[D/C Big Bang] Stories From The Far Side Of Town - Part Four

[slowsunrise]

The following morning Dean wakes up to Castiel's eyes watching him. Dean smiles a little as Castiel reaches out towards him, stroking along his stubbly jawline. Dean takes his hand in his and squeezes before he drags Castiel's hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. He is awarded with a soft sigh from Castiel.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning to you too”, Dean says and moves closer to Castiel, breathing in his warm scent. No matter what, he can't say that he didn't miss this: just lazing around in bed with Castiel not doing anything at all really. Castiel too seems to enjoy it as he draws his fingers up and down Dean's back. For a second, Dean thinks of closing his eyes and falling asleep again, just to keep this dream going for just a little longer but then he realizes that it is all real. The days when they pretend the other doesn't exist are over now and this is their happy ending, finally.

“Not gonna lie to you, Cas. I've missed you. Quite a lot actually.”

“I have missed you too, Dean.” Castiel smiles at him and pulls him closer, flushed against his body. “But what do you say if we get dressed and then serve ourselves some breakfast. You must be hungry.”

To be honest, Dean would rather spend more time with Castiel in the bed, but he knows that his stomach would complain. He really could use a big meal of food. There wasn't really any time when Dean Winchester wasn't hungry. And so he tangles free from Castiel's arms and legs and sits up. He rubs away the last sleep from his eyes before he tries to locate his clothes spread all around the bed during last night.

“Hey”, he says as he picks up his shirt from the floor. “I really can't thank you enough for saving Gabriel. He means a lot to my brother... and me.”

“I am just happy I could help. It is not that often that I can do something for someone else. The last time was a long, long time ago.”

Dean pulls his head out of his shirt collar, looking at Castiel while shaking his head. Castiel doesn't say anything but just flattens Dean's hair from the static electricity the shirt created. Dean takes his hand and squeezes it.

“You have done a lot of things for me and you know it. But, I think it's your time to tell a story. What happened 'a long, long time ago'?”

Castiel doesn't say anything for a while as he tries to locate his pyjama pants that had somehow made their way halfway under the carpet. Once he put them and his pyjama shirt back on, he sits down in his bed again. His eyes are fastened on something in the distance, almost like he’s dreaming. Dean drags his pants back on and takes a seat next to Castiel. His hand starts trailing Castiel's spine up and down, closing his eyes and waiting for the story to begin. He has told so many stories to Castiel before and for once it feels like nice to be on the receiving end.

“It was a small thing and I am not sure if it's worth mentioning”.

Castiel begins to doubt himself but Dean coos to him to tell the story, if only to get to hear Castiel's voice again.

“It must have been about fifteen years ago now. I was sick as usual and I was to receive some new medicine. I was escorted to the royal pharmacy, the one behind the stables. It was almost night and dark outside but I needed the medicine quickly because my condition was getting worse. When I got there, there was some kind of tumult going on. I could hear screaming and a young boy that couldn't be much older than myself. He needed some medicine to cure his brother but he was too poor to afford it. Unfortunately, he had taken to stealing the medicine and had then gotten himself caught. The pharmacist was willing to let this young boy's brother die, but I convinced them to let him run away with the medicine, just this once.”

Dean doesn't say anything as he listens to Castiel's story. He notices that his mouth is wide agape but he can't make himself close it. He blinks several times, trying to make sense of what he just heard. It was Castiel, Cas, his Cas who saved him and Sam all those years ago. It's a bit hard to take in all the emotions that bubble up inside of him. Castiel is the unknown hero from his childhood and he is just sitting here next to Dean, not understanding just how important he is to Dean.

“I know it must be a silly story to you, but I would feel better if you at least closed your mouth, Dean.”

Castiel smiles a bit awkwardly as he looks at Dean. Dean himself actually closes his mouth before he throws himself over Castiel in a bone-crushing hug. He buries his nose in Castiel's neck and breaths in his scent. He can feel tears coming along, but he does his best to keep them away. This is a happy moment and there is absolutely no need to cry.

“Dean?”

Cas sounds worried, as if it was something he said. Technically it was but Dean just needs a moment. He takes a deep breath and dries his nose on his sleeve before it starts running. Swallowing down, Dean mimics Castiel's smile before he sits back up and takes Castiel's hand in his own. His thumb strokes the back of Castiel's hand, the calloused print giving it an odd feeling against Castiel's much softer skin.

