Refuge (Dean/Castiel, R, AU)
Title: Refuge
Author: Vera
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, AU (fantasy)
Rating: R for graphic violence
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 5.900
Warnings: graphic violence (of the martial arts kind)
Summary: Dean’s world is turned upside down when he meets the mysterious Castiel. Soon they’re both on the run from monks who seek to keep them from fulfilling an ancient prophecy by all means necessary.
Author’s Note: Written for spn_reversebang and based on felidraxian’s art prompt located here.
=> AO3 <=
“Dean!” His father called out for him. “Goddamn that boy, always running off.”
Meanwhile, Dean ventured deeper into the forest. Something was calling out to him, and Dean never ignored an urge. It’s gotten him in trouble many a times. He heard a rustling and hid behind a tree.
“Come on,” a hushed voice whispered. “I heard noises. There are people on the pathway. We need to get him to safety before anyone can see him.”
Curious as he was, Dean peaked out from behind his tree and spotted two travellers, a large man and a woman with red hair carrying a bundle on her back. While Dean was looking, the bundle moved and a head was peeking out from beneath the clothes. Eyes as intensely blue as Dean had never seen before caught his, widened, and stared frightened back. Dean put his finger to his lips and tried to hush him.
The head popped free further and Dean could see that the boy couldn’t be much younger than he was, yet he was being carried around in a basket strapped to the woman’s back. Dean frowned, wondering if the kid was in trouble, if he should call out to his father for help, but something made him pause.
“Maybe we should return, Uriel. Surely they wouldn’t harm the boy…” The woman hesitated, looking back the way they’d come from.
“Don’t be naïve, Anna. You read the prophecy. What do you think they’ll do? Ignore it and allow him to grow up and fulfil his destiny? They think he’s their undoing. You know how paranoid our brothers and sisters are.” The man paused as well, drawing a sword from underneath his cloak. “Hush.”
“Dean, I swear to God. We’re leaving without you if you don’t show your face right this second!” The yell boomed from the distance and Dean cringed. His father’s voice had taken on a dangerous edge and he knew what that meant. Unconsciously, he touched his cheek, as if he could already feel the heat from the bruise soon to be forming there.
With a last look at the boy, Dean slinked back before his father came looking for him. If not for his sake, he didn’t want him to stumble upon the strangers and find out what would happen.
***
Years later, Dean still hadn’t forgotten about the boy. The frightened blue eyes would haunt him at night and he wondered futilely what had happened to him, if he’d ever arrived at his destination; if he was safe. But there was no way for Dean to find out.
“Dean Winchester. I know you’re in here. Have you forgotten about kitchen duty yet again?” The school’s cook, Ellen Harvelle, was looking for him in the library.
“Forgotten isn’t the right word if you consciously ignore it,” Dean replied sulkily, closing the Master’s Book on Spells and Potions and coming out from behind his corner deep behind the large book shelves of the library.
“And you’re not even supposed to be in here, young man,” Ellen was scolding him. “Whatever am I going to do with you?” She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and led him out of the library.
Dean knew he wasn’t allowed in the sacred halls of the library, seeing how he wasn’t even a student here. He was earning his keep as a member of the staff instead. But nobody was ever in there voluntarily and most of the adults liked him well enough to pretend not to know anything of his illegal studies. Grandmaster Bobby even allowed his presence in the laboratories every now and then, claiming he was happy to for once have a student eager to learn.
“Grant me an allowance and get me enrolled here?” Dean suggested in answer to her question.
“Oh honey,” Ellen ruffled his hair. “I would, if I could. You know that.”
Dean cringed away from her touch, mock-offended at her messing up his hair, but secretly revelling in the touch. All in all, it really wasn’t too bad here. It certainly beat living on the road with his father, especially since Sammy was gone.
“How’s Jo doing?” Dean asked. Ellen’s daughter was away at a cheaper school than the private institution they were working at. Nevertheless it was something. And Ellen was proud, Dean knew as much.
“Well,” she smiled. “They say she shows real promise in the archery department.”
Dean frowned, trying to picture the little girl in pigtails he remembered holding a bow. “That’s great. So she’s striving to become a huntress?”
“We don’t know yet,” Ellen shrugged. “What about your brother? How’s Sam doing?”
“Best in class, as always,” Dean reported. Their father had chosen to send Sam to school, which was alright with Dean. A portion of his own salary was paying for it, after all. Sam had always been the smart one, calm, collected and good, while Dean had been the troublemaker. Yet Sam seemed to lack actual talent in magic, which was why he was to become a scholar rather than someone who practises himself.
“That’s great,” Ellen replied while shoving him in the kitchen. “And to make sure he stays at school…” She thrust a wet dishrag at him. When Dean made a face, she chuckled and patted his cheek. “He’s going to thank you one day, Dean. Just you wait.”
“Yeah, he better,” Dean grumbled and started on the dirty pots and pans. Truth was, he really didn’t mind and he required no thanks from his brother. But sometimes he just wished he’d get a little support himself.
***
The next day, Dean was outside in the surrounding forest, looking for primrose mushrooms for Grandmaster Bobby. They only grew in the darkest parts and only during the three days surrounding the full moon. He’d spent two hours already, but so far no luck. At least he got to fill up his own secret stash with a few herbs and plants he was experimenting with.
Eventually it was getting late and the woods grew a little too dense even for his comfort. And he could swear he kept hearing a faint whimper. Dean reached into his satchel and got out a cotton cloth, some dried herbs and wrapped it all around a large branch of wood he’d found lying at his feet. When he was done, he got some crushed lemonflower blossoms and carefully sprinkled them on top of the cloth. It caught fire instantly and lit up in a bright yellow light which dimmed seconds after, leaving him surrounded with a pleasant, almost white glow.
“Wow,” a voice exclaimed not too far away, making Dean jump. “How’d you do that?”
Dean turned towards the sound and was shocked into momentary silence when his eyes met the blue from his dreams. The boy, now older, but definitely the same boy, must have realized his mistake in speaking up, because his hand was clasped over his mouth and he huddled in on himself protectively. “Lemonflower,” Dean replied eventually.
The other boy pulled his hand away. “I know you.”
“You do,” Dean confirmed. Even if it made no sense. He’d only seen him once, but there was such a strong feeling of recollection, of familiarity washing over him. “I’m Dean.”
“I know,” the boy replied, hand coming back up to cover his mouth. “I mean…” He trailed off unhappily. “Castiel.”
”Castiel what?” Dean frowned.
“My name. They call me Castiel,” the boy, Castiel, explained.
Dean stared. Was this real? “What are you doing here, Castiel?”
“What are you doing here?” he parroted back.
“Looking for primrose mushrooms,” Dean replied.
“Oh.” Castiel unfurled a little. “May I help you?”
“Okay?” When Castiel got up, his cloak rode up and Dean caught a glimpse of a design that seemed to be painted onto Castiel’s arms. He considered asking about it, but then thought better of it.
“What’s a primped mushroom look like?” Castiel asked.
“Primrose,” Dean corrected with a smile. “And you don’t know?” Castiel shook his head. “It’s small.” Dean pointed with his fingers. “And brown. But it glows a faint purple when the moonlight catches it.”
“Cool!” Castiel exclaimed excitedly. They’d only taken a few more steps deeper into the woods, when Castiel bend down to pick something up. “Like this?”
