DCBB Black Glass pt.8
“What do you mean, Dean’s gone?” Mary screeched at Sam, flinging her morning cup of tea at his head.
“Mother, calm down, please…”
“And I hear that mongrel is gone as well? He took my Dean from me…” She moaned, clutching at her heart and falling back onto her pillows. Sam sighed and blew a wayward strand of hair from his face. In her sickness, their mother had developed a flair for the dramatics. She also no longer held her hatred for Cas in check. Sam had always known she harbored slight resentment for the winged man, but he never knew how much till the night their father died. After she locked Cas in the basement, after those weeks he battled illness and night terrors day after day, night after night. Sam knew that’s when his relationship with Dean first started, or rather, first bloomed into the carnal thing it was now.
The two had been gone for about three months now, and if Sam knew them well they would be long gone from the region, too far to reach anyway. He knew it was best, but he really wished Dean or Cas had left some sort of message for him, so he would know where they were headed or if they were ever planning on coming back. He knew that it was probably better that he didn’t know, but those soldiers that kept coming around during the day, he knew they wouldn’t believe him. After all, what kind of brother would he be if he didn’t know where they were going? And with the news of Lisa’s disappearance as well, things were beginning to close in on the Winchester house, and prospects weren’t good at all. Just then he heard a thundering knock on their door and he bit his lip, knowing who was there. He left his mother and trudged down the stairs, pausing to fix his hair and clothes into some semblance of normalcy before swinging it open.
The man on the other side looked about as flustered as he was, hand half raised to knock again. Definitely not an Empire soldier, Sam thought, looking at his furs and dark tanned skin. He had clear blue eyes, though they were red-rimmed and blood shot from lack of proper sleep. His cheeks were rosy from wind burn and his flaxen hair had blown about every which way in the wind. Living on a hill had its pros and cons, strong winds being one of the cons. He also looked like he was about to have an emotional breakdown, which was kind of sad seeing it on a grown man.
“Um, hi, uh, I’m Gabriel, I’m looking for someone and I think you can help.”
“C-come in,” Sam said, ushering him in and looking behind Gabriel’s shoulder before closing the door.
He turned and saw Gabriel looking around the den, something in his face falling when he let the furs and skins fall off of him in heaps. There were a great many and most looked like the ones you would find in a general store, not any you would make yourself.
“It’s freezing out there, you know, it’s freezing in here!” Gabriel stuttered, making his way over to the fire. Sam daintily stepped around the furs and followed the man to the fire.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Sam laughed as the man plunked down practically on the hearth, as close as he could get to the roaring fire. The man’s teeth chattered as he glared half-heartedly up at Sam.
“What gave me away?” He muttered dryly. Sam chuckled and sat down himself, though on a chair close by.
“So, what makes you think I can help you?” He asked, allowing the man a few minutes to compose himself.
“I passed through here once before, years ago now, and I…you have to understand…circumstances were dire and I might have…lost a baby.”
Sam narrowed his eyes in confusion but urged him to continue.
“I mean, it’s not like I lost him, lost him. I just woke up from my nap and he was gone. I had him underneath me so he wouldn’t get too cold, you know? All squashed up and everything, it was very cute, point is, someone must have taken him from me ‘cause there is no way he could have wriggled his chubby little body out from beneath me without me noticing.”
The man gabbed on and on about the baby and how cute he was and how hard he would be to miss, but something about the man, about his story particularly, tickled at the edge of his memory. It reminded him of a harsh winter afternoon, when he and Dean had traveled up to the edge of their property that was marked by edgy outcroppings that began the cliffs and mountains. He remembered struggling with Impala, their dad’s old horse, and remembered how she kept tossing her head and neighing impatiently, stomping her hooves at him. He remembered grumbling about dumb horses, and remembered Dean chastising him in his silent way, telling him that old horses like Impala could sense things, and that something was afoot in the mountains. He remembered Dean telling him about how all animals in the world are connected with the earth and the earth could speak to them all, could warn her children of danger, and as such could protect them from harm. He remembered he and Dean looking around the path, wary in the way a child would be, and then he remembered seeing red snow and white robes.
Sam fell back against the chair, staring down at the man in shock. He told himself he would never forget that day, the day he saw a real dead person, and the day he gained a younger brother.
“You mean…Cas?”
Gabriel stopped his ranting about the baby’s chubby little hands and turned to look at him, mouth hanging slack.
“Castiel? You know about baby Castiel?”
Sam fidgeted, leaning forward in his seat.
