Childe Winchester Chapter 1
Childe Winchester to the Dark Tower Came
Dean Winchester stared at the small piece of paper in disbelief, heart beating loudly in his chest. His fingers shakily traced letters his eyes had read over and over again, trying to find if there was some hidden meaning, some hidden pitfall behind the words.
Finally, after years of waiting, he had been given a Quest. A bona fide Quest, one that would finally see him graduate to a Knight of the Realm.
Dean had been a Childe, a Knight in training, ever since he was thirteen. As the years rolled by, he saw the other Childes sent on quests that would prove their worthiness, see them become Knights to sit at King Michael’s table. He’d watched with envy as his peers moved on, upwards to better things while he remained. Even his brother Sam, four years his junior, had been on a Quest and found his True Love. He had recently married, was moving on with his life while Dean stayed exactly where he was, no True Love, no Quest, no Knighthood.
Which is why he stared at the paper, not quite taking in what was written within it. Finally, he had the chance to prove himself, to show the whole of Kansas that he could be a Knight, and a great one at that. He looked closely at the details of the Quest. The Princess Elisa was said to be beautiful and kind; she had been taken by the evil King of Snakes, and locked in a tower waiting to be rescued by an honorable Knight. It was standard stuff-boring, if Dean were honest with himself-but it was a Quest nonetheless, and at last he had been chosen to do it. All he had to do was get the girl, kill the evil prince, save her Kingdom, and he would be set for life. Great.
He rolled the paper up tightly in his hand, and exited his hut, knowing exactly where he wanted to go. He had to tell Castiel what had happened.
Castiel was also a Childe, and had been Dean’s best friend since childhood. He too had been waiting for a Quest, but unlike Dean, he didn’t seem restless or concerned with waiting. He was content to watch the others go on their Quests, revelling in their successes while he waited patiently for his chance to prove himself. While Dean was fidgety, agitated, impatient, Castiel was calm, serene, content with what he had.
Dean practically ran to Castiel’s hut, rapping on the door and not waiting for an answer before bursting in. Castiel was stirring a large pot, standing in a white flannel shirt that hung about his knees and nothing else. “Dean!” He exclaimed, “It’s customary to wait until you’re told to enter! I’m not even dressed properly.” He turned a bright shade of pink as he tried to pull his shirt further down his knees.
Dean waved his hands dismissively, ignoring Castiel’s embarrassed display. “Whatever, Cas. Look, look at this.” He waved the paper under Castiel’s nose. Castiel snatched it from Dean, turning it over in his hands while Dean watched him carefully. “The King’s seal?” he said in amazement.
“That’s right.”
Castiel’s eyes widened as the realisation hit him, and Dean couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Is this…this is a Quest?”
“Right there in black and gold.”
Castiel’s face remained shocked for a while, as if unable to process the information, before it lit up, a smile spreading across his lips. “Dean that’s…that’s fantastic!” He walked over, drawing Dean into a hug. “You’ll be a proper Knight! You’ll be able to show the rest of them who’s the better fighter, the most honorable…”
“Cas, shut up. You’re embarrassing me.” Dean said, blushing but still holding Cas closely.
“I’m right, though. You should give yourself more credit. When do you ride out?”
“Four days from now. I know vaguely where I’m going, reckon it’ll take me two days to ride to the Kingdom of Snakes, a day to get into the tower and rescue Princess Elisa…”
“And maybe a day getting to know her before riding back,” Castiel chuckled.
Dean just nodded. “Maybe.” It was fantastic news, really it was, but for some reason Dean couldn’t find it in him to get excited about it.
“Dean, I’m really happy for you. You’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” They stood in silence for a moment, before Dean began speaking again. “Look, Cas, I just want you to know…nothing’s going to change between the two of us. I mean, you’re still my best friend; we’re still going to spar against each other, and go out riding for days. It’ll still be the same.”
Castiel touched his arm, eyes shining as he smiled. “I know. It would take a lot to change Childe…sorry, Sir Winchester.”
Dean screwed up his face in distaste. “That sounds weird. Can’t you just call me Dean?”
Castiel laughed. “Very well.”
“So…you heard about your Quest yet?”
Castiel shook his head. “No, still nothing. Gabriel thinks I’ll end up doing something like teaching the peasants how to read, or helping the Queen bake cakes. Something low level like that.” He smiled.