Sure enough, he’d found what Dean had been looking for. Unsuccessfully. For over two hours. Dean squinted at the ground, but all he could see was a thick coat of wet leaves. “Uhm, yes.”
Castiel let out a happy noise and bent back downwards, brushing the leaves aside, and sure enough, now Dean saw them as well: a whole bed full of hidden gems. They both knelt down to pick them and Dean got out a handkerchief to collect them in.
“I have to compliment your eyesight, I guess.” Dean admitted. And the shrooms weren’t even glowing, as deep down as they were right now.
“Glad to be of service,” Castiel held out his handful proudly.
Dean accepted them and was jolted with a burst of electricity as their fingers touched. “What the hell?”
“Oh no. Oh, they must be close.” Castiel snatched his hand back, but not before Dean could see the pattern on his wrist glow up. “Douse your flame!” Castiel begged, but it was already too late.
Four hooded figures emerged from behind the trees and closed in on them. “There he is. Careful, he’s dangerous.”
And for a ridiculous few seconds, Dean thought they must be talking about him, because surely Castiel, who’d hidden and cowered in the dark with his round blue eyes, was as harmless as they came. But when he turned to tell the other boy to hide behind him while reaching for his satchel to get out some red haze powder, Castiel had already shed his cloak.
Underneath, Castiel was wearing a sleeveless top and tight pants onto which several small knives were strapped to. The pattern on his skin, which covered his whole arms and disappeared well under the top, glowed brighter, illuminating his face in an eerie light glow. Before Dean could fully admire him, Castiel had already reached for the first knife and thrown it, depositing it straight between the eyes of hooded figure number one.
The man fell like a tree and Dean could only stare in fascination while the other three attacked Castiel at once. But Castiel kicked out and threw expert punches, keeping the upper hand during the brief fight. He was just about to deliver a final kick to the last guy standing, when suddenly a fifth man emerged from behind.
Dean didn’t think, he just reached for his powder and blew, blinding the man before his sword could harm Castiel. Castiel turned around, wide eyes landing on the man, before he plucked another knife from his arsenal and slid the man’s throat, delivering a swift kick that had him fly several feet away from them before he could even get hid by the spray of blood.
Wiping his knife on the back of his pants before tucking it back into the sheath, Castiel’s gaze finally landed on Dean. “Dean…” He started and then stopped, taking him in from bottom to top.
Dean realized he was shaking and quickly stood up straighter, clenching his teeth and forcing himself to calm down. Castiel wasn’t going to hurt him. If he wanted to, Dean would already be dead. Obviously.
“Thank you,” Castiel held out his hand. “For the assistance.”
Still trembling, Dean shook it. Castiel’s hold was firm and strong and somehow calmed Dean right back down. “Care to explain?” Dean asked.
“Explain what?” Castiel asked while reaching down for his cloak and fastening it around himself again.
“What the hell just happened?”
”Oh.” Castiel shrugged. “Four men came from North and attacked us. I started by throwing a knife…”
“No!” Dean interrupted. “I know what just happened.”
“Then why are you asking me, Dean?” Castiel looked at him with such innocence, that Dean could just gape at him.
He picked up the mushrooms and the torch he’d dropped, gingerly avoiding touching the bodies strewn around them. Or looking at them. Or acknowledging they even existed. “You coming?” Dean asked and without looking over his shoulder, fled the scene as fast as he could without running. He knew Castiel would follow him.
Once they’d reached a cleared footpath, Dean stopped. “Where are you going?” He asked Castiel.
“Where are you going?”
Somehow, Dean had already known this would be Castiel’s answer. “I’m going back to St. Lawrence. It’s a school,” Dean explained.
“What are you studying?” They fell into step side by side, Castiel just tagging along.
Dean hesitated, tempted to lie. But he didn’t want to lie to Castiel. “I’m not. I work there.”
“Okay,” Castiel nodded.
Dean looked at him. Now that he’d caught a glimpse of the trained body hidden beneath the cloak, he wondered if maybe Castiel was actually even older than him. It shouldn’t be important; Dean should worry about his safety, but… This was the boy from his dreams now in the firm body of a young man. It was disturbing him on so many levels. “Where’d you learn to fight like this?” Dean asked, not really expecting an answer.
“In the monastery.”
That certainly explained a few things, Dean thought. “So, are you heading back there? Is it far away?” He’d never seen any monks this side of the woods, but he knew they tended to stay hidden and rarely left their own lands.
“I’m never going back,” Castiel stated matter-of-factly.
“Did they…” Dean hesitated, thinking of the pattern on Castiel’s skin. “Were you hurt?”
“No.” Castiel pulled his cloak tighter.
“So you just grew sick of the solitary life?” Dean prodded.
“No.” Castiel glanced away. Before Dean could come up with another suggestion, Castiel continued. “They were slaughtered for hiding me. I made it out but… They’re all dead.”
Dean’s eyes widened and he mentally slapped himself. Castiel’s voice remained steady, but Dean could tell it affected him a great deal. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Castiel stopped moving. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t drag you into this. I’m only putting you in danger. Please forgive me, Dean.”
“Oh please,” Dean protested. “I can protect myself. Without me that fifth guy earlier would have totally sliced you open.” And did he just say that? Oh shit. That actually could have happened! He felt like being doused by a bucket of ice and the cold water was now slowly trickling down his back. Castiel could have died. They both could have died just moments ago.
“True,” Castiel smiled a little, apparently not as affected as Dean was by the realisation. “And I am ever so grateful for you assistance, but now I must go.” He didn’t move though.
“Where are you going to go?” Dean asked, a tiny part of him thinking that maybe it was for the best if he’d just disappear again. But there was also a strong urge to keep Castiel close, to never lose him now that they’d finally found each other again.
“I’m…” Castiel started but then trailed off and bit his lip.
“Don’t even try and lie to me,” Dean shook his head. “I know ‘lost’ when I see it.” After all, he’d seen that look on his own face in the mirror many times before. And somehow he’d always found strength again. Mostly in the knowledge that eventually he’d meet his brother again, but sometimes there had been blue eyes staring back at him, and he knew he had to keep going; that there was something important waiting for him. “You’re coming to the institute with me.”
“Okay.” Castiel looked at him, his big round eyes full of trust again, and Dean wondered what the hell he was getting himself into here. The intense sense of connection scared him a little.
***
Dean had gotten pretty good at sneaking in and out of St. Lawrence’s and managed to smuggle Castiel into his room without anyone seeing him. He had to go back to the kitchens and deliver the shrooms to Grandmaster Bobby, but he was confident nobody would enter his chambers while he was gone.
Castiel had thanked him once again and eyed the bed with exhaustion written all over his face. And sure enough, when Dean returned hours later, Castiel was curled up close to the wall, sleeping soundly. He’d made himself so small that more than half of Dean’s bed was invitingly empty.
It wasn’t like Dean had that much of a choice anyway, he reasoned. His room was small and if he tried to sleep on the cold floor, he was sure to bang against his spare table and there was no way he was sleeping in his chair. So Dean quickly changed into more comfortable pants and a shirt before joining Castiel on the bed.
At first he kept his distance, but the sleepier he got, the more he sprawled and before he knew it, he was rolling over and spooning Castiel right as he fell into a deep slumber. His hand landed on Castiel’s bare arm and if Dean had still been conscious, he might have shied away from the blue glow his touch elicited.