“I don’t know about Castiel but…we found…I remember my family finding a dead man and a half dead baby in the woods, up on the old trail…I never knew why but my brother called him…Cas…”
Something in Gabriel’s eyes sparkled, and he grinned broadly.
“You found him, you were the ones who took him,” and instead of the anger Sam was expecting the man took his hands and kissed them, blinking back tears, “thank you…you saved his life, you took him in, made him your own…bless you…”
Sam jerked his hand away and stood.
“I-I remember…you were dead! How are you here?!”
Gabriel jerked up with his hands in front of him, placating.
“Whoa whoa whoa, I wasn’t dead, I was just asleep!”
“Bull shit!”
“Look, I don’t’ know what to tell you, but obviously I’m still alive, right?”
“Y-your back was all torn up…” Sam protested weakly. Gabriel did wince, then, rubbing a hand, perhaps unconsciously, over his shoulder.
“I guess you were too young to know about the…political climate back then.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m getting to that! Things were a little tense in the Empire, I couldn’t exactly hang around, especially with…with Castiel. There’s something you gotta know about him first before I say anything, before you agree to help me. Castiel is…he’s a prince; specifically the Prince, the Holy Prince, the Lost Prince, whatever you wanna call him. Point is, Castiel is the true heir to the Holy Throne, in the Empire, and everyone is gunning for him. His own half-brother is after him, and he doesn’t want to invite him to the party, if you know what I mean.”
“Whoa, back up, prince?” Sam cackled, and Gabriel scrunched his face up in indignation. “Buddy, Cas is no prince, far from it.”
“He doesn’t talk, does he?” Gabriel interrupted, and Sam again caught that spark in his eyes. “And he has wings, big, black-”
“They’re brown, actually,” Sam choked out.
“But I bet a dark brown, huh? Just like his daddy’s.” Gabriel quipped. “Good.”
“Yeah I guess, but how did you know he doesn’t talk? He was too young for you to know he never would…”
“Not doesn’t, can’t. Castiel will never speak a word in his life.”
“You sound awful sure.”
“Because I am sure, as sure as a curse; Castiel will never speak so long as evil resides in the Basilica.”
“Evil…” Sam uttered, shaking his head. It was all too much to take in.
“Why do you still doubt who he is?” Gabriel mused quietly. Sam glanced at him, frowning.
“I have no reason to believe you, sir.” Sam said shortly. “You abandoned him. You said you were just sleeping, why did you not try and track him down yourself after waking? You were injured, why did you not seek aid?”
“I couldn’t take him with me, where I was headed was no place for a child like him. And I couldn’t do to him what I did to myself.” Gabriel snarled, unbuttoning his shirt and half-tearing it off in anger, turning so Sam got a view of his back in the dim light. Huge matching scars ran down his back. They were white with age, but still looked painful, they were too big not to hurt with every flex of muscle and movement of arms. Then Sam knew what had been there, what could have possibly left such marks.
“He was too little, I couldn’t do that to him, I couldn’t…I couldn’t take his flight from him before he even knew it…” Gabriel trailed off, voice thick with emotion. Sam pursed his lips, but gently took Gabriel’s shirt and pulled it over his scarred back. He nodded in thanks, buttoning back up and chuckling something about the cold and stupid old scars.
“There was something else too. They were…glass shoes, I think. They would be made of black glass, with blue diamonds, maybe some carvings and filigree…”
“I know them,” Sam said, nodding, “but they’re gone now. Cas must have taken them.”
“Taken them? You mean he’s not here with you?” Gabriel asked, looking around frantically.
“Uh, no…He left with my brother, Dean, months ago.”
“Oh my god, he’s out there all by himself, all alone, probably lost and scared!” Gabriel gasped, and this time Sam couldn’t suppress his mirth.
“Look, Gabriel, have you forgotten it’s been almost twenty years since we found Cas? He’s not a baby any more. He’s far more capable of taking care of himself than my brother is.”
“What do you mean?” Gabriel asked, looking incredibly shifty and yet highly concerned at the same time.
“Cas is…he’s a tracker, a huntsman. Has been since he was old enough for Dean or our father to take him out hunting. He fancies himself an animal.”
Gabriel spluttered indignantly, and Sam smiled ruefully.
“And he is one, an animal. He’s no prince.”
Dean and Cas looked down on the tiny fishing camp from their perch on the cliffs. Girl started to cry and Cas placed a finger over her tiny lips and she ceased.