“Cas”, he mumbles, still trying to find his voice's old strength. Castiel's eyebrows are knitted together and he shakes his head slowly, trying to understand what Dean is up to. “Cas, that was me.”

“What?”

“Cas, it was me! That boy in the pharmacy all those years ago. It was me. Sam was sick and I needed medicine but damn, I didn't have any money. It was me, Cas, and it was you, it was you who saved me, us that day.”

He is a rambling mess but he thinks that he gets his message across to Castiel. He keeps his tears at bay but his smile is uncontrollably wide and he just wants Castiel to understand just how important he is to Dean, not just now, but during his whole life really.

“It was you?” Those three words are all Castiel can say as he looks wide-eyed at Dean. Dean, who has run out of words, just nods with his big smile. “That boy was you?”

They are hugging again and Castiel isn't as successful as Dean when it comes to holding back his tears. They stain the shoulder of Dean's shirt, but he couldn't care less. He has a tight grip on the back of Castiel's pyjama jacket and he is almost scared he will tear a hole in the clothing. He never wants to let Castiel go. He knows this now. If he had been unsure before, it was all clear now. He was never going to leave Castiel ever again.

Knowing this, he knew that there were some things he needed to tell Castiel. Some things had already been covered by their fight back in Stonemill but some crucial matters remained unsaid. Still in the hug, Dean draws small circles on Castiel's back and slowly they break away. Castiel's eyes are still teary, but his smile is as great as ever.

“Cas, there is something I need to tell you.”

Castiel dries away his tears with a smile and nods at Dean's request, but suddenly the words don't come like Dean wants them to. He has to tell Castiel eventually and the sooner the better. This is the moment.

“Cas, I...” But what is he supposed to say? 'Cas, I have not been completely honest with you'? ‘Cas, I have been lying through my ass since the very first day we met.?’ 'Cas, I am a thief and a scum bag, but don't worry; I haven't stolen much from you so if we could just pretend this never happen and maybe cuddle some more that would be nice?'

He doesn't get a chance to say any of those things before the door is slammed open, bouncing on its hinges against the wall. Dean can't even open his mouth in protest before several armed men dressed in uniforms rush in, all of them aiming towards Dean. He is pulled out of the bed by strong arms and it was lucky he got dressed before, or he would currently be on display for what seemed to be some very annoyed guards.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

Dean tries to tear himself away from the strong arms holding him down, but they are too many and too strong. He can already feel the bruises blooming up on his arms from the pressure of the firm grips.

“Get the fuck off me, you dicks!” he shouts at the guards, but he's not expecting them to do so. It just felt a little better to scream at the bastards. “Cas!”

Castiel is sitting on the bed, eyes wide in panic. The hands on Dean almost drag him all the way to the door before he collects himself enough to straighten his back and shout to the guards to stop. He is using a voice Dean has never heard before and it would have been scary if he hadn't been threatened to be pulled away to god knows where by the royal guard. Castiel's voice is commanding and stern, everything a ruler's voice should be.

“What do you think you are doing? Release this man immediately because he is innocent of crime. He has done nothing wrong and he has every right to be here. Those are my own orders.”

The guards hesitate and stop moving, but they still hold the same firm grip around Dean's arms. Dean didn't know if they even gripped tighter or if it was just his bruises, which already started to hurt.

One of the men takes a step forward, one step closer to Castiel. He has a foul smirk plastered on his face and when the guard approaches Castiel, Dean gets an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. He tries once again to tear himself away from his captors but to no avail. It isn't until the man speaks that Dean realizes exactly how screwed he is and that feels like taking a blow straight into solar plexus.

“My highness, this man is far from innocent”, the guard says, that leering smirk getting wider by the second.

“No”, Dean says before he can stop himself. “Don't.”

But the guard ignores him like Dean isn't even in the room. All his attention is focused on Castiel, poor Castiel who doesn't understand what's going on. If the guards just had waited ten, or even just two minutes before storming in, Dean would have been able to tell Castiel what the guard is about to spill himself. Sure, Castiel wouldn't like it anyway because well, Dean lied straight to his face. But at least that way, Dean would be able to explain himself instead of just standing there as the guard ruins his life. Just ten minutes, but he guesses that it is too much to ask for such luck.