”Castiel,” a red headed woman lying on the floor in an unnaturally crumbled state croaked. “I’m sorry I failed you.”
“Anna, no,” Castiel’s voice was trembling with unshed tears. He was kneeling over her body, holding her hand. Dean recognized the woman as the one he’d seen all these years ago in the forest, carrying Castiel on her back.
“Find him,” she instructed. “Find your partner and you’ll be unstoppable.” She reached out a bloody hand and touched his cheek. “I was wrong. It’s your destiny. Fulfil it. Destroy them all.”
“But Anna…” Castiel tried, but her hand slipped from his cheek, her eyes staring at a point far away from him before their light dimmed. “Anna,” he whispered, closing her eyelids and pressing a last kiss to her temple. “You will be avenged.”
Castiel picked up the sword she’d dropped and let out a menacing roar before thrusting himself into the battle raging on outside. The rest of the dream was a blur of movement and silhouettes, swords and daggers, and the color red.
Dean woke with his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He realized he was wrapped around Castiel and meant to disentangle himself, but even though he tried to suppress it, Castiel was quietly weeping, his whole body shivering. Dean wrapped his arms tighter around his slim form wordlessly and held on until the sobs grew louder but the shivering subsided. Eventually Castiel quietened down and Dean fell back asleep.
***
When he woke up again the next morning, his first thought was that he was still sleeping and trapped in another nightmare. The alarm bells were sounding - or at least that’s what he thought it was. Dean had never heard the shrill noise before. And there was a lot of running and screaming outside.
There was movement next to him as Castiel frantically tried to climb out of bed but got tangled in the sheets - and in Dean. It would all be more amusing if it wasn’t for his panicked look.
“Oh no,” Castiel said. “I’m so sorry, Dean.” And with that he leaped over Dean and out of bed, reaching for his arsenal of knives and daggers and reapplying them to his clothes. “We have to go,” he informed Dean.
Dean was shaken out of his stupor by a loud scream very near his room. He jumped up and quickly grabbed his duffel. He still had one fully packed right next to his bed. Old habits die hard and it had always given him comfort to know he could leave at a moment’s notice if need be. He strapped on his satchel of herbs and reached for his coat just as Castiel opened the window.
“Wait,” Dean looked at the door. “What about…”
“I’m sorry.” Castiel avoided his gaze.
“You’re sorry about what?” Dean prodded, but he wasn’t opening the door.
“Dean…” He gave him a sorrowful look. “I’m sorry.”
And, remembering the dream, Dean understood. He swallowed and nodded once, following Castiel as he jumped out of the window. Dean could only hope that his teachers would fare better than the monks. After all, they were skilled Grandmasters.
But deep down he knew he’d never see any of them ever again.
***
Following the secret path they had come in from, they managed to flee undetected. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, Dean ran for at least an hour straight before he finally crashed near a stream. Castiel hadn’t even really broken into a sweat yet, but Dean almost fell in when he bent down to drink some of the water. He sat down with his back against a rock and took a few deep breaths.
Castiel was hovering close uncomfortably. “Dean, we need to get going. They’ll know I’m gone soon enough and they’ll follow.”
“But they don’t know which direction to go,” Dean reasoned, but he knew it was wishful thinking.
“They’re able to track my energy signature.” Castiel looked devastated.
“Your energy signature? How is that even possible?” Dean had heard of tracking spells, but they always required some part of the person you meant to track and they never lasted for very long.
“It’s complicated,” Castiel explained, touching the pattern on his arm.
Dean cocked his head. He didn’t know much about tracking, but hadn’t he just read up on cloaking spells? “Tell me more.”
“It’s complicated.” Castiel shrugged. “Come on, we need to get going.”
“I’m serious.” Dean was offended. “I may be able to cloak you if I know what exactly it is I’m hiding here.”
Castiel bit his lip. After another moment of hesitation, he let out a deep sigh. “It’s a magic spell meant to protect me. It enhances my senses, mostly. And it’s tuned to a specific kind of magic signature so as to warn me when members of my previous cult show up. That’s why it glows sometimes.”
Dean considered this new information. “It’s not that great a spell though, is it? It only started glowing when they were already on you.” No way to run and hide.
“I won’t hide anymore. That’s not what I’m here for.” Castiel raised his chin defiantly.
“Then what are you here for?” Dean asked.
“To kill them all,” Castiel whispered.
Dean shivered. “Because they murdered your family?” He remembered the dream.
“Because it’s my destiny.”
“Okay.” Dean unconsciously backed away a step. At the same time, he knew Castiel wasn’t lying. It wasn’t just the dream, he felt it deep down. It was their destiny.
“Are you okay, Dean?” Castiel asked tentatively.
“No.” Dean was honest. He couldn’t explain their connection, couldn’t explain the sudden, strong urge to fight and protect, to help destroy their enemies. Dean didn’t have enemies. Okay, there had been some students he quarrelled with and he didn’t always get along with the headmaster or some of the other staff at St. Lawrence, but… enemies?
“I’m sorry.” Castiel wrapped his arms around himself. “We really need to be going.”
Dean nodded, not keen on having yet another encounter with screams and bloodshed.
***
They ventured on without talking much, Castiel doing his best to hide their tracks and plant false leads. But it wouldn’t matter, Dean knew. Not if they were able to use a tracking spell. A spell honed in on Castiel’s magical protection tattoos. A spell that was tracking a magical signature, a signature that was basically doing the very same in reverse. Dean stopped.
“We need glauberries,” he announced.
“What?” Castiel turned around.
“Glauberries.” Dean smiled happily. “I know what to do. Trust me.”
Castiel frowned but he followed Dean out of the forest and towards a meadow. Once he found what he’d been looking for, Dean’s smile widened even further and he led them to a small stream. He needed water for this to work.
After stripping a tree of some bark, Dean went to work. He got out a few other ingredients from his satchel and mixed it all together to form a grayish paste. “Do you trust me?” He looked up at Castiel, who’d been hovering close-by anxiously.
“Yes.” Castiel hesitated for only a split second.
“Take off your clothes. Anywhere that’s covered by the pattern,” Dean instructed.
Castiel looked at him, then at the paste, and then he shrugged and started to undress.
Dean swallowed when he realized that the pattern was spread all over Castiel’s body. He did his best not to stare too obviously, but he had a feeling he failed miserably considering the blush that was blooming all over Castiel’s newly exposed skin. He cleared his throat. “Uhm, I… I hope I made enough.”
“For?” Castiel asked, his hands awkwardly crossed in front of his undershorts; the only garment still left on him.
“They’re tracking your tattoo. This paste is partially meant to hide magical objects; in powdered form glauberry masks the taste of potions. Blended it should work on you.” Dean was confident. He was good at this, at understanding how ingredients worked together and how to modify them to fit his needs.
“Will it still work?” Castiel traced the pattern on his left arm.
“In theory, it should.” You only mask the potions because you want your victim to swallow them unnoticed, Dean recalled. If it took away their use, adding glauberries would be pointless. They were not an antidote.
“What if it won’t? I need to still be able to protect us.” Castiel sounded worried.
“It just enhances your senses, right? Your fighting skills are your own.” Dean tried to reassure him.