“Remember, no matter what, don’t remove your cloak, don’t show your face if you can avoid it, and whatever you do, don’t fight anyone. If things go bad, you run, understand?” Dean said, turning to his brother, his mate. Truthfully, Dean was scared. He was far out of his element, he had never spoken with anyone other than his own family and a select few in the village close to their cabin. He knew he was lacking when it came to social skills, and he wasn’t as smart as he would like-Lisa did a fine job of reminding him, he thought wryly-Sam had been smart enough for the both of them. But Sam wasn’t with them now, they had to fend for themselves.
Cas nodded at him, steely eyes set with determination and he saw his grip tighten around Girl. Dean had entertained the idea of leaving Girl with the village; they could raise her as their own. At least there she’d be around people, not two nearly silent men harboring less than healthy sexual feelings for each other. He knew she frustrated Cas as much as she did him, though the winged man didn’t show it as often. But Cas was beginning to bond with Girl, and Dean knew it would be no easy feat to separate them. He set his jaw; perhaps leaving her behind would not be the best decision.
They made their way down the cliff face, utilizing hidden animal trails that Cas spotted easily, and soon they were walking to the edge of the lake. Already there were people, and they all ceased their activity to stare as they trudged to the center of the village. If Dean could just find the village elder, or leader, he could state their purpose and hopefully be offered a place to stay, and if not they would be on their way.
“What business have you here, young man?” A voice asked from behind a large fire at the center of the village. Dean squinted and made out the figure of an old, gnarled woman.
“We were seeking shelter for a few nights, till we can get ourselves straight again. Would you allow us to stay? If not, we’ll just be on our way,” Dean replied, keeping his voice respectful and his head down.
“Is that your woman, there? With your child?” The old woman gestured to Cas, who took a step back; Dean could practically feel his unease.
“Ah, no. He’s my brother, but the child is mine.”
The woman stood and walked to them slowly, glaring at Dean the entire trek around the fire.
“Good, wouldn’t be right to make your woman carry such a heavy pack.” She said, gesturing to Cas’s shoulders, and Dean gulped. The cloak was good for covering the wings, but nothing could mask their girth, no matter how Cas twisted and contorted them. His mate’s body was shaking; no doubt he was in a great deal of pain keeping them bunched up like that. Cas hissed in a breath when the woman approached him and Dean jerked at the sound. Last thing they needed was for Cas to blow up and ruin their chances of a safe haven, if only for a couple of nights. The woman peered up at Cas’s face through his hood, frowning when he shied away, and she grabbed onto the edges of his cloak to keep him still. It jostled his wings, undoubtedly, and Dean saw Cas bite his lip in a move he only knew as suppression of agony. Cas’s wing still hadn’t completely healed from when Dean set it straight, he couldn’t imagine what sort of pain he was in. The woman muttered something under her breath before yanking the cloak even harder, this time eliciting a sharp whine from his hunched form.
“I said show yourself, man, you need not be afraid.” The woman grumbled, clearly exasperated when Cas refused to budge. With one final jerk she pulled the cloak free and Cas fell to his knees with a keening gasp as his wings shot up behind him, whistling and snapping like a still green tree branch caught and released. A chorus of gasps and cries of surprise echoed around the fire, coupled with the pops of bone and cartilage and Cas’s barely suppressed groans of pain. The people around them began whispering and the old woman…Dean saw her press a hand to her heart, and to Cas’s shoulder.
“Is it…is it really you?”
Cas looked up in confusion, clutching Girl to his chest and Dean hurried to his side, pushing the woman back and drawing his knife, crouching above him protectively.
“No! Be not afraid, young man. You are among friends here!” The woman cried, and murmured agreements spread. Dean narrowed his eyes and looked around. The camp, now that he actually noticed, was made up of primarily women and children, and men, but they were few and far between. Some had tears in their eyes as they fell to their knees, pointing and smiling at Cas’s wings, at his exposed face, some Dean could see openly praying, exalting his mate’s name, his full name. Cas was heaving for air, hyperventilating and staring with wide eyes at the people all around him.
“Stop them, stop them now.” Dean growled, and the woman had the sense to back off, gesturing for the people to do the same. She beckoned him to follow, and Dean ushered his mate inside a tent, shoving him to the ground. He gripped his wing joint, like he had before, when they were younger, and demanded his attention. Cas was still breathing fast, much too fast, and Dean rubbed his thumb into the joint, shushing him and rocking him gently. He hugged him close, careful not to squeeze Girl between them, and kissed his brow, whispering to him softly, calming him.
“We’re inside now, it’s okay, they can’t get to you here. Does your wing hurt? I’m so sorry, should never have forced you to do that…”
Cas huffed against his cheek, whining low in his throat and pushing harder against his mate. They sat frozen like that for a long while, and the woman had enough sense to leave them as they were, didn’t interrupt. She came and went, passing through the opening flap as silently as she came what felt like hours later. She touched Dean’s shoulder and he jerked, grunting in surprise and his grip tightened on his blade.
