
The witch made to leave, but she suddenly held back, as if sensing an opportunity to twist the knife she had Castiel impaled upon. “And why is that?” She fixed him with a glare. “Why did you fall?”
The former angel recalled the moment his Lucifer tainted grace was removed at Dean’s command. “I didn’t have a choice”.
“We always have choices Castiel. We are all where we are because of choices… Look back and you will find it”.
He had no choice. Castiel realised his grace had to be removed. Lucifer had dug his claws into it and the core of his being was rotting away. The wings at his back festered and fell to pieces. But how had Lucifer come to infect him? Because Castiel had taken on Sam’s madness. And why did Sam suffer? Because Castiel had broken his wall… because Castiel was bad… because Castiel dealt with demons and made the wrong choices.
Ursula was picking at that fragile forgiveness he had only just found. The chains restraining Castiel were heavy. He started to entertain the thought that he deserved them… He was a monster that should be caged, a monster that belonged in purgatory.
The stricken stare on Castiel’s face told Ursula all she needed to know… He had found the root of his downfall. “Think on that angel”.
With a smug smile she turned to leave.
Castiel grabbed at one of the fake wings, holding it, feeling the delicate feathers between his fingers. “I’m not an angel…” He whispered quietly to himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the sun lowered in the sky Castiel tried his hardest to break free. Whether he deserved to be chained or not Dean was still a thrall of the Hunt. He did not deserve that. The manacles wouldn’t give, so Castiel dug out the stump he was tethered to, only to find it replaced even deeper the moment he got it out. The former angel let out a shout of frustration. The false wings at his back fluttered maniacally throughout his efforts, and spread wide as he yelled to the twilight air. Night fell and torches lit up the clearing, lighting seemingly of their own accord. The wings were an annoyance now. Shifting and so real, but not his… not his sleek black feathered limbs. He hated these fake ones, reminders of what he was and would never be again. In his frustration Castiel had pulled at them, tearing out feathers and casting them to the skies. But they grew back as soon as the former angel grabbed another handful.
Through all of the struggling and frustration a fire started to build in Castiel’s heart. The fight to get to Dean had put the hunter firmly at the front of his mind. Dean had forgiven him, he had forgiven himself and now this witch sought to tear it all down. He wouldn’t allow it. The first time Castiel saw Dean’s soul he had been torturing in hell. A bright shining thing twisted and made ugly. Still, he gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition. Dean struggled with what he had done, but he moved forwards, saving people and hunting things. Castiel might have been a monster, but he was going to make the right choices now. He was going to earn his redemption, he was going to stop Ursula, and he was going to save Dean. But first he had to get free, and that was proving a problem…
Falling to his knees Castiel slumped and turned back to lean against the stump he was tethered to. Then he held his breath, eyes wide with surprise. A young couple stood there. His arm was wrapped intimately around her waist… they were lovers then. He whispered something into her ear and she smiled, eyes lit up at the sight of an angel.
Castiel jumped to his feet. “You have to get out of here. The woman is not who she seems, she means to harm you. Turn and run as fast as you can, go! Please leave!”
He couldn’t understand why they stood there still. Had they been struck dumb by the glory of an ‘angel’? Then the answer came with the woman’s gentle voice…
“I wonder what he’s saying…”
Ursula appeared at their backs, like a ghost out of the mist. “Like all angels he speaks Enochian. Few mortals are granted knowledge of their tongue”.
Of course she would make sure Castiel couldn’t warn them…
Stepping forward Ursula put on a show woman’s dance, arms aloft, full of mysticism and lies. “And so here we have our angel. His name is too elaborate for our base language to comprehend. He was cast down from Heaven for punishment and fate has entrusted him to my hands. It is a hard lesson in life that not all angels are good. Come now, next I have a Nightmare to show you, a demon horse of the underworld!”
The couple were ushered on by the witch, Castiel followed with angry eyes until they were out of his sight. In the quiet that followed he struggled once again in vain. It felt good to be doing something, trying if not succeeding. Then some time later Ursula reappeared and came striding towards Castiel. He quickly ceased his struggles and stood to meet her defiantly.
“You can shout at them all you like little angel, they will not understand a word you say”. There was a hint of amusement in her voice.
