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

[slowsunrise]

Epilogue - Where the Wild Roses Grow

~ Earlier that night ~


“Let me out! Let me out!”

Castiel pounds on the door as hard as he can, fists getting numb from the dull pain. The door is thick and impossible to break through without the key, which of course is somewhere on the other side. His throat is on its good way to becoming even hoarser than usual, but he can't stop now. It's all his fault that Dean was taken away from him. Splinters from the wooden door get caught in his hands, but Castiel just hammers them deeper into his flesh, ignoring the pain.

“Let me out of here”, he screams and he is now close to tears. He should have done something when Dean was being dragged out from his room, but at that time, all he could focus on was the words the guard had spoken, the words of Dean betraying him. Castiel had let the guards drag Dean away like he meant nothing to him, instead of the opposite. It was only when he heard Dean's desperate scream for him that he panicked and rushed up to the already locked door.

“Your highness,” a voice Castiel doesn't recognize is heard from the other side of the door. Immediately, Castiel snaps his head up and starts banging on the door again, hoping to be released. The door doesn't open again through, no matter how he yells and knocks.

“Your highness”, the voice says again, the calm tone driving Castiel to madness, “it's not beneficial for you to be so upset in your condition. Please go back to bed.”

Castiel stops the hammering, but he does in no way go back to the bed. Dean shouldn't be in this situation, no matter what he had done in the past. Castiel had been to the Stonemill and he had seen what happened to people there. Dean's lie shouldn't have come as a surprise to him. He can't blame him, not after all he had done for Castiel. Especially not after everything he has done for Castiel. He should have focused on gathering money for his family when he had just spent time with Castiel, gaining nothing of value. Nothing of physical value at least.

Castiel had gained lots of things from Dean Winchester. He practically owed Dean his life for showing him how you don't give up. He can walk across his room now to pick up that book he wants to read, not to mention walk across town to visit his best friend's home. Because that's what Dean became; Castiel's best friend. Then he became something more, something Castiel didn't have a name for. His book had one, but that was a name he was scared of using for all it meant.

“I want you to let me out of here and release the man Dean Winchester”, Castiel says through the door. The guard probably won't listen to him, but there's no way he can give up now. He can't give up on Dean when Dean never gave up on him. But the guard doesn't deliver anything but more disappointment for Castiel.

“No can do, your highness. I am sorry.”

Castiel tries to keep his voice strong and commanding, like his brother's, but Castiel is sure that he doesn't even remotely sound like the King. The tears are burning on his cheeks, but he doesn't care anymore. Normally he doesn't like people watching him cry, but right now he just wants the door to open, even if the whole kingdom's population was to stand outside of it.

“I am ordering you to let Dean go free!”

“There's already an order to execute him at dawn tomorrow and I am sorry to say, but King Lucifer's words are the ones that are to be followed. You are not to see this Winchester anymore. When he is hanging from his neck, you will be released. That is, if you have calmed down. Please, your highness, go back to bed.”

Castiel swallows and tries to think of anything he could say as a reply to that, but before any words leave his mouth, he can hear how the guard's footstep moves away from the door until he can't be heard anymore. He is alone.

* * *

Hours pass by when nothing happens. Sometimes Castiel thinks he hears someone outside his door and he screams as loud as his sore throat allows him to, but in the end, no one comes. His hands are red from beating the rough surface of the door one too many times and they hurt. If he is honest, everything hurts. His whole being longs for Dean even if he’s just been gone for a couple of hours which is less than the usual amount of time between his visits. The difference is that Dean isn't coming back this time. The news delivered by the guard still echoes between Castiel's ears and he hurts every time.

He must have dozed off at some point because he opens his eyes when the door is closed again. He gets up from his sitting position with his arms around his knees and runs to the door. It's locked again, and no matter how hard he knocks on it, no one wants to answer him. Castiel turns around instead and when he blinks away the tears that have begun to shape in his eyes he sees why the door was opened in the first place. A plate of food is placed on the floor next to the carpet, still steaming with heat.

Castiel looks at it, at first thinking that it deserves to be thrown out from the window. Then his stomach takes part of the discussion with a loud rumble. It truly does smell delicious. The chefs down in the kitchen are good but this is better than usual. Castiel swallows down and throws a mean glance at the door before he sits down beside the plate. He grabs the fork and knife, and after just one bite he can tell that it tastes just as good as it smells.