“I just have food for you both, and milk for the little one.” She said, head bowed, and everything about this felt wrong, totally and utterly wrong.
“Who are you?” Dean rasped. She looked at him, then at Cas who had fallen asleep on the fur covered floor, and beckoned him to follow as she went back outside. Dean felt confusion and fear roar through his ears in the pounding of his own heart. He exited the tent and immediately five or so children scurried away, squealing and laughing.
“I have…questions, I…” Dean stammered, looking around at the small village, at the people around him. This was no fishing village; these were no hardened country folk. He recognized some of the insignias emblazoned on some of the tents, on most of the kettles and pots and blankets hung up to dry in the crisp wind. He recognized them from several of his own belongings, his own childhood blanket that his father had given him, saying that it had been his when he was younger. They matched the symbols on his father’s sword. It flashed in his mind now, clear as day.
“Where are we?” He asked instead, reeling, “Who are you people?”
“But that still doesn’t explain why you’re looking for him now, after all these years.” Sam said, clutching a steaming mug of tea close to ward off the chill. Gabriel was again buried under his furs after Sam’s coaxing, and he took a liberal sip of the hot beverage before continuing.
“As I said before, Castiel is the Prince. He’s the illegitimate son of the previous Emperor, as the Ministers would call it, an Unholy birth. I’m sure he has many names in the Basilica now, most likely all less than flattering.” Gabriel muttered loathingly, taking another sip. “But as it stands, he’s the only flesh and blood left from the Emperor. His half-brother, Michael, was born of the same father, but after he had already nullified the throne. He couldn’t live out the rest of his days in scandal, he had to abdicate. So, Michael was born, truly legitimate and everything, but with no legacy, no title to his cause.”
“So what you’re saying is, if Cas-Castiel-ever learned about this…he could just march into the Empire and demand his birthright?” Sam frowned.
“He very well could, but after everything Michael has done about him, after everything Michael has said about him, he wouldn’t even make it a yard into that place. Michael established himself in the Basilica early in his years, studying, under numerous apprenticeships with prominent Ministers. He was the darling of the Empire, till of course his heritage was discovered. Disgraced, Michael made it his sole purpose in life to usurp the throne and sully Castiel’s memory, who, at that point in time, was practically made a saint.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well everyone knew the story of the Unholy Prince and his treacherous escape from the palace guard, how the remains of his ship drifted up on the river bank miles away, in blackened, burnt ruins. Wonderful story, I tell you,” Gabriel laughed, chugging the rest of his tea, “though half of it’s a load of horse shit.”
“How do you know all this? I assume you stayed away from the Empire…”
“Oh I did, for about three or so years, then I wandered back. I wasn’t so recognizable without the…” He gestured to his back, “well, you know. Anyway, people weren’t as tight-lipped then as they are now. Castiel was the talk of the streets, he was. His story had been blown so out of proportion he’d become less of an actual person and more of a symbol, a message to the people. He had become the patron of the downtrodden; I’ve literally heard the poor praying to him for guidance, can you believe it?”
“And now?” Sam asked, leaning back in his seat.
“Now…Now it’s against the law to even speak his name.”
“How on earth did they manage that? It’s not like you can just suddenly forbid people from worshipping God, could you?”
“Rumors work more miracles than faith. Michael attempted every dirty trick in the book to sully Castiel’s name, he even had the previous Emperor’s likeness struck from the very walls. He twisted their faith around to the point where Castiel became the symbol for treachery and sin. He has, in a sense, become the devil in their faith.”
“And after all this, Michael still fears that Castiel will return?”
“As with all faith, there is doubt. And humans are fickle things,” Gabriel replied cryptically, staring into the fire. Sam rubbed his eyes and glanced at the small clock on the mantle, it was past midnight. Such a tale should have sent Sam into bouts of laughter, the very thought of it alone was almost cause to toss the man out on the porch and call it a night. But there was no denying the scars on Gabriel’s back, nor the presence of Cas-Castiel’s-wings, his silence…All the pieces fit. He was a fool to think that such a unique being as Castiel would thrive in their little wintery bubble and never be bothered with the outside world. They had all lived in such a fantasy, their father included. Running from the Empire was not a plausible option. It was everywhere, all the time, even before it became known that Castiel was close by. In his heart Sam ached for everything to return to as it was, before their father died, before Castiel had been locked away in the basement like some temperamental mutt, before Dean turned sour and silent.