“But…”
“Do you trust me?” Dean asked again. When Castiel nodded, he added, “Then trust me.”
With another nod, Castiel visibly relaxed and Dean started to apply his paste. He made sure not to linger - this was a serious situation, he was basically applying a self-made counter-spell and if he failed… - but Castiel’s skin was soft and there was just so much of it.
By the time he was done, the paste was gone and they were both shivering. Dean cleared his throat a few times before he was able to speak again. “How do you feel? Any different?”
Castiel’s eyes widened and he bit his lip once again. But then he shook himself and sniffed the air. “Willow pollen, geeseflowers, low levels of ozone.” He smiled at Dean. “I think I’m good.”
Dean mentally patted himself on the back. “But how do we find out if it cloaks you?”
Castiel cocked his head. “I know where to go to make sure.”
***
Even though he’d never been to the monastery, Dean instantly recognized it from his dream. This was the place Castiel had been hidden in and trained after they met that night in the forest all those years ago. Now, they were hiding in the shrubbery about a mile away, watching cloaked figures hurry to and from the main entrance gate.
“They’re nervous,” Castiel observed. “Good.”
Dean looked at him. He couldn’t quite shake the images from that night. The woman with the red hair, Anna, her lifeless eyes…
“Wait here.” Castiel rushed off without a glance back and Dean watched him follow two of the figures stealthily. They were off track, heading towards the forest Dean and Castiel had come from and before they even realized they were being followed, Castiel was on them. He broke the neck of the first person and tumbled down the second before they could even utter a sound. Dean was equal parts impressed as he was horrified. When the cloaks came off, Dean saw that one of them had been a woman with long, dark hair.
Castiel soon returned with the two cloaks under his arm and newly disguised, they were able to the monastery undetected. Dean stayed as close to his companion as possible without looking suspicious, but with his satchel hidden underneath the cloak, he wasn’t quite so harmless himself. Maybe he could blind some of them enough so they’d kill each other instead of them. Dean shuddered when he realized just how useless he would actually be in a fight and was grateful when Castiel led them trough mostly empty corridors. Through the cloak, he could make out the faint yellow glow, shining through his coating. It must be stronger now that they were surrounded. He wondered if Castiel could feel it, if adrenaline might cloud his judgement. And why did they think this was a good idea to begin with?
“How could you lose him? Tell me, Zachariah. It’s not like he could cut off his skin.” A voice boomed at them from a room at the end of the corridor.
“Maybe he’s dead?” Someone else suggested.
“I’ll believe he’s dead when you bring me his head on a stick!” The first person yelled.
“Maybe he’s found him.”
There was silence, then someone whispered, “Him?”
“His partner. The prophecy, it’s all coming together. When he finds his other half, he’ll be forever lost to us and it will be the beginning of the end. Maybe forever lost means that we can’t track him anymore.”
“Don’t be absurd, Gadreel. The prophecy would not be quite so literal.”
“Says who?”
“Nghaaaah!” Someone screamed in anger and there was a loud crash of things being knocked over.
Dean’s gaze fell on Castiel and he realized Castiel was preparing for battle. His cloak was half off and he was carrying a sword. Dean didn’t even wonder where he picked it up, he just knew this was a terribly bad idea. “Don’t,” he whispered, placing his hand on Castiel’s arm.
“I have to,” Castiel reasoned. “Now’s my chance.”
Dean shook his head. “That’s suicide. You think the two of us can take on this whole monastery?” Even Castiel wasn’t that good. With more time, Dean could prepare bombs and come up with a few battle potions, but as it was, they wouldn’t make it out alive.
Castiel’s eyes flicked back and forth between the room and Dean. Finally he relented, his arm lowering the sword. “You’re right.” He glanced back one last time. “We’ll come back though, yes?”
“We’ll be back. Armed and ready.” And Dean didn’t just say it, he meant it. It hadn’t just been Castiel who’d lost his home to those monks. Even though he didn’t know the definite fate of his friends and mentors at St. Lawrence, he was convinced at least some of them were dead.
Castiel nodded once and then masked his appearance again. He led them down different corridors this time and Dean stopped cold when they came upon a painting that appeared to be of Castiel and a green-eyed boy with short cropped hair that was looking a whole lot like Dean himself. There was scripture underneath, but Dean didn’t recognize the language.
“That’s us,” he marvelled out loud. But Dean hadn’t spotted the two monks on their same path until just now. They also stopped and were looking over.
Castiel shouted out an angry curse in a language Dean suspected was the same as the scripture’s. Then he waved two fingers at the painting and spat on the floor. Apparently it was the right thing to do, because the other two monks laughed and repeated the gesture. Seizing the moment, Dean and Castiel quickly made their exit.
Once they were safely back in the forest, they shed the cloaks and sought shelter for the night.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Dean asked when they had settled down.
“It’s an old prophecy,” Castiel started. “A child will be born at midnight under a new moon and it will bring with it a stream of red.” He looked at Dean. “That’s me. My mother died in childbirth.”
Dean moved closer and wrapped a comforting arm around the other boy. “My mom died when I was very young.” It wasn’t the same, but…
Castiel smiled at him meekly. “Actually it’s all quite long and boring. To give you the short version, I am destined to wipe out the Angelics, a secluded but powerful cult. The sad thing is, if they hadn’t tried to kill me, if they hadn’t succeeded in killing those of their own who sought to protect me, who didn’t believe in the prophecy at first, then I’d have no reason to fulfil it.”
Dean pulled him in a little closer. “But that’s not all, is it?”
“The prophecy calls for a partner. A powerful wizard to aid the destroyer in his quest. That’s you, Dean.” Castiel turned to look him in the eye, to make sure he understood.
“But I’m not a powerful wizard.” Dean almost laughed. “I’m nobody.”
“Did you not cloak me with basically a handful of berries? You know how many monks tried what you just did instinctively when they found out the Angelics were able to track me?” Castiel reached up to cup Dean’s cheek. “You’re very powerful. I’m afraid before this is all over, you’ll find out just how far your limits go. And I am very sorry for dragging you into this, Dean. I really am.”
“But it’s not your fault,” Dean protested.
“If I hadn’t run into you, if I hadn’t accompanied you to your school…”
“Castiel, I saw my face on the painting. You didn’t create the prophecy.” Dean wrapped him up in a hug, only satisfied when Castiel returned the squeeze. “It’s not your fault.”
Castiel let out a deep breath and hugged him tighter before letting go. “So you’re with me?”
“Of course.” Dean took his hand and interlaced their fingers. “Where do we start?”
“We pick them up little by little, hunt them down like they have hunted me. And once their numbers have dwindled, we go back and we destroy the inner circle.” Castiel almost seemed happy at the prospect. “Revenge,” he whispered reverently.
“And then?” Dean asked.
“And then we’ll make our own destiny.” Castiel smiled at him.
Dean looked out into the dark forest, huddling close to his companion and seeking his warmth while considering all that had transpired in the past few days. Prophecies, destiny; him a great wizard. It all still seemed alien to him. But he couldn’t deny the pull he felt towards Castiel, the strong urge to help and protect him. It came with the knowledge that Castiel would do the same for him. They were each other’s refuge and together, they would be unstoppable.
If there was one thing Dean was still sure of, this was it. They’d get through this, just like Castiel had said. And in the end, they would find their own way, make their own destiny. Together.