* * *

Dean. That's the first thing that even resembles a thought that rushes through Castiel's head when he slowly opens his eyes. His back and pretty much the rest of his body aches and he quickly finds out why. His body is sprawled out on the floor and he is facedown on the carpet and as he moves carefully, he can feel how the short straws of it have left marks on his face. He tries sitting up, but his head keeps spinning around and he finds it safer to remain on the floor. He does, however, move into a more comfortable position. He can feel his joints pop when he moves and he gives a short whine. What just happened?

The plate with the food sits half-eaten next to him and slowly the realization dawns for him. His hand slams down on the plate, smashing the content all over the floor. A foul word slips out of his mouth and despite that the curse tastes strange, unaccustomed, but it feels nice all the same. The food must have been prepared with some sort of sleep preparation, causing Castiel to fall asleep like he did. He spits on the carpet, trying to get rid of the taste that still lingers in his mouth.

When he stumbles to the window he has to take a tight grip not to fall back on the floor. It's partially because whatever was in that food still makes him a bit nauseous, but the reason his stomach drops to his knees is the sun. It's not where it's supposed to be and when Castiel realizes why, he grips the windowsill so tight his knuckles turns white. It's already tomorrow. Technically, it's today, but all Castiel can think of is tomorrow, because if it's tomorrow today, then Dean is getting executed today. He must find a way to get out of here. He must find a way to save Dean. He must do something. But what? The door is still locked and he's still a bit dizzy from the drugged food. There's no way he can get out through that door and the only other way is out through the window and that's a seven stories fall. This is a moment he really wished his room had one of those secret doors behind the book case that were in all the books he reads, but he knows that there's nothing but immovable stone bricks there. Talking about his stories...

An idea comes to Castiel's mind. He had read about a man escaping prison in a quite unorthodox but, if Castiel remembers right, effective manner. Maybe, just maybe, if Castiel managed to do the same, Dean could be saved and everything would be okay again.

Running towards his bed, he stumbles on the edge of the carpet and falls face first on his mattress. After a soft curse he grabs his covers and as much bed linen he can carry and moves back to the window. Looking down once more, he swallows before he starts working.

It doesn't take long before his hands start to hurt but after a while he has got a pile of torn stripes of linen. His brow is sweaty, not so much from the physical labour but the stress and the fact that Dean could meet his death this very moment. It takes a few tries before he finds a way to tie a knot strong enough to hold his weight but after several minutes and some pauses to lick his sore fingers, Castiel holds a make-shift rope in his hands. He has no idea whether it will hold or not, but if he has counted right it should at least reach down to the ground, if that was any comfort. If he actually makes it down the tower he knows he will have several other issues to deal with, but if he sits down now to think of everything that can go wrong, time will run out and that one thing that is not allowed to go wrong will. Dean will die.

He is just about to secure the linen rope to one of the bedposts when he hears the turning of a key in the door. Castiel's head turns around so fast that he almost awards himself with whiplash. A thousand possibilities pass through his mid with rapid speed, all of them bad. Therefore, he draws a great sigh of relief when the door opens and no guard and no poisoned food come through, but instead it's Balthazar's head. His hair is a bit ruffled and he seems to be a bit out of breath, but at least he manages to crack up a smile when he sees a flustered Castiel huddled up beside his bed, doing a very poor job trying to hide the home-made rope under it.

“Don't tell me you're doing what I think you are planning to do.”

Castiel opens and closes his mouth at Balthazar. He shifts the rope nervously between his hands, trying to find something to say that isn't just stuttered 'uh's. Balthazar nods at him before his head vanishes for a second before it returns and Balthazar steps in through the door and closes it after himself. Castiel stands up, brushing his fingers against his pyjama pants.

“I need to get out of here, Balthazar. I need to save Dean.”

Balthazar drops his head and sighs. Castiel's mouth tightens at his gesture and the grip around his rope hardens to protect it. That's when Balthazar shakes his head slightly and moves closer to the prince. Castiel's face twitches a bit, but he loses some of the tension when Balthazar places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

“Castiel”, Balthazar says, dropping the formal titles. “I still find it hard to see why you like that boy, but what I do see is how much you like him. Now, I know you pretty well so I knew that you would think of something, more or less radical.” He nods at the rope in Castiel's hands. Castiel's mouth twitches little at this, as if it can't decide whether to smile or to grimace.