“Your highness”, the guard begins again, “this man is wanted for multiple crimes and is known for stealing. He has forced his way into the castle before and we have evidence that he has been stealing from the royal family for a very long time now. Apparently, he likes to grab anything valuable, if your highness understands what I am saying.”

Dean wouldn't want to look at himself right now because he can feel himself transforming into the very picture of weakness and Dean really doesn't want to know how that looks. Castiel's expression is by far enough for him. It's confusion. Dean knows that it will probably tip over towards anger, disappointment or something equal later, but for the time being, all Dean can read from Castiel's face is confusion, and dammit if that doesn't hurt more than an angry outburst would. Castiel can't understand how what the guard just said is true, how Dean can do something like that. He believes in Dean too much and that's just another reason why Dean is totally fucked right now.

“Dean...” Dean is unsure whether Castiel actually said his name or if it was just a figment of his imagination, but he looks up at Castiel's face and tries to ignore how much his heart is breaking for the moment.

“Cas, I am sorry. But I was going to tell you, I promise. I am so sorry, Cas!” Dean's pleadings are weak. He's too out of it to actually fight the accusations. All he wants is for Castiel to understand. He even ignores the guards still holding him down with firm hands. “Cas, please...”

There it is again. That confused head tilt that makes Castiel feel so out of place. He uses it when Dean tells him something that's too obvious for Dean to explain, but Castiel hasn't even heard a mention of. Secretly, Dean finds that head tilt a bit endearing, but not this time. Not when Castiel's eyebrows are knitted hard and he slowly, slowly shakes his head as if he still doesn't understand.

“Is it true, Dean?”

What's to say? Dean has lied so much to Castiel, but he has said so much that is true, truer than many other things in Dean's life. He can't continue lying when all those other things are in the line of fire. He hangs his head, looking down at the carpet and his shoes leaving dirty footprints on it.

“I'm sorry, so so sorry”, is all he whispers when it comes down to it, but Castiel isn't giving up. His voice is sterner now and a little louder. It's not Castiel's voice at all, but more that one of his big brother, King Lucifer. Dean still refuses to look anywhere besides down at the floor but he can feel Castiel's gaze drill a hole through him.

“Is it true? Dean, answer me!”

“Yes”, he admits quietly and he feels the grips around his arms and shoulders tighten as they start to drag him out of the room again. Finally, Dean's eyes snaps up at Castiel, but the prince has his back turned away from Dean and the guards, not even looking at them anymore. Dean wants him to turn around before he is forced to leave the room, but even as the door is closing in Dean's face, Castiel isn't moving. Dean curses himself in his head and just before the door clicks closed, Dean tugs at his holds and bellows Castiel's name loud enough to alert half of the castle. He doesn't find out if Castiel reacts to his shout or not, because the very next second he receives a heavy blow to the head and everything goes black as he falls towards the floor with no one to catch him.

* * *

The metal digs into his wrists. No matter how he moves around inside his cell, he can't find a single comfortable position. Though, maybe that is the whole point of chaining him up and throwing him into a damp dungeon with mouldy hay barely covering the floor.

Dean had been living close to rats all his life. It was kind of inevitable when you lived in the Stonemill. There were certain things you could do to prevent the rodents from taking over all your living space, but that only got you so far. This, however, is worse than anything Dean has ever experienced. Some rats run across the floor only to disappear into a hole in the wall, but what is worse was the sounds. Dean can hear them as they crawl and scratch the walls. He will be surprised if the rats don't have a tunnel system at least as complicated as the town's own street map.

He abandons the chains for a second, looking up through the rusty bars at the guard leaning on the wall a bit further down. The cuffs rattles when he stands up and the chains around his feet prevents him from taking any longer steps but eventually Dean grabs the bars and leans his forehead against them, feeling the edgy coldness of the metal. He takes a few seconds to study the guard who tries really hard to not look Dean's way. He is young and scrawny and if it came down to it, Dean would probably beat him in a fight. The kid's eyes keeps flickering towards Dean, even if he does his best to keep the stale look on his face. Dean smiles with all teeth, nodding towards him in an attempt to catch the last bit of his attention.