“What have you done with them? You have me, let them go”. Castiel stepped forward, though the chains held him back. He tried to be strong in facing her. And in coming closer Castiel noticed the witch appeared younger, the lines had gone from her face.
“You are already serving your purpose Castiel. They have served theirs”.
“What did you do to them?” He was already putting two and two together, and then the witch confirmed it.
“I think you already know… I am taking their life essence to extend my own. One has to keep their youthful good looks somehow”. She mockingly caressed her own cheek. “Give me any more trouble Castiel and I will steal your life too. Though there is not much left, fallen as you are… it is why I prefer the children, they have many years for me to store away”.
“Stop this”. Castiel growled.
She just laughed. “I have been here hundreds of years and had many harvests, why would I stop because you tell me to?
“When I am free - and you told me yourself I would be freed - I will come for you and end this”.
“I told you of a possibility little angel. If I killed you now it would never come to pass. All I know is that it is not my fate to free you if freedom is your fate”.
“Fate and destiny mean nothing, we made sure of that”. Castiel strained at the end of his chains.
“Ah yes, the apocalypse that never was, your tearing up of the rule book… Somebody can always write a new one you know”. She stood frustratingly just out of reach, demeanour calm as ice, ignoring Castiel’s rising ire.
“And we will tear that up too!” He spat at her.
“Calm down, or your now fragile heart might give out”. She spoke with a derisive smirk. “I have more visitors to attend to, if you’ll excuse me…”
Sure enough Castiel watched more people approach the clearing, walking unknowingly to their deaths. Anger left his heart for sorrow. Seeing the delight on their faces and knowing the end they would meet.
“Why do they come? After so many harvests the people of this place must know…” He spoke quietly, the chains lax now he had backed off.
“They know, and they are complicit. In a place as old and insular as this respect for me has passed down the generations. They even bring me gifts hoping for protection. The ones I take are newcomers and tourists, they come here for entertainment and so I will give it to them”. She smiled coyly as she turned her back and approached her prey.
Castiel sat down heavily. He desperately tried to think of a way to stop Ursula as she showed her latest visitors around. The former angel glared angrily when they approached, and the people kept their distance. He embodied the wayward dangerous celestial in the witch’s peddled spiel. She repeated it for them, adding embellishments, telling them what a wicked perilous creature he was. When they moved on her stories became larger and more terrible, the poor people’s gasps of awe filtered across the clearing to Castiel. Then he started at seeing a couple of children emerge from the undergrowth and make a beeline for him. He held up his arms and shook his head but they kept coming. The first was a little girl, as she stood before him her eyes shone with wonder. She couldn’t have been any older than six or seven, with warm brown eyes and long brown hair to match. The boy following close behind her was some years older with similar features. They looked to be brother and sister, he slung a protective arm over her shoulder as if stating the fact.
Castiel jumped to his feet with a strangled sound as he desperately wondered how to warn them off and do so before the witch noticed their presence.
The boy spoke quietly to his sister. “Ok, you’ve seen him, now can we go?”
“Not yet”. She pushed his arm away and stepped forward. Castiel knelt before the little girl, his winged form reflected in her eyes.
“Dad would kill us if he knew we were here. He forbid us from coming. Let’s go”. The boy hissed but was met with silence.
Instead the girl spoke directly to Castiel. Her voice was a soft and gentle whisper. “I prayed when my mum was sick. The doctors said they couldn’t do anything else, so I prayed. She always told me angels were watching us, were you watching? Did you hear me?”
Castiel wasn’t sure what to say. Even if he could say something she wouldn’t understand it. Despite this he tried. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you… you should not put your trust in angels”. He looked up to her brother. “You should put your trust in family”.
“What language is that? What is he saying?” The boy’s nose wrinkled in confusion.
“My mum died, but I don’t blame you… my dad said you needed her for Heaven. She had a beautiful voice, she used to sing to me at bedtime. I’m sure you enjoy it too”.
Tears threatened Castiel’s eyes at hearing the girl speak. He needed to get her out of here, but he couldn’t say a single word to her…
“You’re sad…” She raised a delicate hand to his cheek and wiped away a lonely tear. Castiel leaned into her touch and the wings at his back reacted to hood around them. “I think that lady lied. I heard what she said, I don’t think you’re bad”.