Author: Vera
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, AU (fantasy)
Rating: R for graphic violence
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Word Count: 5.900
Warnings: graphic violence (of the martial arts kind)
Summary: Dean’s world is turned upside down when he meets the mysterious Castiel. Soon they’re both on the run from monks who seek to keep them from fulfilling an ancient prophecy by all means necessary.
Author’s Note: Written for spn_reversebang and based on felidraxian’s art prompt located here.
=> AO3 <=
“Dean!” His father called out for him. “Goddamn that boy, always running off.”
Meanwhile, Dean ventured deeper into the forest. Something was calling out to him, and Dean never ignored an urge. It’s gotten him in trouble many a times. He heard a rustling and hid behind a tree.
“Come on,” a hushed voice whispered. “I heard noises. There are people on the pathway. We need to get him to safety before anyone can see him.”
Curious as he was, Dean peaked out from behind his tree and spotted two travellers, a large man and a woman with red hair carrying a bundle on her back. While Dean was looking, the bundle moved and a head was peeking out from beneath the clothes. Eyes as intensely blue as Dean had never seen before caught his, widened, and stared frightened back. Dean put his finger to his lips and tried to hush him.
The head popped free further and Dean could see that the boy couldn’t be much younger than he was, yet he was being carried around in a basket strapped to the woman’s back. Dean frowned, wondering if the kid was in trouble, if he should call out to his father for help, but something made him pause.
“Maybe we should return, Uriel. Surely they wouldn’t harm the boy…” The woman hesitated, looking back the way they’d come from.
“Don’t be naïve, Anna. You read the prophecy. What do you think they’ll do? Ignore it and allow him to grow up and fulfil his destiny? They think he’s their undoing. You know how paranoid our brothers and sisters are.” The man paused as well, drawing a sword from underneath his cloak. “Hush.”
“Dean, I swear to God. We’re leaving without you if you don’t show your face right this second!” The yell boomed from the distance and Dean cringed. His father’s voice had taken on a dangerous edge and he knew what that meant. Unconsciously, he touched his cheek, as if he could already feel the heat from the bruise soon to be forming there.
With a last look at the boy, Dean slinked back before his father came looking for him. If not for his sake, he didn’t want him to stumble upon the strangers and find out what would happen.
***
Years later, Dean still hadn’t forgotten about the boy. The frightened blue eyes would haunt him at night and he wondered futilely what had happened to him, if he’d ever arrived at his destination; if he was safe. But there was no way for Dean to find out.
“Dean Winchester. I know you’re in here. Have you forgotten about kitchen duty yet again?” The school’s cook, Ellen Harvelle, was looking for him in the library.
“Forgotten isn’t the right word if you consciously ignore it,” Dean replied sulkily, closing the Master’s Book on Spells and Potions and coming out from behind his corner deep behind the large book shelves of the library.
“And you’re not even supposed to be in here, young man,” Ellen was scolding him. “Whatever am I going to do with you?” She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and led him out of the library.
Dean knew he wasn’t allowed in the sacred halls of the library, seeing how he wasn’t even a student here. He was earning his keep as a member of the staff instead. But nobody was ever in there voluntarily and most of the adults liked him well enough to pretend not to know anything of his illegal studies. Grandmaster Bobby even allowed his presence in the laboratories every now and then, claiming he was happy to for once have a student eager to learn.
“Grant me an allowance and get me enrolled here?” Dean suggested in answer to her question.
“Oh honey,” Ellen ruffled his hair. “I would, if I could. You know that.”
Dean cringed away from her touch, mock-offended at her messing up his hair, but secretly revelling in the touch. All in all, it really wasn’t too bad here. It certainly beat living on the road with his father, especially since Sammy was gone.
“How’s Jo doing?” Dean asked. Ellen’s daughter was away at a cheaper school than the private institution they were working at. Nevertheless it was something. And Ellen was proud, Dean knew as much.
“Well,” she smiled. “They say she shows real promise in the archery department.”
Dean frowned, trying to picture the little girl in pigtails he remembered holding a bow. “That’s great. So she’s striving to become a huntress?”
“We don’t know yet,” Ellen shrugged. “What about your brother? How’s Sam doing?”
“Best in class, as always,” Dean reported. Their father had chosen to send Sam to school, which was alright with Dean. A portion of his own salary was paying for it, after all. Sam had always been the smart one, calm, collected and good, while Dean had been the troublemaker. Yet Sam seemed to lack actual talent in magic, which was why he was to become a scholar rather than someone who practises himself.
“That’s great,” Ellen replied while shoving him in the kitchen. “And to make sure he stays at school…” She thrust a wet dishrag at him. When Dean made a face, she chuckled and patted his cheek. “He’s going to thank you one day, Dean. Just you wait.”
“Yeah, he better,” Dean grumbled and started on the dirty pots and pans. Truth was, he really didn’t mind and he required no thanks from his brother. But sometimes he just wished he’d get a little support himself.
***
The next day, Dean was outside in the surrounding forest, looking for primrose mushrooms for Grandmaster Bobby. They only grew in the darkest parts and only during the three days surrounding the full moon. He’d spent two hours already, but so far no luck. At least he got to fill up his own secret stash with a few herbs and plants he was experimenting with.
Eventually it was getting late and the woods grew a little too dense even for his comfort. And he could swear he kept hearing a faint whimper. Dean reached into his satchel and got out a cotton cloth, some dried herbs and wrapped it all around a large branch of wood he’d found lying at his feet. When he was done, he got some crushed lemonflower blossoms and carefully sprinkled them on top of the cloth. It caught fire instantly and lit up in a bright yellow light which dimmed seconds after, leaving him surrounded with a pleasant, almost white glow.
“Wow,” a voice exclaimed not too far away, making Dean jump. “How’d you do that?”
Dean turned towards the sound and was shocked into momentary silence when his eyes met the blue from his dreams. The boy, now older, but definitely the same boy, must have realized his mistake in speaking up, because his hand was clasped over his mouth and he huddled in on himself protectively. “Lemonflower,” Dean replied eventually.
The other boy pulled his hand away. “I know you.”
“You do,” Dean confirmed. Even if it made no sense. He’d only seen him once, but there was such a strong feeling of recollection, of familiarity washing over him. “I’m Dean.”
“I know,” the boy replied, hand coming back up to cover his mouth. “I mean…” He trailed off unhappily. “Castiel.”
”Castiel what?” Dean frowned.
“My name. They call me Castiel,” the boy, Castiel, explained.
Dean stared. Was this real? “What are you doing here, Castiel?”
“What are you doing here?” he parroted back.
“Looking for primrose mushrooms,” Dean replied.
“Oh.” Castiel unfurled a little. “May I help you?”
“Okay?” When Castiel got up, his cloak rode up and Dean caught a glimpse of a design that seemed to be painted onto Castiel’s arms. He considered asking about it, but then thought better of it.
“What’s a primped mushroom look like?” Castiel asked.
“Primrose,” Dean corrected with a smile. “And you don’t know?” Castiel shook his head. “It’s small.” Dean pointed with his fingers. “And brown. But it glows a faint purple when the moonlight catches it.”
“Cool!” Castiel exclaimed excitedly. They’d only taken a few more steps deeper into the woods, when Castiel bend down to pick something up. “Like this?”