“Hey kid! What's your name?”

Dean's eyes meet with the guard's for a second and he adds fuel to his smile, trying to look as friendly as he can, despite his rather unfortunate circumstances including being locked in a dirty cell. The guard actually turns his head towards Dean, even if he does remain at the same safe distance a couple of steps away from the barred door. Dean's smile remains on for the few moments of silence that follows and it even widens when the guard looks behind himself and up the stairs to see if anyone who will give him trouble for speaking to the prisoner is coming.

“My name is Ned”, he finally answers, a faint smile reflecting Dean's.

“Hi Ned. It's nice to meet you. I'm Dean.” He shifts foot and the sound of the chains rattling as he lifts his hands echoes through the dungeon. “Ned, why don't we remove these chains, huh? I ain't gonna give you any trouble.”

Dean uses his best smooth-talk voice and as to emphasise his words he sticks his hands out through the bars, shaking the handcuffs in Ned's direction.

“I don't think I am going to stay here for very long, so why don't we make it easier for the both of us, huh? It would really mean a lot if you undid my chains and hey, maybe there might be an reward afterwards when all this is cleared up and I am out of here?”

Ned doesn't have a chance to respond before steps are heard coming down towards the dungeons. Dean lights up like a child on Christmas. Finally Castiel will come and get him out of here. His smile fades soon though. The man entering the prison area is as far from Castiel you can come. He isn't fat per se, only big, almost huge. He has a cold face and a ridiculous pencil moustache that, despite his instincts, Dean doesn't feel like laughing at.

“I am sorry”, the newly arrived guard says with a tone that suggests hat he is anything but that. “No chains are getting unlocked today. I know your type, Winchester. You think that you can talk your way out of anything, think that you can corrupt nice souls like Ned here who serves his king right. But let me tell you this. No one is going to come for you, you filthy street rat!”

He spits out the last words along with a large gob of actual spit that hits the floor just outside Dean's bars. Dean stares at him with a tight mouth and his most pissed-off look but it doesn't seem to bother the guard one bit. He just straightens his back and places one gigantic palm on Ned's shoulder. Ned himself mostly looks like he’d rather be out on the field than caught in the crossfire here. The hand looks huge on Ned's thin shoulder and if the guard squeezes any harder Dean is convinced he will hear bones break.

“I am going to take Ned with me now so that none of your silly ideas will infest him. But just so you know: he will be stationed just up the stairs so any thought of escaping is a foolish one. You are all alone now, just like you will be up on the execution platform tomorrow when you die. Don't you get it? You are alone.”

And with those words he turns on his heel and marches back up. Ned looks at Dean with an apologetic face before he follows the commanding guard. Dean opens his mouth but it is no use voicing any complaints at this point. He is alone.

* * *

The pain from the metal of the handcuffs numbed away many hours ago and Dean spent most of that time staring at the stairs, hoping to see a pair of boots belonging to a certain prince. His eyes sting and his eyelids keep falling down. His entire body screams at him to sleep, yet he forces himself to stay awake, back leaning against the uneven surface of the stone wall. He can't fall asleep; he has to wait for Castiel.

He will come down those stairs any second and unlock Dean's cursed chains. Castiel will give him that special look and then they both will be out of there. Instead of spending his night in a damp dungeon he will rest in the prince's large bed with Castiel's body pressed against his under soft silk sheets. Yeah, Castiel will come. Dean just needs to stay awake a little longer.

There is no way of measuring time in the cell. He is cut of from the moon and the stars by a thick stone wall since his cell doesn't even offer him a classic aperture. Ned has been moved up the stairs under the order of the chief-guard and Dean is the only prisoner currently down there. There are no living creatures down there except the rats but you can't very well ask them the time. Dean isn't sure he wants to know how much time has passed though because then he will know how long a time Castiel has not been there. Every time he thinks he hears approaching footsteps it turns out to be his own racing heart beating against his ribcage, and every time he looks at the empty staircase that very heart sinks a little more.

He starts to feel chilly and wraps his cold hands in the ends of his sleeves. He must look pretty damn miserable by now, like a stray out on the streets. Maybe that was all he was to Castiel: a stray. A stray you can take home for some time to feed and try to love until the adults have enough of wrinkling their noses and finally say that the filthy animal must go. Castiel can't possibly have forgotten Dean during this short time, but maybe he just doesn't care anymore? Maybe he had his fun with Dean but enough is enough and now he is going to continue onwards with his proper life.