Castiel shot back then, an idea suddenly striking him. He turned to the earth at his tether. The grass was long gone thanks to his earlier scrabblings, and the earth was loose. With a finger Castiel quickly traced words. “She is evil. Go now”. He looked to the girl with earnest eyes and motioned her over. The boy followed and read carefully.
“Lucy, we have go”. Castiel immediately recognised the protective older brother going into action. The boy grabbed his sister’s arm and pulled her to her feet.
“Wait, what’s your name?” She held back and looked to Castiel as if his answer was more important than her own life.
The former angel gave a small smile before tracing “Castiel” into the dirt.
She smiled back. “Thank you Castiel”. But before they left she looked across at others entering the clearing. “What about them?!”
“I have to get you out of here. I’ll come back to warn them”. Here was clearly a hero in the making.
He grabbed his sister and pulled her away, but before they made it Lucy yelled out. “Run! She’s evil! Get away from her!”
Ursula strode over to see what the commotion was about. Lucy and her brother turned tail to run, and the young girls that had just come in backed off again. The witch’s little crowd dispersed as she headed for the fleeing children. They ignored her angry shouts for them to stay put and made a hasty exit. As Ursula passed by in her pursuit Castiel rushed forwards, he slammed his body into the witch, trying to slow her down. They tumbled towards the ground, Ursula ended up on top of Castiel, hand clamped about his throat. The fake wings were spread out to either side of him; they twitched weakly and flickered out.
“You think you can stop me Castiel you feeble thing? Too weak to fight for who you are!” A wild look had taken the witch. It was as if she was unravelling at the seams.
“I am no shadow, taking of other’s light to extend my own meaningless life!” The former angel might have been ensnared by her sorcery, but he could still choke out his dangerous words. “I have been a saint and a sinner, a soldier and betrayer. I know who I am. I am Castiel”.
He took hold of her arms then and worked to pry off her grip.
She just laughed. “So there is some fire in you after all! But I make good on my promises Castiel. Your life is mine”.
The witch opened her mouth wide and ice ran through the former angel’s veins. Ursula straddled his body and Castiel bucked helplessly beneath her, resistant to the last. His movements stilled as the cold spread, numbing his limbs. Eventually Castiel’s arms dropped to the ground, his head fell back, jaw lolling open. She bent down to take his lips with her own and a soft glow lit up the former angel’s chest. It filtered towards his mouth and across to the witch. But at her first taste she recoiled as if shocked and sat up. Her eyes were wide and aflame with a light that wasn’t her own.
“No… no…” She gasped at the air as if drowning.
Castiel started to come out of his daze, he looked up at her, puzzled. But before he had a chance to gather himself and try to push the witch away her chest burst open. Blood and gore spattered over Castiel. The ice and magic abruptly fell from around the former angel and he looked up in horror at the witch astride him. Her face was set in a shocked expression, a mess of roots protruding through the place where her heart should be. They retracted with a messy wet sound and Ursula’s eyes dropped to Castiel.
“Something… bright in you… still”. Her bloody lips echoed her earlier words before Ursula fell to one side, dead.
“Nasty witcher woman should not have taken little birdsie, he be mine to keeps. Not hers. Mine”. The strange keeper stood beside Castiel, reaching down to break his chains from the tether. As terrible as she was she had just saved his life, and he couldn’t help but be relieved to see her.
The keeper hauled Castiel to his feet, wrapping vines tight around his arms and pulling on the chains to get him moving. “The Woodsie One will want his shining one back. He is not for nasty witcher woman”. She spat on the witch’s body as she passed by, pulling Castiel along with her. They left the sick scent of earth and blood behind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While Castiel endured his captivity Dean was a captive of another kind. Tied to the will of the Master, he cared only for the hunt and nothing else. His mind was a blank slate to be written on with the blood of their prey. There was some primal instinctual part of Dean that intensified under the influence of the Hunt. It was the natural hunter in him, but magnified until it encompassed the entirety of his self. This was a Dean Winchester that would give demons nightmares.
When the hunting horn blew he mounted his horse. The drums started beating, mirroring the pounding of blood through his veins. And he was consumed. The Hunt set out and Dean was swept away with the chaotic clamour of thundering hooves, howling creatures and raging winds. They moved as one, directed by a single intent, seeking their prey. The first had been a drunk, stumbling home along a darkened road. He was no challenge to cut down and that left Dean unsatisfied. The second gave them more sport. He thought he could escape by taking to his car. The Hunt galloped after, Dean’s every nerve felt electrified, this is what he lived for. With every step they took the ground shook, and it resounded through Dean, riding high on the energy of the horse beneath him. It was a beast made to run, and it did so with an explosion of power that seemed to leave time behind… If you have never run with a horse you have never been free.
