[2012 DCBB] The Dreamer and the Mystic - Epilogue
Title: The Dreamer and the Mystic
Genre: Fairytale, Romance
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, Mary/John, implied Dean/Cassie, Sam/Ruby and Sam/Jessica
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 110,000
Warnings: Violence, language, strong sexual content, and scenes of graphic torture.
Summary: When Dean Winchester’s eighteenth birthday arrived, he was expected to choose his Queen-To-Be; instead he found himself falling for a mysterious stranger with eyes like stars. Eleven years later, accompanied by his brother and their father’s knights, Dean journeys into ancient lands that have long since faded into legend and lore, to once again find the eyes that had bewitched him. Castiel's tribe may be a force to be reckoned with, but nothing can prepare Dean to face his own father, and confess his love for a less-than-human being.
“You can’t end it there!” A shrill voice cries out, tiny feet hitting the bed repeatedly.
“Of course I can, just you watch,” says Sam, closing the leather tome and pinning it beneath his arm. “Time for bed, you two.” His grin is mischievous.
“But what happened to Michael?” The question comes from across the room, where a young boy is punching at his pillows to fluff them up. “Did he just up and vanish and that’s it? That’s kind of a crap ending, Dad.”
Sam groans, and rolls his eyes at the amount of times he’s repeated the ending over the course of his children’s lifetime. “Rumor was that Michael exiled himself to Rod’im once his people had crossed. A few years later, Dean and Castiel returned to the city, only to find an empty valley settled among the mountains. No trace that there was ever a city there.”
The little girl gasps. “And what did they do?”
“Nothing. They moved on, traveled south for the remainder of their journey. Townsfolk speak of two strangers who wander into taverns late at night for a drink, but are gone come morning. From what people believe, they’ve traveled every country, every city and every town across the world,” Sam says, placing the tome back on his lap as he leans against his seat.
“And what happened to Eldosia?”
“Anne, you know this,” says the boy, finally settling himself down and blowing out the candle by his bedside. “I know this.”
“But it’s my favorite part!”
“Okay, okay, fine, I’ll tell you again. But you have to promise you’ll go to sleep once I’m done.” At Anne’s enthusiastic nod, Sam continues.
“In the days after the battle, Queen Mary urged the Crown Prince to ascend to the throne, as did his knights. However, the Dreamer was far too in love with his now-human Mystic, and he didn’t want to confine him to a cold throne room when all he wished for was to see the world through his new eyes. After much deliberation, and several months of official assemblies, he seceded from the crown, offering it to his brother.” Sam can’t help but chuckle to himself. “Shortly after, as I’ve heard, they settled into a small farm near the Southern Kingdom. Adopted twenty sheep.”
“Wolves would’ve been cooler,” the boys says with a snort.
“You can’t make a living out of wolves, Will,” Anne shouts, and Sam has to push her tiny shoulder for her to lay back down.
“All right, enough. You’ve heard the story. Now time to sleep.”
“I really like that story, Daddy,” Anne says, her words lost in a yawn as she burrows into her sheets. “It’s the greatest fairy-tale ever, right?”
Sam shushes her once more, pressing a kiss onto her forehead before blowing out the candle. “Of course it is, dumpling.”
He moves across the bedroom, the sound of crashing waves lulling the children to sleep. “William, keep an eye on your sister. Come get me if anything happens.”
“Yes, sir,” he slurs, yawning loudly as he flips onto his side.
Giving the room a once-over, Sam steps outside, shutting the door as quietly as possible.
“You know, when I said I wanted to be remembered, ‘greatest fairy-tale ever’ wasn’t exactly what I was talking about.”
Sam starts, dropping the book as he turns on his heels, eyes wide and mouth open at the sight of the person before him. “Dean!”
“The one and only,” Dean says, giving Sam a thumbs up that’s promptly ignored in favor of being squashed by exaggeratedly long and bulky arms. “Dude, careful with the merchandise.” Dean laughs, returning the hug with just as much fervor. “I missed you and that girly hair of yours.”
After a long minute, Sam finally lets his brother go, but leaves a hand lingering on his back as they walk down the hallway. “I thought you said you were never coming back.”
“Felt a little homesick. Wanted to see Mom one more time. Those your brats?”