Dean tries desperately not to think that way because hey, it is Castiel after all, but as the hours crawls by it was hard not to. Castiel had a long time to come down to him and even if he hasn't been out with Dean for a while he should have been there hours ago. He should have.

Dean tries to tell himself that the tears in his eyes are from his lack of sleep. That his mumbling curses are from the pain the handcuffs are causing him. That his clenching heart is just from the cold. He doesn't do very well on that.

He wasn't going to say that if you were to survive on the street you had to be emotionless. You can live a good life out there even if you are the worst drama queen out there. The trick is to control your emotions and not let them take over. Dean had jumped straight into whatever it was that he shared with Castiel even if he knew next to nothing about him. For what, a pretty face and a sob story? Dean knows that one like him ought to be careful with whom he trusts. Sam and Gabriel are his family and he trusts them beyond anyone and anything in the world. And then Castiel crashes into his life and Dean entrusts him with all his secrets and his very life.

He should have seen this coming, somehow he ought to at least have given it a single thought. But Dean had sunken deeper into the swamp of trust and then he had moved on to the next marsh. He had thought about it a long time and he still got a little irked when it crossed his mind.

Dean loves Castiel. He loves him with all his heart, but that doesn't do any good because that very heart breaks into thousands of pieces over and over again when he realizes that Castiel doesn't love him back, or he would have here a long time ago. He remembers Castiel's words from earlier that day when Castiel had told him about how love never was easy and how he would never leave Dean again. It hurts to think about it.

Of fucking course it hurts, Dean thinks for himself. But hey, what did he expect? Castiel is a prince so he has a happily-ever-after included in his deal, but when did a happy ending ever include a petty thief? Dean was the bad guy in this drama. He had lied to Castiel, practically kidnapped him and placed him in all sorts of dangers. He could still picture Castiel's hurt face when the truth had finally been told. No, Castiel's happy ending can't include Dean. When he is hanged and buried somewhere where no one will remember him, then Castiel can meet a lady or a princess and then, finally he will find true love and his happily-ever-after. Without Dean.

Various images of Castiel flashed before his closed eyes. Castiel is happy in every one of them, smiling broadly with all his white teeth. Dean can almost hear his laugh echo between the damp walls. Castiel will be okay without him because there is someone out there who can make Castiel laugh like that, Dean is sure of it. And that means that Dean will be okay too. He had his time with Castiel, even if he should have figured out that it is impossible for a prince to love him back earlier and not the day before he died. Because he will die tomorrow, hanged from his neck until he either breaks it or is suffocated. Castiel isn't coming to get him, so what other options of salvation does he have?

Even if he prefers to live, he should really have died ages ago. He has been playing with death ever since their house burned down all those years ago and he and Sam took to the street. Maybe it is time for a checkmate now.

He doesn't get much sleep that night. Time is spent thinking of what had been, what is and what could and should have been. Occasionally, Dean tries to loosen his chains which still hurt like a bitch and also because he doesn't really want to give up. But when they still are as firm as if cut from stone, Dean leans his head backwards against the wall and waits for a sunrise he can't even see from his cell.

* * *

Dean must have fallen asleep sometime during the night because he wakes up when the harsh guard from yesterday is banging on the bars with the handle of his sword.

“Get up, filth. Time to get going.”

Dean opens his eyes slowly, for once glad that there isn't much bright light down in the dungeons. His back is stiff and when he slowly stands up, he can hear the joints pop. So much for imagining spending the night in Castiel's huge bed.

“Hurry up!”

The guard is not alone. With him are two other men, armed with bows and drawn arrows aiming at the sleep deprived Dean. He only gives them a short glare, eyes stinging from the long night awake. A key is inserted in the lock and turned, earning a high-pitched creak when the door opens. The armed guards step around, still with their drawn arrows pointing at Dean. He raises his eyebrows and tries to give them one of his award-winning smirks.

“I ain't gonna run now. That would just spoil the fun, wouldn't it?”