Sure enough, he’d found what Dean had been looking for. Unsuccessfully. For over two hours. Dean squinted at the ground, but all he could see was a thick coat of wet leaves. “Uhm, yes.”
Castiel let out a happy noise and bent back downwards, brushing the leaves aside, and sure enough, now Dean saw them as well: a whole bed full of hidden gems. They both knelt down to pick them and Dean got out a handkerchief to collect them in.
“I have to compliment your eyesight, I guess.” Dean admitted. And the shrooms weren’t even glowing, as deep down as they were right now.
“Glad to be of service,” Castiel held out his handful proudly.
Dean accepted them and was jolted with a burst of electricity as their fingers touched. “What the hell?”
“Oh no. Oh, they must be close.” Castiel snatched his hand back, but not before Dean could see the pattern on his wrist glow up. “Douse your flame!” Castiel begged, but it was already too late.
Four hooded figures emerged from behind the trees and closed in on them. “There he is. Careful, he’s dangerous.”
And for a ridiculous few seconds, Dean thought they must be talking about him, because surely Castiel, who’d hidden and cowered in the dark with his round blue eyes, was as harmless as they came. But when he turned to tell the other boy to hide behind him while reaching for his satchel to get out some red haze powder, Castiel had already shed his cloak.
Underneath, Castiel was wearing a sleeveless top and tight pants onto which several small knives were strapped to. The pattern on his skin, which covered his whole arms and disappeared well under the top, glowed brighter, illuminating his face in an eerie light glow. Before Dean could fully admire him, Castiel had already reached for the first knife and thrown it, depositing it straight between the eyes of hooded figure number one.
The man fell like a tree and Dean could only stare in fascination while the other three attacked Castiel at once. But Castiel kicked out and threw expert punches, keeping the upper hand during the brief fight. He was just about to deliver a final kick to the last guy standing, when suddenly a fifth man emerged from behind.
Dean didn’t think, he just reached for his powder and blew, blinding the man before his sword could harm Castiel. Castiel turned around, wide eyes landing on the man, before he plucked another knife from his arsenal and slid the man’s throat, delivering a swift kick that had him fly several feet away from them before he could even get hid by the spray of blood.
Wiping his knife on the back of his pants before tucking it back into the sheath, Castiel’s gaze finally landed on Dean. “Dean…” He started and then stopped, taking him in from bottom to top.
Dean realized he was shaking and quickly stood up straighter, clenching his teeth and forcing himself to calm down. Castiel wasn’t going to hurt him. If he wanted to, Dean would already be dead. Obviously.
“Thank you,” Castiel held out his hand. “For the assistance.”
Still trembling, Dean shook it. Castiel’s hold was firm and strong and somehow calmed Dean right back down. “Care to explain?” Dean asked.
“Explain what?” Castiel asked while reaching down for his cloak and fastening it around himself again.
“What the hell just happened?”
”Oh.” Castiel shrugged. “Four men came from North and attacked us. I started by throwing a knife…”
“No!” Dean interrupted. “I know what just happened.”
“Then why are you asking me, Dean?” Castiel looked at him with such innocence, that Dean could just gape at him.
He picked up the mushrooms and the torch he’d dropped, gingerly avoiding touching the bodies strewn around them. Or looking at them. Or acknowledging they even existed. “You coming?” Dean asked and without looking over his shoulder, fled the scene as fast as he could without running. He knew Castiel would follow him.
Once they’d reached a cleared footpath, Dean stopped. “Where are you going?” He asked Castiel.
“Where are you going?”
Somehow, Dean had already known this would be Castiel’s answer. “I’m going back to St. Lawrence. It’s a school,” Dean explained.
“What are you studying?” They fell into step side by side, Castiel just tagging along.
Dean hesitated, tempted to lie. But he didn’t want to lie to Castiel. “I’m not. I work there.”
“Okay,” Castiel nodded.
Dean looked at him. Now that he’d caught a glimpse of the trained body hidden beneath the cloak, he wondered if maybe Castiel was actually even older than him. It shouldn’t be important; Dean should worry about his safety, but… This was the boy from his dreams now in the firm body of a young man. It was disturbing him on so many levels. “Where’d you learn to fight like this?” Dean asked, not really expecting an answer.
“In the monastery.”
That certainly explained a few things, Dean thought. “So, are you heading back there? Is it far away?” He’d never seen any monks this side of the woods, but he knew they tended to stay hidden and rarely left their own lands.
“I’m never going back,” Castiel stated matter-of-factly.
“Did they…” Dean hesitated, thinking of the pattern on Castiel’s skin. “Were you hurt?”
“No.” Castiel pulled his cloak tighter.
“So you just grew sick of the solitary life?” Dean prodded.
“No.” Castiel glanced away. Before Dean could come up with another suggestion, Castiel continued. “They were slaughtered for hiding me. I made it out but… They’re all dead.”
Dean’s eyes widened and he mentally slapped himself. Castiel’s voice remained steady, but Dean could tell it affected him a great deal. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Castiel stopped moving. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t drag you into this. I’m only putting you in danger. Please forgive me, Dean.”
“Oh please,” Dean protested. “I can protect myself. Without me that fifth guy earlier would have totally sliced you open.” And did he just say that? Oh shit. That actually could have happened! He felt like being doused by a bucket of ice and the cold water was now slowly trickling down his back. Castiel could have died. They both could have died just moments ago.
“True,” Castiel smiled a little, apparently not as affected as Dean was by the realisation. “And I am ever so grateful for you assistance, but now I must go.” He didn’t move though.
“Where are you going to go?” Dean asked, a tiny part of him thinking that maybe it was for the best if he’d just disappear again. But there was also a strong urge to keep Castiel close, to never lose him now that they’d finally found each other again.
“I’m…” Castiel started but then trailed off and bit his lip.
“Don’t even try and lie to me,” Dean shook his head. “I know ‘lost’ when I see it.” After all, he’d seen that look on his own face in the mirror many times before. And somehow he’d always found strength again. Mostly in the knowledge that eventually he’d meet his brother again, but sometimes there had been blue eyes staring back at him, and he knew he had to keep going; that there was something important waiting for him. “You’re coming to the institute with me.”
“Okay.” Castiel looked at him, his big round eyes full of trust again, and Dean wondered what the hell he was getting himself into here. The intense sense of connection scared him a little.
***
Dean had gotten pretty good at sneaking in and out of St. Lawrence’s and managed to smuggle Castiel into his room without anyone seeing him. He had to go back to the kitchens and deliver the shrooms to Grandmaster Bobby, but he was confident nobody would enter his chambers while he was gone.
Castiel had thanked him once again and eyed the bed with exhaustion written all over his face. And sure enough, when Dean returned hours later, Castiel was curled up close to the wall, sleeping soundly. He’d made himself so small that more than half of Dean’s bed was invitingly empty.
It wasn’t like Dean had that much of a choice anyway, he reasoned. His room was small and if he tried to sleep on the cold floor, he was sure to bang against his spare table and there was no way he was sleeping in his chair. So Dean quickly changed into more comfortable pants and a shirt before joining Castiel on the bed.
At first he kept his distance, but the sleepier he got, the more he sprawled and before he knew it, he was rolling over and spooning Castiel right as he fell into a deep slumber. His hand landed on Castiel’s bare arm and if Dean had still been conscious, he might have shied away from the blue glow his touch elicited.