“No, no Cas. Something’ll come along, just you wait. I’m sure of it. There’s no way I get to be a Knight and you don’t.” As much as Dean was happy he’d finally gotten a Quest, a part of him wished he could share it with Castiel. They’d been through a lot together growing up, through the deaths of both their mothers and their fathers, and he couldn’t help but feel slightly sad that he couldn’t share something so important to his life with Castiel. Deep down, he was scared that things would change between then, that their friendship would somehow take a back seat to Dean’s Knighthood and inevitable marriage.
Castiel shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe. For now, I’m happy for you.” His smile was large, and genuine, making his eyes spark with happiness. Dean couldn’t help but mirror it.
“Thanks, Cas. Say, do you want to test my sword-fighting skills? I’ll have to sharpen up if I’m going to beat the King of Snakes.”
“Indeed you will. 20 guineas says you won’t beat me, though.”
Dean laughed. “Oh really, Childe Novak? Consider it a bet.”
Quick as a flash, Dean leapt up, grabbing Castiel’s sword from where it lay beside the fire. He then ran out the door, laughing with every step he tool. “10 minutes, Cas,” he called behind him. “See you outside!”
“Fine, but if you sabotage my sword, your head’s going in the pot!” he heard Castiel shout after him.
Finally, it seemed like things were looking up for Childe Winchester.
The next two days were spent in intense training. Castiel was probably the best sword fighter Dean knew, barring himself of course, and it was good to test his skills. Dean wasn’t particularly nervous about the Quest, knowing that it would be fairly straightforward as long as he managed to keep a cool head, but he was determined to make a good impression. The Winchesters never did anything by halves, and if he was going to prove himself worthy of a Knighthood and rescue a princess, he would do it with style and finesse.
On the third day he gave Castiel a rest, and concentrated on packing for the journey. His trusty steed, Impala, had been to Singer’s Blacksmiths to get new shoes, and was sporting a brand new, specially made leather saddle and accompanying bags. It took a full day to pack her, and for Dean to get used to riding with a fully-laden horse. That night, he went in search of Castiel to see if he wanted to go for one last drink before Dean commenced his journey. He wanted one last evening with his friend, just the two of them enjoying each other’s company before everything changed. Unusually, Castiel was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t in the tavern, and when Dean walked to his hut he found it empty. Disappointed, he walked regretfully back to his hut.
Dean slept fitfully, excited and apprehensive in equal measure. When the morning light came streaming through his windows he woke, ate a hearty breakfast and dressed in his finest armour before saying one last goodbye to his home. He walked to the stables, checked Impala was ready, and led her out into the paddock. He made a few last minute checks to the bags he had packed, before walking to Castiel’s hut.
He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He pushed his way inside, to find the hut empty. The fire was cold, and his bed was made, indicating he probably hadn’t slept there that night. He must be at Gabriel’s Dean thought, and couldn’t help the slight feeling of disappointment that ran through him. He was due to set off soon, and there wouldn’t be time to walk to Gabriel’s to say goodbye. Perhaps…perhaps Castiel found it too hard to say goodbye?
Dean shook himself, knowing it was only wishful thinking. Castiel had probably been planning on surprising him before he left. He would almost certainly be part of the leaving party and besides, it wasn’t as if he would be gone forever. A few days and he would be back. Admittedly things would be different but still, he would see Castiel again.
He walked back to Impala to find a crowd of Knights around here. As he pushed through the throng, people began cheering. Knights were slapping him on the back, wishing him luck and telling him that he’d come back a different, better person. As he reached his horse, he saw King Michael standing there in all his finery.
“Your Highness,” Dean said, bowing deeply.
“Childe Winchester. I trust we find you well?”
“Very well indeed, Sir.” He hated using formal language, but his father had instilled in him long ago that he must speak differently when he was in the presence of royalty. It showed them respect. Dean couldn’t quite grasp how, but he went along with it anyway.
“Good, good,” the King replied. Having examined your horse, it seems she is more than up to the task of this quest, as are you yourself.”
“I hope so, sir.” He really did.
The King smiled. “I expect you back within a few days. Not much longer. It is a relatively simple Quest.”
“Indeed it is.” Dean nodded. If he were honest with himself, he’d hoped to be given something more complex, more than a fair maiden trapped in a tower at any rate. However, a Quest was a Quest; if he wanted to become a proper Knight, he couldn’t afford to be picky.