But Dean wasn’t free, not really. He was given the illusion of freedom while bound to the will of another. The Hunt dropped back, allowing their prey to think he was safe. The man slowed his car, frantically searching his mirrors, breathing a sigh of relief at seeing only darkness… a road at night. Then he made the mistake of stopping. He sat silently, trying to get his breath and heart under control. Shaking hands gripped the wheel as he stared through his windscreen. The car’s headlights lit up a short section of road ahead, but night concealed all else. Their nameless victim began to think he was going mad. Then he heard the clatter of hooves on concrete… He raised his eyes to the rear view mirror, seeing sparks strike off the road. But before he managed to get the car in gear they were upon him. Three riders… two came alongside, the other took to the air at the back of his car. He yelled at the crunch as it landed on his bonnet, the car crumpled in beneath their weight, then the horse stepped down to the road. The rider turned his horse about to face the car, it reared in the glare of the headlights. He started shaking again and blanched at the sight before him. A horned helmed rider sat upon a horse that seemed more of a beast. It had matted black hair that appeared to seep with black blood. Glowing red coals served as eyes, and it gave otherworldly groans and roars as the rider held it back. He met the rider’s ice blue stare with trepidation. That unwavering gaze told him this was it, and his attention fell to the lance held tightly in the rider’s hand…
With his brothers Gordon and Tala at his side Dean leapt over the car and crashed down on its bonnet. Their prey had no means of escape now. The vehicle was crippled, he had a huntsman to either side, and Dean stood ahead. The horse beneath him was a coiled spring waiting to lash out, he wanted blood just as Dean did. So staring into the man’s soul Dean raised his lance and threw it forwards. The windscreen shattered and glass sprayed the air as his weapon embedded in their quarry’s chest, impaling him to the seat of the car he took refuge in. A great cry of victory came from the Hunt as they emerged from the shadows. Smaller beasts pushed forwards, swarming around the car, breaking in to lap at the pooling blood. They scattered as Dean walked forwards and reached in to retrieve his lance. The taste of victory was sweet on his tongue. Blood ran down from the tip of the lance to stain Dean’s hand. He looked at it coldly, this is what he lived for, the blood of his enemies… this was his ecstasy. Dean looked up to the Master of the Hunt who watched proceedings with an air of appreciation. There was only one thing to fathom from Dean’s stare… bring me another neck to hew.
After riding these lands the Hunt moved on from Knaresborough. It seemed there had been an incident with the witch their Master dealt with… but Dean cared little for such matters. He only cared for the next hunt. So their rampage continued. Dean worked most closely with Gordon and Tala. Their hunting skills surpassed all others and it seemed to please the Master to see them at work. Dean and Gordon’s shared background seemed to lend itself to their fluidity in working together, although neither could really remember much of the other. As for Tala, Dean could tell he was more than human, he didn’t know what he was, but it didn’t really matter… Tala seemed another favourite of the Master and the three fit together like pieces of a puzzle. They were Dean’s brothers; he had forgotten he ever had another family…
The Hunt moved locations frequently. Sometimes they were summoned by a spell to hunt down prey marked for them… but mostly they followed the will of the Master, cutting men down and taking souls on his orders. They were quiet at the encampment when not riding out. Whether eating together or whetting blades every man did so with an intense focus, each just waiting for the next hunt, as if they were enduring their existence until then. The Master had told Dean to keep away from his caged creatures, his prizes. But passing by was unavoidable at times. And he noticed the eyes of the fallen angel following him. It called out to him once, and the next time he saw the angel it was bruised and bloodied on the floor of its cage.
Sometimes the Master had them capture prey instead of kill it. He seemed to like some sport in the camp and would imprison certain worthy victims. They would be taken from their cages later and made to fight each other. The victor could join the Hunt or be killed. If they refused to fight then both would meet their end. So the Master found it particularly entertaining if the two were connected… father against son, brother against brother… who would sacrifice themselves and who would give in to their slaughterous instinct? The Master found joy in such cruelty.