They chain him up and, encouraged by pushes and curses, he walks up the stairs from the dungeons. When they walk him out from the castle and into the sun, Dean's eyes squint and he wants to bring up his hands to protect them but his chains prevent him from reaching any further than his collarbones. All the way to the town square when he is a Dead Man Walking, this remains his biggest problem. Like at all executions, people from all parts of town have gathered to throw insults and the occasional rotten vegetable. Dean doesn't care anymore though. He doesn't care as he walks up the five steps to the wooden platform where the gallows stands, nor when he is commanded to kneel under the noose. An officer steps forward, looking down at Dean with loathing.

“Say your final prayer. Mouth your regrets, bastard and then maybe death will come swiftly upon you.”

Dean's mouth twitches slightly and a short huff is heard. He cranes his neck, looking up at the officer instead of down towards the wooden platform like most men who were to be executed did. The officer doesn't seem to appreciate the attention and can't meet Dean's green stare.

“Regrets?” He asks, his voice strong despite himself. “You want to know my regrets, really? I only regret one thing. One single thing. Well”, he goes on with a thoughtful grimace covering his face, “of course I hate leaving my brother alone in your world, but he has that maniac he seems to love so much. So eventually, they will be fine, both of them. Because that's what we do; we manage.”

The entire square is silent, waiting for Dean's next words. This wasn't a normal execution. The crowd was used to criminals begging for their lives, not a last 'fuck you' to the world and its rulers. Obviously, they hadn't met Dean Winchester before. Dean himself enjoys his temporary power and takes a short pause before he continues.

“Nah, the only thing I regret is giving my heart to someone who apparently doesn't deserve it, or they would be here now.”

A few women in the audience nod at each other. A story about a broken heart is never not interesting, even if it comes from the mouth of a criminal. Of course, the fact that the thief is quite handsome doesn't hurt in this case. They can wait to see him hang from his neck if it meant that they get more of this. One of the women even takes a step forwards and shouts 'Go on, lad', much to the officer's annoyance. Dean just smiles half-heartedly, head dropping ever so slightly.

“There's not much to say. I was stupid, thinking that it was more than it obviously was. Thinking that someone like me could be loved. Turns out it wasn't possible and that's actually why I am here. There's no way I'd be caught otherwise.”

The grin is back on his face, as is the red colour on the officer's face. Dean looks up at him again and smirks.

“How was that for last words? Or maybe you were going for something along the lines of 'Oh gosh, I am so sorry I hurt your noble feelings'? Well, sucks to be you. I may have one regret in this life, but bringing trouble to your life sure as hell isn't it. I have enjoyed every damn second of making your life as miserable as possible and I'll die before I say sorry to you.

“Which brings us to today's actual business”, he continues. “Enough girl talk: bring the noose so I finally can get out of your ugly face.”

Dean's last words are followed by a loud applause and cheering from the entire crowd. Never before has there been someone like Dean and it will go a long time before anyone would dare to do anything like it again. The officer looks around himself and the red shade quickly fades to a paler white. He backs away a few steps like he is afraid that the crowd might start a riot against him.

Under his order the hangman hurries to put the rope around Dean's neck and tightens it. Dean's face has morphed into a stone mask, his eyes fastened forward and a faint smirk on his lips. He is as prepared to die as one can be, yet memories of Sam flash before his eyes along with memories of Gabriel. It is only a matter of time before he knows that Castiel will infest his mind as well and he whispers under his breath.

“I'm gonna miss you Sammy. You too Gabe, I guess. And Cas...” Even if he knows that the prince can't hear him, that he is sitting in his room in the castle enjoying himself, it is hard to mouth the words. “Cas, I'm gonna be okay. Don't worry about me.”

Drowning Dean's mumbles, the officer straightens his back and begins reading from a paper scroll.

“By the power invested in me by the crown I hereby command that this man, Dean Winchester, will be...”

“Not quite yet, gentlemen!” A voice echoes though the town square, causing Dean and everybody else to look up at the clock tower. Supporting himself on a rope thrown around the hour hand and with his feet secured on a window frame, stands Sam. He had outgrown Dean about a year ago, but this is the first time he really stretched out his entire stature, making a magnificent sight. His otherwise so floppy hair is kept out of his eyes thanks to the wind and the face that is revealed is somehow older than Dean has ever seen his brother before.