He watched carefully as King Michael pulled something from under his robe. It was a horn, made of bone and covered with intricate decorations of Knights in battle.
“This is a gift, Childe Winchester. It is a Slughorn, made from the bones of the last dragon to ever set foot on Kansas soil. Once blown, it will announce to all that here is someone not to be trifled with.”
Dean stared at it, wondering when on earth he would use it. There wasn’t much a horn could do that his voice could not, he thought. Still, he plastered on his most grateful smile, and took the horn reverently from King Michael’s hands. He looked up at the other Knights, desperately searching for Castiel, but he couldn’t see him. Gabriel wasn’t there either. Not even Sam was there to send him off, and Dean couldn’t help but feel hurt at that.
He raised the horn to his lips, and was about to blow and signal his departure when he heard someone shouting his name frantically. As he stared ahead, he saw Sam emerge from the crowd, eyes wide in panic. “Dean!” he shouted. “Thank heaven I haven’t missed you.”
“Sam? What is it? Is something wrong?” He set the horn down.
“It’s Cas…Cas is gone.”
“What?”
“Cas is gone.”
Dean couldn’t believe it. His oldest friend, just upping and leaving? “Gone? Where? Why?”
“He’s been…taken.” Sam waved his hands frantically. “Taken, Dean. Far away.”
“What? Sam, calm down, calm down.” Dean’s stomach clenched in horror. “He can’t have been taken. He’s the best fighter I know…there must be another explanation.”
“He’s right,” said another voice. Dean whirled round to see Gabriel standing there with his son, a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. His face was pale, his eyes red and he had obviously been up most of the night. The Knights that surrounded them were deathly silent. “Castiel’s…he’s been taken.”
“He can’t have been. What happened?” Dean stepped closer to Gabriel, examining his face closely. Castiel’s brother was well known to be a joker, someone who liked pulling tricks, and Dean could never be sure if he was being serious or not. Until now. The worry etched over Gabriel’s face told him that this was no joke. Something had happened; something bad.
Gabriel looked down at his son. “Castiel was out yesterday playing with Jophiel. They were running around by the church, playing ball and…and…”
“And I kicked the ball over the fence,” Jophiel said, his voice shaking slightly. “So I ran around the church trying to find it, but I didn’t know…I ran widdershins but I know you’re not s’posed to because bad things happen, and this man appeared with horrible yellow eyes and told me he was going to take me far away. But Uncle Castiel got in the way and said he couldn’t, and the man said that if he couldn’t take me, he would curse the whole of Kansas and everyone…everyone would die. So uncle Cas…Uncle Cas…” The boy started crying, unable to finish what he was saying.
“Castiel told the man to take him instead, so he did,” Gabriel finished. “He did it to save Joph and the town.”
Dean stared in disbelief. “So who was this man? Could he really do that?”
“He was a demon. Azazel, by all accounts. As soon as Jophiel told me I went to speak with Pamela, and she confirmed it.”
“So is he…is he…” Dean couldn’t say the word ‘dead,’ just couldn’t. Castiel couldn’t be dead…it wasn’t possible.
Gabriel shook himself. “No. Pamela says he’s locked away, in the Dark Tower that presides over Elfland.”
“Elfland?” said one of the Knights. “But we dare not enter Elfland. It’s too dangerous. They have…The Disease there. Anyone could be infected.”
“Disease?”
“A horrible affliction. It makes a man lust for blood and nothing more. It drives you mad with its craving, so you will stop at nothing to get your fill. No one from our land has been there for centuries.”
“Well, I will be the first, then,” said Gabriel. “I need to save my brother.”
Dean watched as Gabriel’s grip on Jophiel’s shoulder became tighter, his fingers turning white. Dean stared at him, before turning to glance at the other Knights standing there. He caught the eye of the King, and then turned to face Sam. “No, Gabriel,” he said. “You have to stay here and look after Jophiel. It’s too risky. I’ll go.”
There was a collective gasp from the Knights.
“What?” Gabriel stared at him, open mouthed.
“I’m going. I’ll save Cas.”
“But what about your Quest? You’ve been waiting years for the chance to prove yourself. You only get one chance, one Quest.”
It was true. A Childe only got one chance to prove himself worthy of becoming a Knight. If Dean were to give up on his Quest, he would stay a Childe for the rest of his life. But how good would his life be without Castiel?