Dean was escorting one such prisoner to the cages; they had been hunting a group of friends and taken two for a fight. The hunt had largely been knife work; the group had taken shelter in a hollow where the horses couldn’t follow and so Dean had dismounted to take them apart with his blade. Their blood painted a scarlet motif across Dean’s face and down his front... There was no escaping the hunt. As Dean brought his prisoner over to a cage the Keeper scampered over to unlock the door. The man was little more than a boy, a teenager with a loud mouth. He kept begging for his life, but Dean was deaf to his pleas and roughly shoved the boy inside. Dean turned to leave as the Keeper locked up… but he found himself staring into a pair of blue eyes. They watched from behind the bars of the cage across.
“Dean”. The angel hissed his name as if he were afraid.
He knew he shouldn’t really approach, but Dean found himself walking over to the angel anyway.
“You watch me”. It was an observation more than an accusation.
The angel looked over Dean, eyes seeming troubled by the blood down his front.
“Yes… you know me, though you don’t remember”.
“You are one of the Master’s captured creatures, nothing more”.
“No Dean, you know me. We have fought side by side, we were like brothers. I raised you from perdition. There is a scar on your arm, it is mine”. The angel spoke in hushed tones as if wary of being discovered. His eyes seemed to plead with Dean to remember… but Dean knew nothing. Then he saw the flash of a barn… lightning… wings.
The Keeper scurried over to them, interrupting with urgency. “You stay away from little birdsie. You are not meant to talker to him!”
But Dean stood there still and the angel continued. The Keeper left and he started talking faster, as if trying to get out as much as he could while he had the chance.
“You were born to John and Mary Winchester and your brother is Sam. You’re both hunters, you hunt supernatural creatures. Demons killed your parents but you got your revenge. You went to hell, you started the apocalypse, and I helped you end it”.
The angel paused, seeing if anything was sinking in. Dean just stared at him coldly. “You had a family for a time, Lisa and Ben. But we’re your family, Sam and me… Sam means everything to you. You went to hell to save him. You have to remember him! Please Dean, you don’t belong here, you have to believe me…”
Heavy footsteps approached then, and a voice filled with danger spoke. “Leave”.
Dean turned to meet the Master’s eyes, but they were fixed firmly on the angel, so he just obeyed, feet taking him elsewhere. The sound of raised voices and blows followed as he retreated. But the angel was soon forgotten as he joined his brothers and they spoke of their return to purgatory…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste
Of the blood on my lips, again
As Sam reached for another glass of demon blood he kept a mantra running through his mind… This is for Dean. I’m doing it for Dean… He believed it at first, but now strength was flooding through his limbs and power electrified his heart. Sam realised he missed this feeling. He felt confident, absolute. Nothing could stand against him.
After draining his last drops of blood Sam set the glass down on the table in front of him. He concentrated his mind on it, each transparent red stained surface down to the atoms. Then he reached out with a thread of power and willed those atoms apart. The glass shattered. Sam held up an arm to shield his face from the spray of glass. When he lowered it he found nothing left but shards and dust.
Sam allowed himself a small smirk before leaving the table and making his way to the cabin’s basement. His footsteps were heavy on the stairs. They creaked in protest, and the table down there groaned as Sam easily pushed it aside. He reached a hand into his pocket and placed the amulet on the now clear floor. Sam wasted no time on sentiment, to him it no longer had meaning or significance; it was a tool, a means to an end. Then taking a knife he slit his arm open and set to marking the ground with blood. He daubed three triangles spaced evenly around the amulet, each with a point directed at the trinket. Around them went a circle, and around that he started painting symbols and sigils.
It would not be long now… this would work. He was sure of it. He would save Dean and Castiel, and then imagine what he could do with this power. As Sam’s wet fingers slid over the floor his mind was given over to ambition. He could scour this world of demons; he could break them apart as easily as that shattered glass. The path of good intentions was firmly at his feet again.
Note: Fun fact - there actually is a Cass Lane in Knaresborough! Some time ago I started researching Knaresborough's Mother Shipton legend for another SPN fic (which I've used here instead), I decided to have a look at the place on Google maps, zoomed in, and the first place I saw was "Cass Lane" XD It was fate, I had to use it! Although, as we all know, it should be "Cas Lane" ;)
Chapter Six - Run Boy Run