“‘Brats’ is the understatement of the decade. Anne is the mirror image of you. Troublemaker, that one. William’s all brains.”
Dean hums appreciatively, taking a left turn. “I like them already.”
“How’s life treating you, Dean?” Sam asks, his tone suddenly somber and nostalgic. It’s been years since he had walked the castle hallways by his brother’s side. Everything just clicks into place, like he had never left. “Where’s Cas?”
The barely-there smile on Dean’s face says he’s thinking the same exact thing. “Taking a stroll through the gardens. Probably talking to Dad’s grave, too. Asking belated permission.”
“For?” Sam barks out a laugh when Dean holds up his hand. “You--Oh, my God. How did you manage that?”
“Drunk priest at Sakran. It was dark, couldn’t tell Cas was a dude, so he did us the favor. Guy still thinks I married a prostitute.”
Shaking his head, Sam can’t really believe what Dean is telling him. “How long ago was this?”
“Three years,” and Dean sounds so proud that Sam’s heart clenches. “We’ve been married three years. It’s been difficult, not even going to lie about that. But it’s worth it, you know? It’s...” He stops, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat. “There’s no better feeling than waking up beside him.”
“I get ya’,” Sam says, voice hushed despite his smile. “Do you guys need any official papers? I can get in a word with the scribe.”
“Nah, Cas and I are as official as we need to be.” He wiggles his fingers, turning the silver band with gentle precision. “We’re good, Sam. Thanks.”
“You really living in the South, too? With sheep?”
Dean chuckles, pats Sam’s shoulder as they finally make it to the Grand Hall. “Cas likes the cold.”
“Speak of the devil,” Sam says with a booming laugh, finding Castiel walking into the Great Hall with an amaranth in hand. “You haven’t aged a day.”
Castiel raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Must be the lighting,” he says, bowing his head in respect. “Your Majesty.”
“C’mon, man. I’ve been through enough for the bowing.” Swatting at his shoulder, Sam brings him in for a bear hug, mindful of the flower. “Congratulations, heard you tied the knot.”
“What knot?”
“It means marriage,” Dean explains. He stands next to Castiel and rests a hand around his waist, softly massaging his side as he knocks their heads together.
“Oh. Jokes I can handle, it’s the idioms that still give me some trouble.”
“After ten years of living with Dean, I thought you’d have it covered by now.”
“He’s been too busy learning every language between Pelaen and O'hinvor,” Dean says. The fondness in his voice makes Sam scoff in disbelief.
This is a man who once rode into battle to face the unknown, sword in hand, cutting down everyone in his path. Hardened by battle and troubled by childhood nightmares every waking day. Standing before Sam was a man who once believed in nothing but his baby brother, not even himself. Dean had once been but a soldier, a good son destined to a cold room of solitude, a man driven by the unjust orders of his father. Uncaring and impenetrable. A dreamer locked inside a golden cage.
But then came Castiel. Castiel, whose innocence and wonder had been the key. A young man with curious hands and wide eyes, who had taken Dean’s own hands and led him out into the open, underneath the sun and stars. A mystic cared for by the celestial bodies, who watched and waited impatiently for him to arrive.
Perhaps their story didn’t end in a majestic castle, as the two magnificent princes they had once been. With the both of them dressed in cheap cotton and worn boots, dirt underneath their nails, there is nothing remotely luxurious about them. But there is something in the way their foreheads meet, noses bumping with tenderness, and the way the corner of Castiel’s eyes crinkle every time he smiles at Dean, that tells Sam they don’t need any of it. They have found what needed. Sam is staring Dean and Castiel’s Happily Ever After in the face.
“Tell me you’re going to stay for a few days,” Sam says, no longer fighting the brilliant smile that’s splitting his face into something blithe and childish. “You can meet the missus, and the kids. Mom will be happy to see you two.”
Dean looks at Cas, who nods with plenty of enthusiasm. “All right, but only if pie is involved,” Dean concedes.
“Consider it done. You can stay up in your old room for the night.”
“Well I’ll be damned.” They turn to see a gruff old man limping their way, shaking his head in amusement. “Never thought I’d be seein’ you again, boy.”
“Can’t believe you’re still alive, old man,” Dean says, huffing when the man greets him with a hug. “It’s good to see you, Bobby. How’s that leg doing?”