“Sammy”, he whispers under his breath. The rope is still tight around his neck but he has more important things to focus on right now.

“Sammy”, he repeats, “please don't do anything stupid.”

Sam's voice echoes across the square, over the crowd. The crowd itself is thrilled at the sudden turn of events. The butcher even tells his wife that if all executions were going to be like this one, then there was no way that he was ever paying for a theatre ticket again.

“I demand that you stop this execution and release this man immediately”, Sam bellows.

“And who might you be?” the officer asks, making sure to sound as superior as one small, frightened man can sound when faced with someone of Sam's build, even if Sam in this case is all the way across the square.

“I am... I am a long-forgotten son of the street. I am a misfit, a thief and a rebel. It doesn't matter who or what I say I am because no matter what, you will find a way to punish me for it. But I have some news for you. This ends now. There will be no more victims, no more sacrifices!”

The entire square is silent, holding its collective breath for what is to come. Dean is shaking his head, unsure if this is really happening. His Sam being all grown up and now in lethal danger. Just like his big brother. Sam seems pretty proud of himself though. His breath is coming in pants, but his trademark grin is right where it belonged. This is when the whole square breaks out in applause. Sam's grin just widens, but up on the platform there is someone who isn't as happy. The officer doesn't seem to appreciate being told off by a youngster, because his face is once again red as a beet and with a crooked index finger pointing at Sam he stutters:

“Kill him!”

As the guards make haste to draw their swords and run into the crowd after Sam, not quite prepared for the surprise attack, Sam slides down the rope. His boots hit the wall as he bounces down, getting closer to the ground with every second. Sam is soon running from the clock tower and through the crowd. The officer sees this and after he finishes spitting out several foul curses he redirects his attention back to Dean.

“Now, Gabe!” The shout comes from somewhere in the thick crowd, but Dean knows that voice like he knows his own, if not even better. He huffs and smiles at his brother, despite the fact that his precious little brother might get himself killed any second. Well, he is about to meet that same fate now anyway, so maybe it didn't matter after all. He feels the noose tightening around his neck and he closes his eyes. This is it.

“Hello, big boy. Missed me much?”

Dean's eyes goes wide open when he hears a second familiar voice. He's near to cursing out loud when he turns around with the awkward angle the noose forces him in and he sees Gabriel. His friend is dressed up in all black and in his hand he holds the hangman's hood.

“I should have figured when the hangman was three foot tall. Shouldn't you be passed out on a bed somewhere? Complaining about your pain and so?" Dean's voice is teasing, but when his brain settles with the fact that it is Gabriel who stands before him, he actually starts worry a bit. It was just two days ago that Gabriel lay bleeding on the floor. He shouldn't be up and running at all.

"Then who would be here to save your delicate ass. You know that Sam was never going to leave you here and I, well, I am never going to leave Sam. And you know he will have my balls if I left you to hang like a turkey out here. And, whoever your prince sent, he did a damn fine job patching me up."

"Gabe, I never want you to say anything more about your balls when my little brother is somehow involved in the same sentence."

“Shut up or I won't cut you down”, Gabriel bites back, but his threat is as empty as they come. Seconds later a knife is retrieved from his booth and the rope around Dean's neck is under attack. It's a thick rope and long before Gabriel makes it all the way through, the red faced guard finally explodes in a loud call of:

“TREASON!”

“What an utterly great plan you got, Gabriel”, Dean stresses after the officer's call. He really doesn't like the look in the man's face. “What's up after this? Are we going to run from the arrows?”

“Something like that, yeah”, Gabriel grins as he cuts through the last of the rope, letting the noose fall down on Dean's back. Gabriel places his hand on Dean's shoulder and pulls him up on his feet before he starts to drag him towards the edge of the platform. Dean's eyes widen and he puts his heels down to slow them down. His hands are still tied behind his back with hard knots. Gabriel notices his discomfort, but the grip around Dean's shoulder only grows firmer. Gabriel had a lot of strength hidden somewhere in his tiny built.

“No time to complain right now, Dean-o”, he laughs and grins at Dean's expression before he takes a firmer hold around Dean's still bruised shoulder, dragging both of them off the platform. Dean swears that he did not shout at that moment, especially not like a little girl like Gabriel later claims.