“I need to save him.”

“I know”, Balthazar nods and gives Castiel's shoulder another squeeze. He takes the rope from Castiel's hands and puts it on the floor next to the bedpost. Instead he places a set of heavy keys in his palms, causing Castiel's hands to drop a bit. Castiel looks up at Balthazar, eyes big with confusion. Balthazar just smiles. “I know you are gonna save him and that's why I am here. You are going to break your neck if you climb down that window so I suggest that you use the front door. That's what the keys are for.”

He nods down at the keys, his smile widening just a little bit. Castiel just stares at them and then at Balthazar. Once again he is rendered speechless. Balthazar pats him on the shoulder and just as Castiel is about to go to the door, he speaks again.

“Oh, and you might want to change from your pyjamas. Princes shouldn't go prancing around in their night clothes when they save their damsel in distress.”

* * *

Now changed out of his pyjamas and into normal pants and shirt accompanied by a large, black cloak with hood, Castiel makes his way down the abandoned stairs that Dean usually uses. The spiral stair is long and Castiel's legs are tired but he pushes himself forward. Finally something is going like Castiel wants it to so there is no way he is slowing down now that he maybe has a real chance to save Dean. When he reaches the final door, the one that leads out to the courtyard, Castiel awards himself with a short break: partly to catch his breath but mostly to check if the coast is clear. He has spent enough time looking out from his window to know the exact layout of the yard on the other side of the door.

Luckily enough, if you could call if that, everybody seems to be at Dean's execution and the courtyard is empty. Castiel opens the doors and runs across the yard to the stables. His hood is up, draped over his head and if someone does see him, they doesn't bother him.

After walking into the stables, Castiel doesn't close the door after himself. Instead he strides to the very end of the lane of horses. Lucifer's black stallion is glaring indifferently at him but Castiel just stares back. The horse doesn't struggle anymore than the odd glare and snort but Castiel has enough problems with getting the saddle and the rest of the belting on him. He is breaking a sweat lifting the heavy piece of leather and strapping it to the horse's back. His fingers still hurt from when he made the rope and more than once he slips with the buckles. Now he is biting down in his lip so hard that he draws blood.

The last clasp finally snaps into place and Castiel smiles. The stallion still doesn't care about him but at least he stands still when Castiel climbs up on his back. Castiel has never before sat on a horse, always too sick and too fragile, but he thinks that he likes it. It gives him a sense of power to be on a creature so much greater than himself, so high off the ground. It is just too bad that the feeling of dignity doesn't last when he starts riding out from the stable through the opened door, bouncing up and down in the saddle.

Soon enough, he at least settles in a routine, which makes him able to move forward without too much pain caused to his backside. He has passed the castle's walls now and is riding down the streets towards the square. A few people look at him strangely but since his hood is covering most of his face, Castiel accounts the stares to his unique riding style.

The closer he gets to the square, the more people start to roam the street and soon they turn into a real crowd. People are screaming and it seem like the whole square is involved in a giant fistfight. The ruckus makes Castiel unable to see the gallows so he continues to push the horse between all the people.

“Move”, he yells, surprised by the sudden harshness in his own voice. “Out of my way.”

Some people scream at Castiel to go away, to run home but eventually, everybody moves for the large horse. He is closer to the platform now, but he doesn't say anything more. He can see the gallows and there is just one single man standing there. The man's face is an angry red and he is dressed in a uniform. Whoever he is, he is not Dean. Castiel feels like throwing up.

“And just who do you think you are?”

It takes a second before Castiel realizes that the guard's screaming is directed at him, but once he does, he doesn't answer. He holds a steady grip on the stallion's reins and tries to keep his back as straight as possible as together, Castiel and the horse, stride the last distance to the platform with the gallows. The guard puts his hand on his sword but before he draws it, Castiel finally speaks.

“Did you kill the man named Dean Winchester?”

“What is it to you if I did”, the guard asks, his lip drawn up. “It was an order from the king to execute a wanted felon. You can get off your fine horse and show yourself if you don't want to meet the same fate. As you can see around you, this is not the best day to annoy me.”