“I’ll outlive the lot of ya’, don’t you go worrying about that. Hey there, Feathers,” he says, directing a handshake to Castiel that eventually ends in a hug anyways. “Won’t be taking up much of your time, just came to get this god-awful book back.” He ungracefully pulls the tome out of Sam’s hands. “Some youngsters don’t believe in putting things back where they got ‘em from.”
“What, Sammy? Nah. The only think he’ll keep better organized than the kingdom is a library,” Dean jokes, earning himself a glare from Sam.
“I’ll help you up, Bobby,” says Sam. He ignores the annoyed grumbling, but Bobby takes the help, his limp growing more pronounced as he turns into the left hall.
“Oh.” Sam turns to tell Dean they can head up whenever they wish, but Dean and Castiel are already mounting the staircase, hands clasped together. He watches with a smile when Dean stares at Castiel, who says something he can’t catch from the distance, and kisses him soundly. Dean laughs, arm around Castiel’s middle.
“Hurry up, Sam. Your lady should be waiting for ya’.” Sam takes the last few steps in a single bound, and opens the library door for Bobby to step inside. “Thanks, son.”
“Don’t mention it. Have a good night.” Not expecting a reply, he closes the heavy door.
Sam takes his time heading back, counting the steps that lead into Great Hall, admiring the banners and tapestries that sway in the gentle sea breeze. It’s peaceful. His home is full once more, and Eldosia no longer seems like the massively imposing and cold kingdom it has been for the past fifteen years.
Time settles in his bones, weighing down on all of them. In the way Mary’s skin is wrinkled and fragile, and the gray strands that have sprouted in Dean and Castiel’s hair. He sees it in William’s adolescent eyes, in the roundness of Anne’s cheeks, and feels it in the softness of Jessica’s hands. It has been a long journey, and they have reached their destinations.
Except for Dean and Castiel, because they will always keep moving forward. With the freedom they fought for, they will take their years and drive it to the ends of the Earth. Be as the prince, the general, the soldier or the peasant, they will always move forward, because there will always be something more for them.
The Mystic who could not dream has found the Dreamer, as the Dreamer has found the Mystic who held the key.
The End
Genre: Fairytale, Romance
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, Mary/John, implied Dean/Cassie, Sam/Ruby and Sam/Jessica
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 110,000
Warnings: Violence, language, strong sexual content, and scenes of graphic torture.
Summary: When Dean Winchester’s eighteenth birthday arrived, he was expected to choose his Queen-To-Be; instead he found himself falling for a mysterious stranger with eyes like stars. Eleven years later, accompanied by his brother and their father’s knights, Dean journeys into ancient lands that have long since faded into legend and lore, to once again find the eyes that had bewitched him. Castiel's tribe may be a force to be reckoned with, but nothing can prepare Dean to face his own father, and confess his love for a less-than-human being.
“You can’t end it there!” A shrill voice cries out, tiny feet hitting the bed repeatedly.
“Of course I can, just you watch,” says Sam, closing the leather tome and pinning it beneath his arm. “Time for bed, you two.” His grin is mischievous.
“But what happened to Michael?” The question comes from across the room, where a young boy is punching at his pillows to fluff them up. “Did he just up and vanish and that’s it? That’s kind of a crap ending, Dad.”
Sam groans, and rolls his eyes at the amount of times he’s repeated the ending over the course of his children’s lifetime. “Rumor was that Michael exiled himself to Rod’im once his people had crossed. A few years later, Dean and Castiel returned to the city, only to find an empty valley settled among the mountains. No trace that there was ever a city there.”
The little girl gasps. “And what did they do?”
“Nothing. They moved on, traveled south for the remainder of their journey. Townsfolk speak of two strangers who wander into taverns late at night for a drink, but are gone come morning. From what people believe, they’ve traveled every country, every city and every town across the world,” Sam says, placing the tome back on his lap as he leans against his seat.
“And what happened to Eldosia?”
“Anne, you know this,” says the boy, finally settling himself down and blowing out the candle by his bedside. “I know this.”
“But it’s my favorite part!”
“Okay, okay, fine, I’ll tell you again. But you have to promise you’ll go to sleep once I’m done.” At Anne’s enthusiastic nod, Sam continues.