The two guards who escorted Dean before are lost somewhere in the crowd. The crowd itself has begun to move. Rallied by Sam's speech, some people continue to scream at each other and the gallows. The people from High Town are of course cheering for the guards, but the people from the Stonemill and the other poorer, run-down parts of town are outnumbering them by far. They shout insults at the nobles and when the butcher gets hit in the face after a heated exchange, all hell breaks loose. People are calling for justice, rebellion, the king, the guards, God and even their mothers.

Dean and Gabriel make their way through the mass of people as well as they can. Dean has to duck a few times to avoid a swing of a fist and once he loses his balance and falls square on his ass. His hands are still tied up so he can't catch himself. Gabriel laughs for a second but then his eyes goes wide and his mouth shuts. The next moment Gabriel grabs his shoulder and drags him back to his feet. They continue to run, but Dean looks over his shoulder just to see what is happening. He regrets it when he sees the shine of a drawn blade rush towards them. A curse slips his lips as he speeds up, doing his best not to fall again.

“Hey”, a voice that Dean doesn't recognize speaks. He really doesn't want to slow down at first but then he hears the dull thud of a body hitting the ground. It wouldn't matter much if the sound hadn't been accompanied by the metallic clang of a sword doing the very same time. This finally makes Dean turn around and what meets his eyes makes him slow down a little. Two men have jumped the guard and knocked him to the ground. One of them smirks and makes a two-fingered mock salute at Dean.

“Good luck boys”, he shouts after them as they disappear behind others. Dean and Gabriel continue running because even if one enemy is down, they are in no way safe.

As they approach the end of the crowd Dean finally spots Sam. It's harder than usual because his brother is walking hunched over. At first, Dean worries that Sam is hurt and runs over to him.

“You okay, Sammy? Are you hurt?”

Sam just smiles at him and draws a knife from his belt. With a swift movement he cuts the ropes around Dean's wrists. As Dean massages his sore wrists, Sam gives his short hair a quick ruffle. It is strange somehow that Sam does it because usually it's Dean ruffling Sam's mop of hair.

“I think that you're worse than me”, Sam says and it seems like he can't stop smiling as he gives Dean a hug. Gabriel shakes his head and steps between them.

“”Hey guys. It was a nice rescue, everybody was brave and now we are having a beautiful brotherly reunion. I would however like to remind the two of you that this isn't over yet. We need to continue to run if we don't want them to add two snares to the collection.”

“Gabriel's right”, Sam agrees.

Dean grumbles a little at Gabriel's usual, snarky voice, but he too realizes that sometimes it is better to shut up and run. They leave the still lively crowd behind them and make their way into one of the back streets.

“I have three horses further down the street. With them we'll get out of this town in no time.”

“You got us horses?”

Sam lights up at Gabriel's words, and instead of delivering a sarcastic comment like he most often do, Gabriel just gives Sam a warm smile. A smile and not a smirk, mind you. Dean rolls his eyes at them. The second after, Gabriel's boot finds its way to Dean's shin. He is just about to plan his revenge when Gabriel sounds a whistle. He pushes open a door leading into an abandoned building and the face of a grey horse peeks out.

“Say hello to your new best friend, Dean.”

* * *

He didn't expect Castiel to be there with Sam and Gabriel, but a part of him sure wishes he was. It is the rest of him who knows, simply knows that Castiel isn't there and why.

“Dean, now would be a good idea!” Sam's shout seems so far away even if he's on the horse just a few meters away. “Dean!”

Dean snaps out of his daydreams and nods at Sam. It's hard to think that the man on the horse, back straightened with pride is his kid brother, but then again, lots of things have changed during the last couple of weeks. He looks back down the street, behind the square. The tops of the castle's towers are barely visible over the rooftops, but they are enough for a knot to be tied in Dean's stomach. Yeah, lots of things have changed.

A thin dust layer floats above the square from the uproar going on there. Loud shouts and screams can still be heard and Dean is unsure if someone has even noticed that they escaped the fight. It's better if it stays that way so he pulls at his horse's reins and follows his brother and Gabriel as the sound of the horses' hoovess hitting the paved ground echoes in is head. The sound is dull, but it helps Dean clear his thoughts from anything even remotely connected to Castiel because, he realizes as they ride out of town towards the woods, that part of his life is now over for good.

The End

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