”Castiel,” a red headed woman lying on the floor in an unnaturally crumbled state croaked. “I’m sorry I failed you.”
“Anna, no,” Castiel’s voice was trembling with unshed tears. He was kneeling over her body, holding her hand. Dean recognized the woman as the one he’d seen all these years ago in the forest, carrying Castiel on her back.
“Find him,” she instructed. “Find your partner and you’ll be unstoppable.” She reached out a bloody hand and touched his cheek. “I was wrong. It’s your destiny. Fulfil it. Destroy them all.”
“But Anna…” Castiel tried, but her hand slipped from his cheek, her eyes staring at a point far away from him before their light dimmed. “Anna,” he whispered, closing her eyelids and pressing a last kiss to her temple. “You will be avenged.”
Castiel picked up the sword she’d dropped and let out a menacing roar before thrusting himself into the battle raging on outside. The rest of the dream was a blur of movement and silhouettes, swords and daggers, and the color red.
Dean woke with his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He realized he was wrapped around Castiel and meant to disentangle himself, but even though he tried to suppress it, Castiel was quietly weeping, his whole body shivering. Dean wrapped his arms tighter around his slim form wordlessly and held on until the sobs grew louder but the shivering subsided. Eventually Castiel quietened down and Dean fell back asleep.
***
When he woke up again the next morning, his first thought was that he was still sleeping and trapped in another nightmare. The alarm bells were sounding - or at least that’s what he thought it was. Dean had never heard the shrill noise before. And there was a lot of running and screaming outside.
There was movement next to him as Castiel frantically tried to climb out of bed but got tangled in the sheets - and in Dean. It would all be more amusing if it wasn’t for his panicked look.
“Oh no,” Castiel said. “I’m so sorry, Dean.” And with that he leaped over Dean and out of bed, reaching for his arsenal of knives and daggers and reapplying them to his clothes. “We have to go,” he informed Dean.
Dean was shaken out of his stupor by a loud scream very near his room. He jumped up and quickly grabbed his duffel. He still had one fully packed right next to his bed. Old habits die hard and it had always given him comfort to know he could leave at a moment’s notice if need be. He strapped on his satchel of herbs and reached for his coat just as Castiel opened the window.
“Wait,” Dean looked at the door. “What about…”
“I’m sorry.” Castiel avoided his gaze.
“You’re sorry about what?” Dean prodded, but he wasn’t opening the door.
“Dean…” He gave him a sorrowful look. “I’m sorry.”
And, remembering the dream, Dean understood. He swallowed and nodded once, following Castiel as he jumped out of the window. Dean could only hope that his teachers would fare better than the monks. After all, they were skilled Grandmasters.
But deep down he knew he’d never see any of them ever again.
***
Following the secret path they had come in from, they managed to flee undetected. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, Dean ran for at least an hour straight before he finally crashed near a stream. Castiel hadn’t even really broken into a sweat yet, but Dean almost fell in when he bent down to drink some of the water. He sat down with his back against a rock and took a few deep breaths.
Castiel was hovering close uncomfortably. “Dean, we need to get going. They’ll know I’m gone soon enough and they’ll follow.”
“But they don’t know which direction to go,” Dean reasoned, but he knew it was wishful thinking.
“They’re able to track my energy signature.” Castiel looked devastated.
“Your energy signature? How is that even possible?” Dean had heard of tracking spells, but they always required some part of the person you meant to track and they never lasted for very long.
“It’s complicated,” Castiel explained, touching the pattern on his arm.
Dean cocked his head. He didn’t know much about tracking, but hadn’t he just read up on cloaking spells? “Tell me more.”
“It’s complicated.” Castiel shrugged. “Come on, we need to get going.”
“I’m serious.” Dean was offended. “I may be able to cloak you if I know what exactly it is I’m hiding here.”
Castiel bit his lip. After another moment of hesitation, he let out a deep sigh. “It’s a magic spell meant to protect me. It enhances my senses, mostly. And it’s tuned to a specific kind of magic signature so as to warn me when members of my previous cult show up. That’s why it glows sometimes.”
Dean considered this new information. “It’s not that great a spell though, is it? It only started glowing when they were already on you.” No way to run and hide.
“I won’t hide anymore. That’s not what I’m here for.” Castiel raised his chin defiantly.
“Then what are you here for?” Dean asked.
“To kill them all,” Castiel whispered.
Dean shivered. “Because they murdered your family?” He remembered the dream.
“Because it’s my destiny.”
“Okay.” Dean unconsciously backed away a step. At the same time, he knew Castiel wasn’t lying. It wasn’t just the dream, he felt it deep down. It was their destiny.
“Are you okay, Dean?” Castiel asked tentatively.
“No.” Dean was honest. He couldn’t explain their connection, couldn’t explain the sudden, strong urge to fight and protect, to help destroy their enemies. Dean didn’t have enemies. Okay, there had been some students he quarrelled with and he didn’t always get along with the headmaster or some of the other staff at St. Lawrence, but… enemies?
“I’m sorry.” Castiel wrapped his arms around himself. “We really need to be going.”
Dean nodded, not keen on having yet another encounter with screams and bloodshed.
***
They ventured on without talking much, Castiel doing his best to hide their tracks and plant false leads. But it wouldn’t matter, Dean knew. Not if they were able to use a tracking spell. A spell honed in on Castiel’s magical protection tattoos. A spell that was tracking a magical signature, a signature that was basically doing the very same in reverse. Dean stopped.
“We need glauberries,” he announced.
“What?” Castiel turned around.
“Glauberries.” Dean smiled happily. “I know what to do. Trust me.”
Castiel frowned but he followed Dean out of the forest and towards a meadow. Once he found what he’d been looking for, Dean’s smile widened even further and he led them to a small stream. He needed water for this to work.
After stripping a tree of some bark, Dean went to work. He got out a few other ingredients from his satchel and mixed it all together to form a grayish paste. “Do you trust me?” He looked up at Castiel, who’d been hovering close-by anxiously.
“Yes.” Castiel hesitated for only a split second.
“Take off your clothes. Anywhere that’s covered by the pattern,” Dean instructed.
Castiel looked at him, then at the paste, and then he shrugged and started to undress.
Dean swallowed when he realized that the pattern was spread all over Castiel’s body. He did his best not to stare too obviously, but he had a feeling he failed miserably considering the blush that was blooming all over Castiel’s newly exposed skin. He cleared his throat. “Uhm, I… I hope I made enough.”
“For?” Castiel asked, his hands awkwardly crossed in front of his undershorts; the only garment still left on him.
“They’re tracking your tattoo. This paste is partially meant to hide magical objects; in powdered form glauberry masks the taste of potions. Blended it should work on you.” Dean was confident. He was good at this, at understanding how ingredients worked together and how to modify them to fit his needs.
“Will it still work?” Castiel traced the pattern on his left arm.
“In theory, it should.” You only mask the potions because you want your victim to swallow them unnoticed, Dean recalled. If it took away their use, adding glauberries would be pointless. They were not an antidote.
“What if it won’t? I need to still be able to protect us.” Castiel sounded worried.
“It just enhances your senses, right? Your fighting skills are your own.” Dean tried to reassure him.