“In the days after the battle, Queen Mary urged the Crown Prince to ascend to the throne, as did his knights. However, the Dreamer was far too in love with his now-human Mystic, and he didn’t want to confine him to a cold throne room when all he wished for was to see the world through his new eyes. After much deliberation, and several months of official assemblies, he seceded from the crown, offering it to his brother.” Sam can’t help but chuckle to himself. “Shortly after, as I’ve heard, they settled into a small farm near the Southern Kingdom. Adopted twenty sheep.”
“Wolves would’ve been cooler,” the boys says with a snort.
“You can’t make a living out of wolves, Will,” Anne shouts, and Sam has to push her tiny shoulder for her to lay back down.
“All right, enough. You’ve heard the story. Now time to sleep.”
“I really like that story, Daddy,” Anne says, her words lost in a yawn as she burrows into her sheets. “It’s the greatest fairy-tale ever, right?”
Sam shushes her once more, pressing a kiss onto her forehead before blowing out the candle. “Of course it is, dumpling.”
He moves across the bedroom, the sound of crashing waves lulling the children to sleep. “William, keep an eye on your sister. Come get me if anything happens.”
“Yes, sir,” he slurs, yawning loudly as he flips onto his side.
Giving the room a once-over, Sam steps outside, shutting the door as quietly as possible.
“You know, when I said I wanted to be remembered, ‘greatest fairy-tale ever’ wasn’t exactly what I was talking about.”
Sam starts, dropping the book as he turns on his heels, eyes wide and mouth open at the sight of the person before him. “Dean!”
“The one and only,” Dean says, giving Sam a thumbs up that’s promptly ignored in favor of being squashed by exaggeratedly long and bulky arms. “Dude, careful with the merchandise.” Dean laughs, returning the hug with just as much fervor. “I missed you and that girly hair of yours.”
After a long minute, Sam finally lets his brother go, but leaves a hand lingering on his back as they walk down the hallway. “I thought you said you were never coming back.”
“Felt a little homesick. Wanted to see Mom one more time. Those your brats?”
“‘Brats’ is the understatement of the decade. Anne is the mirror image of you. Troublemaker, that one. William’s all brains.”
Dean hums appreciatively, taking a left turn. “I like them already.”
“How’s life treating you, Dean?” Sam asks, his tone suddenly somber and nostalgic. It’s been years since he had walked the castle hallways by his brother’s side. Everything just clicks into place, like he had never left. “Where’s Cas?”
The barely-there smile on Dean’s face says he’s thinking the same exact thing. “Taking a stroll through the gardens. Probably talking to Dad’s grave, too. Asking belated permission.”
“For?” Sam barks out a laugh when Dean holds up his hand. “You--Oh, my God. How did you manage that?”
“Drunk priest at Sakran. It was dark, couldn’t tell Cas was a dude, so he did us the favor. Guy still thinks I married a prostitute.”
Shaking his head, Sam can’t really believe what Dean is telling him. “How long ago was this?”
“Three years,” and Dean sounds so proud that Sam’s heart clenches. “We’ve been married three years. It’s been difficult, not even going to lie about that. But it’s worth it, you know? It’s...” He stops, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat. “There’s no better feeling than waking up beside him.”
“I get ya’,” Sam says, voice hushed despite his smile. “Do you guys need any official papers? I can get in a word with the scribe.”
“Nah, Cas and I are as official as we need to be.” He wiggles his fingers, turning the silver band with gentle precision. “We’re good, Sam. Thanks.”
“You really living in the South, too? With sheep?”
Dean chuckles, pats Sam’s shoulder as they finally make it to the Grand Hall. “Cas likes the cold.”
“Speak of the devil,” Sam says with a booming laugh, finding Castiel walking into the Great Hall with an amaranth in hand. “You haven’t aged a day.”
Castiel raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Must be the lighting,” he says, bowing his head in respect. “Your Majesty.”
“C’mon, man. I’ve been through enough for the bowing.” Swatting at his shoulder, Sam brings him in for a bear hug, mindful of the flower. “Congratulations, heard you tied the knot.”
“What knot?”
“It means marriage,” Dean explains. He stands next to Castiel and rests a hand around his waist, softly massaging his side as he knocks their heads together.