Castiel takes a deep breath to calm himself down. His anger is just only beginning to boil up inside him, but his nausea is just getting worse. Dean was killed. Dean is dead. He is fighting to keep what little of the poisoned food from yesterday that he had left down. After slowly counting to ten, keeping his eyes closed shut to keep his tears away, Castiel slowly descends the horse. As he walks up the last step of the wooden stair, he takes off the hood and lets it fall to his shoulders. He can hear people in the crowd gasp and the guard's eyes goes wide, but Castiel just takes the last few steps so that he stands face-to-face with the man.

“I cared very much about that man and you are the man responsible for his death. I can see that you are annoyed but believe me that it is nothing, nothing to what I am feeling right now. And between you and me, I suspect that you are the one who ought to get off your high horse and maybe even kneel because I am prince Castiel III and I am, as you say, pissed.”

His voice is quiet but strong, almost like a hiss between his teeth, the guard's facial expression has changed drastically and if the situation had been different, Castiel might have smiled at the pale, scared grimace and the shaking legs. But Dean is dead and Castiel can't bear to even think about smiling. So he looks down at the man who looks like he is doing his best not to soil himself.

“Your... highness, are you not sick?” It takes a moment before the guard's brain catches up with the fact, but he is not late with the begging for his life. “Please don't hurt me! I swear I didn't kill him. I swear, I swear I didn't do it!”

“It's true”, someone calls from the side. “The pretty boy got away with the tall one and the short one.”

Castiel's head spins around and he struggles to keep his face indifferent. Dean is alive. Dean is alive! Dean, Sam and Gabriel, somehow got away and they are all okay and alive. Castiel lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. He shakes his head once and takes a step closer to the trembling guard.

“I want you to listen to me and listen very carefully. That man, Dean Winchester, is from this very moment pardoned from all crimes and God help the person who dare to harm him. He and his family stand under my protection from this day forward.”

“Please don't hurt me”, the man begs of Castiel, but Castiel just turns around, ignoring him because Dean is alive. Once he has mounted the horse again he asks what way the escapees ran. Most of the people were too occupied with fighting to notice them but a few of them had seen the three disappear on a back street. As soon as he gets the direction he puts his heels in the horse's sides and rides away along that street.

* * *

The three escapees are nowhere to be seen and Castiel is starting to despair. He needs to find Dean. He needs to find Dean and apologize, tell him how wrong he was. Tell him how much Castiel loves him.

His back, his behind, his whole body hurts from the riding he was unused to, but he is not giving up yet. He is not giving up, period. He keeps pushing the stallion through street after street but comes out empty handed. He has already searched their old home but it is as empty as the streets. They must have sneaked into another house and if that was the case, Castiel would have great trouble finding them. He feels like sinking together in a great pile of misery.

“Oi”, a voice shouts at him and he looks up, wiping away the first tears. A woman stands leaning out from a window on the second floor on the house next to Dean's.

“You're that prince fellow, aren't you?”

When Castiel just nods, she looks at him with a piercing gaze. Castiel almost feels like wrapping his cloak tighter around his body so she won't see him. Finally she shrugs and leans a little further out over the edge of the windowsill.

“You're a bit scrawny but if that's what Dean likes then it's up to him. The tall one, Sam, told me to give you a message if you ever came by. They are where the wild roses grow.”

Where the wild roses grow.

Castiel knows he has heard that term before but he can't remember it to save his life. He rubs his temples and goes over everything he knows of roses, anything to make him remember. When he eventually does it hits him like a stone wall. His and Dean's first kiss replays before his eyes along with his first steps holding Dean's hands. More memories come along and one of them is Dean's soft voice telling him he wanted to show him his home, his first home with the meadow. The meadow where wild roses grew.

Before he knows it, he is back in the saddle, racing for the town's gate. He is lucky that he decided to steal, or more like borrow, Lucifer's stallion because the poor horse gets pushed all through town way too fast.

The only sound for a long time is the steady echoing when the hooves hit the ground and Castiel's breathing that can't seem to calm down. He doesn't really know where he is riding because Dean never mentioned their cottage more than that one time when Castiel took his first shaky steps. All he can do is continue riding and pray to pick up a trail or just something.

The sun makes it way across the sky and it's almost in its zenith now. The black cloak is getting quite warm under the blazing sun, but most of all, Castiel starts to get hungry. He didn't have any breakfast at all and no dinner to mention. Every now and again he rides past a farm and it is starting to water in his mouth. At one place he can sense the smell of a freshly made apple pie and it takes all his strength not to stop and ask for a piece.