“But…”
“Do you trust me?” Dean asked again. When Castiel nodded, he added, “Then trust me.”
With another nod, Castiel visibly relaxed and Dean started to apply his paste. He made sure not to linger - this was a serious situation, he was basically applying a self-made counter-spell and if he failed… - but Castiel’s skin was soft and there was just so much of it.
By the time he was done, the paste was gone and they were both shivering. Dean cleared his throat a few times before he was able to speak again. “How do you feel? Any different?”
Castiel’s eyes widened and he bit his lip once again. But then he shook himself and sniffed the air. “Willow pollen, geeseflowers, low levels of ozone.” He smiled at Dean. “I think I’m good.”
Dean mentally patted himself on the back. “But how do we find out if it cloaks you?”
Castiel cocked his head. “I know where to go to make sure.”
***
Even though he’d never been to the monastery, Dean instantly recognized it from his dream. This was the place Castiel had been hidden in and trained after they met that night in the forest all those years ago. Now, they were hiding in the shrubbery about a mile away, watching cloaked figures hurry to and from the main entrance gate.
“They’re nervous,” Castiel observed. “Good.”
Dean looked at him. He couldn’t quite shake the images from that night. The woman with the red hair, Anna, her lifeless eyes…
“Wait here.” Castiel rushed off without a glance back and Dean watched him follow two of the figures stealthily. They were off track, heading towards the forest Dean and Castiel had come from and before they even realized they were being followed, Castiel was on them. He broke the neck of the first person and tumbled down the second before they could even utter a sound. Dean was equal parts impressed as he was horrified. When the cloaks came off, Dean saw that one of them had been a woman with long, dark hair.
Castiel soon returned with the two cloaks under his arm and newly disguised, they were able to the monastery undetected. Dean stayed as close to his companion as possible without looking suspicious, but with his satchel hidden underneath the cloak, he wasn’t quite so harmless himself. Maybe he could blind some of them enough so they’d kill each other instead of them. Dean shuddered when he realized just how useless he would actually be in a fight and was grateful when Castiel led them trough mostly empty corridors. Through the cloak, he could make out the faint yellow glow, shining through his coating. It must be stronger now that they were surrounded. He wondered if Castiel could feel it, if adrenaline might cloud his judgement. And why did they think this was a good idea to begin with?
“How could you lose him? Tell me, Zachariah. It’s not like he could cut off his skin.” A voice boomed at them from a room at the end of the corridor.
“Maybe he’s dead?” Someone else suggested.
“I’ll believe he’s dead when you bring me his head on a stick!” The first person yelled.
“Maybe he’s found him.”
There was silence, then someone whispered, “Him?”
“His partner. The prophecy, it’s all coming together. When he finds his other half, he’ll be forever lost to us and it will be the beginning of the end. Maybe forever lost means that we can’t track him anymore.”
“Don’t be absurd, Gadreel. The prophecy would not be quite so literal.”
“Says who?”
“Nghaaaah!” Someone screamed in anger and there was a loud crash of things being knocked over.
Dean’s gaze fell on Castiel and he realized Castiel was preparing for battle. His cloak was half off and he was carrying a sword. Dean didn’t even wonder where he picked it up, he just knew this was a terribly bad idea. “Don’t,” he whispered, placing his hand on Castiel’s arm.
“I have to,” Castiel reasoned. “Now’s my chance.”
Dean shook his head. “That’s suicide. You think the two of us can take on this whole monastery?” Even Castiel wasn’t that good. With more time, Dean could prepare bombs and come up with a few battle potions, but as it was, they wouldn’t make it out alive.
Castiel’s eyes flicked back and forth between the room and Dean. Finally he relented, his arm lowering the sword. “You’re right.” He glanced back one last time. “We’ll come back though, yes?”
“We’ll be back. Armed and ready.” And Dean didn’t just say it, he meant it. It hadn’t just been Castiel who’d lost his home to those monks. Even though he didn’t know the definite fate of his friends and mentors at St. Lawrence, he was convinced at least some of them were dead.
Castiel nodded once and then masked his appearance again. He led them down different corridors this time and Dean stopped cold when they came upon a painting that appeared to be of Castiel and a green-eyed boy with short cropped hair that was looking a whole lot like Dean himself. There was scripture underneath, but Dean didn’t recognize the language.
“That’s us,” he marvelled out loud. But Dean hadn’t spotted the two monks on their same path until just now. They also stopped and were looking over.
Castiel shouted out an angry curse in a language Dean suspected was the same as the scripture’s. Then he waved two fingers at the painting and spat on the floor. Apparently it was the right thing to do, because the other two monks laughed and repeated the gesture. Seizing the moment, Dean and Castiel quickly made their exit.
Once they were safely back in the forest, they shed the cloaks and sought shelter for the night.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Dean asked when they had settled down.
“It’s an old prophecy,” Castiel started. “A child will be born at midnight under a new moon and it will bring with it a stream of red.” He looked at Dean. “That’s me. My mother died in childbirth.”
Dean moved closer and wrapped a comforting arm around the other boy. “My mom died when I was very young.” It wasn’t the same, but…
Castiel smiled at him meekly. “Actually it’s all quite long and boring. To give you the short version, I am destined to wipe out the Angelics, a secluded but powerful cult. The sad thing is, if they hadn’t tried to kill me, if they hadn’t succeeded in killing those of their own who sought to protect me, who didn’t believe in the prophecy at first, then I’d have no reason to fulfil it.”
Dean pulled him in a little closer. “But that’s not all, is it?”
“The prophecy calls for a partner. A powerful wizard to aid the destroyer in his quest. That’s you, Dean.” Castiel turned to look him in the eye, to make sure he understood.
“But I’m not a powerful wizard.” Dean almost laughed. “I’m nobody.”
“Did you not cloak me with basically a handful of berries? You know how many monks tried what you just did instinctively when they found out the Angelics were able to track me?” Castiel reached up to cup Dean’s cheek. “You’re very powerful. I’m afraid before this is all over, you’ll find out just how far your limits go. And I am very sorry for dragging you into this, Dean. I really am.”
“But it’s not your fault,” Dean protested.
“If I hadn’t run into you, if I hadn’t accompanied you to your school…”
“Castiel, I saw my face on the painting. You didn’t create the prophecy.” Dean wrapped him up in a hug, only satisfied when Castiel returned the squeeze. “It’s not your fault.”
Castiel let out a deep breath and hugged him tighter before letting go. “So you’re with me?”
“Of course.” Dean took his hand and interlaced their fingers. “Where do we start?”
“We pick them up little by little, hunt them down like they have hunted me. And once their numbers have dwindled, we go back and we destroy the inner circle.” Castiel almost seemed happy at the prospect. “Revenge,” he whispered reverently.
“And then?” Dean asked.
“And then we’ll make our own destiny.” Castiel smiled at him.
Dean looked out into the dark forest, huddling close to his companion and seeking his warmth while considering all that had transpired in the past few days. Prophecies, destiny; him a great wizard. It all still seemed alien to him. But he couldn’t deny the pull he felt towards Castiel, the strong urge to help and protect him. It came with the knowledge that Castiel would do the same for him. They were each other’s refuge and together, they would be unstoppable.
If there was one thing Dean was still sure of, this was it. They’d get through this, just like Castiel had said. And in the end, they would find their own way, make their own destiny. Together.