“Oh. Jokes I can handle, it’s the idioms that still give me some trouble.”
“After ten years of living with Dean, I thought you’d have it covered by now.”
“He’s been too busy learning every language between Pelaen and O'hinvor,” Dean says. The fondness in his voice makes Sam scoff in disbelief.
This is a man who once rode into battle to face the unknown, sword in hand, cutting down everyone in his path. Hardened by battle and troubled by childhood nightmares every waking day. Standing before Sam was a man who once believed in nothing but his baby brother, not even himself. Dean had once been but a soldier, a good son destined to a cold room of solitude, a man driven by the unjust orders of his father. Uncaring and impenetrable. A dreamer locked inside a golden cage.
But then came Castiel. Castiel, whose innocence and wonder had been the key. A young man with curious hands and wide eyes, who had taken Dean’s own hands and led him out into the open, underneath the sun and stars. A mystic cared for by the celestial bodies, who watched and waited impatiently for him to arrive.
Perhaps their story didn’t end in a majestic castle, as the two magnificent princes they had once been. With the both of them dressed in cheap cotton and worn boots, dirt underneath their nails, there is nothing remotely luxurious about them. But there is something in the way their foreheads meet, noses bumping with tenderness, and the way the corner of Castiel’s eyes crinkle every time he smiles at Dean, that tells Sam they don’t need any of it. They have found what needed. Sam is staring Dean and Castiel’s Happily Ever After in the face.
“Tell me you’re going to stay for a few days,” Sam says, no longer fighting the brilliant smile that’s splitting his face into something blithe and childish. “You can meet the missus, and the kids. Mom will be happy to see you two.”
Dean looks at Cas, who nods with plenty of enthusiasm. “All right, but only if pie is involved,” Dean concedes.
“Consider it done. You can stay up in your old room for the night.”
“Well I’ll be damned.” They turn to see a gruff old man limping their way, shaking his head in amusement. “Never thought I’d be seein’ you again, boy.”
“Can’t believe you’re still alive, old man,” Dean says, huffing when the man greets him with a hug. “It’s good to see you, Bobby. How’s that leg doing?”
“I’ll outlive the lot of ya’, don’t you go worrying about that. Hey there, Feathers,” he says, directing a handshake to Castiel that eventually ends in a hug anyways. “Won’t be taking up much of your time, just came to get this god-awful book back.” He ungracefully pulls the tome out of Sam’s hands. “Some youngsters don’t believe in putting things back where they got ‘em from.”
“What, Sammy? Nah. The only think he’ll keep better organized than the kingdom is a library,” Dean jokes, earning himself a glare from Sam.
“I’ll help you up, Bobby,” says Sam. He ignores the annoyed grumbling, but Bobby takes the help, his limp growing more pronounced as he turns into the left hall.
“Oh.” Sam turns to tell Dean they can head up whenever they wish, but Dean and Castiel are already mounting the staircase, hands clasped together. He watches with a smile when Dean stares at Castiel, who says something he can’t catch from the distance, and kisses him soundly. Dean laughs, arm around Castiel’s middle.
“Hurry up, Sam. Your lady should be waiting for ya’.” Sam takes the last few steps in a single bound, and opens the library door for Bobby to step inside. “Thanks, son.”
“Don’t mention it. Have a good night.” Not expecting a reply, he closes the heavy door.
Sam takes his time heading back, counting the steps that lead into Great Hall, admiring the banners and tapestries that sway in the gentle sea breeze. It’s peaceful. His home is full once more, and Eldosia no longer seems like the massively imposing and cold kingdom it has been for the past fifteen years.
Time settles in his bones, weighing down on all of them. In the way Mary’s skin is wrinkled and fragile, and the gray strands that have sprouted in Dean and Castiel’s hair. He sees it in William’s adolescent eyes, in the roundness of Anne’s cheeks, and feels it in the softness of Jessica’s hands. It has been a long journey, and they have reached their destinations.
Except for Dean and Castiel, because they will always keep moving forward. With the freedom they fought for, they will take their years and drive it to the ends of the Earth. Be as the prince, the general, the soldier or the peasant, they will always move forward, because there will always be something more for them.
The Mystic who could not dream has found the Dreamer, as the Dreamer has found the Mystic who held the key.
The End