Dean stared at the other Knights, looking each on in turn directly in the eye, before turning to the King. The King nodded, almost imperceptibly, and Dean knew he had his permission. However, there was one more he needed. He stared at Sam, imploring him with his expression to agree to this. Sam nodded, knowing exactly what was being asked of him, how much Castiel meant to him. “Go,” he whispered. “Save him, and bring him home.”
Dean nodded in thanks. “Gabriel, get Pamela here. I’m going to need to know as much as I can about Elfland. One hour, and then I’m riding out. Chuck, you take this paper. It has instructions on how to save Princess Elisa. I hope you’ll both be very happy together.”
“So, you’re abandoning your Quest?” Chuck stammered.
“Screw the Quest,” Dean said defiantly. “My friend needs me.”
***
Twelve hours he had been travelling. Twelve long, tortuous hours. He’d set off after a long discussion with Pamela, who’d told him which direction to travel in, and what to do once he’d entered Elfland. Pamela was the wise woman of Kansas, and what she didn’t know didn’t bear thinking about.
“When you enter, speak to no-one. Elfland is made up of demons and vampires, whose only desire is to kill you or turn you into one of them. You must chop off their heads, before they can make that happen.”
“Chop off the head. Got that.”
“And, you mustn’t eat or drink anything while you are there.”
“Why?”
“Because the food and the drink will either put you in a trance or kill you. Never forget, you are wandering in hostile lands. They will kill you before asking questions. Trust no one, eat nothing, assume everyone is out to get you. Get in there, save Castiel, and get out.”
It had all sounded so simple, coming from Pamela. Now, twelve hours in and unable to find anywhere suitable to bed down for the evening, the saddle was rubbing against him, his sword hung uncomfortably at his side along with the Slughorn that swung back and forth, back and forth, and he was feeling sweaty and uncomfortable.
Impala was faring better, seemingly happy to trot along wherever Dean guided her. Presently, the low light of the sun gave way to the darkness of night, and Dean found he couldn’t travel any more. He stopped at a fork in the road, unsure of which way to go and unwilling to travel down the wrong path at night, dismounted.
Dean patted Impala, whispering, “Good girl,” and opened one of the sacks on her back to feed her some oats and corn. As Impala chomped happily, something caught Dean’s eye. A figure, bent over and shuffling slowly towards him. It wore a long cloak, once white, but now covered in years of dirt and dust. The material formed tattered tendrils that whipped in the wind as the creature walked painfully slowly, a thin stick the only thing holding it up. As it came closer, Dean could see it was an old man, face concealed by a white beard to match his white hair. He shuffled closer, stick held tightly in a gnarled fist that shook with the mere effort of holding it. He looked up at Dean, and even though it was dark, there was a glint in his eye that sent shivers down Dean’s spine.
He wasn’t in Elfland yet, Dean reasoned, so he could talk without fear of being killed. Hopefully.
“Hey,” he said, and the man looked up, baring his teeth. Dean placed his hand underneath his cloak and onto his sword, ready to strike should he need it.
“What brings you here, young man?” The man said, voice like sandpaper across metal.
“I’m looking for the path to Elfland. I need to find the Dark Tower, but it’s dark and I don’t know which path to take. Could you help me?”
The man laughed, eyes almost flashing as he tipped his head back. “I see. Rescuing a loved one?”
“A friend,” Dean replied, feeling himself reddening even though it really was none of the man’s business. “I need to know-left or right.”
“It is an important question,” the man said, before lapsing into silence. The wind picked up, chilling Dean to the bone as he waited for an answer. Minutes went by, before Dean’s patience ended.
“So, will you tell me or not?”
There was movement underneath the man’s cloak, and Dean watched as he lifted a twisted, deformed finger, pointing in front of him. “If you seek the Tower, you should veer left,” he said, but there was a malicious glint in his eye, and Dean couldn’t shake the fear that he was lying. His lips were turned up at the edges, as if trying to conceal a smile, yet he still pointed towards the left path.
Dean waited for a few moments, not sure whether to believe him. “Left?” he questioned.
“Left. Follow the road until you reach the river.”
Again, the malicious smile. Dean stared at the two roads, every instinct telling him not to believe the man. He eventually made a decision. Better to be in the wrong path, than no path at all, he reasoned. “Thank you,” he said, and mounted Impala once more. As he moved, he looked down, but the man was nowhere to be seen.
Typical.
Onward to Chapter Two