He rides on, but his hunger is eating him from the inside and out. Just when he is about to stop he spots three small dots at the horizon. They are so small that it wouldn't be hard to miss them but when Castiel squints, it is without doubt three creatures moving away from his current location. Suddenly, his hunger is gone with the wind. He shoves his heels into the stallion's side and they race away again.

Castiel is closing in on them now, once again grateful for his brother's strong horse. He can see that it is three riders now, but that's it. He can vaguely make out their shapes about five minutes later, one tall, one short and Dean. He hasn't been spotted yet as far as he knows so he pushes the horse on before it's too late. It doesn't seem like the trio is used to horses and riding either and their horses seem to tire quicker than Castiel's and soon Castiel is well within shouting distance.

“Dean”, he shouts with all his might, just hoping that the wind will carry his message. He can see how the rider furthest to the left looks behind himself but it doesn't seem like they make any motion of slowing down.

"Dean, please", he shouts again and this time around Dean steers his horse sharply to the left, disappearing onto a small road seemingly leading straight into the forest. Sam and Gabriel follows him suit and Castiel has no other choice but to do the same.

He loses sight of them for a few minutes but when he too cuts the corner and rides in on the forest path, he almost tramples Sam down. Tugging on the horse's reins the equipage stops. Gabriel stands a bit away, glaring at him like he is the cause for all trouble in the world. Then again, for Gabriel, he might as well be. Sam walks away with his horse, making a point of not looking at anybody at all. And Dean... Dean stands in front of him with his arms crossed in front of his chest, looking at Castiel with a stone grimace.

Castiel looks around himself to get an idea why they stopped here but it's not until he sees the almost overgrown pieces of a burned down building that he gets it. This used to be Sam and Dean's home.

Castiel dismounts the horse and takes a pair of wobbly steps towards Dean. The hours in the saddle left more effects than he thought. Dean still doesn't say anything when Castiel almost falls over, nor does he come to his aid.

“I know you lied, but I don't care. I lied that day too, when I said I didn't care! Please Dean, I am so, so sorry!”

“How did you get here, Cas”, Dean questions him. Castiel can't see how that even matters. All that does matter is that he found Dean and that Dean is safe. Unfortunately, he also seems to be in a bad mood with Castiel. It isn't surprising that he is though, the way he treated Dean the last time he saw him. He should have guessed a simple 'sorry' wasn't enough. Instead he tells Dean everything he has done since Dean was dragged out through the door.

“Wait, let me get this straight”, Dean said and ignored his begging once again. “You escaped from the castle, you stole the king's horse, made a fool out of the chief guard and some kind hero out of yourself before you followed us for hours?"

"Yes", Castiel says because it's the truth and he's not going to lie more. "I did it for you, Dean. I could not live with myself if something happened to you."

"I ain't complaining, Cas. I am impressed."

Dean's features soften and as he relaxes his tense arms Castiel dares to take the steps that separates him and Dean. When his legs want to give in Dean is there to catch him like he always is and Castiel almost feels his heart grow a size.

"Dean, I am so sorry", Castiel begins again but Dean shushes him.

"No need to tell me that, Cas. I know. I am sorry too, and I hope you know that. And, uhm, I hope you know that I love you too. Because I do. I really, really do."

Castiel buries his nose in Dean's neck wrapping his arms around him in a hug. Dean's words echo in his head and it feels like he could explode. And, when he finally breathes 'I love you too', it feels like Dean is never letting him go again.

“Hey, Cas”, Dean laughs after a second and smiles dumbly. Castiel looks up at him, tilting his head ever so slightly. Somehow that seems to make Dean smile even wider. He still doesn't say what he wanted though.

“What is it, Dean?”

“I told you that I would show you where the wild roses grows, didn't I?”

“Yes”, Castiel breathes and he can feel Dean's hand searching its way into his hair to pull the two of them together in a kiss, just like that time so long ago now. Castiel doesn't know what Sam and Gabriel do at this moment, but he doesn't care. The world stand still and there is only Dean and Castiel in it. The kiss seems to last forever but when it does end, Castiel is breathless. He looks up at Dean's eyes and smiles at him.

“Yes, you did.”

The End

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